Monster in Miniature

by Margaret Grace

  “Do you mind having someone else join us on our trip?” I asked, tucking her father’s baseball afghan, which she now considered hers, around her shoulders.

  She rolled her head on her pillow. “Nuh-uh. I like Mr. Baker. Are you going steady with him?”

  I cleared my throat. Twice. And took a breath.

  What did “going steady” mean to an eleven-year-old? Maddie had told me how her classmates chose “partners” of the opposite sex in school, sometimes without ever talking to them alone or going off together at lunchtime (that was a relief). They would simply designate a boy or a girl in their class and spread the word that they liked that person. Friends would be dispatched through a chain of questions to determine if the feeling was mutual. If it was, they’d be declared boyfriend and girlfriend. Then, at some point, they’d “break up” and another pairing would be announced.

  Was I going steady? Not in the fifth-grade sense. Henry and I had certainly spent a lot of time together lately. I liked being with him in a way that I never thought I would with anyone again. We took for granted that we’d check in with each other on a regular basis. Not every day, but not more than two or three days passed without a word, either.

  Henry Baker was certainly what I needed at the moment, someone steady and trustworthy. What was he getting from me? Surely going steady meant reciprocal support.

  I wished I could answer Maddie’s question.

  “You don’t have to tell me, Grandma,” Maddie said.

  “I’ll tell you when I know,” I said, grateful to see her eyes close.

  I put the light out in Maddie’s room, left the door open three inches, as required, and wondered if I had a boyfriend.

  He did the mash. He did the monster mash.

  The caller ID on my cell phone showed Beverly’s number. It wasn’t unusual for one of us to call the other this late, not until recently anyway. When had I ever dreaded talking to or reconnecting with my sister-in-law? I felt as though we’d been estranged; the last few days seemed like months, as if we’d had a falling out, and it was all my doing.

  Beverly had been making valiant efforts to be patient with me while I sorted out my feelings and my fears, though she most likely didn’t have the slightest idea that’s what I was doing. Pretty soon I’d have to have a heart-to-heart with her.

  “Gerry” was all she said when I picked up, and I knew this wasn’t a “Let’s chat” call. Something was wrong.

  I thought my heart was beating in my throat. “What is it?”

  “I’m at the hospital.”

  That was enough to cause me to drop the phone. It banged on the counter next to the stove, where I’d been brewing late-night tea.

  Beverly had heart disease from rheumatic fever, which had struck her when she was a child. Now, for the most part, she could be as active as the next person, but sometimes had to withdraw for long periods of rest. She was so good at hiding the distress her condition caused her that even those close to her sometimes forgot about it. Her weak heart had sent her to the hospital more than a few times since I’d known her.

  It came to me while I fumbled to get my phone to my ear that Beverly was not seriously ill herself or she wouldn’t be on the other end of this call. That was the good news.

  “Skip?” I asked, my hand struggling to keep steady.

  “He’s okay, but what a scare, Gerry.”

  “What happened?”

  “He was attacked not long after leaving your house. He’d gone to the convenience store on Springfield Boulevard. I mean, he was within shouting distance of his office. Who mugs a cop?”

  “How is he? Is anything broken, or . . . ?” I couldn’t articulate “irreversible damage.” I thought I’d need my tea more than ever and did a one-handed pour from the teapot to a cup.

  “Right now they think the worst of it is a couple of broken ribs. The doctor said he never lost consciousness.” I allowed myself to feel hopeful. “TJ, the clerk at the store, knows all the cops and he called it in right away. It’s a good thing Skip is fit and has had all that training, since it was two guys who ganged up on him.”

  I thought immediately of the most recent pairs of men I’d had contact with—Lynch and Crowley, and the Ferguson twins. I couldn’t see Skip being victim to either pair. But who knew how many other hoodlums they had in their employ? I had no trouble picturing money changing hands with a photo of Skip as part of the package.

  One possibility for why Skip was attacked hit too close to home. What if Oliver’s killer somehow knew that, thanks to me, Skip was in possession of the flash drive? I swallowed the thought.

