Chapter Eleven
Morning came too soon. Before she cried herself to sleep, Faye stubbornly refused to give me any information about Grandpa Claude. Since she'd been a drama queen all her life I figured it had to be one of the following: (A) She was mad at him for naming me Alfrieda Carlotta. (B) He refused to give her money. (C) Something horrible I didn't want to think about.
Yeah, I know. I'm my mother's daughter.
Before I left for school, I checked on Faye, who'd fallen into a coma-like sleep. I ate peanut butter toast, brushed my teeth and kissed Faye's pale cheek, whispering, "It'll be okay.
I promise.
Weary beyond words, I trudged down the driveway wondering if I should talk to Uncle Sid when I got home from school. After all, he was a relative, a half-assed one, but still a relative. That should count for something. I was halfway down the driveway when I heard Matt's Jeep start up. I hadn't seen Matt since the day I'd peeked into his dirty little mind. He pulled up beside me. "What's up, Allie?
I looked over at him. "Ask your mother.
"Huh?" he said, a look of bewilderment clouding his perfect features. It was clear he didn't know about Aunt Sandra's agenda.
"Oh, never mind. You'll find out soon enough.
"You still mad at me?
I flashed on the ugly words he'd been thinking. Having little experience reading minds, I had no idea how to respond.
"That depends. Should I be?
He blinked in surprise. "Heck, no. I'm a lovable guy." "Yeah, right. See ya, Matt.
He lifted a hand in farewell and peeled out of the driveway toward Peacock Heights Christian School.
While we waited for the bus, I told Manny and Mercedes about our CPS visit. Mercedes reacted in her typical manner.
"No way!" she cried. "That's totally, totally screwed up!" "Wow," I said with a weak grin. "Two 'totallys.' Must be really bad, huh?
The ever-practical Manny said, "I've seen that woman's car in your uncle's driveway a bunch of times. I'll pass the word.
Don't worry, Allie. We see that car around ... we let you know right away. Give you time to make a plan, eh?
"Thanks, Manny. You're the best.
I patted his chubby cheek. He flushed and ducked his head. By "passing the word," I knew Manny meant he'd inform his entire, extended family, which included dozens of people spread far and wide across the valley. A couple hundred extra eyes watching for Cynthia and Pam couldn't hurt.
Later, on the busthankfully Cory Philpott was absentI dug out my algebra book to make sure my homework was inside. Folded carefully around my algebra problems was another sheet of notebook paper. I smoothed it open and read the following message, written in bright purple ink with little hearts drawn over each letter "i"
Hey Allie, It's me, Trilby! Happy birthday, kid. Saw you in the limo classy wheels, by the way. Did you see me? I stopped by the limo to tell you goodbye. Yeah, that's right, I'm on my way up there.
She'd drawn an arrow pointing upward You did it, you passed the third test. So I'm outta here. Oh, yeah, I see that clueless look you get like, 'Duh, what test?' So I'll tell you. It was the daddy thing. You denied yourself something you really wanted. You put someone else's welfare and needs before your ownyou know who I'm talkin' aboutthe scrawny little kid who looks like you. Which means, you're now fully vested in your powers. And don't ask me 'what powers?' You gotta figure that out for yourself.
Peace and love, Trilby, your spirit guide.
P.S. If I don't like it up here, I'll be baaaaack! Bet you're wondering how I know about The Terminator. Got bored one day at SeaTac (oooh, oxymoron). Some dorky-looking kid had one of those portable movie players and I sat by him and watched. Arnie's hot!
I tucked the note away from Mercedes' curious eyes, vowing I'd think about it later when the specter of CPS wasn't hanging over my head.
"Hey, dude! Cool necklace.
I jumped, and Mercedes yelped in surprise. The voice belonged to Didier Ellsworth the Third, whose fuzzy blond head appeared over our seatback. My hand flew up to cover the moonstone. I'd forgotten to tuck it inside my shirt.
"Jeeze, Didier, you shouldn't sneak up on people like that. You almost gave Mercedes a heart attack.
Diddy didn't understand personal space. He slithered forward until his upper torso was wedged between Mercedes and me. He looked back and forth between us, smiling his goofy Diddy smile. He pointed at the moonstone. His long, thin fingers reminded me of spider legs. "So that whaddaya call that thing, dude?
