by Jackson Neta
All six packets were inside. We arrested Wagner and read him his rights. “But relax, it’ll be a while before the CPD arrives to take you to Cook County Jail. They’re busy at a restaurant up in Logan Square gettin’ acquainted with a few of your friends.”
With a snarl of his lip, Max swore at me. “You think we don’t have the best lawyers money can buy? You’ll never make this stick.”
I just smiled at him. It would stick.
I left and wound my way through the cubicles until I looked over the divider where Grace and Sam were speaking to an Amtrak agent. “Ah. You’re still here.”
“Mr. Bentley!” Grace turned. She looked relieved to see a familiar face.
I nodded toward the report form she’d filled out. “You lose something?”
Grace grimaced. “My suitcase was stolen.”
I grinned. “Well, I’ve got good news for you. We caught the perp red-handed and got your suitcase back.”
Both Grace and Sam gasped. “What?” Grace stared at me like I’d performed a miracle. “How . . . oh, my. I can’t believe it.”
“That’s the good news.” I said. “The bad news is, uh, Amtrak police need to keep your suitcase for a little while until they’ve completed all the paperwork. A list of the contents would be helpful to make sure everything’s still there. I’ll see that you get it back as soon as they release it. Hopefully it won’t be too long.”
“Oh, Harry! Thank you!” Grace got up and gave me a big hug. “I’m going to tell Estelle to cook you one of her famous dinners tonight. You deserve it!”
“Uh, make that Detective Bentley here at the station.” I laughed to assure her I was joking, then gazed at her, wondering if I should tell her the whole story now that the danger was over. No, she still seemed too upset. “Okay, ladies, gotta go. C’mon, Corky.” But as I left, I winked at Grace. “Told you Amtrak security was on the job—even when you didn’t know it.”
After such a busy day, Corky seemed particularly eager to head home, but with all the paperwork, it was after seven before we got out of there. Riding home up the Outer Drive as the setting sun streamed through scattered clouds in the west, streaking the sky pink and amber, I did feel accomplished. We’d made a good collar on Marcel (Max) Wagner with close to $1.5 million of cocaine in his possession, though the purity awaited lab confirmation. In the meantime, the CPD—backed by the DEA—raided what they believed to be the Sinaloa cartel’s Chicago headquarters, arresting eight people and confiscating another $1.7 million in marijuana, cocaine, heroin, and meth. In the haul they also grabbed eleven weapons, including two sawed-off shotguns, and eighty thousand dollars in cash.
I glanced back into Corky’s carrier. “Not bad for a long train trip, was it, ol’ girl. Too bad we never got to Disneyland, though. Maybe next time.” Corky whined and adjusted her position, her mouth hanging open as she panted happily.
I still felt bad about Grace. I’d convinced her to travel by train, and though I’d managed to keep her oblivious of the hurricane of crime and danger that had swirled around her, she’d been robbed right in our own Union Station. I’d called Estelle earlier not only to tell her I’d be late getting home but also to ask her to check on Grace. I hoped she was okay.
By the time I got home, it was nearly eight and Estelle had dinner waiting for me. Bless her! She’d even waited to eat with me, the table set beautifully with candles and Mom’s china.
“DaShawn already ate. He’s over at the Jaspers, supposedly doing homework.” She lit the four candles. “But if you ask me, DaShawn’s gettin’ sweet on that girl.”
“Who, Tabitha? I thought his only interest was playin’ hoops with Tavis.”
“Hmm.” She set a steaming casserole with a flaky crust between us and moved our bowls of colorful salad aside to make room for a basket of fresh garlic bread. “I don’t know. The hormones are surging by thirteen. But we don’t have to worry about tonight. Rodney’s pickin’ him up from the Jaspers at nine when he finishes his run, for a sleepover.”
“Sleepover on a school night?”
Estelle shrugged and gave me a sly smile. “Why not?” She flipped off the dining room light and sat down across from me. “Oh—” She held up a finger. “—before I forget, when I checked on Grace this afternoon like you asked me to—took her some of this supper—she seemed real concerned about a young girl she’d met on the train. Said she disappeared. She mentioned something about a mean boyfriend.”
