by Leena Clover
“I’m not worried. He’s got you in his corner.”
I flung my arms wide.
“You too? Have you forgotten we are leaving tomorrow?”
“You’ll think of something,” Tony said seriously.
Was I worthy of the faith these people had in me?
Chapter 4
The alarm snapped me awake at 4:30 AM. I hit the Snooze button and snuggled under the covers. There was a loud rapping on my room door.
“Time to get up,” Dad yelled from the other side.
There was a series of such raps to be heard through the house. I scrambled up and rushed into the shower. We were having breakfast on the road, but we couldn’t start without coffee.
Motee Ba was filling large travel mugs with the hot brew. Sally poured juice in paper cups and handed them out. The tart orange finally took away any remaining drowsiness. Pappa was at the front door, muttering about the time.
“Relax, Mr. Patel,” Motee Ba told him. “This is a vacation, not some kind of drill. You have to stop looking at the time now.”
He made a rude noise and ignored her.
Tony’s truck pulled up in the driveway and he bounded in, smelling of Zest soap.
“Start loading the cars, kids,” Dad ordered.
Jeet, Tony and I spent half an hour trying to get everything in the trunk. Dad had strictly capped us off at one bag per person. We would have to do laundry somewhere along the way. There were ten bags of food and a few more for essentials.
Finally, all the windows were double checked and the house was locked. I knew what was coming next. Pappa hobbled toward the car. He didn’t have to call shotgun. He just glared at everyone, daring us to contradict him.
“You can sit in the front now, Pappa, but you’ll have to take turns sitting in the back.”
Pappa ignored Dad and tried to get in on his own. The seat was higher so Tony had to help him in.
“Can I drive?” Jeet asked.
“Maybe later,” Dad said, giving me a look.
Jeet was going to pester us like this all the way, but he would have to wait a month of Sundays before anyone let him get behind the wheel. He was shuffled into the third row along with me. Dad, Sally and Motee Ba sat in the second row and Tony took the wheel.
We said a small prayer and set off.
“Don’t cross the speed limit, boy!” Pappa growled.
Tony took his time getting used to the different buttons and dials on the dash. By the time he merged onto the Interstate, he was handling the car well.
“When are we stopping for breakfast?” Jeet asked. “I’m hungry.”
It was barely 6:30 AM and there was a glow on the horizon. We watched the orange ball of the sun come up slowly. Sally handed Jeet an apple. Then she started cutting them and handed out slices in disposable plates.
The road trip had begun and we let out a cheer.
Tony made good time and pulled into a Denny’s in Oklahoma City. Everyone scrambled out as soon as they could. We had our fill of eggs and pancakes and got back on the road.
“How about some music?” Dad said, handing Tony a CD.
“You burned a disc?” I asked.
The LX cut through the miles and everyone dozed off a bit. Pappa was snoring.
“I need you here,” Tony mouthed at me in the rearview mirror. “Next to me.”
I shrugged. Wasn’t much I could do about it at that moment.
I nodded off for a few minutes myself and dreamt of Charlie Gibson. He had been one of the first people to try my Masala Fried Chicken.
“You know I am pretty set in my ways, Meera,” he warned. “But I always like to encourage young people.”
He took a bite and gasped as the chili hit him. Then his taste buds adjusted to the unfamiliar spices and he began enjoying it.
“You’ve got a winner here,” he had nodded at Sylvie. “Give these stodgy townsfolk something to talk about.”
The car veered off the shoulder onto a rumble strip and snapped me awake.
“Are you tired already?” I teased Tony.
Everyone moved around in their limited space and a pit stop was called for.
“We’re coming up on a rest area soon,” Tony said, squinting at a road sign.
The rest area wasn’t very good and it had no restrooms. Tony looked for a way to enter the town. He finally stopped at a big gas station. I desperately needed an icy drink.
“Anybody want anything? I’m getting a Coke.”
“We’ve got a big bottle of cola with us, Meera. Just get some ice.”
