Читать книгу Too Many Crooks Spoil the Plot - Sarah Osborne - Страница 10

Chapter Three

Lurleen stayed with us that night. She insisted I go to bed, and she slept on the couch. She had coffee brewing in the kitchen when I woke up.

“Is there anything else I can do?”

“You’ve done plenty,” I said.

We heard stirring in the bedroom, and a moment later Lucie walked out slowly with her monkey in one hand. She looked embarrassed when she realized she was clutching it and started to go back to her room.

“Wait, wait,” said Lurleen. “May I see it?” Lurleen took it tenderly from Lucie. “This looks like a sad little monkey,” she said.

With that, Lucie burst into tears and let me gather her onto my lap.

Lurleen knelt beside her. “I’m so sorry,” she said. She kissed her on top of her head and gave her back the stuffed animal. “Maybe you can comfort each other.”

Lurleen reached over Lucie and hugged me. “Call me later. Right now the children need to be alone with you.”

I nodded a thank you, and she let herself out.

Saturday was rough.

Lucie understood what had happened, but it’s hard to explain to a four-year-old that his mother is never coming back. I tried to comfort them both and answer Jason’s repeated questions about when his mother was coming home. Lucie said their mother was in heaven but was watching over them.

“Will she come home for my birthday?”

“No, Jason,” Lucie explained patiently. “She can’t come home for your birthday. She’s too far away.”

“I will bring her back from far away. I’m Superman. I can find her in the sky.”

“No, Jason. She’s in a place even Superman can’t go.”

Jason’s lower lip trembled.

“We’ll make a big cake for you tomorrow with lots of candles,” I said. “Shall we invite Lurleen and make it a party?”

“Yes.” Jason climbed up beside me on the couch. “I want my mommy to come too.” He burst into tears. I cuddled him, and he finally fell asleep beside me sucking his thumb. His left hand clutched his Spider-Man figure.

Jason’s birthday gave us something else to focus on. Lurleen was thrilled to be included. “I’ll bring all the favors and decorations,” she said. “You’ll have to do the cake, of course, but I’ll handle everything else. What favors do five-year-old boys like? Maybe they’ll know at Party City. Do children still play Pin the Tail on the Donkey?”

I realized this party was going to be over the top with Lurleen directing the show. Maybe that was what we needed. “Focus on action heroes,” I said, “and Jason will be a friend for life.”

We settled on three o’clock Sunday for Jason’s party. That way we’d have time to make a cake and celebrate with whatever Lurleen had in store. The kids could still get to bed at a reasonable time to go to school on Monday. If they were up to going.

I tried not to cry in front of the children, and Lucie tried not to cry in front of Jason. I called my boss at the Children’s Refugee Clinic to cancel my work for Saturday, Monday, and Tuesday.

“I’m so sorry, Vic, for the short notice. I know Saturdays can be a free-for-all.” Saturday was often the only day folks could come in. It was a half day of nonstop action.

“We’ll make do,” Victoria said. “Just take care of the children.” Vic was always understanding. It was one reason I loved working at the clinic. No matter how big the problem or how hectic the day, Vic stayed calm and supportive. I promised to call her as soon as I knew more.

Jason was okay for most of Saturday, but at bedtime he wanted his mama. Lucie did too. She didn’t say a word, but I’ve never seen a child look so miserable. I climbed into their bed, put an arm around each of them, and we all cried and held on to each other.

I left them when I could hear the rhythmic breathing that told me they were both finally asleep. It was after nine, and I knew for me it would be another long night. I hadn’t bothered to get the mail, so I got it now. The evening was clear, warm, full of stars, the kind of night Ellie loved and would never see again.

Inside the house, with a glass of wine beside me, I looked through a pile of bills and one distinct linen envelope addressed to Ditie Brown. Not Mabel Brown or Dr. Brown. The handwriting was vaguely familiar. Then it hit me. I knew who the letter was from, and time came to a screeching halt.

Phil Brockton. My heart pounded. The only man besides my father whom I had ever loved. I hadn’t heard from him in seven years. I didn’t want to hear from him now. Now of all times. But I couldn’t stop myself. I tore open the envelope.

Hi Ditie,

I know how you love old-fashioned letter writing and I didn’t want you to hang up on me or delete my e-mail. I’m coming into town in a few days. I’d really like to see you. Things have changed for me. I can’t wait to tell you.

