by Lin Oliver
Taking a deep breath, she nodded and turned to Sergeant Turrisi. “Yes,” she said. “We have evidence.”
“I’ll need something more specific than that, Ms. Diamond.”
Charlie looked over at me again, her eyes almost begging for me to let her off the hook. But I couldn’t. It wasn’t right.
“You have to say what you know,” I told her.
Charlie took a deep breath and blurted it all out in one gush. She told the sergeant everything Lauren had told her, including how the boys had planted the matches in Oscar’s backpack.
“These are very serious accusations,” the sergeant said when Charlie had finished.
“That’s why we think they should be here,” I said.
“People certainly have a right to face their accuser.” She nodded. “And to tell their side of the story. Follow me.”
Sergeant Turrisi left the office and headed back to the conference room, where everyone was still sitting at the long table, probably wondering what was going on. She handed the piece of paper to Officer Beswick.
“See if you can call these families and ask them to bring their boys to the station right away,” she said to him. Then turning to the rest of us, she added, “I have some paperwork I can take care of in the meantime. We will resume as soon as they get here.”
She got up and left the room without so much as a good-bye or see you later. She was a no-nonsense kind of person.
“What’s going on?” Alicia asked.
“We told her we thought Sean and Jared should be here.”
“Do you think they’ll come?” Oscar asked.
“I know this,” my dad said, “if they were my kids, I wouldn’t give them any choice in the matter. You cooperate with the police.”
“They’re not going to be happy about this,” Eddie commented.
That did it for Charlie.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” she said.
“Okay,” I answered. “But you better come back. You can’t chicken out now.”
“I know this is the right thing to do, Sammie. It’s just so hard. My friends mean a lot to me.”
“If they’re really your friends, they’ll support you doing the right thing.”
She nodded and gave me a weak little smile before leaving the room.
I sat there staring at the big clock on the wall. Oscar was fidgeting nervously, and jumped every time the hand clicked to the next number. Charlie stayed in the bathroom a long time, and I have to confess, I was very relieved when she came back.
A half hour passed, and neither the McCains nor the Pattersons showed up. My dad was busy checking his e-mail on his phone. Candido took out a comb and slicked back his hair at least three times. Oscar sat there playing with the laces on his shoes. I wanted to say something to him, to tell him that everything was going to be okay. But that would have been a lie. I wasn’t sure at all that everything was going to be okay. Another fifteen minutes passed, and finally, Sergeant Turrisi returned to the conference room where we were sitting.
“I’m told that the young men in question have arrived at the station,” she said. “Officer Porter is escorting them in.”
Charlie let out a little sound that sounded like a gasp. I reached out and took her hand, hoping to give her strength. I knew this was going to be hard for her.
The first to enter were Mr. McCain and Mr. Patterson. The two dads were wearing their tennis clothes, all white of course, with collars on their shirts. They did not look happy. In fact, they looked deeply annoyed. Sergeant Turrisi didn’t seem to care, though. She stood up and quickly greeted them.
Then she looked at Jared and Sean, who lagged behind their fathers, obviously not wanting to be there. Jared and Sean were in their usual saggy-baggy basketball shorts, wearing sneakers with no socks and their shoes untied. I’m sorry, but you’d think when the police call you and tell you to come to the station, you could kick it up a notch and not look like you just rolled in from the gym.
“What’s this about?” Mr. McCain said as they all blustered in and took a seat.
“Last night’s fire on the beach,” Officer Beswick said.
“I assume you need our boys to testify about what they found in that kid’s backpack,” Mr. Patterson said. “Okay, but if we can make it quick, we’d sure appreciate it. We’ve got court times booked.”
“Sergeant Turrisi,” I said, “my sister and I would like to testify first, if that’s all right with you.”
“This isn’t a trial, Ms. Diamond,” she answered. “No one is testifying here. We are merely conducting an investigation. Gathering information.”
“I understand,” I said.
“And I’m the one in charge here,” Sergeant Turrisi continued.
I nodded and took a deep breath.
