Too Many Crooks Spoil the Plot

by Sarah Osborne

  Chapter Four

  The air in the living room grew still and I found it hard to breathe.

  Detective Garrett read the note and placed it in a clear plastic bag—he seemed to have an evidence kit in his pocket. His expression never changed, although he did glance at me to see how I was doing. I tried hard to mimic his poker face. Next, he examined the figure. “Lucie, did you know about this compartment?”

  Lucie shook her head.

  “Jason,” he said, “I have to ask you a big favor.” Jason stopped using Hermione as a launching pad for his Spider-Man and turned his attention to the detective.

  “Favor?” he said.

  “He wants you to do something for him, something special,” Lucie explained. “That’s what a favor is.”

  “You want me to find Mom? You can’t find her?”

  Detective Garrett looked unhappy.

  “It’s all right,” I said. “Lucie understands, and we’ve been telling Jason his mother is not coming back.”

  “She is too coming back. She’s hurt. When she’s better she’ll come home.”

  “She died,” Lucie said quietly. “Like your turtle Oscar died, remember? Your turtle didn’t come back.”

  Jason ran from the room zooming his Spider-Man and Superman ahead of him. “No, no, no! She is coming back! Mommy is coming back!”

  We followed him into the spare bedroom. Jason lay on the bed, his action figures held tightly in one hand while he twisted a corner of the bedspread with the other. “I want my mommy,” he sobbed as I knelt down beside him. Lucie stood beside me and patted his head.

  Detective Garrett sat on a chair near the bed and looked into Jason’s eyes. “I’m sorry about your mom. Really sorry. Do you want to help us find out who hurt her?”

  Jason stopped crying and nodded.

  “Then I need to borrow your Transformer for a while. I’ll take good care of it and I’ll bring it back to you.”

  “Okay,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “My Transformer will help. He’s strong like me.”

  “Thank you.” Garrett left the room to get the figure before Jason changed his mind. I turned on the TV to Dora the Explorer. Jason curled up on the bed with a thumb in his mouth.

  “We’ll be back,” I said and kissed him. I motioned to Lucie to follow me into the living room. She wrapped part of the bedspread around Jason and walked slowly out to the living room behind me.

  “I don’t think Jason can handle much more about his mother right now,” I said to Garrett.

  “Can you, Lucie?” he asked.

  Her eyes got large and she started pulling on a strand of her white-blond hair. “Yes,” she said after a slight pause.

  “I need to know where Jason got this action figure. Where he really got it. Was it from your dad, the way he said?”

  Lucie shook her head slowly. “From some man I didn’t know. Mom knew a lot of men. I didn’t like this man. He pretended to be nice to us. He brought me a doll. He didn’t know I was too old for dolls. And he gave Jason his Transformer. He told Jason to take it with him when he went to day care at Sandler’s. He never cared about my doll, but he always asked to see Jason’s Transformer when he stopped by. He’d say there was something wrong with it that he needed to fix. He’d take the Transformer into another room and then bring it back. Jason thought it was a game—fix the Transformer. My mom said it was a game.”

  “Can you tell me what the man looked like?”

  “He was big and he was mean to our mom. He made Mom cry once. He twisted her arm.”

  Garrett nodded. “Do you know his name?”

  Lucie was quiet for a moment. She twisted another strand of hair. “Mom called him William. She said, ‘Stop, William, you’re hurting me.’ But she told me to go back to the bedroom when I tried to help. I heard him shout at my mother and then he left. He said, ‘If you don’t get it for me, you’ll be very sorry.’” Lucie teared up. “Do you think he’s the one who killed my mom?”

  “I don’t know,” Garrett said. “When did he threaten her?”

  “A few times. The last time was a week ago.” Tears rolled down Lucie’s cheeks. “I should have done something to make him stay away from her.”

  I hugged Lucie. “There was nothing you could do, Luce. He would have hurt you too.”

  “Would you recognize the man if you saw him again?” Garrett asked.

