In the Neighborhood of Normal

by Cindy Maddox

  The lieutenant smiled. “Thank you, Duvall. That’s solid, helpful information.”

  The young man smiled back. “Yes, sir. Want me to call in her info, see if we get any hits on her license and plates?”

  “I’ve already called them in, but I told dispatch to contact you with the results. You should hear shortly.”

  As if on cue, the back door opened, and a middle-aged couple came rushing into the kitchen. Jeff remembered them from Floyd’s funeral. The son was Bob, but he couldn’t remember the daughter-in-law’s name. He mostly remembered her annoying laugh and the way she fluttered her hands like a bird. A large, annoying bird.

  “Where’s my mother?” the man demanded. “Is she okay?”

  “That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Lieutenant Samson said. He put out his hand and introduced himself.

  “Bob Atkinson,” the man responded, shaking hands perfunctorily, then returned to his questioning. “What do we know? When did she go missing?”

  Jeff started to answer and then remembered that he wasn’t in charge. Fortunately, nobody saw him open his mouth to speak because all eyes were on the lieutenant.

  “She was at church yesterday but did not show up at a meeting this morning, so she could be missing as long as twenty-four hours, though probably shorter. Her car is gone, and she took a small suitcase and some toiletries. After we finish talking, we will ask you to look around for other things that might be missing. We think she may have simply gone away for a day or two without telling anyone.”

  “Oh, she wouldn’t do that,” the woman interjected. “She tells us everything.”

  “I’m sorry—I didn’t catch your name,” Samson said. Jeff thought that was a polite way of saying that her husband hadn’t bothered to introduce her.

  “Claudia Atkinson,” she replied. “I’m Mish’s daughter-in-law. We speak at least once or twice a week, and she would never go away without telling me. We’re very close.”

  Unless things had changed since Floyd’s funeral, Jeff was pretty sure Mish would not have described their relationship with those words.

  “Great. If you can call her on her cell phone, perhaps we could solve this whole mystery.”

  “She doesn’t have a cell phone,” Claudia replied. “We’ve tried to get her to buy one, tried to tell her how it would give us peace of mind, but she refused.”

  “Actually,” Opal said rather quietly, “she’s had one for a week or so. But none of us have the number.”

  “If she bought one, why didn’t she tell us?” Claudia asked. Her hands started fluttering at her sides.

  When nobody answered, the lieutenant continued. “Then perhaps you can tell us more about this young woman that Mish left money for. Her note said she might or might not be named Ann.”

  “What note?” Claudia asked.

  “What money?” asked Bob.

  The officer handed the evidence bag to Bob. Claudia stepped closer to read it too. Everyone waited in silence while they processed the info.

  “Where’s the money?”

  Jeff’s heart sank when it was this, of all questions, that seemed to interest Bob. He looked to the lieutenant for a response, but his face was unreadable. “We will need to keep it in police custody until we can return it to your mother, but you can look at the bag.” He nodded to the young officer, who handed over the bag of cash. “There’s twenty-five grand.” He returned his attention to Claudia. “Do you know who this young woman might be, and why Mrs. Atkinson would be giving her so much money?”

  Her fluttering hands raised a few inches. “No, I’ve never heard of her! It must be somebody she just met.”

  “What about signs of dementia?”

  “My mother does not have dementia,” Bob answered. Claudia nodded vigorously in agreement.

  “Then what do you know about the woman she met who claims to be Jesus? And about these missions she’s been on?”

  “What?” Claudia’s fluttering hands had reached waist level.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Bob said rather defensively.

  There was a moment of silence before Jeff realized that the lieutenant was looking to him to share that part of the story. He told Bob and Claudia what he knew, with Opal and Stephen filling in the details. By the time he was finished, Claudia’s hands looked like two birds trying to break free.

  Opal stepped forward, clasped Claudia’s hands in her own, and led her to a chair at the kitchen table. She kept hold of the younger woman’s hands, patting them occasionally. Jeff wasn’t sure if Opal found her fluttering as annoying as he did, or if she was just that caring. Probably the latter.

  “Okay, we can get her cell phone number. It will just take a little while. In the meantime—”

  “Sir!” Officer Duvall interrupted. “We got a hit on her license. She got stopped yesterday in Maryland, but no ticket was issued.”

  “See if you can talk to the officer who stopped her,” Samson said.

  “I’m on it. It’s his day off, but they’re trying to reach him.”

  Jeff sincerely hoped the guy hadn’t gone hunting without his cell phone.

  11.

  Juliann was still a little worried about Mish. Mish had only lost her balance for a few seconds, but she was still awfully pale. But she insisted on sightseeing, so Juliann stopped arguing. Thirty minutes later they were checked out of the hotel, had stored their belongings in the car, and were now debating the best way to get around town. Mish had decided a taxi was easiest, and when Juliann had expressed concern about the cost, Mish had told her to shush. “You start telling me how to spend my money, and I’m gonna start calling you ‘Floyd.’ And that ain’t no compliment,” she said with a wink. “Besides, Mr. Waffle Man got us a free night’s stay!”