  Beverly continued, repeating the obvious, disbelief mounting. “Who in the world attacks a strong, young cop in broad daylight a few yards from the police station?”

  Beverly’s voice sounded more angry than troubled now, talking as much to herself as to me. I hoped her worry was fading because she could see that her son was not seriously injured. I wanted that opportunity as soon as possible.

  “It’s very strange,” I said, wanting to calm her down now that I’d heard the worst. “How long will Skip be there?”

  “They’re just keeping him overnight. Skip says he doesn’t need to stay, et cetera, et cetera, that he’s not feeling that bad. But he’d never admit it, anyway. He didn’t even want to come to the hospital, but I’m glad TJ forced him to. You never know. He might have hurt his head.” Beverly blew out a loud breath. I felt her distress. “I think he’s more embarrassed than anything that the guys got the drop on him.”

  “The drop?” Beverly’s training as civilian volunteer for the LPPD, plus her close relationship with retired officer Nick Marcus was showing.

  “Yeah, it means they surprised him, took the upper hand, that kind of thing. I thought you were an English teacher.” She laughed, as if anticipating a joke. “Oh, right, it was actually English that you taught, not slang.”

  Beverly’s nervous rambling sounded better than ever to my ears. I knew it meant that she wasn’t upset with me for keeping her out of things, and her lightening tone confirmed my guess—Skip wasn’t so badly off that she couldn’t clown around.

  “I’m just so glad to hear that he’s okay. Are you going to stay at the hospital for a while?”

  “I haven’t been here that long. Nick and I were out and we had our cells off, which now I will never do again, so they couldn’t reach me all evening, and he wasn’t awake enough to give them your name.”

  I finally put together the timeline. Skip had been assaulted in broad daylight, Beverly had said, but she was calling me at eleven o’clock at night. She’d just found out herself.

  “Maddie’s still here,” I said. “Or I’d come right over.”

  “I know, and Skip wants to talk to you, so here’s what I thought. I’ll go to your house and stay with Maddie and you can come to the hospital. Are you alone?”

  I laughed, getting her point immediately. “Yes, I’m alone.”

  “Too bad.” She chuckled. “I’ll be right over and we’ll switch places.”

  I tried not to assess whether it was indeed too bad that I was alone.

  Beverly had already started to forage in my refrigerator when I zipped past her to the garage. I’d rattled off a list of snack possibilities—leftover pizza, a pot roast sandwich, and no end of desserts, including Sadie’s hand-packed ice cream.

  We’d both noted how it was a good thing Maddie was asleep. It would have been hard to explain to her that her adored uncle Skip had been hurt, but she couldn’t visit him.

  Now I wound my way up Lincoln Point’s only hilly street where its hospital was spread out at the top. I’d finally been able to visit friends here without having my eyes tear up at the memory of the long months Ken had spent in its depressing rooms. Lately, at least, the images came and went more quickly and became dimmer in my mind as long as I didn’t dwell on them.

  I parked in a familiar spot, entered the main building, and followed blue stenciled footprints on the linoleum,
marking the path to the main desk. Not that I needed directions; I could have made the trip blindfolded.

  A few minutes later, I sat next to Skip. I wasn’t surprised to see a flurry of young female nurses hovering over him. I almost hated to interrupt, but I knew the bag full of magazines and ginger cookies that I’d brought would be a suitable substitute, given that he was spoken for, as we used to say.

  “I’ll bet the guys who jumped you look a lot worse than you do,” one of the nurses said, with a wink as she was leaving. “We’ll be watching the ER for two banged-up dudes.”

  I was glad June wasn’t with me to see the level of attention they gave their cute, good-natured patient who also carried a badge and a gun.

  “I just got off the phone with June,” Skip said. “She wants to jump right on a plane and come home, so will you please call her and tell her I’m perfectly fine?”

  “Certainly. Is that what you wanted to see me about? To ask me to call your fiancée in Chicago?”

