“I know it’s a little off the wall, but I love the whole vintage feel to it, it’s cute and all my business-“she motioned her chest and backside, “won’t be hanging out. I don’t want to go putting it all out there. Gotta make it a little mysterious-“
“I don’t want to hear this,” I interrupted. “You shouldn’t even be thinking about that.”
She shot me a patronizing look. “Mom,” she said. “I’m almost seventeen.”
“Still don’t want to hear it. Where is this dress located?”
“Seattle,” she answered in a small voice. “I know you said local first, and that’s fine, but I really like this one.”
“It’s fine,” I said. “When do you want to go shopping?”
“I can go this weekend, if you’re free.”
“This weekend it is, now please, go finish your homework before supper.”
***
“Hey JoJo, do you have a copy of that coroner report the M.E. in Seattle sent over the other day?”
I stared at Henry stupidly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I told him.
“Oh, okay, never mind. Sorry.” He turned to walk away.
”Henry, wait.” He stopped and turned around. “What coroner’s report?”
Henry looked down at the floor and cleared his throat. “From an old case about fifteen years or so ago. There was this group of murders a few years ago, the police thought it was odd, how the guys were all killed by the same weapon, had their penis removed, but appeared to have no other connections. There’s a new Chief of Police out there and he’s reopening some old cold cases. That was one of them.”
“Why did Steve want the coroner’s report though?”
“Oh, because one of them went to school here.”
“What about the others?”
“One was identified as a John Doe, and the others, well I’m not real familiar with the case. Why do you ask?”
“Curiosity,” I replied.
“Tell me about it,” Henry smiled. “Thanks for your time.”
“Not a problem.” Henry turned and walked back toward his desk. It was curious Steve didn’t tell me about this. It wasn’t a big deal, but it was odd. I spun around in my chair and shuffled through a stack in my outbox, looking for the coroner’s report. Working at the station all these years had turned me into something of a busybody. I knew the entire town’s dirty little secrets; it was like reading a trashy tabloid, but free and happening to people I really new.
Not finding the report, I shuffled through the rest of my boxes looking for it. Bits and pieces of dreams I’d been having more and more often since Curtis’s trial flashed through my mind. The abandoned warehouses and buildings, the gun, the blood on my skin.
I closed my eyes and pressed my fingers to my temple, massaging away the inexplicable feelings washing over me.
Behind me, Steve’s office door opened. “JoJo?” he said softly. “You okay?”
I nodded, opening my eyes, glancing up at him. “Just a little headache,” I said. “I’ll be fine.”
“You sure? You can go home if you need to, things are really slow today.”
“I’m fine,” I said, smiling at him to prove it. “Do you need anything?”
“Actually, I need to talk to you.”
I swallowed hard and stood up. “Okay.”
We walked back to his office where he shut the door. “I just found out that Tyler Crow is dead.”
“Oh really?”
Steve nodded. “Yeah, somebody shot him.”
“When?”
“Does it matter?”
“No, I suppose not. Do you know who shot him?”
“No, I got a report from Seattle.”
“I thought he lived in like Tacoma or somewhere,” I said.
“He was killed in Seattle, so it makes it their case.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know what else to say or what to feel. Part of me was glad, but another part of me felt a little out of sorts.
“You alright?” Steve asked.
“You know what? I think I’m going to take you up on that offer to go home. I’ll see you tonight.”
I stood and left his office, briefly stopping at my desk to collect my purse and keys. As I drove home, one thought plagued me… something was going on here; something very strange and weird.
Chapter Eighteen
With the weird vibes coming from Steve in the house, Emma and I headed in to Seattle early Saturday morning, stopping at a coffee shop for a quick pick me up before tackling the dress shop.
“So,” I asked as Emma picked apart a cinnamon roll.
“So,” she retorted with a smile.
“You have a date with Tommy tonight?
Emma nodded. “We’re going to see a movie, I think. I told him I don’t know if we’ll be back in time.”
“Honey, why didn’t you tell me? We could have come here another day.”
“It’s fine, mom,” she said. “Besides, I can go out with Tommy whenever, I want to spend time with you.”
