Dead Storage

by Mary Feliz

  “I think there’s more we can do to improve your situation,” Nell said. “Let’s look into getting government benefits for all of your grandchildren. They qualify and it would take some of the financial pressure off your family. We can talk about it more when you’re not quite so exhausted.” Nell yawned, launching a contagion that soon had everyone thinking of bed.

  “Thanks again, Maggie,” Julio said. “I’m going to take Gabriela home. She wants to pick up the girls from Alejandra’s house and bring them to court tomorrow. I don’t want them to be alone. I know there’s no question of those thugs coming back, but it wouldn’t feel right to leave my sister unprotected. Do you think Stephen would mind if I held on to his car?”

  “Not at all. Please drive carefully. Are you sure you both don’t want to stay? It’s been such a long day for everyone.”

  “Gabriela will sleep better in her own bed, knowing that the girls are safe.”

  After we’d walked them to the car and seen them off, Nell and I returned to the living room to find Rafi sound asleep on the couch with Munchkin snoring at his feet and Holmes settled on his chest. They all looked so comfortable we decided to leave them undisturbed.

  I showed Nell to David’s room, where I’d cleaned up, changed the sheets, and laid out fresh towels, a toothbrush, and other essential toiletry items. I stumbled to bed myself with Watson for company. I missed Belle, the boys, and Max, not necessarily in that order, and hoped they were having a great time in the mountains. I pulled out my phone to check for messages, but fell asleep before I could enter the code to unlock it.

  * * *

  I heard Nell up early, making phone calls, and dragged myself out of bed, trying to be a good hostess. It was difficult. She’d already fed the animals, started the coffee, mixed up a jug of orange juice from some concentrate I had in the freezer, and taken all the available fruit to make a gorgeous salad.

  I sniffed the air, smelling cinnamon and butter. “Did you hire elves to cater breakfast, Nell, or have you been up all night?”

  Nell was wearing a bathrobe that my mother had given David, but which he never wore. She’d rolled back the sleeves, pinned up her hair, and wore thick socks on her feet. She was ironing and did indeed have an elfin look to her face as she struggled to press the collar of her suit jacket. She scrunched up her nose and pressed hard on the iron. She must have been satisfied with the result, because she nodded, shook out the jacket, inserted a hanger into the sleeves, and hung it on the back of the kitchen door.

  “Morning, Maggie,” she said. “I was up early and made a French toast casserole. It should be finished in a few minutes. I hope you don’t mind that I took over your kitchen. Forrest and I had a few legal details to go over before he left San Francisco. After we got them all sorted out, I was too wired to go back to bed.”

  “You can get up early and take over my kitchen any time you want. Coffee?” I held up the pot and she nodded enthusiastically, causing her pinned-up hair to tumble around her shoulders. She looked about twelve years old, but I was convinced Forrest had found us the best possible lawyer for the job.

  Rafi stumbled in from the living room at the same moment the timer went off for the French toast. While Nell tested her creation and transferred it to a plate, I pulled out a chair for Rafi, poured a glass of orange juice, and invited him to help himself to the fruit.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “Don’t thank me. Your lawyer apparently provides an array of essential services. I just woke up myself. This is all her doing.”

  Nell proclaimed herself too wired to eat and left to take a shower and get dressed for court. “Rafi,” she said, “help yourself to the iron if you’ve got any clothes that became rumpled in transit. You want to be sharply dressed to show respect to the law, the court, and the judge. No jeans. Dress shoes. A tie.” She turned to me. “You said you could outfit him with any clothes he needs? A jacket, I think, rather than a suit. This is still California, and he’s still a teenager. We want the judge impressed, but not fainting from shock.”

  She dashed up the stairs and was gone before Rafi turned to me. “A tie? Dress shoes? Seriously?”

  “Oh, I think she was pretty serious. Leave all this and come with me. I’d forgotten we were supposed to lay out your clothes yesterday, but don’t tell Nell.”