  “Not exactly,” he said, meaning, I knew, that June wasn’t exactly his fiancée and also that wasn’t the reason for his summoning me.

  “I didn’t think so. What happened to you?”

  “You mean how could I let two guys get the jump on me? I should never let my guard down like that.”

  “Skip, you’re only human, and only one person.”

  “Yeah, well. Anyway, one guy held me down while the other fished in all my pockets. They ended up taking my jacket, Aunt Gerry.” Skip shook his head and gritted his teeth, seeming to relive the moment. “That’s where I’d put the flash drive. I’m sure that’s what they were after, and they got it. My guys found the jacket later, with empty pockets, of course, in the bushes right outside the station. Can you believe the gall?”

  “How would they know you had the drive in the first place?”

  “They may not have known exactly what they were looking for. They were probably told that I had evidence on me and to take whatever was likely—papers, disks, whatever they found—and they were smart enough to recognize a flash drive.”

  Unlike me, I thought. “So they knew or they suspected that you picked up something at my house?”

  Skip nodded. “I’m guessing they followed me after I left you and Maddie and planned to jump me when I got out of my car, wherever that would be.”

  I shifted in the uncomfortable seat, as orange as the couch in Oliver Halbert’s apartment. Who thought orange was a soothing color for sick people? The hospital sounds from outside Skip’s room, which I’d gotten used to when I practically lived here with Ken, now rattled me. It stung my ears to hear the clanging of one metal tray on another, the call bell, the humming machines reading out vital statistics. I wished I could take Skip home with me immediately.

  “How would they know the drive, or any evidence, was in my house?” I asked, with increasing concern, my worst fears realized. “Only Maddie and you and I knew about it.”

  Skip put on a sober expression. “I’ve been trying to figure that out.” He swung his arm, which was attached to a drip bag. “It hasn’t helped that they pumped me full of stuff when I got here. My head still feels like mush.”

  He sounded a lot like his uncle Ken. “You should be grateful for modern medicine. Can you imagine the pain you’d be in?”

  “At least I’d have half a shot at thinking clearly. When you contacted me about what Maddie found, I called in to the station to say where I was going, and that I’d be bringing in evidence. I wanted to alert the technicians to be standing by.” Skip scratched his head. “Standard procedure.”

  “That would mean someone at the station slipped up and the word got out to the wrong people. Is that what you think?”

  “I wish. I know I was vague enough about the evidence, not saying what it was exactly or what case it was connected to or anything like that. Someone had to be on me from the start and this was what they needed to hear. They knew you were sniffing around, and they knew I took something from your house.”

  My mind was reeling. “Are you saying that a police officer set you up to be mugged?”

  Skip closed his eyes. I saw a wince that might have been due to physical pain or the idea of a reprobate colleague, or both. “That’s the way it’s shaping up. There’s no other explanation for how they seem to know what’s happening as soon as I do.”

  “Unless it’s just random,” I said, hardly believing it.

  “A couple of guys looking for trouble saw me get out of my car and said, ‘Oh, there’s an easy mark.’ ” Skip’s chuckle brought on another wince, but he continued to imitate the random guys. “ ‘Let’s not bother taking his wallet; let’s just see if he has a computer accessory on him.’ Right, Aunt Gerry.”

  “Skip, you’re accusing your department of . . . what? . . . Being corrupt? Having a mole working for Patrick Lynch or someone like him?” On second thought, I realized that term was probably restricted to spy matters, but Skip knew what I meant.

  “I hate to admit this, but Lynch is a very powerful man. If he or some pol in the city has a cop or two in his pocket, I wouldn’t be shocked.”

  I folded my arms across my chest, shutting out Skip and the entire LPPD. I noted the enormous stand-up “Get Well” card on his side table, obviously quick-action greetings from his buddies. I knew many of his fellow and lady officers by name. Now I was being asked to believe that one of them had sent thugs to hurt him.

  “Well, I am shocked.”

