by Patricia Fry
“I’ll look. You sit here and have your juice,” Michael suggested.
Savannah stood in place. “Where could he be? He never misses breakfast and he almost always sleeps with us.” She looked over at Colbi. “Where’s Dolly?”
“Last I saw her, she was still sleeping in her pen. I left the door open in case she wanted to come down and join us. For a kitten so young, it’s uncanny how she can find her way around this big house after such a short time.”
“She’s a smart little girl.” Savannah smiled. “Just a yummy kitten. I’m so glad Damon rescued her. She would have surely died without treatment.”
Just then they heard Michael laughing.
“What’s so funny?” Savannah asked with a frown as he entered the room. “Did you find him?”
“Yeah, I found him,” Michael said with a chuckle. “In the pen curled up with Dolly. He’s in her bed and she’s asleep under one of his paws. Here look,” he said holding out his cell phone to show them the photo he had taken.
“Oh my gosh, how adorable is that?” Savannah said.
“Awwwww, precious,” Colbi agreed.
“But why is Rags sleeping through breakfast? That’s not like him.”
Michael laughed. “Maybe the kitten kept him up playing all night.”
Rap-rap.
“It’s the officer,” Michael said looking toward the kitchen door. “I’ll get it.”
“Hello, Officer . Want a cup of coffee?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Come on in. Join us.”
“Anything happen last night?” Colbi asked, half afraid to hear the answer.
“Well…” he said. “It’s getting kind of eerie out here at night. I see all sorts of critters—possums, coons, I thought I saw a wolf and a pretty large house cat, too—probably a cat gone wild.” He shook his head. “Or else the job is getting to me,” he said with a laugh.
“That old gal was bringing them all in by feeding them,” Colbi said. “We talked to some people who knew her, yesterday, down at the homeless camp.”
“You went down there?” Savannah asked. She opened the refrigerator and poured herself a glass of orange juice.
“I’m a journalist. It’s part of my job,” Colbi said matter-of-factly.
“So what did you find out about the woman—Beverly?” Michael asked.
Colbi took in a deep breath. “Well, she was a loner, but there were a few people in the homeless community that she spent time with sometimes. She bragged about how well she ate out here because of all the orchard fruit and veggie gardens. She also thought the wild animals should eat well and she told people that she’d steal and even buy food for them. They got her discards—carrot tops, peelings, and so forth. And she ‘found’ grain in people’s sheds for the animals. But she also had some money coming in and she’d walk to local stores and buy food in packages small enough to carry.”
Michael and Savannah exchanged glances. He said with a sigh, “Guess that’s where our horse feed went to.”
“So I guess I really was seeing wild animals out there,” the officer said. He glanced at his watch and added, “My replacement is supposed to be here any time. I’ll see you folks later—thanks for the coffee.”
“Thanks for keeping us safe,” Colbi said as he walked out the door.
Savannah sat down across from Colbi, took a sip of juice. “Sounds like she was a harmless old gal, just passionate about animals.”
“Only that passion was misplaced. I mean, you don’t want to entice wild animals down into residential areas,” Michael said. “It puts our animals and our property at risk and it’s dangerous for the wild animals, too.”
“And our children,” Savannah said, gently rubbing her hand against the side of her belly.
“So what was it like going to that homeless camp?” Michael asked.
“Kind of weird at first,” Colbi said. “But once the people started talking, rather interesting. You know, these are people just like us, only they see life through different eyes.” She shifted in her chair. “Some of them have had fascinating lives.” She perked up a little and said, “We’re going back today. There’s one woman we want to talk to. She wasn’t there yesterday.”
“Where was she, out panhandling?” Michael asked, frowning.
“No, it was her birthday and her family took her out to lunch.”
“You mean she has a family and they let her live homeless?”
“From what I understand, “Colbi said, “it’s a choice for some people. One man told me he has no obligations and no worries and that’s just the way he likes it. Well, they do have worries,” she said, “the weather and other homeless people stealing their belongings. But they don’t have jobs, homes, bills, things like that. It’s the simple life in some ways—going back to the basics.”