Phil

Phil had left me high and dry after we finished our residencies, his in oncology, mine in pediatrics. I had assumed we’d both be staying in Atlanta. When Phil took me out to dinner and told me he was doing a fellowship in New York and was going to move in with an oncology nurse he’d recently met, I wasn’t prepared for the news. He made sure we were in a restaurant, so I wouldn’t make a scene. I didn’t. I just never spoke to him again.

I crumpled up the letter, straightened it out again, reread it. I studied the handwriting. He’d used a fountain pen, probably a quill pen, if I knew Phil. He loved the 1800s and the Civil War more than he’d ever loved me. He was seriously into reenactments and everything had to be authentic. I didn’t know what I felt about the contents of the letter. Angry? Hopeful? Disgusted with myself that I could possibly still care about him?

Time resumed its pace. My childhood friend was dead, leaving two devastated children for me to care for. Phil was of no consequence, except that I couldn’t get him out of my head.

I remembered every moment of our last encounter. He gave me the news shortly after our appetizers arrived. He spoke as if I had a rare form of leukemia that he hoped I would survive. Professionally compassionate. I wanted to throw my glass of wine in his face—a very nice cabernet sauvignon—which I’d assumed was meant for a celebration. Instead, it was supposed to be a consolation prize. I gulped it down and said nothing. I was a good girl after all. Never make a scene. Never tell your boyfriend to go to hell. My mother would have approved. My father would have held me in his arms and let me sob. But Dad had also left me high and dry. Not because he wanted to. Because his cancer gave him no choice.

I was drawn to Phil partly because he chose the residency I intended to do—oncology. I wanted to save people the way I couldn’t save my dad, but working with children turned out to be my passion. Phil also seemed to have my father’s love of history and curiosity about the world. I didn’t realize until we broke up that he had none of my father’s gentleness or compassion.

I never saw Phil again after that night, and he never wrote. Until now. I tried to shake off the letter the way you might shake off a bad dream, but I couldn’t do it. Any more than I could shake off the image of Ellie, dead on a slab in the morgue.

It was a sleepless night.

* * * *

Sunday morning Lucie and I serenaded Jason with our own version of “Happy Birthday” and then the three of us worked on his birthday cake. He wanted chocolate, and there is nothing better than my Mexican chocolate cake if I do say so myself. I’d probably have to change the name to something French in order to please Lurleen. Jason stayed just long enough to learn to crack an egg. Then he was off with his Superman cape rescuing Hermione from danger. He would have done the same with Majestic, but she was too quick for him and disappeared under a bed.

Children are amazing, thank God. Jason played with Hermione and dashed around the house waiting for Lurleen to arrive with all her surprises. He smiled and laughed. Something might remind him of his mother, and then he would grow quiet or ask about her. He’d want to go get her. But Lucie or I would talk to him, and he’d be off again on a new adventure. Of course, the grieving wasn’t over. It hadn’t really started, but to have a few minutes of joy was a gift on Jason’s birthday. Lucie did her best to hide her own terrible sadness. She clung to me like a Post-it note and I hugged her back even though my hands were covered with flour. I’m sure we made quite a picture. Dressed in the best aprons I could find, we were decorated with the natural splatter that comes from baking and sampling—bits of chocolate, flour, sugar, pecans. I’ll bet we smelled good enough to eat.

“Mom never had time to cook,” Lucie said shyly. “I did all the cooking. It’s more fun to do it with someone else.”

“I agree,” I said. “Now that you’re here, we’ll try out some new recipes.”

“I’d like that,” Lucie said.

Detective Garrett called around noon. I left Lucie to keep an eye on Jason and took the call in my bedroom.

“I’m sorry to bother you on a Sunday, Dr. Brown, but we’ve been having trouble reaching Mrs. Winston’s mother. She’s on vacation in Costa Rica, according to neighbors. We have no address. She hasn’t responded to messages on her cell phone. Do you have any ideas about friends who might know how to reach her?”

“I’m afraid not. I never saw her after I moved away, and I don’t think Ellie saw much of her either.”

“We haven’t found the children’s father yet either. According to the ex-wife, they split up a year ago, and she has no idea where he is.” He paused. “How are the kids doing?”

He asked the question as if he really wanted to know. I wondered if he had kids. Then I wondered if he was married.

