Tommy's Mom

by Linda O. Johnston

  Their anxiety seemed relieved as they walked, chatting, out his door.

  His own state of mind, however, was anything but relieved.

  Especially when uniformed patrol officer Dolph Hilo personally dropped a report on a carjacking on his desk. “It happened last night, chief,” he said, his features troubled. “To a tourist.”

  That required Gabe’s attention for the next hour. Public relations was a major part of his job, particularly soothing ruffled feathers of visitors who could either go home furious and bad-mouthing the town, or pleased that, though they’d had a bad experience here, they’d been handled with care by the cops.

  A normal day in the life of the police chief of Naranja Beach, Gabe thought wryly, when he took a moment to get himself a cup of coffee in the day room. The good thing about it was that he hadn’t had time to think of Holly that morning, how it had felt—again—to awaken in her home, to hold her comfortingly in his arms, to kiss her once more….

  Well, he hadn’t had much time to think about it.

  He finally had a longer break around one that afternoon, when the support people returned from lunch. He couldn’t get away to eat yet, but that was okay. There was something he had to check out, something gnawing at him since last night.

  It wasn’t anything earthshaking, but Gabe had recognized one of the myriad pieces of paper in Thomas Poston’s office.

  A list of all the stores on both sides of Pacific Way wasn’t anything a bad guy would threaten someone about, of course. But the other place he had seen a list just like it was right here, in his own office.

  The office that once had belonged to Mal Kensington, his predecessor. The late Mal Kensington, whose death just might not have been from natural causes.

  Gabe had reorganized Mal’s files, including computer files, when he first arrived, ostensibly to familiarize himself with them. He’d also wanted to see if anything in them provided a clue about what had happened to the former chief. Maybe everything had been sanitized upon Mal’s demise. That would imply to Gabe that someone with access to this office was involved. Another cop. He hoped that wasn’t so. It could, after all, simply have been overzealous people getting things ready for the new chief. In any event, he hadn’t found anything of great importance in the files. Still…

  He walked across the indoor-outdoor carpeting toward the far wall and knelt to open the lowest drawer in the four-drawer file cabinet. That was where he had kept the things of Mal’s he either hadn’t sent to the main department files or tossed away. On his knees, he thumbed through labeled manila folders.

  There. He found the list in a file labeled Naranja Beach Businesses. He took it to his desk and sat down.

  Pacific Way was the center of the town’s tourist industry. It was only four blocks long, running perpendicularly from Coast Boulevard, which paralleled the beach. Pacific Way was lined with the quaint shops that included Sheldon Sperling’s place, Artisans, and Aunt Evangeline’s shop, Orange. Gabe estimated that there were fifty stores and restaurants on Pacific Way.

  This list had a date on it: about a month before Mal died. As far as Gabe could recall, it was the same date as the one in Thomas Poston’s office. It contained street numbers of each of the shops and who owned them. Even if it had been accurate on the date noted, he doubted it was accurate now. From what Evangeline had said, several shops had recently changed hands.

  Did this list have any significance? Maybe not, but both Mal Kensington and Thomas Poston had had copies. And both Mal Kensington and Thomas Poston were dead.

  If for no other reason than that, Gabe needed to look into the list, the sooner the better. And so, after checking around to make sure no other crises were pending at that moment, he decided to take a pleasant walk along Naranja Beach streets to Pacific Way, only a mile from City Hall.

  The air was pleasantly cool. Tourists were out in full force when he reached Pacific Way. The shopping street had been turned into a traffic-free pedestrian mall. Its stucco, brick and frame-facade one and two-story buildings were crammed together shoulder to shoulder on both sides of the palm tree-lined street, on each of the four blocks.

  Sheldon’s was on the second block from Coast Boulevard. Gabe looked in the display window before going inside. It contained pottery plates, intriguing primitive masks—and hanging on a dowel, as a backdrop for the rest of the display, a very pretty, brightly colored sewn depiction of the multihued blue sea with brown pelicans gliding above it. That work had an artistic touch Gabe was beginning to recognize: Holly’s.