I rolled my eyes at Motee Ba.
“We are on the road for over a week, Meera. Plenty of time to buy what you want.”
I got six large cups of ice, and paid a few cents for each one. Tony and I strolled around at the back, sipping our drinks. I was thinking about Leo.
“What’s wrong?” Tony asked.
He can sense my mood.
“People are talking about Leo. It’s just like the time Sylvie was blackballed for her pie.”
“It’s just talk, Meera.”
“And we know how damaging it can be. They are not saying anything specific. Just hinting at something vague.”
“You’ve got Stan’s ear this time. If the police think Leo’s a suspect, you’ll know soon enough.”
I processed that and decided there was nothing I could do about it.
I took the wheel and Tony sat next to me. Pappa grumbled all the way into the back. Everyone ignored him.
“Are we still in Oklahoma?” Jeet asked.
“Sure, we are,” Dad said. “We’re on Route 66 now. It’s a historic route. Very famous. You must have read about it at school.”
Jeet managed to evade the question. He had never crossed state lines by road. So this was a new experience for him.
“You know those signs we see when we leave our county?” Dad said. “You’ll see similar signs when we cross the state border. So you’ll know when you leave Oklahoma and enter Texas.”
“Okay!” Jeet sat up. “When will that happen?”
“Why don’t you check this map and tell me?”
Dad got busy quizzing Jeet on his map reading skills.
We made a quick stop at the next rest area on Pappa’s request and drove on. The LX handled beautifully and I felt a sense of euphoria, up in the high cabin with heated seats warming my heiny. There were patches of old snow dusting the land and bushes and temperatures were in the 50s. Not bad for spring.
“Welcome to Texas,” Jeet cried out, pointing at a green sign by the side of the road. “Drive Friendly! You hear that Meera?”
Jeet almost jumped in his seat with excitement and banged his head against the roof of the car. Tony and I burst out laughing.
“How old are you, 5?” I smirked.
“This calls for a snack,” Pappa declared.
Sally brought out paper cups and Motee Ba filled them with chevdo, an Indian snack made with rice flakes, peanuts and lots of stuff. Something like a pub mix. As if we didn’t have enough things to eat, a package had arrived the day before from my aunt. She had special ordered an array of Gujarati snacks, knowing how Pappa wasn’t too crazy about pretzels and stuff. My Aunt Anita must have spent a small fortune on the shipping fees.
Tony and I shared a cup and I dipped in it after putting the car on Cruise Control.
“Keep your eyes on the road,” Pappa reminded me from the back.
“You’re missing Becky, aren’t you?” Motee Ba asked sagely.
I told her what we had talked about.
“The diner’s suffered a lot this year. Let’s hope Leo doesn’t face the same fate.”
“I promised Charlie I would keep an eye on him,” Pappa said as he swallowed another mouthful of chevdo.
He held a hand out imperiously and Sally placed a glass of water in it. Pappa doesn’t drink from bottles. I waited for more as he gulped down the water noisily.
“When did you do that Pappa?” I asked.
“Every time we met, girl!”
I almost whipped my head around.
“Are you saying he had some kind of intuition about dying?”
“He was 75. At that age, every day is a gift.”
“He didn’t feel threatened by anyone?”
“Charlie kept to himself most of the time,” Pappa said. “We met for lunch once a month. Why would anyone want to harm him?”
“That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it?” Tony said. “If we know that, we’ll know who killed him.”
“Why are you talking about this now?” Dad complained. “We’re on vacation.”
Sally patted Dad’s arm. Or maybe I imagined it. Apparently, Dad didn’t know Pappa wanted me to find Charlie’s killer. We had made good time inspite of all the stops. We had lunch at a big rest stop, gorging on thepla flatbread, pickles, yogurt and fruit cocktail. We cut one of Sylvie’s pies for dessert.
An hour later, I pulled into our hotel in Amarillo.
“Let’s freshen up and get going right away,” I said. “We need to catch the sunset at the canyon.”