  “I know you’d like to believe the world is full of only good, honest people, Aunt Gerry. But even law enforcement has its share of bad apples, and that includes one or two in Lincoln Point.”

  “It doesn’t mean I have to accept it.”

  “No, it doesn’t.” Skip sat up, as much as he could, wrapped as he was in hospital swaddling. He blinked his eyes, rolled his head around his neck. “Boy, these meds have fried my brain something wicked.”

  It was painful to watch him try to shift his body around the narrow bed.

  “Let me help,” I said. I stood and fluffed his pillow. I wished I could make the pain go away as I sometimes could when he was a toddler.

  “Okay, here’s the thing,” Skip said. “These guys have what they want now, so I don’t think they’ll be after anyone else, but we have to keep you and Maddie safe. I sent Nick over to your place.”

  “Nick is there, too?”

  “And there’s a car out front. Plus, you might not have noticed, but you had an escort following you at a discreet distance on your way over here.”

  If Skip was trying to scare me, it worked.

  I wanted to ask how he would know whom to trust? I felt a shiver, as if a cold wind had blown through the room. I thought of Maddie in her comfy bed under her red-white-and-blue baseball afghan. I was suddenly very glad she’d be going back to Palo Alto in the morning.

  And shouldn’t I be home with her now?

  “Why exactly am I here?” I asked him.

  “I thought it might be more effective to tell you this in person.” I knew what was coming. “It’s time to back off, now, okay? No more snooping around playing cop, unless you sign up for the academy.”

  “I’m not playing cop. What do you think I’m going to do? Buy a gun?”

  “No, that would make sense. I wish you would. I know you promised to help Susan Giles, but that’s not your job. Give her back her little box thing—”

  “Box thing? Ouch. Have you learned nothing from hearing me talk for years about room boxes and mini scenes?”

  He smiled in spite of the serious tone he had taken with me. “You’ve already done a huge amount. Eventually, we’ll figure out what was going on with Halbert’s investigations and get other evidence against whoever is responsible for his death.”

  “I should tell you—”

  “It’s my fault that we don’t have the drive anymore, not yours.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. I can’t keep someone on you twenty-four-seven until the case is so
lved.” He pointed to his bandaged chest, his water bottle, the blue-and-white curtain around his bed. “If they did this to me, what do you think they’re prepared to do if they decide you’re in their way?”

  “Who are they?”

  “I don’t really know. Even though I said Lynch probably has a guy on the force, it doesn’t mean I’m sure or that I have any proof. And he’s not the only one with connections, as I told you. What we can say is that, in all likelihood, whoever is behind the assault on me today was likely also on Halbert’s list and is probably his killer.”

  I took a long breath. “I get it.”

  “So, I’m making myself clear?”

  “Crystal.”

  “Sweet. Now, before you officially retire, is there anything you need to tell me?”

  “About what?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Other evidence you dug up. Or a confession maybe? I know you’ve been out there.”

  “Out where?” Oh, dear, I was beginning to sound like Maddie, prolonging an argument, being annoyingly literal, unbecoming an adult. “There’s just one more thing,” I said, and told him about the visit from the Ferguson twins, Maddie’s trying to reach him, and Henry’s appearance.

  Skip slapped his head as best he could with his restraints. “While I was sprawled in the convenience store’s parking lot.”

  “I’m sure we weren’t in any danger, but I didn’t want to take a chance, with Maddie there. They just wanted to make their point.”

  “You know the worst thing about all of this?”

  “Your broken ribs are going to keep you out of the soft-ball league for a while.”

  “That, too.”

  “What, then?”

  “Without even realizing it, you managed to obtain what was probably our best evidence in this case, and poor Maddie spent all that time trying to crack the flash drive password, and then I go and lose it. We’re back to square one.”

  “Not exactly.”

  Skip gave me his suspicious, sideways look. “What do you mean?”

  I smiled, a proud grandmother’s smile. “Maddie cloned it.”

  I said it as if I’d known what that meant before a couple of hours ago.