  Lucie nodded. “He had a scar on his forehead.” She moved her hand along her temple. “He tried to hide it with his hair, but anyone could see it.”

  Garrett looked at me. “I might need her to look through some pictures at the station tomorrow. Can you bring her after school?”

  I nodded. “Of course. Can you do that, Luce?”

  “I want to find out who hurt my mom,” Lucie said.

  “I think that’s enough for now,” Garrett said.

  “Thank you, Detective Garrett,” I said and shook his hand.

  “I think we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.” He smiled. “Better call me Mason.”

  “Like Perry Mason,” I said.

  “Perry Mason? You watch old TV shows?”

  “Old TV shows, old movies. It’s one of my favorite pastimes.”

  “Mine too.” He smiled again and his gray eyes took on an intensity that made me catch my breath.

  “You can call me Ditie,” I said.

  “Ditie,” he said. “An unusual name. I like it. Makes me think of Aphrodite.”

  I blushed. “My father gave me that nickname. And it was for Aphrodite—funny you’d make that association.”

  Now it seemed to me Mason blushed a little. “Not so funny.”

  “Can you stay for some cake and ice cream?” I asked. “I know it would mean a lot to Jason.”

  “Of course,” Mason said. “I wouldn’t miss out on cake and ice cream.”

  At that moment Lurleen burst into the living room. “I thought you all would never finish. And where is the birthday boy?” She pretended to look under the couch and in Hermione’s ear. “He must be here somewhere.”

  Lucie giggled. “Oh, Miss du Trois, he’s in the bedroom.”

  “Chérie,” she said to Lucie. “You must call me Lurleen. Everyone does. Now let’s go get that brother of yours. I’ve set up all the games outside.”

  They skipped off to the bedroom, leaving Mason and me alone in the living room. We could hear squeals of delight coming from Jason as they tickled him. We both smiled. There was something about that smile of Mason’s. Something wonderful.

  I caught myself. Mason had kids, which meant he probably had a wife, ring or no ring. I wasn’t in any position to take an interest in him. A childhood friend had died and I had two small children to protect. Here was a smart, kind man, who just might keep the children safe. Nothing more.

  I sighed. Mason looked over at me, but he didn’t say anything.

  I’d had the occasional boyfriend but nothing serious in my thirty-five years—with one exception. Phil Brockton. Some men couldn’t overlook the fact that I had a well-rounded figure or the fact that I didn’t need to depend on them for my livelihood or much else. It was a fault of mine, as my mother was quick to point out. “You must always let the man think he’s in charge.” Right. My mother with the iron fist was giving me advice on how to be demure. It just wasn’t in my nature. I spoke my mind—too much, I admit—and once I left home, I didn’t submit to anyone.

  “Are you all right?” Mason asked. “You looked fierce there for a moment. You reminded me of Lozen.”

  “Lozen?”

  “The female Apache warrior from the 1870s. She was a protector of women and children.”

  “I was thinking about the children, among other things. How do you know about her?”

  “I admire strong women. Had to. I grew up with one—my mother. And I read. Anything I
can get my hands on. How about you? Do you find time to read, what with your work and your love of old movies?”

  Before I could answer, three wild creatures lurched into the living room. Lurleen was doing some kind of dance she’d learned in a Zumba class, and Lucie and Jason were mimicking her actions. She motioned to us, and it was clear we were supposed to follow along, snaking our way through the kitchen, out the back porch to the backyard.

  I followed Jason, and Mason followed me. We all stopped and gasped when we saw the yard.

  Lurleen had turned my backyard into a country fair. We started with Pin the Beret on the French Artist and proceeded from there to a bowling contest, which Jason won hands down. The pins were small loaves of French bread, and the ball was a French boule of sourdough. Next came a cabaret in which Lurleen was the star. She sang French tunes, leaving one word blank, which we were to fill in. Lucie caught on quickly and won that game. The piece de résistance was a piñata. As I started to inform Lurleen that a piñata was not French, she shushed me and pointed dramatically at the object dangling from the tree. It was a model of the Eiffel Tower she used as her coat rack, and on this occasion it was filled with candy. One didn’t so much whack at the tower as pluck candy off its many cornices. This we all did with enthusiasm. And then it was time for cake and ice cream.