  The bell sounded as Gabe pushed the door open. Gabe heard some familiar voices inside.

  “Gabe, what are you doing here?” Mayor Evangeline Sevvers was at the cashier’s counter near Sheldon Sperling. She was dressed in one of her habitual suits, this one a cool off-white linen, which looked comfortable. Her high-heeled sandals didn’t.

  “What I’m always doing,” Gabe told her. “Getting into trouble. Or maybe getting this town out of trouble. Its mayor should appreciate that.”

  Mayor Sevvers grinned. “I do.”

  “Maybe you can help me with something,” he said as he wended his way through the store. The labyrinth of display cases, clothed mannequins, free-standing vases and statuettes and more somehow managed to look artistic rather than cluttered. That still amazed him.

  And then there were more of Holly’s attractive fabric creations.

  “I came to show this to Sheldon, get his opinion.” As he approached them, he couldn’t help asking, “By the way, what brings you to this shop, Your Honor?”

  Sheldon grinned. “Business,” he told Gabe. “Show business, that is.”

  “Your play?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Evangeline said. “I came here to discuss the next dress rehearsal with Sheldon. It’s in a couple of days. I’ve brought some of the costumes Holly Poston was sewing for us to add to the ones we’ve stored here for a few days. We’re also considering adding another couple of roles and aren’t sure we should bother her anymore.”

  “You’re not sure,” Sheldon said. “I talked to her earlier, and she—”

  The bell rang, and Gabe pivoted to see who was entering. He’d been somewhat surprised to see his aunt here. He was even more surprised to see two of his patrol officers enter: Bruce Franklin and Dolph Hilo.

  “Something wrong?” Gabe asked. “Were you looking for me?” He reached toward the cell phone in his pocket. It was there. They could have called him.

  “No, chief,” Dolph said. “Not this time. No more carjackings, at least none that I’m aware of.”

  “That’s good news,” Gabe said.

  Dolph’s mouth lifted in a wry grin that mirrored Gabe’s. “Yeah. We don’t want to lose any more tourists today.”

  “What?” Evangeline sounded horrified, and Gabe took a moment to explain to the mayor that everything was under control. They even had a suspect in custody for the prior day’s crime.

  “We’re here because of the play,” Bruce said. “Didn’t the mayor tell you she asked us to take the roles of some of the cops in it, to lend a little authenticity?”

  “She didn’t get around to it,” Gabe said. He sent a humorously chastising glance toward his quasi-aunt.

  “Exactly,” she agreed.

  “I’ll leave you all to your acting careers if you’ll just take a look at something I brought,” Gabe told them. He pulled the paper out of his pocket, unfolded it and placed it on the glass counter.

  “What’s this?” Sheldon asked. The older man still looked haggard. He moved a little faster now, though, as he walked around to stand beside Gabe, and his limp was less pronounced. He used the arm that had been injured to help smooth the page.

  “It’s a list of businesses along Pacific Way,” Gabe said. For the moment, he didn’t say where this list came from or that he had seen another. “It’s a few months old, so it’s probably obsolete, but as of the date on it, does it appear accurate?”

  Evangeline joined them, standing be
tween Gabe and Sheldon. Dolph and Bruce went around the counter to look at it upside down.

  “I’d have to study it,” Sheldon said after a minute, “but I think it’s correct. Do you agree, Evangeline?”

  She nodded. Her gaze caught Gabe’s, and she looked quizzical. He lifted one edge of his mouth just a little, as a signal to her that this could be significant. Her tiny nod was almost imperceptible, and she erased every indication of question off her face.

  “I guess so.” She sounded bored, as if this piece of paper didn’t interest her in the least. “Why don’t you go over it with Gabe, Sheldon? I want to talk to Dolph and Bruce about their roles in the play.”

  True to her word, she put an arm around each man’s shoulder and led them among the narrow, curio-rich aisles to a relatively open area near the side of the store.

  “Do you see any obvious discrepancies in this list?” Gabe asked Sheldon.

  “I don’t think so. Is it important?”