Sergeant Turrisi thumbed through the papers that were sitting in a folder on the table. “Now, the report states that these matches were from the same establishment as those found at the scene of the bonfire.” She gave Oscar a suspicious look. “That is not a very favorable finding for you, young man.”
“My sister has something to say about that, ma’am,” I said.
“Yes, I know,” Sergeant Turrisi answered. Then turning to Charlie, she said, “You seem reluctant to speak up, Ms. Diamond. Have you had second thoughts about your accusations?”
I looked at Charlie and motioned for her to speak. This was her moment. This was the time.
She looked over at Jared and Sean. Sean didn’t return her look, but Jared did. He stared her down confidently, with the cocky, superior smile that was his trademark.
Charlie opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. There was panic in her eyes as she looked at me. She looked down and fidgeted with her hands in her lap. Then she opened her mouth … and closed it again.
Come on, Charlie. This is no time to do your impression of a goldfish blowing bubbles. Say something.
“Charlie,” my dad said, leaning toward her. “This isn’t like you.”
Still she was silent.
Mr. McCain cleared his throat impatiently and pointed to his watch.
“Uh … two words,” he said. “Court times.”
Sergeant Turrisi gave him an extremely irritated look.
“I’m sorry if the pursuit of justice interferes with your tennis game, Mr. McCain,” she said. “How thoughtless of us.”
You rock, Sergeant Turrisi.
Her remark seemed to give Charlie the courage she needed to speak up.
“Those matches did not belong to Oscar,” she said, the words rushing out of her mouth like a torrent of water from a dam. “Jared put them in his backpack to make it seem like Oscar started the fire. But it was Jared and Sean who did it. Those two boys sitting over there.”
She held up her shaking hand and pointed a finger at them. Sean slunk down low in his chair, but not Jared. He looked defiantly at her.
“Says who?” he asked.
“Lauren Wadsworth,” she answered. “And Brooke Addison. The General told Brooke that you planted the matches. And Brooke told Lauren and Lauren told me.”
“That’s preposterous,” Mr. McCain said. “Sergeant, these girls are making this up. My son is not capable of that kind of behavior.”
“Sit down, Mr. McCain,” Sergeant Turrisi said. “Let your son speak for himself, please. Tell me, Jared. Is any of this true?”
“Not a word,” Jared answered. “They’re making this up to protect him.” He pointed at Oscar. “They just feel sorry for him, so they accused me. Us. Because we don’t have anything wrong with us.”
“That’s not true and you know it,” I shouted. “And besides, there’s plenty wrong with you.”
“Young lady, that’s enough,” Sergeant Turrisi said. Then she directed her attention to Charlie. “You’ve made some powerful accusations here. Do you have any proof of your claim?”
“Yes,” Charlie answered. “I already told you. The General told Brooke, who is his girlfriend. And then Brooke
told Lauren. They have no reason to lie.”
“That’s called hearsay,” the sergeant said, “which is information gathered by one person from another person. It’s not evidence. It’s just hearsay.”
“I don’t care what you call it,” Charlie said. “It’s true. I swear it.” She was practically crying.
“It’s nothing more than teenagers gossiping,” Officer Porter butted in. “Not worth a thing. You have no proof, honey. Face it.”
Jared smiled smugly. Even Sean was sitting straighter in his chair, the old confidence returning. Suddenly, we heard someone knocking on the glass wall of the room. All eyes turned to see who could be interrupting this meeting. It was Tyler Frank, pounding on the window to be let in.
“Does anyone know that man?” Sergeant Turrisi asked.
“He’s Tyler Frank,” my dad answered. “The photographer hired to shoot pictures at the event last night.”
Tyler stuck his head in the door.
“Excuse me for making such a rude entrance,” he said. “I went to the club to find you guys, and a lady named GoGo told me you were here. I want to show you some photographs.” Then he glanced over at Oscar and gave him a big smile. “How’s things in Gotham?” he said.
“Very bad,” Oscar answered. It was the first time he had spoken all morning.