Mercedes giggled. With a little huff of irritation, I said, "Diddy. I am not a dude. Dude's are guys. Stop calling me a dude. Okay?
His face fell. I saw the hurt in his pale blue eyes and felt like I'd kicked a puppy. Yeah, I was tired and crabby, but that was no excuse for lashing out at poor Diddy. "I got it at a yard sale.
I lowered my hand and let him take a good look before I stuffed it inside my shirt.
"Awesome, dude, I mean, Allie. Hey, if you ever need any help in algebra, I'm really good at it. I could come over to your place if you want.
"Thanks, Diddy. I'll let you know." Like when kittens and puppies grow on Uncle Sid's apple trees.
I turned away from him and stared out the window. He finally got the hint and retreated. I steeled myself for what I knew would happen next.
Sure enough, Mercedes poked me with her elbow and whispered, "Oooo, Diddy's in love! You better not break his heart. He might slit his wrists or jump in front of a logging truck.
I shook my head and smiled. The girl should write romance novels.
Later that day, we'd just finished responding to Mrs. Burke's "Como esta?" by saying, "Bien, gracias," when Cory Philpott burst into the room. He flipped his pass on Mrs. Burke's desk and headed to the back of the room, where all the losers sit. His shoelaces, untied of course, dragged on the floor, and he shuffled his feet to keep his gigantic clodhoppers from falling off. He stopped when he got to my desk. "Hey, Allitosis. Ding dong, the witch is dead.
I wasn't in the mood for Cory. My only response was a dirty look and a dismissive flap of the hand. Not to be denied, Cory said, "Thought you'd want to know, you being so close to her and all.
A sudden chill shot through my body. I looked up at Cory. "What are you talking about?
Mrs. Burke said, "Cory and Allie. I hope my lesson plan isn't interrupting your little chat.
Mrs. Burke could be real sarcastic at times. I felt a flush crawl up my neck. "Sorry, Mrs. Burke." I ducked my head and hissed at Cory. "Tell me!
"It's that Kizzy woman. Somebody beat her up real bad. I was with my dad when the 911 call came in. Man, there was blood everywhere. I think she's dead.
"No!" I jumped out of my chair. "I just saw her yesterday.
"Allie!" Mrs. Burke spoke sharply. "Sit down.
My classmates watched in slack-jawed horror as I ran to the front of the room. Mrs. Burke's eyes went huge and her hands fluttered helplessly. "I have to go, Mrs. Burke. I'm really sorry. Please, it's important. I'll explain later.
Without waiting for her answer, I dashed from the room and tore out of the building at a dead run, and my only thought was, She can't be dead, she can't be dead. I felt the moonstone hard against my chest and pulled it out of my shirt. I clutched it as I ran, hoping it's magic would make everything all right.
After a block, I kicked off my flip flops and pounded barefoot down the dirty, concrete sidewalk. When the sidewalk ended I moved to the narrow shoulder of the twolane road, wincing as I ran over bits of gravel and other debris. Blood oozed up between my toes.
I'd just slowed down to catch my breath when a car pulled up beside me. I glanced over to see Junior Martinez in his low rider. The passenger window slid down. Junior leaned toward the open window. "Hey Home Girl, hop in. I'll give you a ride.
Gasping for breath, I leaned over, put my hands on my knees. "I'm not your home girl. Why are you here? I just saw you in Mrs. Burke's class.
"Told Burke I had to go with my mom to pay
bills.
"Liar," I said. "Are you stalking me?
He shot me an amused look. "Emerson, you're a piece of work. Get in.
I approached the car cautiously, all of Faye's dire warnings flashing through my mind.
"That's it," Junior said like he was coaxing a stray dog.
He reached over and opened the door. Without taking my eyes off Junior, I slid into the passenger seat. I needed to get to Kizzy's but could I trust Junior? Granted, I liked the way he smelled, and my nose doesn't lie. A guy who smelled like fresh laundry couldn't be all that bad ... I hoped.
He glanced down at my feet. His eyes widened in surprise. He cursed furiously in Spanish. "God Almighty, girl, your feet are all bloody. What happened to your shoes? And where are you going in such a hurry?