  “Not really. But I was curious about it. I found it in Thomas Poston’s things.” A copy of it at least. This one happened to come from the file of another possible murder victim, though Gabe wasn’t about to say so.

  The bell rang again. This time, when he looked up, Holly stood in the doorway, clutching little Tommy’s hand.

  Gabe knew they’d be out and about today. Holly had called to tell him so. He’d assigned Al Sharp and his new partner to follow her at a distance and make sure all appeared well. They were probably patrolling Pacific Way right about now.

  Holly smiled at them wanly, then back down at her son. She was obviously worried about him. This was probably his first visit here since the morning his father had died. His eyes were wide, and he stood very still, blinking. Gabe caught Holly’s glance again and saw her inhale deeply, as if she needed more oxygen to deal with being here. And bringing her son.

  She spoke almost defensively, as if she expected someone to accuse her of harming Tommy. But she kept her tone nearly cheerful. “Tommy and I were just visiting his special doctor. The one who talks to him a lot. She said he was ready to come here for just a little bit, as long as I’m with him and it’s daytime with lots of people around, so we can all feel safe. Though if he’s really scared, we’ll leave right away. Right, Tommy?” She looked down at him. He hadn’t moved anything except his head, which now turned as he looked over the shop.

  He wasn’t screaming. In fact, except for how wide his deep brown eyes were, he looked relatively calm. And there were even uniformed cops present.

  “Hey, sport,” Gabe said. “Great to see you. You let us know when you’re ready to leave, okay?” Despite the way he had sometimes pushed the child, he wondered whether the psychologist had been right, allowing him to confront his fears so soon. But so far he seemed to handle it fine. And maybe this would lead the boy to begin really talking again.

  “We came here,” Holly continued brightly, “because Mayor Sevvers and I talked this morning and she said she’d be discussing play costumes with Mr. Sperling this afternoon.”

  “That’s right,” Evangeline agreed.

  “I didn’t bring any more,” Holly said, “but I have sketches and lists of the ones so far. We can go over them and see what else is needed.”

  “Great,” Sheldon said.

  Sheldon, Evangeline and the two beat cops crowded around the counter while Holly described the status of the play’s costumes. Gabe excused himself, taking his sheet of paper. He would make his own inventory of which shops were still there and which had changed hands. Before he left, he cautioned the cops not to stay long. Even if they were on patrol on Pacific Way this afternoon, they were still on duty. And other officers in the area were assigned to keep an eye on Holly and Tommy.

  Gabe returned fifteen minutes later to see how Tommy was getting along. He’d seen officers Al Sharp and George Greer standing across the pedestrian mall. He told Holly he could take the boy with him, if it would be helpful.

  “Sure,” Holly said, but her tone wasn’t enthusiastic.

  “Where is he?” Gabe asked.

  “Behind that big front display case, where he’s out of the way,” Holly said. “I sat on the floor with him a minute ago and got out his new crayons. He started to color in his coloring book.”

  “Where’s everyone else?” Neither Evangeline nor Sheldon were in the shop, either. Bruce and Dolph were also gone, but that was as it should be.

  “Evangeline went to put money in her meter and Sheldon joined her since they wanted to talk more about the costumes.”

  As she spoke, Sheldon came back in the door by himself. “Isn’t Evangeline here?” he asked. “She stopped to talk to someone. Did she come back for Tommy?”

  “No, he’s right over there.” Holly pointed toward the big glass case with the wooden back and shelves.

  Sheldon took a few steps in that direction. “I don’t see him.”

  “But—” Holly had paled visibly. Gabe didn’t wait before hurrying to the display case.

  The coloring book and crayons were there.

  But Tommy wasn’t.

  Chapter Ten

  “Tommy,” Holly cried out, bumping against glass cases and other displays like a spinner in a pinball game as she sped about the room seeking her son. As she neared Gabe, who was also looking, he gently caught her arm. “He was right here a minute ago,” she moaned.

  She couldn’t help searching Gabe’s eyes for blame. She was a terrible mother. She had allowed her son out of her sight.

  Instead, she saw only concern.