Palo Duro Canyon lies to the south of Amarillo and is one of the attractions of the area. There was also a historic Route 66 District. We planned to go there for dinner.
“Aren’t we going to the Grand Canyon?” Jeet asked. “Why are we going to one more canyon?”
Pappa and Jeet stayed back and the rest of us went to the canyon. We did the tourist thing, enjoying the scenic drive, stopping at scenic overlooks, taking pictures.
Sally pointed out the juniper bushes, and the sage and yucca. She and Dad went off, whispering to each other. I took Motee Ba’s arm and led her to a bench at an overlook. It had a nice view of the canyon.
We were quiet for a while, soaking in the view. I thought I saw a Palo Duro mouse and a wild turkey. Wild flowers were beginning to bloom in some places. In a few weeks, they would form a colorful carpet across the canyon.
“Your Pappa’s taking this hard,” Motee Ba said to me. “He never liked Leo much. But now he’s worried about him.”
“About that…” I wondered how to say what I was thinking.
“You know, Motee Ba, Jeet will be off to college soon. Maybe we can ask Leo to come live with us for a while.”
Motee Ba’s face lit up.
“You wouldn’t mind having him underfoot?”
“He seems like a good kid,” I reasoned, trying to sound casual. “How old is he anyway? He’ll go to college soon, won’t he?”
Motee Ba sprang up, looking excited.
“I talked to Sylvie. She’ll take him in now, and he can be with them over the summer. He can come to us in the fall.”
Motee Ba is a grandma after all. We were all secretly dreading the void in our lives after Jeet went to college. Having a young boy to feed and pamper sounded like the perfect antidote.
“Now I have to talk to Sally,” Motee Ba plotted, rubbing her hands. “Once she’s on board, Andy will fall in line.”
“Sally’s a guest herself. You don’t need to ask her.”
“Your mother’s not a guest, Meera,” Motee Ba laughed. “When are you going to accept it?”
“Accept her, you mean,” I mumbled.
My grandma kissed the top of my head and ignored me. We walked around, stretching our legs, and headed back to the hotel.
Chapter 5
We were all longing for a hot meal that night. I was worn out from the day on the road, but it was a good kind of tired. The days stretched ahead, promising new sights and new experiences.
“Is there an Indian restaurant in this town?” Pappa asked.
“Mr. Patel, you have promised to give the local food a chance,” Motee Ba reminded him. “Don’t mention Indian food until we reach Vegas.”
Pappa was the only finicky eater of the lot. The rest of us were eager to taste the big and bold flavors of Texas food. I had done some research and made a list of local specialties.
“Where are we going, Meera?” Dad asked.
“This place has been around for over 50 years. They started on the old Route 66 and then moved to this new spot when the Interstate was built.”
Tony and I tried some local beers and talked Dad into trying one. Pappa stuck to his Scotch. We dug into the hand breaded mushrooms and onion rings, waiting for our entrees. Pappa liked the spicy chicken quesadilla. Tony and Jeet dug into steaks. Motee Ba shared Pappa’s meal and I enjoyed a juicy burger. Sally ordered side salads for everyone.
“We’ll be eating out every day,” Motee Ba warned. “Need to get those veggies in.”
Tony and I dropped everyone off and drove to Walmart. We were stocking up on water and fresh fruit on Sally’s orders.
“Are you going to call Stan today?” Tony asked.
“We just met him yesterday. I don’t think he must have done a lot since then. Do you?”
Tony, Jeet and I were sharing a huge room with three queen beds. I called Becky from my room using a calling card. Tony hadn’t offered me the use of his cell phone, and I wasn’t going to ask him for it.
“Where have you been, Meera?” she almost screamed in my ear. “I’ve been waiting for your call.”
“Okay, okay, I missed you too.”
I wondered why Becky sounded so anxious.
“Have you talked to Stan?” she burst out.
“Not yet. I wanted to catch up with you first.”
She clammed up.
“What is it, Becks? Something wrong?”