Savannah thought for a minute, then said, “You know, I read about a homeless guy in Southern California who was creating some great beach art using beach rocks. Every day, the tide would wash away his sculptures and every day, he’d rebuild. People started going down to the beach just to see his art. There were write-ups in the local papers and this brought even more people out to see his interesting rock sculptures. They’d take pictures and give some to him. He made an album that he would show to people who visited. At Christmastime, he made a rock Christmas tree. Someone donated Christmas lights and, because of pressure from the community, the city let him use their electricity to light the tree for a few hours on Christmas Eve. I guess a lot of the homeless community as well as mainstream people gathered together that evening for a tree-lighting ceremony.”
“Cool,” Michael said. “Does he still do that? I’d like to see it.”
“No, soon after the Christmas tree thing, city officials told him he could no longer do his rock art. They were afraid of rocks falling on people or something—a liability issue. But the publicity caused a local business owner to reach out and offer the guy a job and a place to stay.”
“Nice. I love happy-ending stories,” Colbi said, clapping her hands together.
Savannah spoke up. “But that’s not the end. Going back to the point you made a while ago, Colbi—that some homeless people choose the lifestyle…well, that was the case with this guy. He worked for only a short time and soon he was back on the streets living the life he’d become accustomed to. Nope, a job and roof over his head was not for him.”
“Wow!” Colbi said.
Michael just shook his head and took a sip of coffee. “I guess every culture and every era has their homeless element,” he said.
“Yes,” Savannah agreed, “and some of the homeless have pets, especially in the warmer climates.”
“Yeah, I see people along the road and in mall parking lots asking for handouts with their dogs,” Michael remarked.
“They also feed feral cats. In fact, I think they attract feral and abandoned cats, into their camps,” Colbi said. She looked up at her tablemates and added, “That’s going to be the focus of one of my upcoming columns.”
“Well,” Michael said, scooting his chair away from the table, “I’d better get to work.” He stopped, pulled his phone out of his jeans pocket, and said, “Oh, wait! A text from Marci.” He walked into the other room, staring down at his cell phone. When he returned, he said to Savannah, “Marci and Eric have offered to bring Adam over for a visit tomorrow. What do you think?”
“Why?” Savannah asked.
“Well, he’s out of school that day and they know we don’t want him here overnight until…” he grimaced “…this…mess is cleaned up.”
“Oh, you told her about what’s going on?” Savannah asked.
“Yes, I called her last night to let her know it may not be safe for him to come this weekend. But he wants to see us and Marci said they have friends near here that they would like to visit if it would be convenient and safe for Adam to stay her for a few hours during the day.”
“Great!” Savannah said. “Can you get away from the clin
ic tomorrow?”
“Sure, I can work something out.”
“Then tell her yes, by all means. I’ve missed that little guy.”
“What time?”
“You work that out. I’m flexible.”
“Okeydokey.” He bent down and kissed Savannah. “See you this evening,” he said before patting her bulging tummy.
***
Later that day, Damon picked Colbi up and they headed for the homeless camp to meet Beverly’s best friend.
“Ahhh, it feels good to get out of the house,” Colbi said as she watched the scenery fly past the car windows. She turned toward Damon. “Have you ever noticed that the homeless seem to live in the prettiest spots in town?”
“Yeah, on the beaches, along riverbanks, in lush vegetation in the foothills…” He glanced over at her. “You’re right; what’s wrong with this picture?”
They both laughed.
“This is as close as we can get. Are you up for a walk again today?” Damon asked as he parked the car.
“Yeah, I did okay yesterday. And it probably won’t take so long to get there now that we know where we’re going,” she said.
“I guess they remember us,” Damon said when he saw a couple of people waving as they neared one of the campsites.