  “Then at least let me call a Lyft driver instead of a taxi,” Juliann replied. Before leaving home she had downloaded the app and signed up with a visa debit card she had gotten for her birthday. She typed in where they were and where they wanted to go, and by the time she finished explaining to Mish how it worked and why people who aren’t taxi drivers would want to just drive people all over the city, their ride had arrived.

  “Good morning. I am Ziena,” the man announced after lowering the window of his silver sedan. He had an accent that sounded Middle Eastern, and Juliann thought maybe he was Muslim, based on his short, round hat. “I am here to take you to the Lincoln Memorial, yes?”

  Juliann simply nodded, but clearly that was not enough for Mish. “Oh, yes, please,” Mish gushed. “I’ve always wanted to see it, and I’ve never gotten the chance. And would it be possible to get a glimpse of the White House too? Not a tour or anything—I just want to see it.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I can do that. Would you like to ride up front with me, so you get a better view?”

  Mish nodded eagerly, literally bouncing on the balls of her feet. She’s so cute, Juliann found herself thinking—which was odd, given their ages. Maybe it was because Mish hadn’t left the farm much, but she got so excited about the little things. Sometimes Juliann felt like she was the older one of the duo. Or maybe she was just the more jaded, which she admitted to herself was pretty sad.

  Mish chatted with the driver and soon knew where he was from, how long he’d been in the U.S., and what he’d done for a living before he came here. Juliann had expected the driver to resist what many would describe as nosiness, especially in today’s anti-immigrant environment, but somehow people always responded openly to Mish. There was just something about her that made people feel safe about opening up.

  As they drove through the city, Juliann was glad for the distractions of sightseeing. She had dreaded the idea of sitting in the hotel room until time for her appointment, and she wondered how much of the morning’s itinerary was because Mish really wanted to sightsee and how much was just to keep Juliann’s mind occupi
ed. “And you, Miss?” Juliann looked up to see the driver looking at her from his rearview mirror. “What has surprised you about our city?”

  She looked out the window and took in the surroundings. “Well, I guess it’s greener than I expected. The only big city I’ve been to is New York, and you don’t see much green there except in Central Park.”

  The man nodded knowingly. “Yes, I have been to the New York City, and it has steel instead of trees. I could not live there. In Washington I miss my home country, but in the New York City I think I would forget how to remember her at all.”

  Juliann wasn’t sure she understood what that meant, but Mish seemed to understand. Mish and the driver continued an animated conversation about memories and the smells of home, and Juliann let the conversation fade away again until Mish’s excitement caught her attention.

  “There it is!” Mish pointed through the front windshield, and Juliann looked up to see the White House in the distance, impressive against the bright blue sky. “Can you get us any closer?” Mish asked.

  “Only a little,” the driver replied. “Foot traffic only on the streets by the White House. But if you want, I can go around the corner and let you out, then wait for you to come back.”

  “No, I just wanted to see it with my own eyes. Look there, Juliann. Thirty good men have guided our country from that building.”

  “Mish, we’re on president number forty-five now,” Juliann corrected her.

  “Yeah, well, all of them wasn’t good,” she replied. “So now let’s go see one of the best.”

  “Next stop, Abraham Lincoln,” the driver agreed.

  When they arrived at the National Mall, he hurried around to the passenger side and opened the door for Mish. She slipped him some cash, and Juliann realized Mish might not know she’d handled the tip through the app.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to wait for you?” he asked.

  “That would be lovely, but we’re gonna be here a little while so you’d better go on and get another rider.”

  “I will park nearby to wait for my next call. When you are done, and if I am available, I will come and get you. Okay?”

  Mish thanked him, said goodbye, and slipped her arm through Juliann’s again as they walked away. “Have you ever noticed that there are nice people everywhere you go?”

  Juliann thought for a minute. “Well, actually, I don’t think I’ve ever thought about it. But then again, my dad is much more likely to say there are assholes everywhere you go.”

  Mish shrugged. “No offense to your father, but I think you find what you are.”

  “No doubt,” Juliann agreed. “My dad is—” But she didn’t finish her sentence, because Mish’s phone buzzed. Juliann saw that it was a text from Hailey.

  Your mom just texted, school called her to ask if you were sick

  Shit. She’d forgotten that the office calls your parents if you’re absent. Did you answer? she typed.

  No didn’t know what to say

  Juliann needed a moment to think. “Mish, I need to take care of something here. Can you go on without me?”

  “Sure, hon. I’ll start climbing the steps to see Lincoln. It’ll take me a while anyway. Catch up when you can.”

  Juliann sat down on the nearest bench and tried to come up with a lie. She was starting to believe her honest nature was a serious handicap. Hmm. What would her dad do? Of course! He would blame somebody else!

  Send her this. Office lady is clueless. Missed homeroom because I went to nurse’s office with bad cramps, heading to math now.

  Juliann chewed on her fingernail while she waited for Hailey’s response.

  She sent a heart, do I heart back?

  No just send a 2.

  Why?

  It’s our way of saying I love you too. Just do it!

  Done, chill! BTW r u ever going to tell me where u r?