“How was your day? Is everyone alright?”
“We had fun, and we missed you,” I told her. “Everyone’s fine. Probably asleep by now. We had a big dinner, Texas style.”
“Good for you,” Becky said.
I sensed her hesitation.
“What are you not telling me?”
“The cops think Leo has been joyriding.”
“He went to Ponca City to visit some friends,” I said defensively. “He told me that last night.”
“Well, Charlie’s wallet was empty so there was money missing from it. They think Leo stole that money.”
“Is there a reason for them to think that?”
“It’s what his kind does,” Becky wailed. “That’s what people are saying.”
“What rot is this now, Becky?”
“Leo wanted money so he grabbed what he got and ran off. After he stabbed Charlie, that is.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
I sucked in a deep breath. I had a hard time imagining Leo doing any such thing.
“That’s what they’re all saying. Maybe you’ll get the real scoop from Stan.”
It was almost 10 PM. I promised to keep Becky posted and dialed Stan’s number. He answered immediately.
“Hello?” he asked tentatively. “Is that you, Meera?”
“Hey Stan! Looks like you’ve been busy.”
“So you know? You won’t tell him, right?”
“What are you talking about, Stan?”
“We are arresting Leo Smith for Charlie Gibson’s murder.”
I waved a hand in the air, trying to grab Tony’s attention. The hotel phone didn’t have a speaker so Tony huddled close to me trying to listen in.
“Why do you think he’s guilty?” I tried to remain calm.
“Money’s missing from Charlie’s wallet. A neighbor saw someone sneaking out of a window. We know Charlie was stabbed from behind. He trusted his killer enough to turn his back on him. Who else could it be but Leo?”
“How much money are we talking about here?”
“We are not sure. We are assuming he had some cash on hand for every day expenses.”
“So we’re talking about what, fifty bucks?”
“Maybe not even that, Meera.”
“And you think Leo actually murdered Charlie for that?”
“Well, he must have needed gas money. Where was he going to get it? He doesn’t have a job. He did chores around the house – mowed the lawn and stuff. But Charlie didn’t p
ay him for it.”
“Leo took Charlie’s car. It could have had a full tank already.”
“One of the bills in Leo’s wallet had something written on it. Cashier at the bank remembers handing it out to Charlie.”
“Aren’t you missing something obvious? Maybe Charlie just gave it to Leo, knowing he wanted to go meet his friends.”
“There is no proof of that.”
“But you have proof that he stole it?”
“I told you, this neighbor almost swears she saw Leo jump out of the window.”
“What does Leo say about it?”
“We haven’t asked him about it yet. We’ll question him tomorrow.”
Something didn’t feel right. Tony whispered in my ear, and I struck my palm against my forehead.
“Say he’s guilty. Why did he come back?”
“I don’t know,” Stan said stonily.
“Would you come back if you were guilty?”
“Maybe he’s overconfident. He thinks he can get away with it.”
I sighed. I was too tired to process it.
“Keep me posted, please.”
“Do you have any other theories, Meera?”
I didn’t, because I hadn’t spared a thought for Charlie Gibson. I wasn’t too happy with the way things were going.
“Not right now, Stan.”
He said goodbye and hung up.
“Can you imagine that?” I burst out, following Tony as he paced around the room.
Jeet had been flicking the channels on the TV.
“Is this your latest project?” he asked, making quotes around the word project.
“You have no idea how hard life is for Leo, do you?” I attacked Jeet. “Count your blessings, young one. You will soon experience the big bad world and then you’ll realize how lucky you are.”
“Yeah, man!” Tony said, shaking his head at Jeet in disgust.
His expression said Jeet had broken some bro code. Jeet sobered, switched off the light over his bed, and disappeared under the covers.
Tony and I stepped outside with unspoken agreement. The parking lot stretched into darkness. We have our share of large empty lots in Swan Creek but this was something else. We walked in a line toward the edge of the hotel’s property. The sky was inky black, and the stars shone bright.