“Not to worry, my man. They’re about to get better,” Tyler told him.
“Mr. Frank, we are in the middle of an investigative hearing,” Sergeant Turrisi said. “I’m afraid your photographs will have to wait until some other time.”
“But they pertain to this investigation,” Tyler said. “You see, Sergeant, after the party I was at my studio reviewing the shots like I always do, picking out which ones I was going to send to the papers and magazines. And I found these. Just take a look. I printed them big so you could see them clearly.”
He reached into his camera bag, pulled out about fifteen eight-by-ten photographs, and spread them out on the table.
“These are shots of the Truth Tellers performance,” he said, “just after the governor arrived. Most of the images are of her or the kids. But as I was flipping through them, I noticed that some of them included the beach in the background. No magazine cares about seeing too much beach, so I enlarged the shot in order to remove most of the background. And while I was photoshopping it, I noticed this.”
He held up a couple of the photographs, and there in the background, you could see two hazy figures hunched over a spot on the beach in front of Mrs. Ivanov’s house.
“I enlarged those, and then I got these images.” Tyler held up two more photographs. “As you can see, there is clearly a hole in the sand in which these figures have placed a pile of driftwood. The preparations for a bonfire.”
He held up the next two photographs.
“And here are those same two figures lighting the driftwood. One of them is holding the match, the other is fanning the flames.”
Everyone leaned in close to examine the photographs. And there they were in living color—Jared and Sean. Jared held the match. Sean was fanning the flames.
Oscar broke out into a smile as big as all of California. I wanted to stand up and hoot, but I was sure if I did, Officer Porter would arrest me for creating a public disturbance. Sergeant Turrisi picked up the photos and studied them for a full minute.
“Now this,” she said, turning to Charlie, “this is not hearsay. This is called evidence. Proof.”
Tyler held up his hand and high-fived Oscar.
“Batman to the rescue,” he said. Oscar laughed. Man, oh, man, was that ever good to hear.
Sean slumped over and put his head on his knees. Jared shot a sidelong glance at his father, who had turned bright red in the face and looked like he was going to blow his top any minute. Finally, finally, finally, that cocky grin disappeared from Jared’s face.
Sorry, Mr. McCain, looks like you’re going to have to cancel that court time.
“Young men, do you have anything to say for yourselves?” Sergeant Turrisi asked, looking sternly at Jared and Sean.
“It was an accident,” Sean said weakly. “We were just having fun.”
“Accidents happen,” the sergeant said. “But blaming someone else for damages that you caused, that is not an accident. That’s just plain wrong.”
“What’s going to happen to us?” Jared asked. Boy, it was good to see him sweating this out.
“Of course, your families will have to pay for the damages.”
“My dad’s a builder,” Jared said. “You can fix up that house, can’t you, Dad?”
“And who do you think is going to pay for that?” Mr. McCain said. His jaw was clenched in anger. “You and Sean are going to be working this debt off for a long time.”
“Don’t expect to see any more allowance,” Mr. Patterson said to Sean.
“I’m afraid that’s not all,” Sergeant Turrisi went on. “There will be other consequences for these young men, as well.”
“You’re not going to send us to jail, are you?” Sean said. His voice was shaking.
“Not jail,” the sergeant said. “But it is illegal to set bonfires on the beach, so you will definitely be doing many hours of community service.”
“Like picking up litter on the freeway?” Jared said, turning up his nose. He practically spit out the words.
“Exactly,” Sergeant Turrisi said. “And many other tasks you may not like, either. I’m going to set up a meeting with Ms. Stern, a social worker who will oversee your community service. She’ll be available to meet with you and your parents on Monday, that is, if … if you gentlemen can spare a few minutes from your tennis schedule.”
“Of course,” Mr. Patterson said. I felt bad for him. He looked truly disappointed in Sean.
“As for now, I see no reason to continue to ruin these folks’ Sunday,” Sergeant Turrisi said. Then looking at us and at all the Bermudez family that was gathered there, she said, “You may go. And thank you all for your cooperation.”