“Gosh, they do some elaborate things in designing their homes,” Colbi said. “And without having to go back and forth to the hardware store like I always do when I set up housekeeping.”
Damon laughed. “Yeah, I’d call this shopping-cart décor.”
Colbi chuckled. “They do have a lot of shopping carts down here for storage and holding up their canopies.” She pointed. “They’re using that one as a dog bed.”
“A double-decker—there’s a dog in that sideways cart and a cat on top. Now that’s being resourceful.”
“Hey,” Damon said, taking Colbi’s hand as they walked, “if you get tired, maybe I can rent one of those shopping carts and push you the rest of the way.”
“Yeah, right,” she said smirking.
“Oh Damon,” Colbi said, pointing, “there’s Jake—the guy who told us about Beverly’s friend, Mary.”
“Yeah, let’s go talk to him.”
“Mary knows you’re coming,” Jake told them. “I’ll take you to her.” Before walking away, he asked, “Did you bring her chocolate?”
Damon said, “Yes, just like you suggested.”
“She does like her milk chocolate,” he said, grinning a toothless grin.
The couple followed the man known as Jake through a row of tents, canopies and makeshift rooms carved into the ample brush. Curious eyes stared out at them from some of the shelters. After passing a half-dozen or so crude dwellings, Jake motioned for the couple to go around the corner. He pointed to a path that disappeared into the brush and told them to follow it to where Mary stayed.
Damon turned to Jake and asked, “Do you like chocolate?”
He hesitated and then said, “Yeah!”
“Well, here, this one’s for you, then,” Damon said, handing him a chocolate bar. “Thanks for helping us out.”
The man’s eyes lit up as he focused on the candy. “Yer welcome.” He took the bar and walked back toward his camp, smiling.
The brush was thick on both sides of the path, but the trail was clear and easy to navigate. After walking the distance of half a city block, the couple came upon a metal structure. It appeared that it had been toted in from a construction site, or maybe from someone’s backyard. The door opening was covered by a heavy piece of drapery fabric. Sitting just outside the opening, on an upside-down shopping cart padded with several thicknesses of old clothes, was a pudgy young woman who appeared much older than her twenty-nine years. She wore leggings, a baggy tie-dyed t-shirt, a tattered jacket, mismatched socks and worn sport shoes. She was stirring a pot over a portable stove.
“Hello,” Damon said. “Are you Mary?”
She jumped and looked up. “Oh, you startled me. Yeah. Mary. That’s me.” She went back to stirring and then she looked up again. “Are you those people with questions about Beverly?”
“Yes,” Colbi said. “I’m Colbi Stanton and this is Damon Jackson.” She looked around and asked, “Okay if we sit on this log?”
“Yeah, help yerself.”
They stared over at the woman for a few moments, watching her as she intently stirred the pot. Finally Colbi asked solemnly, gently, “Mary are you aware that your friend Beverly has died?”
“Yeah. They told me after you was here yesterday,” she said. She stared into the pot for a few more moments and then she looked up at Colbi and smiled. “She was my best friend.” She looked back down at the pot. “Yeah, she was older than me, but she said I reminded her of her daughter and I could sure use a mama, so we became sorta like family.” She looked off in the distance. “We made memories together. Beverly said her old memories were sad and she liked making new, happier ones with me.”
Colbi smiled back. “What kind of memories?” she asked. “We would love to hear about some of them.”
Mary turned off the burner, leaned on the tree she used as a back for her shopping-cart chair and began reminiscing. “We used to have lunch in the park together on warm days. Every Thursday, a church group brought sandwiches and fruit to us. If it was cold or rainy, we’d find a place under the bridge or under an awning in back of a store. We’d eat and talk about how things used to be—her with her daughter on that ranch in Baton Rouge and me in my posh home with my heartless father.” She stared into space. “Oh I did have some fun as a child. I loved going to school where I could play with other kids. Those are my good memories.” She smiled, revealing a mouth full of rotting teeth.