I explained about the flip flops and my need to get to Kizzy's house. He made a U-turn.
Still leery of Junior, I screeched, "You're going the wrong way. Let me out!
"Chill, Emerson. We gotta get your shoes. You gonna walk around like that with your feet all torn up?" He shook his head sadly. "Women.
The flip flops were still in the middle of the sidewalk where I'd run out of them. I started to open the door but Junior held up a hand. "Don't be stupid.
He retrieved the flip flops and handed them to me along with a towel he pulled from the back seat. "I can't believe you. Running barefoot through all that stuff. Are you crazy?
He was right, but I didn't need a lecture from toohandsome-for-his-own-good Junior Martinez, former gang member, teenage father and seducer of ninth grade girls. As we drove toward Kizzy's house, I turned and checked out the back seat.
I clucked my tongue in disapproval. "I don't see a government-approved, child's safety seat installed in your car. I hope you don't drive around with your baby bouncing around the car like a helium balloon.
Junior slammed on the brakes, jerked the wheel sideways and screeched to a halt at the side of the road. "What the hell you talkin' about? What baby? You think I've got a kid?
"Yeah, uh, well..." I stammered. "Manny Trujillo said he saw you at the mall, pushing a baby in a stroller.
"You thought it was mine?" Junior's eyes were a surprising shade of gray when filled with outrage.
Mortified, I stared at the floorboards. "It probably wasn't you.
"It was me all right, with my sister's kid.
I knew the car wouldn't move until the matter was settled.
"Really, Junior. I believe you," I said.
"All right, then. Guess we got that cleared up. Anything else?
Oh, just the little matter of you stabbing a rival gang member, but no big deal. "No." I was bouncing up and down in my impatience. "Let's go.
Junior pulled out onto the road, driving a good ten miles under the posted speed limit. "Come on, Junior. Pick it up. This is an emergency.
"Easy for you to say. You're not on probation. I made a promise to my mom. No more breaking the law, no more gang banging. You know how hard that is around here?
I thought about Cory getting slapped around by the Proud White Tuffs, about a Native American kid I knew who didn't have a mean bone in his body but, sick of getting pounded on, formed his own gang, the Red Posse, and I thought about the Chicanos from Southern California, whose fathers were seasoned gang bangers and expected their kids to follow in their footsteps.
"Yeah," I said softly. "I bet it's tough. Are you doing okay?
He glanced over at me. "You really want to know?
I nodded.
So, while Junior drove sedately down the country road like a sweet-faced old lady on her way to Senior Day at the casino, he filled me in on his life. Junior was his mother's last living son. One brother died in a car crash, the other in a violent gang fight. Seeking to avenge his brother's murder, Junior joined a gang. The bloody encounter that followed ended with his opponent badly injured and Junior serving time.
"Bottom line," Junior said. "My mother will cut my nuts out ... oops, sorry, I mean she'll kill me in a slow, painful way if I mess up again.
I thought about Faye. "Yeah, me too. Not the nuts part, of course." I ducked my head and blushed. Time to change the subject. "What about your dad?" I almost choked on the "d" word.
Junior lowered his window and spat. "Son of a bitch left us and went to Mexico. I think he's got another wife down there.
On the "dad" issue, Junior and I weren't so different. "The gang let you out?
His face closed up. "I had to fight my way out.
He tugged at his right sleeve and pointed to a jagged scar that started at the elbow, traversed the entire length of his upper arm and disappeared into his crisp, white tee shirt.
"Ouch." I traced the scar with the tip of my index finger. Junior inhaled sharply but kept his eyes on the road.
"Those guys still after you?
"Let me put it this way. They're getting the message.
His eyes glittered with a fierceness that made me blink and withdraw my hand. This was a different Junior, the don'tmess-with-me-or-I'll-mess-you-up person who lurked just beneath the surface. The dimple was gone.
We pulled in behind three police cars parked in front of Kizzy's hedge. An ambulance, lights flashing, backed out of the driveway and tore down the road I whispered, "If she's in an ambulance, she must be alive. Right, Junior?
Junior's eyes softened. "It'll be okay, kid. Just hang tough.
I got out on trembling legs and headed for the house. When Junior didn't follow, I turned back to the car. "Are you coming?
"Naw, I'll wait for you.