We got up and left, getting out of there as fast as we could. Outside the building, we jumped up and down like crazy idiots. Everyone was so relieved and happy, except for Charlie, who still seemed pale and shaken.
“You did the right thing,” I said, putting my arms around her and giving her a big hug. “I’m proud of you.”
“Yeah. Just wait until the others hear about this,” she said. “I wonder what they’re going to say.”
“That you’re a hero?” I suggested.
“No way,” she answered.
I had to agree with her there. Charlie had definitely taken the unpopular road, and she was going to have to suffer the consequences of that, whatever they might be.
Eddie came up to us, a huge smile on his handsome face.
“Thank you,” he said. “I am so happy you told the truth. And Lily, she will be happy, too.”
Then he reached out and gave Charlie a big hug, which set off a complete hug fest. Candido hugged my dad. Charlie hugged Candido. Tyler hugged Eddie. And yes, I hugged Oscar. Not once, not twice, but three times.
It was pretty nice. Actually, it was very nice. Very, very nice.
Which is all I’m going to say about it.
Victory at Last
Chapter 16
“If we hustle, we can still make the tournament,” my dad said as we pulled out of the Santa Monica City Hall parking lot.
“I thought you canceled our match,” Charlie said.
“Well, I tried to. But Anna Kozlov and Marjorie Shin were already on the road up here. So let’s just say, I left the door open. Told them due to unforeseen circumstances beyond our control, we might be a few minutes late.”
“Dad, I can’t play now,” I protested. “I’m all pumped up from everything that just happened there in the police station.”
“Pumped up are two words I like to hear before a tournament,” he said.
“We don’t have our stuff,” Charlie said.
“Already took car
e of that. GoGo is meeting us there with your clothes and gear.”
“But I promised Oscar we would go out and celebrate,” I said.
“Already took care of that, too. Candido is dropping Alicia and the boys off at the Sand and Surf.”
“You’re kidding?!”
My dad actually laughed. “I figured those nice collared shirts shouldn’t go to waste.”
As we walked into the lobby of the Sand and Surf Club, GoGo was waiting for us with our tennis bags in hand. Right in back of her, the two old guys in their navy blazers were sitting on the red velvet chairs behind the huge mahogany table. Mr. I-Don’t-Have-Much-of-a-Mustache was none too pleased to see us. Well, I don’t know how he felt about Charlie, but I can tell you this, he was none too pleased to see me.
“Here comes the little tennis player with the big temper,” he said. “Do you remember her, Ted?”
The guy named Ted straightened his red striped tie and looked at me over the top of his glasses.
“Yes, indeed,” he said. “That was quite a tantrum you threw the last time you were here. We don’t approve of tantrums at the Sand and Surf Club.”
“Seems like there’s a long list of stuff you folks don’t approve of,” I said. “I know collarless shirts are high on that list.”
“We believe in the elegance of traditional country club wear,” Mr. Pathetic Mustache said. “Someone has to maintain the dress standards or else who knows what might happen.”
“Yeah, next thing you know people are going to run around in red shorts or—heaven forbid—yellow polka-dot skorts,” I said, faking horror at the thought. “That will lead us directly down the path to ruin.”
“I think you made your point, Doodle,” GoGo whispered. “Enough is enough.”
Charlie grabbed my arm.
“We don’t have time for this, Sams. Let it go. We have to be changed and on the court in less than five minutes.”
“You go in the bathroom and get started,” I said to her. “I just want to make sure Oscar and Eddie get in okay.”
One minute later, they came cruising up in Candido’s red truck. The brakes screeched as the truck pulled to a stop in front of the etched glass lobby door. Mustache Man stood up and peered out, casting a disapproving look. Oscar climbed out of the front seat, and Eddie and Alicia slid out of the back. They waved good-bye to Candido and he drove off across the parking lot, attracting quite a bit of attention from the other members. GoGo once told us that the people at Sand and Surf are wound up so tight, they make the Sporty Forty members seem like hippies.