I grabbed the moment and held onto it tightly. In a few short years, after Emma went off to college, these moments would be nonexistent. Tears filled my eyes. I blinked them away quickly.
“Mom, are you okay?” she asked.
I nodded, trying to discreetly wipe my eye. “I’m fine. Come on, we’ve got a dress to buy.”
In the car, Emma typed the store's address into the GPS. The prim British voice directed me through the maze of Seattle traffic. As I circled the block looking for a place to park, I couldn’t help but think about Steve’s odd behavior these last few days. I felt like he was, I don’t know, hiding something from me. It was like something was going on that he didn’t want me to know about it. I knew it wasn’t an affair. His behavior didn’t convey that, but it was something big. Something he was keeping secret.
Pulling into a vacant space in front of Unique Vintage I turned the car off and said to Emma, “Alright, let’s go find you a dress.”
She bolted out of the car, and rushed into the store. Following several feet behind her, I smiled as I watched Emma make a bee-line for the dress section of the store.
Emma let out a girly squeal, followed by. “Oh my gosh mom, these dresses are so cute.”
She held up a forty’s era dress, it was black and white checkered sporting a bright red belt. “What do you think?”
I wrinkled my nose and picked up a similar dress in solid black. “I like this one better”.
“Me too, Can you hang on to it?”
I nodded and draped the dress over my arm and so it went. We walked around the store for over an hour picking out dresses, my arm aching under the weight of several different eras and puffiness.
Once Emma made it into the dressing room, my arm was relieved and I searched for a bench. Once seated. A girl with bright blue lipstick, rolled bangs and a partial up-do brought me a bottle of water.
One dress at a time, Emma scrutinized her appearance in the three-way mirror, slowly eliminating her selection until she came to the final dress; the one she showed me online. Emma bit her lip anxiously as she walked out of the dressing room. “I think this might be the one Mom,” she said, a smile blooming across her face.
I had to agree. The color suited her and the skirt swung happily, as she walked, reminding me even more of her. “I love it,” I said. “I think it’s a perfect fit for your personality.”
“I do too. I think this is the one I want.”
“Okay, well go change. We’ll pay for it then head back home; maybe you can still make it in time for your date with Tommy.”
“Woo hoo,” Emma laughed, disappearing back into the dressing room. “I can’t wait for you and Steve to meet him; I really think you guys are going to like him.”
“I might, Steve, well you know he going to pull that whole, tough guy, I’m a cop you hurt my daughter I’ll kill you, routine.”
“I know. It’s okay. That’s his way of showing me he loves m
e.”
I laughed. She was right. Of course, he told her, but I think she knew it because of the little things he did for her on a daily basis.
Once Emma emerged from the dressing room, homecoming dress in tow, we made our way to the front of the shop and the waiting cashier who gushed over Emma’s choice and recommended different websites that would help her choose a vintage hairstyle to match the dress.
I smiled as we exited the store, Emma carrying her dress and chatting about the dance. I was relieved – no, I was so far beyond relieved – I doubted there was a word for how happy I was that my child was having a normal life and normal teenage experiences. It thrilled me to the core that when she grew up and had kids of her own, she would look back on this time of her life with happiness, not fear and anger.
“Mom, are you okay?” Emma asked as we got into the car.
I nodded discretely wiping a tear from my eye. “I’m fine sweetie, why do you ask?”
Emma shrugged. “You’re just really quiet. I thought maybe something was bothering you. If it’s the dress, I know it cost a lot, I’ll pay you back-“
I held up my hand, effectively silencing her. “It’s not the dress, or anything else for the fact of the matter. I’m just happy and sad at the same time. I’m glad you’re enjoying your teenage years and high school experiences, but I’m sad that soon you’ll be heading off to college and starting your own life.”
“Not yet,” she said sliding into the car and buckling her seatbelt. “You still have a few years with me, you still have time.”
I nodded. “Yes,” I said. “Yes I do.”
***
We made it back to Mora in about four hours – enough time for Emma to go out with Tommy. He picked her up from the house a little after eight. Steve met him at the door and gave him the notorious cop eye, the one that said, screw around and I’ll screw with you.