  We entered the kitchen, sat down at the table, and I lit six candles for Jason.

  “But I’m only five,” Jason said.

  “One to grow on. Now make a wish,” I said.

  Jason’s little face grew serious. I knew what his wish would be. I could have kicked myself.

  “Jason,” Lurleen said. “Your wish must be something for the future. Something you want to do with me or your aunt Ditie. Or perhaps with Detective Garrett.”

  Jason glanced at Mason shyly. “Can I ride in a police car?”

  We all looked relieved.

  “I think that can be arranged,” Mason said.

  I could have kissed him. Instead I kissed Jason.

  We sang “Happy Birthday.” Jason blew out his candles, and we ate ice cream and cake until we groaned. Then it was time for my present. Jason loved the superhero wrapping paper. Inside was the Avengers set, complete with four action figures and a couple of bad guys. He ran off with it to his room and then came running back to get Lucie to play with him. Lurleen ushered us into the living room with cups of coffee, insisting she was going to clean up and wanted no one else in the kitchen.

  Mason and I sat on the couch like two awkward teenagers.

  “I don’t know when I’ve had so much fun,” he said.

  “Me too,” I said. I’m not usually at a loss for words, but I couldn’t think of another thing to say.

  Mason looked at me. “I’m really glad you included me. And when this is all over, I wonder if I might take you out to dinner.”

  I hesitated, and he jumped in.

  “I’m sorry. I know the timing is all wrong. You’re upset about your friend, worried about the children. You probably have a boyfriend. I didn’t even ask. Forget I said anything.”

  “No, I don’t have a boyfriend, and you didn’t say anything wrong. I’d like that. I really would. You have boys but no wife?”

  “My wife died several years ago.”

  “I’m sorry.” I started to say more, but at that instant Jason burst into the living room.

  “See ’tective Garrett, the ’Vengers beat the bad guys.” He carried in his hand the limp figure of an enemy. It looked a lot like an octopus with a human head.

  “Very impressive,” Mason said. “We could use an Avenger or two on our team.” He looked at me. “I guess I better go.”

  I nudged Jason. “Did you thank Detective Garrett for the bat and ball and for coming to your party?”

  “Thank you. Can we play ball again?”

  “I’d like that.” Mason shook Jason’s hand, waved to the rest of us, and left.

  Jason headed back to the bedroom. Lucie stood in the hallway and gave me a funny look.

  “Detective Garrett likes you,” she said.

  I knelt down beside her. “Why do you say that? I’m sure he likes all of us. He’s a nice man.”

  Lucie shook her head. “No, I mean he likes you specially. And you like him, don’t you, Aunt Di?”

  I nodded. “I do like him.” Lucie and I walked over to the sofa and sat down still holding hands.

  “I’m glad. I like him too. The men who came to see my mom pretended to be nice, and then they got mean.”

  “Were there a lot of men like that lately or just the one you told Detective Garrett about?”

  “There were two others. One of them always stayed in the car, so I never saw his face.”

  “Lucie, I have to ask you—why did Jason say his father gave him the Transformer? Have you seen your father lately?”

  Lucie took her hand out of mine and sat very still. “I told you Jason got that part mixed up. I have to go check on him, Aunt Di.” She jumped up and ran into the bedroom. I heard the door close and nothing more.

  So my wonderful Lucie was keeping a secret from me that involved her father. Why? She looked afraid when I asked her about it and when Jason brought it up. Was their dad threatening them? Was he involved with Ellie’s death? Ellie called him a deadbeat and said she hadn’t seen him. Was she lying to me? It wouldn’t have been the first time.

  I walked to the spare bedroom and listened at the door. There was no sound but the murmur of the TV. When I peeked inside I saw Lucie lying on the bed with her arm around Jason. He was asleep. Lucie had her eyes closed and lay very still.