  Rafi pulled a wrinkled pair of khakis and a button-down shirt from his bulging backpack and we headed upstairs to Brian’s room. Most of Brian’s dress clothes were uniforms for his various concert bands, including a tuxedo that he was outgrowing, a black suit, and a navy blue jacket he wore for jazz band. I pulled that out of the closet and checked it carefully before handing it to Rafi.

  “No stains. No dreadful smells. I think we’re good. Want to try it on?”

  Rafi dropped his khakis and shirt on the floor and then pulled the jacket on over his T-shirt. The sleeves were a little long, but it was a good emergency fit.

  I reached down to pick up the clothes he’d brought with him. He frowned. “I’m sorry. They look pretty bad, don’t they?”

  I looked at my watch. “Nell’s on a tight schedule. Why don’t you head into the shower? I’ll take these downstairs and iron them for you. They’ll be fine. I’ll have them back up here before you’re ready to get dressed. I’ll hang them from the hook on the back of the bedroom door so your new friend Holmes doesn’t take a nap on them before you’ve had a chance to wear them. There is nothing as bad for the look of a navy blue jacket as the hair of a marmalade cat.”

  Rafi’s face reflected his delight over getting out of the ironing chore mixed with fear of what his powerhouse lawyer might do if she found out he’d disobeyed her instructions and let me press his clothes for him. It was a look I had no trouble reading.

  I winked. “If you don’t tell her, I won’t.”

  “Great,” he said, and bounded toward the shower at the end of the hall.

  “Everything should be in there somewhere, right where Brian and David left them. Feel free to rummage around until you find what you need.”

  * * *

  We were due at court at 9:00 a.m., which put us in the thick of the morning traffic, but I dropped Nell and Rafi off with moments to spare. Julio, Rafi’s sisters, and Gabriela waited for us on the courthouse steps.

  Not having a role in the proceedings, I found parking, went through security, and asked for directions to the judge’s chambers. His clerk pointed to a bench where I could wait. I could hear Nell’s muffled voice from the other side of the closed door, but couldn’t make out the words or even whether things were going well. After what seemed like hours but was only twenty minutes, I heard laughter and congratulatory sounds. The door opened to reveal a beaming Rafi, who was already loosening his tie and shrugging off the jacket. Before I could give him a hug or high-five, he handed me the jacket, pulled his sneakers out of his backpack, and exchanged them for Brian’s dress shoes.

  “Ah,” he said, looking up, smiling, and handing me the shoes. “That’s much better.”

  I laughed and finally had the sense that I was seeing the genuine Rafi. A great kid, but a real kid. The teenager that Stephen had gone to jail for. I liked him.

  “How’d it go?” I asked, scanning the room and trying to read the faces of Rafi’s family.

  “Great,” said Nell. “The judge was impressed with both Rafi and his paperwork. He signed the papers right away.”

  “He was cool,” Rafi said. “He reminded me that Abe Lincoln, George Washington, and scores of other great Americans were born at home and no one doubted their citizenship.”

  Nell looked at her watch. “He also didn’t want to let us leave until he was convinced all the other procedures would go smoothly. If we hurry we can get to the county clerk recorder’s office before it opens. The judge even waived the fee for an expedited birth certificate.”

  I laughed with joy and handed a tissue to Julio, who was crying. The little girls, Isabella and Sofía, hung back behind their grandmother.
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br />   “And what about the DA?” I asked.

  “The judge called him, too,” Nell said. “They made arrangements for Rafi to meet with the police detective and the DA in Mountain View after school one day next week.”

  “If Rafi’s not being interviewed until next week, that means . . .” I said, disappointed that Stephen would spend another weekend in jail. I didn’t want to put a damper on the festivities, though, so I looked up and tried to smile.

  Nell shook her head. “Stephen’s release was out of our hands and the judge’s, I’m afraid. It’s not within his sphere of influence. He did, however, recommend a lawyer to represent Rafi’s interests when he meets with the police.”

  Rafi looked at me, and nodded toward the jacket and dress shoes I held in my arms. “I’m sorry. I can carry those. I didn’t mean to foist them off on you. Thank Brian for me too.”