I pulled Steve away and said to Tommy, “Don’t worry about him; his bark is worse than his bite.”
Tommy laughed nervously and wrung his hands. “I don’t know about that, he looks like he means business.”
“That’s because I do,” Steve said from the living room.
“Um, okay,” Tommy squeaked out nervously. “What time would you like for me to have Emma home?”
“Eleven,” I said. “Please.”
“Not a problem,” he said.
“See you guys later,” Emma called, grabbing Tommy with one hand, her jacket with the other.
He followed her like a lovesick puppy out the door. I followed behind them, shutting the heavy oak door as the pair hurried across the lawn. I smiled and headed into the living room where Steve was watching a Deadliest Catch episode.
“I don’t like him.”
“What, why?”
“He’s too polite,” Steve said, looking from the TV. “He rubs me the wrong way.”
“He’s a nice kid. Give him a chance.”
“Humph,” Steve grumbled, turning his attention back to the TV.
“Grumpy old man,” I muttered, wandering out of the living room and into the office – well it was more like an old linen closet Steve managed to stuff a desk into – and sat down, leafing through the bills neatly stacked on its surface. Shuffling through the pile, I reached the bottom, which was no longer bills, but police documents about old cases. I flicked through the stack which was mostly boring stuff about older folks who passed in their sleep and what not.
Sighing and flooded with boredom, I left the office and headed back into the living room, settling down for a long night of boring TV.
***
The following week passed in a blur, the next thing I knew it was Friday night, and I was standing behind Emma in the bathroom, a curling iron in hand.
“Mom, that’s too tight,” Emma whined as I rolled a segment of hair around the hot barrel.
I relaxed the iron, saying, “Is that better?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Are you excited?”
“A little. Nervous too.”
“Why are you nervous?”
Emma shrugged. “I hope me and Tommy win homecoming king and queen. It would be wicked awesome.”
“You will. You’re gorgeous and he’s a football player.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“Sure it does. It’s the high school hierarchy or something. Football players always get what they want. They have tiny fairy godmothers stuffed in their jock straps or something.”
Emma snorted and shook her head, hissing as the curling iron tugged her hair. I pulled the barrel from her hair and let the curl tumble down her back.
“Okay all done now.” I shut the iron off and set it aside to cool then glanced at my watch. “Ooh, you have to hurry up and finish, I have to drop you off soon.”
Emma nodded and rushed out of the bathroom, down the hall towards her room. I was dropping her off at the school where she would meet Tommy who was already there. Washing my hands, I dried them on a towel then headed to Emma’s room. I knocked lightly on the door, and then poked my head in. “Need help?”
She nodded, turning around. “Zip me up, Scottie,” she said playfully.
I crossed the room and stood behind her, tugging the zipper up. “Okay, all set,” I said once the dress was fully zipped. “You now look like you escaped from Designing Women.”
“Sugarbaker,” Emma giggled. “Susie Sugarbaker, at your service.”
I laughed and said, “Are you done?”
“With what?” She asked with an innocent batting of her eyes.
“The ridiculous pop culture references?”
Emma nodded, slipping her feet into her shoes. “I think I’m ready.”
“I think so too. I’ll drive you up to the school.”
My sneakers squeaked on the hardwood floors as Emma’s heels clicked loudly behind me. Steve was waiting at the foot of the stairs with a digital camera. “Smile,” he said, snapping pictures in rapid succession.
“JoJo stand next to Emma,” he ordered once we made it to the bottom step. I moved closer to Emma and wrapped my arm around her waist. “Okay, now smile.”
Beside me, Emma giggled and smiled big for Steve. He snapped the picture, the flash blinding me, then handed me the camera. “Can you take one of us?”
I moved out of the way so he could stand next to Emma. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him. I held the camera steady and click the button to take the picture, capturing the memory forever. “Let’s go,” I said, handing the camera back to Steve.
It took me a few minutes longer to get to the school than it normally would have. A fine mist was swirling in the air and the blue sedan in front of me was creeping down the road at a snail’s pace. When I finally pulled up alongside the curb in front of the school. Emma didn’t wait for me to come to a complete stop before throwing open the passenger side door and fleeing the confines of the car.
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