by Marja McGraw
“Let’s drive over to The Café. I like their menu.”
The Café was a small diner I’d introduced Pete to, where the selection consisted mostly of sandwiches, and it was all delicious. The diner was run by a young Chinese couple. I’d found the place when I worked at the courthouse.
“I had a visitor this evening.” I purposely waited to say this until Pete was pulling out of the parking lot.
“Oh yeah? Who?” Pete didn’t sound particularly interested.
“I don’t know, just some guy lurking outside my living room window.” Had I sounded casual enough?
“Huh? What guy? What are you talking about?” Pete was a little more interested now.
“Some guy was eavesdropping outside the window, but he ran away before I could get a good look at him. I wish I knew what he wanted.”
“Could it have been the bozo from the black car?”
“This guy drove away in a white car. Of course, he could own two vehicles. I wonder what that would say about his personality. Black and white. Pretty blah if you ask me.”
“Blah my foot,” Pete said. “I think it’s the same guy. We’ve got to catch him and find out what he wants. And we’d better do it soon.”
“Then again, maybe it wasn’t him. Although, he did shoot me with his fingers.”
“His fingers? Definitely not blah. What if it had been a real gun?” Pete gave me one of those looks men are so good at, and I turned to watch out the window.
After a quick dinner we drove out to Amanda’s house. We took a good, long look around and a groan escaped my lips.
“Couldn’t be much worse,” Pete commented.
“Not much.”
Amanda lived in an older house on a large lot, and the house was surrounded by trees, bushes and shrubs. It wasn’t well lit, and she had a fence that was covered with vines.
“An army could hide around this house,” I said. “It’s unbelievable.”
“I think this whole area used to be made up of orange groves and small farms,” Pete said. “Some of these places haven’t changed in over eighty years.”
“Let’s get to it.” I sighed deeply, bringing the sighing to an art form.
We knocked on the door and a very tiny woman answered. She couldn’t have been more than four feet ten inches, and she probably didn’t weigh more than ninety pounds, if that much. Well, the size of her chest might have added a few pounds to my estimation. I couldn’t help wondering if they were real or man-made. She was wearing skin-tight black pants with a long, loose white shirt. She had shoulder-length blonde hair, and it was either natural or she had a great beautician. She was just about as cute as a doll, and not much bigger.
And she held a very large baseball bat in her hands.
“Hey,” she said to Pete in the voice of a thirteen-year-old. “I’ve been expecting you. Come on in.” Her voice suited her appearance, and she was chomping on chewing gum. She leaned the baseball bat against the wall, next to the door.
“Sandi,” Pete said, “this is Amanda Lewis.”
“How are you?” I held out my hand. She looked at the appendage as though it had somehow offended her, and chewed her gum a bit faster. I was about to pull my hand back when she reached out and shook it. I had the feeling she’d never had anyone offer to shake her hand before. She didn’t quite seem to know how to do this small thing.
“A pleasure to meet ya.”
“Likewise, I’m sure.” I glanced at Pete and he shrugged.
“Amanda, you’ve got problems,” Pete said. “No wonder you’re afraid. This place is like a forest. You can hardly see your neighbors through all those trees.”
“This house belonged to my parents, and when they passed, it was left to me. I can’t afford to do anything with the yard, ya know? But I keep ol’ Betsy right here by the front door.” She pointed at the bat. The chewing gum moved from one side of her mouth to the other.
“Well, let me check your locks and then Sandi and I will take a look around the property. Did you have deadbolts installed like Sandi suggested?” Pete asked. He turned and studied the front door. “Ah, yes, I see you did. Good.”
Pete left to check out the back door and I turned to Amanda. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
“Sure,” Amanda replied.
“How old are you?”
She laughed. “Nobody ever believes me. I guess it’s my size. I’m thirty years old last month.”
“Wow. I should look so good,” I said. It was her voice, too, but I didn’t want to mention that.
“How old are you?” Amanda asked, coming right back at me, chewing slower and looking me up and down.
“Fair enough question. I’m thirty-one and getting too close to thirty-two to suit me.”
Pete reentered the room. “Sandi, let’s take a look outside.”
“Nice talking to ya.” Amanda cracked her gum.
“We’ll stop back before we leave,” Pete said. “And put that baseball bat away. Someone could pull it right out of your hands and use it on you.”
We walked around the yard, shaking our heads. It was like walking through a jungle. She had plenty of privacy, but if anything were to happen to her, the neighbors wouldn’t have a clue. The growth seemed to be an effective sound barrier, keeping noises from getting in or out.
“Okay,” Pete said, “we’ll use this to our advantage. We’ll be able to watch from these trees without her ex-boyfriend seeing us. If I plant myself out here, I’ll be able to see the front door. You can pick a tree toward the rear of the yard and watch the back door.”
“Works for me,” I replied. “I hope this guy doesn’t keep us waiting. I’d really like to get this cleared up. I have a feeling my mother’s case is going to take up a lot of my time from here on out.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Because there’s so much research involved. It’s going to be time-consuming, even with Stanley helping me.”
“You can do it,” Pete said.
“Yeah, right.”