  “He can’t have gone far,” Gabe said. She knew his calm tone and neutral expression were meant to be reassuring, but in her frenzy of fear for her son she could have kicked him for not reacting frantically, too.

  “How do you know? Tommy!”

  “Where should I look?” Sheldon appeared as distraught as Holly felt.

  “I—I don’t know.” Holly tried to think rationally. She stared around the store. Something looked different. But something always looked different. Sheldon was always changing the displays, as some items sold and others didn’t. And she hadn’t been in the store for a while.

  Since before Thomas was killed. Here.

  And now Tommy was missing…

  Gabe gripped her more firmly as she tried to pull away. “Was anyone else in the shop when you last saw him?”

  “Only Sheldon. I think it was just before he went out.”

  “Could he have followed you?” Gabe asked the older man.

  Holly wanted to hug Sheldon. All color had drained from his face again. It looked nearly as white as his hair.

  “No. I would have noticed.”

  “Was anyone else here when you stepped out?”

  Sheldon hesitated before shaking his head. “Only Holly and Tommy.”

  As Gabe released her, Holly sagged against the nearest case, her heart pounding. Gabe strode toward the outer door. He pushed it open and walked outside. She could see through the glass as he stared up and down the street. His navy suit jacket blew in the breeze from the ocean.

  How could he find one small boy in that crowd of tourists?

  He seemed to wave at someone, then came back in. “He may be out there. I’ll get a patrol officer to look. But let’s exhaust the other possibilities first. Have you checked the back room?”

  “Not yet,” Holly said.

  Sheldon was closer. He preceded her through the door to the rear of his shop. He stopped so abruptly that Holly bumped into him. “Tommy!” Sheldon exclaimed.

  Not caring how rude she appeared, Holly maneuvered around the bony older man. And stopped.

  Her son was there. Thank heavens! She’d upset everyone—including herself—for no reason.

  And yet…what was wrong with Tommy?

  He lay curled in a fetal position on the floor, beneath the large table at the center of the room. When she thrust some chairs aside, bent and picked him up, he screamed.

  His eyes were closed, and he began beating
at her. His little hands were curled into fists. They hurt as they connected with her face, her chest. She held on tightly. “Tommy.” She attempted to sound soothing—all the while feeling terrified for him. “Honey, it’s all right. Please, Tommy. Calm down.”

  Her child’s weight was lifted from her. She started to protest but saw that Gabe had enfolded Tommy into a bear hug that restrained his arms. He murmured softly into the child’s ear.

  She was the one who should take care of Tommy. She was the one who’d always be there for him. Not Gabe, who had temporarily inserted himself into their lives. To whom Tommy responded.

  But not even Gabe could calm her son now.

  Soon, though, Tommy wilted. Sobs racked his body. Gabe put him down on the floor and, kneeling, held him tightly. “It’s going to be okay, sport,” he murmured.

  “What happened to him?” Holly asked, knowing that neither man present could answer her. She crouched on the dusty wooden floor beside Gabe and Tommy, stroking her son’s back. Tommy broke away from Gabe and threw himself into her arms.

  Her son. Protectively, she picked him up and held him, leaning against the side of the room’s floor-to-ceiling storage cabinet. She combed Tommy’s sweat-soaked hair with her fingers. His cries subsided in a flurry of hiccups that quickly ceased.

  She carried him to the sink in which artists who worked in this room cleaned their brushes. She dampened her fingers under the faucet and used them to cool her son’s hot forehead. “You’re fine now, Tommy,” she said. She rocked him gently, as she had when he was a baby. Then she pulled back to look at his face.

  His eyes, usually a similar shade of deep brown to her own, were nearly black, for his pupils were dilated in fear. He trembled all over. Small mewling noises came from his throat.

  Holly felt at her wits’ end. What had happened to cause him to go to pieces? “Honey,” Holly said, “remember what that special doctor told us?”

  Gabe and Sheldon drew closer as if in support, but she ignored them.

  “She said you would feel better if you talked about what’s hurting you. And I really, really want to know what made you so scared. Will you tell me?”