“They’re doing as well as can be expected. Have you found out any more about what Ellie was doing?”

“No. We haven’t located her cell phone.”

“Oh,” I said, “that’s because she left it with Lucie. It’s here at the house. I never thought about it until now.”

“I’ll come over and get it. Is now a good time? I’d like to talk with the kids while I’m there. Would that be all right with you?”

“Sure.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked. This guy was good. He could read me over the phone.

“It’s Jason’s birthday. I hate to upset him anymore than he already is. You could come over and stay for his party at three if that’s not inappropriate.”

“Unusual, but not inappropriate.”

“Great,” I said. “Jason will be thrilled to have a real policeman at his party. I’ll give you the cell phone then and you can talk to the kids. Do you think you can do that without upsetting them too much? I mean, maybe we could follow up with the heavier stuff tomorrow?”

“I may not know as much about kids as you do, Dr. Brown, but I’m pretty good with them. I’ll do my best not to upset them.”

I got off the phone and took a quick shower. I no longer worried about my hair, which would do whatever it wanted to do no matter how much gel I put in it. Today it was a mass of dark curls springing out from my head in every direction. I put on makeup with a touch more care than usual. Why in the world was I doing that?

I’d sworn off men after my last encounter on Match.com. Not a match made in heaven. “So you’re a doctor. You wanna be my doctor? Maybe we could play doctor.” I excused myself to go to the bathroom, never returned, and canceled my account.

Now I was thinking about Detective Mason Garrett with his kind gray eyes. I probably needed something or someone to think about that didn’t make me cry.

“You look nice,” Lucie said when I emerged from the bathroom.

“Really? Thanks, Lucie. Detective Garrett is coming over. He’s going to stay for Jason’s party. You haven’t met him yet, but he’s a very nice man. He’s trying to find out what happened to your mother. He wants to talk with you and Jason.”

Lucie got tearful but nodded. “I’ll get Jason ready.”

“Thanks, honey.”

Lurleen arrived around two. It took three trips to her little yellow Citroën to bring in all the packages she had, including the one I’d asked her to buy for Jason. My gift to him. An Avengers Action Kit. Beautifully wrapped in Spider-Man paper with silver spiderweb ribbon. A masterpiece.

“You wrapped this yourself, didn’t you, Lurleen?”

“Of course I did. Now where is that fine helper of mine, Lucie?” Lucie appeared as if from nowhere and Lurleen dramatically kissed both her cheeks. She held her out at arm’s length and twirled her around. “Tres jolie,” she said. “That means very pretty.”

“I know,” Lucie said and blushed.

“And now you must leave us alone,” she said to me. “Au revoir. Tout a l’heure and all that.”

I left them to it and took Jason outside to play. He dashed around the front yard, chasing Hermione until she finally flopped down in the shade.

Detective Garrett arrived moments later with a ball and bat in one hand, a mitt in the other. He looked better than the last time I’d seen him. More rested, clean-shaven, with what looked like a new corduroy jacket over a black turtleneck and gray khakis. His bald head and sympathetic eyes were unchanged.

“I’m Detective Garrett,” he said, kneeling down in front of Jason, “and I brought you a birthday present.”

Jason looked stunned.

“You do like baseball, don’t you?” Garrett said.

Jason nodded. “For me?” he asked, eyeing the gifts.

“For you.” He handed them over. “Wanna play?”

Jason’s head bobbed up and down. Then he hesitated. “I don’t know how.”

Good grief, I thought. Ellie didn’t even teach Jason how to throw and catch a ball?

“I’ll show you,” Garrett said. He gave the mitt to Jason, made sure it fit on his hand, and stood five feet away from him. “Here,” he said, lobbing the ball into Jason’s mitt.

“I caught it!” Jason said.

If I ever needed something to endear me to Detective Garrett, I’d just found it. Good with kids? That was an understatement. Of course, good with kids might mean he had a few of his own. Which meant he might have a wife somewhere lurking in the wings. Of course he had a wife. How could he not have a wife? What had I been thinking?

He and Jason played ball for a few more minutes. Then they moved on to batting practice. Lurleen stuck her head out the front door. Did we want an aperitif? Did we want to come inside? We could do that as long as we stayed out of the kitchen and dining room.