  Told you, just needed to get away

  Right, whatever. Don’t forget you owe me

  I won’t, I promise

  Juliann closed her eyes and sighed in relief. She would be really glad when this day was over. For so many reasons.

  She climbed the steps to the Lincoln Memorial and found Mish standing at the feet of the giant statue. Other people were milling around her, but Mish just stood there, staring up. When Juliann reached her, Mish didn’t turn to greet her, so Juliann stood silently at her side, staring up at the monument. After a few minutes she glanced over to see if Mish might be ready to move on, only to see tears streaming down her face. Juliann didn’t say anything, just took Mish’s hand and squeezed it. Mish squeezed back.

  A few more minutes passed before Mish gave another squeeze and let go, reaching into her purse for a tissue. “I probably seem like a silly old woman to you,” she said after blowing her nose, “crying at the statue of a man long gone, a man I didn’t even know.”

  Juliann wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say so she said nothing.

  “It’s my heritage, you see. One of my cousins did some genealogy work a while back, found some things I’d just as soon not know about my people. About myself. I knew my mama’s daddy was a moonshiner, of course, and my daddy’s papa was a bootlegger. Those stories was told around the campfire and seemed kind of reckless and fun when I was a kid. My daddy joked that he married Mama because between the two families, they covered manufacturing and distributing.” Mish gave a grim smile, then continued. “But that cousin of mine dug up some dirt from before then. From my great grandfather on my mama’s side.”

  She stopped again. They were still standing at the feet of Lincoln, but Mish was no longer staring up at him. Now she stared at her feet, and it looked like every word was causing her pain.

  “People,” she said at last. “My great grandfather owned…people. Slaves. I found out a few months ago and I still can’t believe the man my grandmother rattled on and on about—how wonderful he was, how smart and funny he was—he was a slave owner. And she never told me. I get nauseous just thinking about it—that my kin did such a thing. Now I’m ashamed to carry their blood.”

  She finally looked up at Juliann. “I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. My people was from Virginia, and I know that was a slave state. But I never thought it was in my family.” She let out a long sigh, then looked back up at the statue. “So I wanted to come here to President Lincoln and thank him for doing the right thing, for signing that proclamation that set all them people free. Especially the ones who picked tobacco for a Eugene McAllister of Lynchburg, Virginia.”

  Mish turned and started walking slowly down the steps. Juliann gave one last look at Lincoln, then hurried to catch up. She hadn’t forgotten how unsteady Mish was this morning and wanted to be there in case Mish needed help. She slid her hand into Mish’s, noticing as she did so how comfortable that had become.

  “It’s not your fault. You know that, right?” she asked.

  “Of course I know. In here.” She tapped her own head. “But here?” She rubbed her chest as if it ached. “I feel dirty, like there’s something spoilt inside me. I know it don’t make sense. I know it’s not logical. But that’s how I feel. And you can’t think your way out of feelings. You just gotta feel ’em until you don’t no more.”

  They walked in silence down the steps, then stopped at the reflecting pool, the Washington Monument in the distance. Juliann was glad the place wasn’t crowded. She saw two women in bright-colored saris making their way toward the monument, a young couple on a blanket on the grass beside the water, and a dark-skinned woman running barefoot on the path.

  Mish suddenly turned her back on the Washington Monument. “I’ve had enough of the big dick, haven’t you?”

  “The big—?”

  “Big dick, yes,” Mish repeated. “The Washington Monument is a—a—oh, what’s the fancy word for it?”

  “Phallic symbol?
” Juliann said.

  Mish nodded. “A fancy word for big dick. Only men would build such a thing. Can you imagine a woman ever wanting her monument to look like that?”

  Mish had a point. Juliann would never hear about the Washington Monument without remembering this conversation. She smiled at the thought of calling the Washington Monument the “Big Dick” on her AP American History exam.

  “She stopped running.” Mish pointed to the runner she had noticed a minute ago.

  The woman had stopped, and she had one hand against a tree as she leaned forward, catching her breath.

  “I guess lots of people probably run along here. Seems like a good place if it’s not too crowded,” Juliann said.

  “She wasn’t running for exercise,” Mish said. “Look at the way she’s dressed.”

  Mish was right. It wasn’t just that she was barefoot. She wasn’t wearing workout clothes, either. And there was something about her that said she was troubled. Juliann looked in the direction from which the woman had run. “I don’t see anybody following her. Do you think she’s in danger?”

  “Not like you think,” Mish said quietly as she walked slowly toward the woman. “Only demons or ghosts make a body run like that.”

  Juliann wasn’t sure which she found weirder—that Mish believed in ghosts or in demons. Well, to be fair, probably lots of people believed in ghosts. But demons? Like the devil kind of demons? “What do you—”

  Mish cut her off with a wave of her hand. “You’re too young to understand. You haven’t faced your demons yet. But this woman has. More than her share.”

  Juliann suddenly realized what Mish meant. Metaphorical demons, not real ones. She was relieved. With everything on her agenda for the day, she was pretty sure she did not need to add an exorcism. She looked back at the runner, who was now standing straighter but with her forehead against the tree and her hands on either side of its trunk. “How can you tell?” Juliann asked.