“Ah yes. The girl with the stained jacket.” I nodded. “She definitely disappeared. I’ll have to tell you all about it.”
“Well, I want to hear everything, soon as you give thanks for the food.”
I reached out and took Estelle’s hand. “For food in a world where many walk in hunger, for faith in a world where many walk in fear”—Like Grace Meredith, I thought—“and for friends in a world where many walk alone, we give you thanks, Lord.” I paused a moment without letting go of Estelle’s hand. “And Lord, thank you for the best wife you could’ve ever given me and for bringin’ me home safe to be with her this evening. Amen.”
When I opened my eyes, Estelle was grinning. “Shepherd’s pie?” She spooned a generous helping of meat and colorful vegetables onto my plate, the flaky crust sitting askew on the top. “What’s this about bringing you home safe? Was there ever any doubt?”
I had no interest in scaring my wife, but we don’t keep secrets from each other, so with the operation concluded, I told Estelle the whole story, including how Grace had been carrying a load of cocaine without knowing it.
“Harry Bentley! I can’t believe you let her do that!”
“Didn’t have much choice. In fact, at first I wasn’t able to exclude her from consideration as the carrier—”
“You mean you suspected her? How could you? All you had to do was call me, and I could’ve told you that was impossible. That poor girl. I can’t believe it!” She rolled her eyes and shook her head like I was a lost cause.
“Well, it wasn’t as if I singled her out. I had to look at everyone who had any contact with that luggage.” I watched Estelle continue shaking her head, totally unconvinced. “Give me a break, Estelle. I had to look at everyone. My list of suspects even included Rodney; he—”
“You also suspected your own son? Harry—”
I tried to explain the theory of a limo driver having enough time with the bags to accomplish the drug plant and retrieval. “. . . and then when I heard Rodney had not only arranged to pick up Grace yesterday but insisted on driving her today, I had to consider the poss—”
“This is too much! That boy was just being neighborly. He brought her home this evening after waiting all afternoon for her. Probably lost a couple fares while he waited. He’d be here eating with us right now except he had to work tonight. Suspecting your own son? That’s scary, Harry Bentley.” She crossed her arms and glared. “Who’s next? You gonna suspect me?”
Estelle was steaming mad. And an evening that began with high hopes for a romantic rendezvous—candles, special dinner with the love of my life, just the two of us alone—had turned into a scolding. Couldn’t blame Estelle, though. I’d quaked in fear every time I thought Rodney might be involved. But what else could I have done? I wanted to explain, defend myself, prove that I’d done the right thing.
Instead . . . I hung my head and just sat with it a few moments. Thankfully, Estelle’s fury seemed to burn itself out.
Finally, I looked up at her. The flickering candlelight blurred in my eyes as the woman I loved, the woman I wanted to respect me more than anything else in the world, sat perfectly still, her eyes closed as if in prayer.
“I’m sorry, babe,” I said. “I’m truly sorry. Can you forgive me?”
Her eyes opened, and I could see tears. “Yes, Harry. I forgive you,” she said in that velvet-soft voice of hers. “And will you forgive me too? I didn’t mean to go off on you like that. I know you have a hard job, sometimes requiring choices that hurt more than I can imagine or
understand. But thank you for being the kind of man who hasn’t hardened himself to the pain of those decisions. That truly would be scary. But you don’t scare me, Harry Bentley, and I’m sorry for saying so.”
I got up, went around the table to take Estelle’s hand as she stood up too, and we embraced for a long, comforting hug.
“Let me get the candles.” Estelle untangled herself and whoofed out two of them, handing the other two to me still lit. “Bring ’em with you. We can leave the dishes till tomorrow.”
After all the twists and turns, I was finally home.
Epilogue
Twilight turned the trees black and the houses on Beecham Street dark shades of blue and gray under overcast skies, making the warm lights in the windows all the more homey and inviting. Twenty-some neighbors—nearly half of the people on the block—milled around, taking care not to step on the glimmering luminaries marking the walk up to the two-flat.