He pointed at the house. "Cops. They think I'm still runnin' with the gang.
I leaned into the open window. "Thanks for the ride. Guess I'll see you at school.
"I'll wait.
From the stubborn set of his jaw, I knew it was pointless to argue. "I don't want you to get in trouble.
"What trouble? I'm just sitting here. Go.
I dashed through the gate and ran toward the house. The broad stairs leading to the veranda were crisscrossed with yellow crime-scene tape. My stomach felt queasy, and a bitter taste rose in my throat as I stepped over it. The front door stood open. I heard men's voices and a sharp bark of laughter. Laughter? What the hell was wrong with these people?
Determined to find the source, I stepped into the living room and clapped a hand over my mouth. The room looked like a tornado had ripped through it. Tables and chairs were tipped over. Drawers hung open, their contents spilling out onto the floor. Shards of a shattered vase and a tangle of pale blue iris lay on the stone hearth in a puddle of water.
I picked my way through the mess. The men's voices were coming from the kitchen. Afraid of what I'd find, I slowly approached the kitchen. As I reached for the door, it opened and a man holding a camera stepped through. He recoiled in surprise. "Where the hell did you come from, kid? This is a crime scene. Didn't you see the tape?
I'd come this far. No way would I back down now. And maybe he was the laugher, which would justify the lie I was about to tell. "I'm a family member. I need to see Deputy Philpott. Is he here?
The man called over his shoulder, "Hey Dick. Some kid's here. Says she's family.
"Be right there. Tell her to wait.
The photographer pointed a finger at me. "Don't move.
He tromped through the living room and out the door. I waited a few beats then peeked through the kitchen door. Before my mind could comprehend the horror, I smelled the blood and felt the heavy weight of violence lingering in the air. Kizzy's pristine kitchen, newly updated with granite countertops and a white tile floor, was spattered with blood. Scarlet streaks stained the walls. A bloody handprint was clearly visible on the kitchen island. Three men, clad in sterile suits and booties covering their shoes, crouched over the chalk outline of a sprawled body. I cried out in horror. My knees buckled and I sank to the floor, the edges of my world turning dark and fuzzy.
"Allie!" I felt hard fingers grasp my arm. Deputy Philpott pulled me int
o the living room and sat me down on an overstuffed foot stool.
"Drop your head between your knees. Take some deep breathes.
I gulped air until the buzzing in my ears subsided.
"Atta girl," he said. "Now you're getting some color back.
I looked up at him, my lower lip trembling uncontrollably. "She's dead, isn't she? Kizzy. That's why the siren wasn't going. That's why you drew a line around her body.
Philpott squatted down in front of me. "I'm going to be honest with you, Allie. She was in bad shape when the paramedics got here. Barely alive. They started a transfusion. Whether she makes it or not..." his voice drifted off and he shook his head sadly.
"But, all that blood. How could she live and lose all that blood?" The gory scene in the kitchen played out in my mind. I had a feeling I'd be seeing it for a long time. "Do you know what happened to her?
"Somebody beat the stuffing out of her. It looks like she fought back. At some point she either fell or the assailant bashed her head against the granite counter."
Philpott stood up and cleared his throat. "So now you're family, huh?
I blushed and looked at the ceiling. "Well, I'm like family. She does have a daughter, though. Carmel. She and her boyfriend were just here last weekend. You should call her.
Philpott withdrew a small notebook from his breast pocket. "Carmel, last name Lovell?
I nodded and pointed at the overturned table where Kizzy kept her phone and address book. "Check the drawer. Her number should be in there." I felt my strength returning and stood up slowly. "Where did the ambulance take her?
"Vista Valley Regional. Why?
"Just wondering." I sidled toward the door.
"You know much about her family situation? The daughter her only child?
"Kizzy couldn't have kids. She and her husband adopted Carmel. She has a boyfriend. Teddy. Kizzy said they only come here when they want money. You might want to check on those two.
Philpott looked thoughtful and made another notation.
"Who made the 911 call?" I asked.
"The limo driver. She had a nine o'clock appointment with her lawyer. He came by to pick her up. When she didn't answer the doorbell, he went in and found Ms. Lovell in the kitchen. The back door was standing open, and he heard a car take off in alley behind the house.
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