“Beverly said I reminded her of her daughter,” she repeated. “I lost my mom when I was young. So we sorta felt like we needed each other—she could use a daughter and I sure wanted to have a mother.” She took a swig of something from a small leather flask she pulled out of her jacket pocket. “I had it all.” She swiped the back of her hand across her mouth and then continued, “…a beautiful home, nice clothes, a car. But none of that could take the pain away like partying, drugs, alcohol. By the time I was seventeen, I was on the streets. I lost it. Just like Beverly, I lost everything.”
She sat for a while with her thoughts, rocking back and forth in her jerry-rigged shopping cart chair. Finally she looked over at Colbi and Damon through lifeless eyes, her drab blond hair lying limp alongside her puffy, round face. “Oh you didn’t come to hear about me and I don’t want to talk about my past.” She tightened her lips as if attempting to hold back the pain and then she said something that shocked her guests, “Did that man kill Beverly?”
Colbi and Damon glanced over at one another. “What man is that, Mary?” Damon asked.
“The one that flew around in the night.” She sat forward, arms on her knees, and said, “He’s a demon—maybe the devil himself. Beverly had every right to feed the animals and she had a right to the fruit that was on the ground and the vegetables that were going to be put in the compost pile. He told her she had no rights and that she needed to leave or he would make her leave.”
“Tell us about this man, Mary. Where did you see him?” Damon asked.
“Right out there where Beverly lived in that wooden room—her hut. She had it fixed up right nice, don’t you think? Did you see it?” She didn’t wait for an answer. She smiled. “She liked it when I came for meals with her. She was proud to serve fresh produce that didn’t come off someone’s restaurant plate.” She sat back and looked up into the trees that surrounded her home-site. “We had apples, lettuce, cabbage and even kale.” She looked over at the couple. “Kale is real good for you, you know. I don’t often get food that’s good for me. Oh, and she’d make coffee—real coffee from grounds that people threw away. Don’t folks know that you can use grounds again and again? The flavor’s still there—for a while, anyways.”
“When did you first see this man, Mary?” Colbi asked.
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“Um, what is today, Monday? Tuesday?”
“It’s Wednesday,” Damon said.
“I think it was a week ago maybe. Oh, it was Thursday. I walked over to Beverly’s and stayed for a few days and that was Thursday and Friday, I do believe.” She looked across at them. “It’s hard to keep track without a calendar.”
Colbi shifted her weight on the log. “You don’t have a calendar? How do you know when to go to the park for the lunches?”
“Oh a few people have cell phones here and they can remind us. There are calendars on cell phones, did you know that?”
“Yeah, that’s right,” Damon said. Then he asked, “Did the man come over to Beverly’s place when you were there?”
“Oh no, she ran into him when she was out gathering her supplies for the animals…her and that cat.” She smiled again. “She had a big cat…I guess it was hers…he’d come around at night and walk with her while she found food for us and for the animals. She said Smokey was her nighttime friend. She never saw him during the day. But then, she stayed cooped up pretty much during the day, sleeping, you see.”
“Can you describe the man?” Colbi asked.
“What man?”
“The one you mentioned that threatened Beverly,” Damon clarified.
“Oh him. He was kind of scary. I only saw him through the window that one time when he followed Beverly back to her hut. He didn’t’ know I was there. I saw his scary dark eyes, his sickly white skin and his coal-black hair. He covered himself up like some sort of Dracula—know what I mean?”
“Uh…” Colbi started.
“Yeah, he wore all black. He was sort of dramatic in that cape; swirling it around him all theatrical like. Oh, and he had a cane, but I didn’t see him use it. He seemed to walk pretty good. He just carried the cane. I wanted to see it close up. It was a purty thing. Black and shiny.” She motioned with her hands as she said, “There was this gold decoration on top of it.” She thought for a minute, before saying, “I’ll bet Sal, over at the pawn shop, would give eighty bucks for that thing.”
“Mary, do you think he could have killed your friend?” Damon asked.