“Hey, Pops, can Tavis and I put out more of these paper sacks with candles in ’em?”
“Don’t we have enough already?”
“We need a couple more up on the steps, you know, so it’s like leadin’ her right into her house.”
I looked at the first-floor unit, all lit up with bright lamps and clean curtains in the windows. It already looked welcoming, but . . . “I guess so. Be careful with those candles.”
There was just enough nip in the air that everyone welcomed the cups of hot chocolate Estelle brought around on a tray. I was delivering half sheets of paper to each neighbor.
“Tim, Scott,” I said to the neighbors from the bungalow two doors north as I handed them a sheet. “Good to see ya.”
“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” said Tim.
“Where’s Danny?” I asked. “Haven’t seen him this evening.”
Scott thumbed over his shoulder toward the west. “He’s visiting my mom in Glenview. She’s about the only one in either of our families that . . . you know.” He shrugged and glanced at Tim.
“Sorry about that.” I couldn’t help wondering what I’d do if it were my family. “Well, like I said, thanks for joining us.”
I moved on. “You might not be familiar with this,” I said as I handed a song sheet to the Jalilis, “but it’s easy to pick up.”
Farid looked at the words for a moment. “Well, we never sang these words back in Iran, but I think we’ve heard people sing it New Year’s Eve in the States. Right?”
“You got it. Estelle changed a few of the words, but . . . Glad you can join us.”
“Dad.” Rodney snagged me as I passed. “Don’t know if you’ve met my boss yet. This is Lincoln Paddock. Lives at the end of the block.”
I felt embarrassed as I extended my hand. We’d been in the neighborhood over two months, and I hadn’t yet met the lawyer and owner of Lincoln Limo. He was slim, handsome, mid-forties, and wore a black suit with no tie. We talked for a few minutes, and then I went looking for Grace Meredith who was standing at the edge of the gathering. A man I didn’t recognize stood beside her with his arm loosely around her waist. I hadn’t spoken to Grace since I’d returned her suitcase a week before.
“Grace! So glad to see you. Here are the words for the song. Estelle said you’re gonna lead us, right?”
She nodded as she glanced over the sheet.
“So how’s it goin’? You finally recoverin’ from your West Coast tour?”
“Yes, doing fine.” The flickering light from the luminaries gave her face a vibrant glow. She gestured toward the dark-haired man beside her. “This is Jeff Newman . . . Jeff, this is Mr. Bentley—”
“Just Harry.” I extended my hand to the newcomer. “Good to meet ya.”
“Jeff’s my . . .” Grace stole a nervous glance at the man. “. . . he’s my agent.”
“Oh, so you’re the one who sends this young lady all over the country.”
Jeff returned a near-schoolboy grin, with a quick look at Grace. “Well, Grace is very special. We all love her at Bongo.”
“Bongo? As in . . . ?” I mimed patting a pair of small drums.
“Yep, that’s the name of our agency. Bongo Booking.”
“And Harry’s the man who saved . . . who encouraged me to take the train. He works for Amtrak.”
“Really, now? Well, she seemed to have a good trip.”
“Better’n good.” Grace flashed Jeff a shy grin that made me think they were becoming an item.
“Speaking of your trip,” I said, “Estelle mentioned you’re still worried about that young girl you met on the train.”
“Oh, yes, Ramona. Your wife really encouraged me to pray for her every day, and I’ve been doing it too. Did you ever find her?”
“As a matter of fact, we did. That’s what I wanted to tell you. I think we were able to pry her away from that man who’d been . . . hassling her. Turned out she was basically homeless, except for him. I was able to get her into the Manna House Shelter just yesterday—same place Estelle works. So she’s in a good place now, at least temporarily. They have programs to help someone like her get back on her feet, maybe even get her back home to her family in LA.”
“Oh, I’m so glad! I was really worried about her. Guess my prayer times with Estelle will hit a new level of praise now.”