  I let her be.

  Chapter Five

  I closed the door and walked down the hall to the kitchen, searching for Lurleen. The kitchen was spotless. Everything was out of sight—including Lurleen. I found her in the backyard cleaning up. The yard looked like a tornado had touched down.

  “I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you for all this,” I said.

  “Entirely my pleasure. You would do the same for me, and I loved every minute.” She stared at me intently. “What’s wrong? I know you’re upset about your friend, but Detective Garrett seems like a very competent man. He’ll find the person who did this. Why do you look so worried? I used to have a boxer, and when he was upset his little forehead would wrinkle, just like yours is now.”

  I smiled and attempted to smooth out one or two wrinkle lines. “It’s not the image I’m going for, but I am worried.”

  “About what, chérie?” Lurleen stopped searching the grass for candy wrappers and stood up to give me her full attention.

  “Lucie isn’t telling us the truth about her father or where Jason got his Transformer.”

  “Hmm,” Lurleen said, one hand on her slender hip. “This deserves some thought—and maybe another piece of cake when I’m done here. You think best while you’re baking. I think best while I’m eating.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll finish up here. You go inside and relax.”

  “Nonsense. Two hands are better than one. Make that quatre mains.” She raised her hands, wiggled her long fingers, and began picking up baguettes from our bowling game.

  “It’s a shame to waste all this French bread,” she said. “Waste not, want not, as my aunt liked to say.”

  “We’ll leave it for the birds. They’ll be thrilled.” I helped Lurleen break up the pieces of bread and scatter them around the yard. Together we untangled the Eiffel Tower from the Japanese maple and carried it carefully to her car where it just managed to fit into the back seat.

  “Do you need help on the other end unloading this?”

  “No, no. I’m stronger than I look thanks to my interval training and body-sculpting classes.” She flexed her muscles to show me some very fine biceps. “I love not working. It gives me time for all the things I do enjoy. If I missed a single ex
ercise class, which I wouldn’t, my instructor Wendy would e-mail me to make sure I was all right.”

  We packed the rest of the supplies in her trunk and passenger seat while I thanked her again for her magnificent party.

  “It was nothing. Rien du tout. If I’d known children could be this delightful, I’d have had a couple.”

  We walked together up the driveway to the porch. She settled herself in the swing and looked up at me expectantly.

  “Of course, the cake,” I said. I grabbed a cup of coffee and a slice of cake for each of us from the kitchen and put them on a tray Lurleen had given me for Christmas. I’d just moved back to Atlanta, and Lurleen insisted I’d finally moved home. She gave me a tray with the picture of what she called her spiritual home. Paris, of course. A black-and-white photo from the fifties shot at night. The city looked like a sparkling jewel.

  I left the house door open, so I’d hear the kids if they stirred, and sat beside Lurleen. The sky was an intense blue, and the temperature was perfect. Early April in Atlanta—one of my favorite times in a place that got too exuberant by June and too hot in August. My giant Southern magnolia was getting ready to display her creamy white blossoms. The small patch of lawn in the front yard needed mowing, but that could wait another week.

  Lurleen and I rocked gently back and forth on the swing, sipping our coffee and eating our cake. One of the many things I loved about Lurleen was that she was never in a hurry. She could get anxious and buzz around like a copper-colored dragonfly, but when it came to friendship, she had all the time in the world.

  She waited for me to begin.

  “I’m worried about the kids,” I said. “They may be in danger.”

  “In danger?” Lurleen leaned toward me. “What’s going on?”

  “You missed some of the conversation with Mason.”

  “Mason?”

  “Detective Garrett. He told me a detective was killed last week. Someone who worked in the Cyber Crimes Unit and talked to Ellie two weeks ago. Who knows what Ellie got herself into this time? And I have a gut feeling Lucie is lying about where Jason got his Transformer. She says it wasn’t from her father, but I don’t believe her.”