We returned to the house and spoke to Amanda, telling her we’d be back the next evening to begin our surveillance.
“Thanks,” she said. “I just wanna get rid of this creep. I mean, I only went out with him a couple of times and now he won’t leave me alone. And this one kinda scares me. Ya know, it’s really kinda hard. Men look at me and they decide they wanna take care of me, and I don’t wanna be taken care of. I might be small, but I’m not a wimp.”
I had a feeling that she probably wasn’t a wimp, but sometimes size can be detrimental. And I was beginning to worry about her jaw. She was chewing so rapidly that she was in danger of hurting herself.
We left Amanda’s house and Pete drove me back to my apartment. Normally I would have invited Pete up for coffee, but I was about as close to wasted as you can get. Between my mother, Pete and Stanley, the eavesdropper and Amanda, I’d had a full day. Pete knew I was tired, and he knew I’d be spending the next morning with my mother, so he didn’t push it.
“Get a good night’s sleep,” he said, “and I’ll see you after your mother’s make-up.”
“Make-over,” I said, correcting him.
“Okay. I’ll see you after that.”
“I think we’ll probably do some shopping, too, so I’m not sure what time I’ll be at the office.”
“I’ll see you when you get there.” Pete shrugged his shoulders. Oh, those wonderful shoulders. Maybe I should invite him up. Nah, I was so tired, and there would be other nights. We shared a goodnight kiss and Pete hugged me. Pete gives great hugs.
Chapter Sixteen
1897 (One year earlier)
Vincente’s brother, Miguel, swaggered through the saloon door, oblivious to the old man’s presence. Miguel was the last person Vincente wanted to see, but he didn’t react. He still felt in control and his arms remained folded across his chest.
Miguel gazed around the room. His eyes were filled with scorn as they settled on Vincente, and he
pushed his hands deep into his pockets. There was a subtle locking of horns going on, but no one other than the two brothers recognized this. Vincente didn’t move a muscle, nor did he avert his eyes. The two men glared at each other.
Miguel broke first, and spitting in the cuspidor, he turned to leave. He pulled his hands out of his pockets, glanced at them and hurriedly stuffed them back in his trousers. He wasn’t quick enough. Vincente noticed bruises on his hands. He’d been in another fight, something he was noted for.
Miguel never glanced back at his brother, but sauntered out the door with his back stiff and straight.
Vincente left shortly after his brother. The only thing he’d learned was exactly how much he detested his sibling and the ignorant people who frequented the saloon.
2003
I slept well that night and arose early the next morning. After showering and drying my hair, I added a little blush and mascara. I took extra time with my hair, wanting it to look just right. I can’t explain it, but I couldn’t go for a haircut and have my beautician see it looking ragged. It’s like some people I’ve heard about who clean their house so it won’t look bad when the housekeeper comes. Are we sick puppies or what?
Frank dropped my mother off at my apartment and left to run errands.
“Do you want some breakfast?” I asked.
“No, we already ate. But go ahead and fix something for yourself. I’ll just sit and watch you eat.”
Oh boy, we were havin’ fun now.
“Will we be there early enough for me to look through some of those hair-do books they always have lying around?” Mother asked.
“Sure, Mom, we’ll leave right now. In fact, we’ll be about half an hour early. Is that enough time?”
“Oh, yes. That’s more than enough time. And if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like you to take me to that backpack store you told me about. That seems so much more practical than a purse.”
“We can do that and shop for some new make-over clothes, too,” I said.
“I’m so excited about doing this.” And she was. I could see it on her face.
We left the apartment and I checked out the parking lot while we headed for my car. I didn’t see any sign of either a black or a white car. At least, not until we were pulling out onto the street. I looked to my right and saw the black car pulling into the second driveway that led to the backside of the apartment building.
“Hold on, Mother.”
After checking the traffic, I whipped out of one driveway and into the other as quickly as I could. He hadn’t seen me yet, so I kept my distance. I’d turn things around and follow him for a change.
“What is it, Sandi?” my mother asked. She looked ahead and saw the black car. “Oh, I see him. You go get him, girl.”
“Mother? Have you been watching a lot of TV lately?” Go get him, girl?
“I’m trying to change my image. Be a little more on the cool side.”
“Oh. Okay.”
The black car pulled around to my side of the building, and apparently noting that my car wasn’t there, kept moving toward the driveway. He stopped to check the traffic, and I could barely make out a thick neck, thinning hair and a short, braided ponytail through his tinted windows. So Mr. Mysterious did have two cars. Unfortunately, he looked in the rearview mirror and, seeing me, slammed the gas pedal to the floor. The chase was on.
He flew out of the driveway with me right behind him. He managed to worm his way in and out of traffic, but I wormed right behind him.
I could see my mother beginning to fan herself out of the corner of my eye. I didn’t have time to worry about it.
“Mother, hand me my gun. It’s in my backpack.”
She fanned faster.
“Just in case,” I said.
Swish, swish, swish. She reached for my backpack.
I’d begun carrying a snub-nosed .38 Chief Special after an attempt on my life. I hated guns, but my life had been on the line and at the time I’d truly wished I’d had one on me. This one would fit into my backpack or waistband, depending on what I was doing and how quickly I needed access to it, and it was lethal.