I chuckled. “Estelle will be all for that. And Jeff,” I turned to Grace’s . . . uh, friend, “it’s good to meet you. You take care of this young lady now. We’re tryin’ to learn how to be good neighbors around here, so we’ll be checkin’ up.”
Jeff smiled easily. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, Mr. Bentley.”
“Harry. Just Harry’ll do.” I moved on to speak to the Jaspers, aware that helping Ramona hadn’t been as easy as I’d explained to Grace. We’d had to arrest her as an accomplice to the robbery and drug transportation and because she was seventeen, Ramona was too old for the Juvenile Detention Center and spent over a week in Cook County Jail—very sobering, I’m sure. But I was able to convince the State’s Attorney to drop the charges against her if she’d enter a facility that could help her. The word to Ramona was that if she were ever picked up again, she’d be prosecuted. So she was pretty happy to go to Manna House.
“Here they come! Here they come!” The word spread through the group, and we all turned to watch a car glide slowly up the street, its headlights shining in our eyes. It passed our house and turned around in the cul-de-sac to return and park on our side of the street. The headlights went off, and Don Krakowski got out, came around to the passenger side, and opened the door for a wide-eyed old lady. The son helped Mattie Krakowski stand up, which she was able to do without a cane. And then a clear soprano voice led out. Following Grace’s lead, a motley crew of Beecham Street neighbors began to sing.
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind?
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
oh, not this friend of mine.
For our dear friend of days gone by,
has been away too long.
We’ll take a cup of kindness yet,
and toast her with a song.
And here’s a hand our trusty friend
that we once failed to give!
Grant us the chance to make it right,
in peace among us live.
For our dear friend of days gone by,
has been away too long.
We’ll take a cup of kindness yet,
and toast her with a song.
I looked over at our new renter. Tears were streaming down her wrinkled face.
BOOK CLUB DISCUSSION QUESTIONS FOR DERAILED
1.Aside from affordability and the physical adequacy of the dwelling, what other factors mattered most to you when you considered a move (church, schools, shopping, proximity to family, beautiful surroundings, parking, ethnic diversity, threat of natural disasters, threat of violence, etc.)? Did any of those factors change in importance after you moved? How and why?
2.Like Harry and Estell
e Bentley, has concern for extended family (elderly parents, adult children, grandchildren) played a major role in your life decisions about where and how you live? Describe.
3.Have you ever believed God was leading you in one direction but later concluded that you’d been “derailed”? How did you deal with that? In what ways did it affect your willingness to seek and follow God’s leading?
4.After moving to Beecham Street, Estelle baked cinnamon rolls to share with their neighbors—kind of a reverse Welcome Wagon approach to getting acquainted. She cites Proverbs 18:24, which in the King James Version says, “A man that hath friends must shew himself friendly.” What do you think of the idea?
5.Harry and Estelle consider letting Rodney rent the first-floor apartment to give him a second chance. But later when Corky finds a joint in Rodney’s jacket, he declares his innocence and says, “I was hopin’ for a second chance, Dad! But I see I ain’t gonna get one around here.” Are there conditions for giving someone a second chance? What might they be? Has God ever given you a second chance? According to 1 Corinthians 13:7, what is God’s attitude toward second chances?
6.Harry thinks some of Captain Gilson’s ideas about his job as an undercover detective are over the top, unworkable, and perhaps dangerous. Describe a situation where someone in authority over you had unreasonable expectations. How did you deal with that? What do you think about Harry’s response?
7.What do you think of Harry’s decision to conceal from Grace what he found in her luggage? What might have happened if he had confronted her? What do you think about his keeping the whole story from her right through the end?
8.As Harry listens to Grace sing, “You may have all the world, give me Jesus,” he wonders, Was that all that mattered? How do you give up everything else? How do you give up your responsibilities—even for Jesus—without becoming irresponsible? How would you answer him?
9.What do you think of Harry’s continuing suspicion of Rodney and the possibility that he might be involved in drug trafficking? Was Harry being wisely cautious or unduly suspicious?