  Julio and Gabriela and the girls pressed forward to hug Rafi. But Nell gave them only a moment. “We need to go to the clerk recorder’s office and then Forrest wants to meet us on the steps of the Superior Court building. He’s been talking to another judge and the DA about Stephen’s case. I’m giving him a lift back to San Francisco. You all don’t mind going over there, do you? He asked to meet Rafi.”

  I nodded. “I’m happy to do that. I want to thank Forrest in person for all that he’s done.”

  For reasons known only to San Jose city planners, the old county court buildings were located downtown while other courts and county offices were located a mile north on Hedding Street. Out of respect for Gabriela’s age and the fact that she was still recovering from a nasty cold, we took our cars and were able to find parking quickly since the clerk recorder’s office wasn’t open to the general public until 10:00 a.m.

  We followed Nell into the building like a line of ducklings following their mother and were ushered with great formality through a side door even though the main office was not yet open. The clerk had the paperwork filled out as much as possible when we arrived, and we were in and out in less than ten minutes. The young women staffing the office charmed Rafi and embarrassed him by handing him his birth certificate along with a Mylar balloon saying IT’S A BOY! I think Rafi would have stashed it in the nearest trash bin, but his sisters were delighted and insisted on carrying it for him.

  Nell texted Forrest to tell him we were on our way. She instructed me to pull up right in front of the courthouse, in an area used solely for dignitaries since September 11 had put heightened security measures in place. Forrest waited for us at the curb.

  I turned off the car and jumped out, eager to stretch and to offer Forrest my thanks. I was certain that stopping or parking here wasn’t truly allowed, but right at this moment, Homeland Security rules weren’t my primary concern.

  “When I’m arrested for murder, I want you to represent me,” I gushed to Forrest, hugging him and crushing his perfectly tailored suit. I stepped back, looking up at his face. “I mean . . . Oh, that didn’t come out right, but thank you.”

  “It’s been a long week for all of us,” he said. “But especially for . . .” He turned slightly and waved to someone we couldn’t see inside the building. Moments later, the door opened, and Stephen walked out with his arm in a sling and a bandage on his forehead. He looked thin, exhausted, and pale, but free.

  “Everyone, please give me a moment,” I said. I ran forward, up the wide stairs, took Stephen’s hand, and hugged him with tears running down my face. Neither one of us spoke until Stephen whispered, “Thank you, Maggie. For everything.”

  I wiped my face and looked up. “I was happy to do it, Stephen. But please don’t ask me to keep secrets from Jason again. He’s very angry with me for not keeping him up to date. He wanted to be here for you.”

  “You told him? But I wanted to do that.” Stephen wrinkled his brow and his face took on the sorrowful expression I’d seen so often on Munchkin over the last week.

  “It’s a long story,” I told him. “And all those people want to thank you and congratulate you.” I indicated Rafi and his family waiting on the sidewalk below.

  We were saved from any more uncomfortable emotional exchanges by the arrival of Munchkin himself. Stephen was nearly knocked to the ground by the exuberant dog who leaped to lick his face and sniff all of him, all at once.

  As if by magic, Jason caught Stephen before he fell. Confused, I looked to the street and saw Paolo’s car, with a ski rack attached to the roof, parallel parking behind mine. Paolo must have picked Jason up at the airport. Jason and I had texted back and forth about his flights the day before, and I’d understood he wasn’t due in until much later in the day.

  I was confused, until I saw Nell exchange a smile and wink with Forrest. They both beamed. They must have arranged for Jason to get on an earlier flight, orchestrating a dramatic scene worthy of the great epic film directors.

  Jason hugged and kissed Stephen, then aimed a friendly punch at his good arm.

  “I’m sorry,” Stephen said.

  “And you should be. But you can grovel and explain later. I had time to think and cool my temper on the plane. I decided that the bottom line is that I love you and trust you. If you didn’t tell me any of this, you must have had an unshakable conviction that it was the right thing to do. You were wrong, of course, but I forgive you. It was a terrible, cruel mistake, but I forgive you.”

  Jason smoothed the front of the uniform he’d traveled in and waved everyone else forward. “We’re going straight to Stephen’s favorite restaurant to celebrate.” Munchkin barked and glued himself to Stephen’s side, licking his knee.