“We’ll be right there,” I said. “Lurleen, this is Detective Garrett. You met him briefly Friday night.”

“Enchante,” she said. She looked as if she might rush up and kiss him on both cheeks, but she restrained herself. I was a little disappointed—that would have been a sight to see. Instead, she stood at the door and directed traffic as we came inside.

“No peeking, Jason,” she said as he started for the dining room. “All in good time.”

Lucie stood just inside the door.

“This is Detective Garrett,” I said.

He held out his hand and she shook it.

Detective Garrett patted a place on the sofa. “Sit with me for a bit, Lucie? You too, Jason.”

I went to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. Then I found the cell phone and took it out to him.

He placed the phone in a plastic bag and put it in his pocket.

“Are you a real policeman?” Jason asked.

“I am, Jason. Do you know what detectives do?”

“They ’rest people. They rested my mom once.”

“Arrested, you mean,” Lucie said. “And they never arrested our mom. They just asked her some questions.”

“When was that?” Detective Garrett asked.

“A couple of weeks ago,” Lucie said.

“Do you remember the name of the policeman who spoke to your mother?”

Lucie thought for a moment. “His name was Schmidt. Detective Schmidt.”

“Schmiddy,” Garrett said and paused. He looked at me and nodded toward the kitchen. “I think the coffee may be ready. Could you pour me a cup?” I jumped up and followed him through the dining room and into the kitchen. “Remember, no peeking,” I said to Jason, who was about to join us. “We’ll be right back.”

Huddled together over the stove, Garrett whispered to me as I poured two cups of coffee and some tea for Lurleen. “Schmidt was killed a week ago in a drive-by shooting. He was following up on a lead in midtown. We don’t know yet if they meant to hit him or someone else.”

“You think his death is connected to Ellie’s murder?” I asked.

“I don’t know. But it’s an unusual coincidence. I’ll go over his cases when I get back to the station. We still haven’t found out who did it. No one claims to have seen anything.”

“You think this is some kind of gang or drug killing?”

“Schmidt worked on white-collar crime—not drug enforcement. He was in the Cyber Crimes Unit.”

We walked back into the living room where Lucie was sitting expectantly on the sofa and Jason was zooming action figures up and down over Hermione’s back. Fortunately, she was a kid-friendly dog, the only kind I would have. I handed the cup of tea to Lurleen, who sat demurely in the big red chair, her long legs crossed.

“Can I see those?” Garrett asked, pointing to Jason’s action figures. “My sons used to play with them.”

So there were children. No ring on his finger but children.

Jason proudly showed him his Superman and Spider-Man figures.

“I have a new one,” he said excitedly. He ran into the bedroom and brought out the slightly larger figure. “It’s the Transformer. See, it turns into a man when you do this.” Jason flipped it around, and there was a man.

“Wow, my sons would have loved this.”

“May I see?” I asked. Jason handed it to me and stood nearby, probably to make sure I wouldn’t wreck it. It looked brand new. “Where did you get this?”

Jason looked at Lucie and hesitated for just a second.

“Secret,” he said.

“Secret?” I repeated. I’ve never known a five-year-old who could keep a secret.

“Promise not to tell? My daddy give it to me.”

“Your daddy?” Garrett and I said together.

“He means a friend of our mom’s,” Lucie jumped in. “He gets that mixed up sometimes.”

“Do you know the name of this friend?” Detective Garrett asked.

Lucie shook her head slowly. Lucie was not a good liar, and for some reason she was lying now.

I examined the figure more closely. “Can you show me how it works?” I asked Jason.

“Like this,” he said. He could have added “silly” because it was clear he thought anyone should be able to turn it inside out as quickly as he did.

I played with it for a while. I got pretty good at flipping it back and forth. On my fourth flip, I noticed a tiny compartment in the midsection of the Transformer. I pushed up the latch that kept it closed and found a paper stuffed inside.

“What’s this?” I asked as I carefully unfolded it. Jason looked as dumbfounded as I did.

“Someone played with my Transformer,” Jason said. He was angry. “You, Lucie?”

Lucie shook her head.

The message was short and to the point. Like Ellie’s note to me, this was also written on Sandler’s stationery. Give it to us. Don’t mess around if you love your kids. I tried to keep my face expressionless and showed it to Detective Garrett.

He pulled a plastic glove from his pocket, put it on, and took the paper from me.