Mother handed me the .38 and I placed it on the console, next to me.
“Is this necessary?” Mother asked in a strangled voice.
“Maybe.” I didn’t want to tell her about this guy shooting at me with his hand. “If he drives onto the freeway, then I’ve got him. He’ll never get through traffic at this time of day.”
“If you say so, dear,” she croaked, grabbing for anything she could find to hold on to and finding the edge of her seat.
He didn’t head for the freeway, but turned left onto a side street. I had to wait for a car to get out of my way before I could follow suit.
I couldn’t see him ahead of me.
“Where’d he go?” I asked, slowing down and looking around.
“Punch it!” My mother was giving me an order. “He turned right at that next street.” She’d let go of her seat and was leaning as far forward as her seatbelt would allow.
My eyes widened. Punch it? I turned right at the next street. I could see him ahead, but he was over a block away. He turned again. I turned again. He was driving into an area I didn’t know. We slid around a few more corners. He turned onto a longer street. He had the advantage. His car was faster and there weren’t any corners nearby to slow him down.
“You’re letting him get away,” Mother yelled.
“He’s faster,” I yelled back.
He knew this neighborhood. Thankfully there wasn’t any other traffic around or we’d all be heading for jail or the hospital. I tried to keep up with him, but I couldn’t. He disappeared around another corner, way ahead of us.
“You let him get away,” my mother said accusingly.
I pulled the car over to the curb and stopped. “I didn’t let him do anything. And since when do you get off on car chases?”
“That was exciting.” She ignored my question. “I sure wish we’d caught up with him, but you’re right, his car was faster. Maybe you need to look into buying a new car. Oh, and you can put your gun away now.”
“You’re not the mother I grew up with, lady. Who are you?”
“Oh, don’t be silly,” she said, once again fanning herself. “And he’ll be back. We’ll get him next time.”
“What we? There’s no we. I probably would have driven faster if you hadn’t been in the car with me.”
“I thought you said your car was slower than his,” she replied.
“Yeah, well…”
I returned the gun to my backpack and pulled out the cell phone. I dialed the number of the office, hoping Pete was there. He answered on the first ring.
“Pete, I almost got him.”
“The guy who’s been following you?” We were frequently on the same wavelength, and this was one of those times. “And the one who probably has a gun in his car?”
“Yeah, but he drove into a neighborhood I’m not familiar with, and his car was a lot faster than mine. He got away again. I’ve got to tell you though, there’s something familiar about him.”
“You finally saw him?”
“Just from the back, but I know I’ve seen him somewhere. If I could just remember where.”
“We’ll talk about it when you come in.” He didn’t sound happy.
“Okay. I thought I’d touch bases with you before I take Mother for her hair appointment. That’s where we’re headed now.”
“See you later then.” He hung up.
“I’m sorry, Mom, but we won’t be early for the appointment. In fact, we’ll be lucky to get there on time.”
“That’s all right, dear. If this beautician is as good as you say, then I’ll tell her to do whatever she thinks will suit me.”
“Trish is good.” I turned the car around and headed for the beauty shop.
We spent the rest of the morning preening. Mother explained to Trish that she wanted a whole new look.
“I have a great
idea for you,” Trish said after studying Mother’s face. “I guarantee you’ll love this. I’m going to cut off all of that long hair though. And I think you need highlights. The basic color is good, but you need something to accent it.”
“I’ll trust your judgment.” Mother looked excited.
I watched in fascination as my mother was transformed. Trish cut off gobs of hair, fashioning as she went along. She got out all of her paraphernalia and began the coloring process. We waited while the dye did its magic. Trish washed my mother’s hair and began blow-drying it, fluffing and shaping as she worked, but not using a brush.
“You have some natural curl. The weight of the long hair straightened it. This short cut will bring it out.”
Trish finished and handed my mother a mirror. Her hair had a short, curly, natural look. The kind that looks good even if it’s windblown. The sides framed her petite face. Mom looked young and perky.
“Oh, Mother, you look absolutely beautiful. And younger.” I felt pride as I gazed at my lovely mother.
The word younger seemed to trigger something in her. She turned, looking at herself from all different angles. Her face lit up, and she grabbed Trish and hugged her. She couldn’t stop smiling.
“Okay,” she said, setting the mirror down and turning to me. “Your turn.”
I looked at Trish. “Same old thing.”
“You sure?” Trish asked.
“Yeah, I’m sure.” I like the way my hair looks, and I’m young enough to get away with the longer style. Besides, when I’m in a hurry I can put it up and be done with it.
“Okay.” Trish sighed. “It’s your hair.” She’d always wanted to do something drastic, but I wouldn’t let her. She’d wanted to change my dark brown hair to blonde, but I wasn’t going for it. And Trish was big on really short hair. I wasn’t into the spiked look, but she kept on trying to talk me into changes, always showing me pictures. So far I’d held her at bay.
While she worked on trimming my hair, my mother told her about our little escapade. Trish laughed at all the appropriate places. Mother was in her glory. More shades of Stanley.
When we were done, Mother left Trish a very generous tip, as did I. She deserved it.