  Jason looked down at the dog. “It has an outdoor patio and a dog menu.”

  He turned to the rest of us. “Lunch is on me, and we’ll use the people menu. I’m not sure what all has gone on here in the few days I’ve been gone, but I’m sure it’s worth celebrating. You can start to fill me in over the meal, but it sounds like it will take weeks or months or years to tell it all.”

  I could only agree. But we’d sort it out eventually. That’s what friends do.

  “I’m really sorry, everyone,” Stephen said, hugging Rafi. “But thank you from the bottom of my heart for getting me out of that place. It was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. I wouldn’t mind if I never go anywhere near this courthouse again.”

  “That should be easy,” I said. “Outside of jury duty, of course. What are the chances that you and I would ever get involved in another murder?”

  We trooped off to lunch, laughing as we all tried to update Stephen and Jason about the steps leading to this moment. Lunch was a loud confusion of toasts, thanks, and interruptions. Munchkin licked Stephen repeatedly as if he needed reassurance that they’d finally been reunited.

  “How did Munchkin get here?” I asked.

  Paolo explained that Jason had insisted he stop at the house for Munchkin before driving to the airport.

  “But how did you get in?” I asked.

  “I have a few recommendations to improve your security,” Paolo said, blushing. “But that’s for another time. I need to get back to work.” He said his goodbyes and was soon followed by Gabriela, Julio, Rafi, and the girls. Julio planned to stay a few days until Gabriela had completely recovered from her cold. Then he’d take the train back to Sacramento. Later we learned that Julio had paid the entire lunch bill as he left, leaving a note for me and Stephen saying that he would always be in our debt.

  The rest of us needed to get moving, too, but I had one last question for Forrest.

  “What about the thugs who beat up Stephen and Rafi and killed Mr. Xiang? They hired some stupid kids to threaten my son at his school. Are we safe now?”

  Forrest wiped his mouth with a napkin and nodded. “Absolutely. The Orchard View Police picked up the kids who threatened David. They started talking right away in exchange for suspended sentences and community service. They described the men who’d hired them and Mountain View Police brought them in yesterday. They aren’t talking, but when the
cops found them, the smaller one still had all of Stephen’s credit cards and, I kid you not, a stack of discount cards from the restaurant with traces of Mr. Xiang’s blood on them. The bigger crook wasn’t much smarter. He’d stashed a gun in his refrigerator that matched the caliber of the bullet that shot Mr. Xiang. When the ballistics specialists are finished with it, they expect it will prove to be the gun used at the Golden Dragon.”

  “What about the puppet master?” I asked. “We need to get the guy who’s pulling the strings.” No one seemed to have any idea what I was talking about, so I laid it out for them: the pattern of violence, the shop owners’ fear, and the strange comings and goings in the alley.

  “What do you think was going on?” Jason asked.

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “Other than the illegal gambling ring. I’m certain about that part. But it could be almost anything. The store owners are terrified and they aren’t the sort of people who are easily cowed. You have to be brave to run a small business, don’t you? It could be drug distribution, money laundering, or a plot to clear out the block for redevelopment.” I told Jason about the damage to each of the stores, the story Liz had told me about Eileen’s ongoing gambling, and the persistence of the rumor about there being gold hidden in Mr. Xiang’s restaurant.

  Jason reached for his phone and excused himself from the table to make a call.

  “I can’t tell you much because it’s an ongoing investigation,” he said when he returned. “But, Maggie, your hunch was right. Mountain View Police have been watching the downtown businesses for months but somehow they’d missed the mess that was made of Ed Bloom’s shop. There was no police report,” Jason continued.

  “I was involved in another investigation in Orchard View with a very similar pattern of activity that centered around the flower shop managed by Ed’s brother. We suspected they were moving either drugs or money through the stores, distributing the stuff at night to crooks dressed up like homeless people, figuring no one pays attention to the homeless. If we see them, we look away. It was a perfect disguise.” Jason took a sip of his water, wiped his mouth with his napkin, and continued.