Googling “Arkan Exterminators Tucson” gave her an address and told her the business had just opened. The home page had a picture of Alexandra Arkan, a pretty, athletic woman in gray coveralls. Her hair was reddish brown, like Ilya’s.
Homework can wait half an hour. She bicycled the half-mile to Arkan Exterminators, planning ways to ask Ms. Arkan who might have stolen the van. The police couldn’t say anything without proof, but Ms. Arkan might know. Or, at least, have strong suspicions.
But as Cat was about to turn onto 22nd Street, she saw her father’s black van parked in front of Arkan Exterminators. She blinked, telling herself there were many black vans in Tucson. But the license plate had the wheelchair symbol, and on the bumper was the sticker she gave him for his birthday: When you’re out of coffee, I’m out of here.
The van’s side door began to open. Cat stomped on the pedals to shoot past 22nd Street. Had he seen her? She still wore the dark boy’s suit, not her usual purple hoodie. The street was busy. He had no reason to notice a bicyclist half a block away when he was busy lowering his chair to the sidewalk.
Why hadn’t she ridden up and said, “Fancy meeting you here, stranger”? You’re being silly, Cat. Ride back, say, “What a coincidence, Paternal Unit!” and put your suspicions to rest.
The alley was a good place to turn around, so she swung into it. It was also the way to the back of Arkan Exterminators. She was only taking a short cut, she told herself, as she approached the parking area behind the orange cinderblock building.
She could see light through the grill of the rear security door. The inner door was open. As Cat hesitated, straddling her bike and telling herself she shouldn’t spy on her father, she heard a woman speak angrily in a language Cat didn’t know. When the woman said, “Ilya!” as if she expected obedience, Cat knew who she was.
A chime announced someone opening the front door. Cat heard rubber wheels rolling across linoleum. Ms. Arkan said something that must have meant “bye”, then asked in a pleasant, husky voice, “How may I help—”
When she fell silent, Cat rolled up to the door to peer inside. She saw shelves filled with cardboard boxes, but she could not see Ms. Arkan or her father.
Then he spoke, so quietly Cat could barely hear him. “If it weren’t you, Xandra—”
“But it is me, Val. Don’t speak of ‘if.’ There is what there is. It must be dealt with.”
“It’s my concern.”
“You’re still a fool! The danger—”
“Is mine.”
“Is far more than that! Or have you come to think only you matter?”
“I know what matters.” His voice was so quiet and harsh that Cat was afraid for Ms. Arkan. If Ms. Arkan felt the same fear, she hid it with a laugh. “Ah, Val! Do not threaten me. Not now.”
“I can still do what I must. My arms might be stronger than before.
On flat surfaces, I move faster. My mind—”
“You’re obsessed!” When he spoke, he sounded like the man Cat knew. “Not long ago, my daughter would’ve said, ‘Takes one to know one.’“ Cat could hear a sad smile in Ms. Arkan’s voice. “My son also. We pay a high price for the lives we chose.”
“Yes.”
“I should not let you—”
“You don’t let, Alexandra. You stay out.”
“For now.”
“Until I’ve failed.”
“Then you’ll let us—”
“Then I won’t be able to stop you.”
“Ah.” Cat heard his wheels turning, then stop. He said, “Xandra?”
“Yes, Val?”
“You should’ve come to me.”
“Would anything have been different?” After a moment, he said softly, “No.” The bell chimed as the door opened again. With the whisper of his wheels, he was gone.
Ms. Arkan said several words Cat didn’t know and was glad were not directed at her. She heard the click of a cell phone opening, and another burst of what must be Hungarian. It was quick, efficient, and almost emotionless, except when Ms. Arkan said “Valentin Medianoche.”
A raven’s call made Cat look away. If she stayed, she would be caught by Ms. Arkan. The idea scared her. She felt as if her father’s warning to stay out of this had been aimed as much at her as Ms. Arkan.
But how could she stay out when she didn’t know if she was in?
She took the next street south of De Anza and pedaled as hard as she could, barely slowing to glance both ways at stop signs. Her father could do some things faster in a wheelchair than with two good legs, but getting in and out of the van wasn’t one. On streets with many stop signs, Cat could ride faster than he could drive.
At least, she hoped so. Her legs and lungs ached. The October afternoon felt too warm. She was afraid for her father, the man who had always made sure she had what she needed. She was afraid of her father, the man who spoke so coldly to Ms. Arkan. She was afraid for herself. Should she be watching for the return of the person in the Donald Duck mask? Or for something worse?
She raced down Luna Street and braked hard beside Casa Medianoche. Her father’s black van was rolling into the old carriage house.
She waited until it was inside, then dragged her bike up the front steps, dropped it on the porch, ran through the house to the back stairs, and glanced out. Her father was rolling toward the side door.
She ran down into the basement. Granny Lupe was lying perfectly still on her back on her narrow bed. The light from the TV flickered over her wrinkled face, etching deep shadows even deeper. Her chest barely moved.
Cat touched her shoulder. Granny Lupe sat up, opening her mouth wide. Then she jerked back, saying, “Cat! I told you! Never wake me without warning!”
“I should wake you to warn you I’m about to wake you?”
Granny Lupe laughed. “Ah, my fury! Just don’t come so quietly. Give an old woman time to prepare for a welcome visitor.”
“Sorry. Do you know anyone named Arkan?”
Granny Lupe snarled in anger, then saw Cat’s amazement and smiled. “Does that answer you?”
“Ilya Arkan?”
“No.” For some reason, Cat was glad. Ilya was a jerk, but she didn’t want him to be more than a jerk. “Alexandra Arkan?”
“Is she dead?”
“No.”
“A shame. Is she in Tucson?” Cat nodded. Granny Lupe hissed, then breathed deeply. “If I hadn’t told your father I wouldn’t swear in front of you, I would swear now.”
“I’ll be fourteen. You can’t shock me.”
“Fierce one, if I told you how I feel about Alexandra Arkan, I would shock you.”
“Why?”
Granny Lupe looked upward. As Professor M’s wheels came through the kitchen, he called, “Cat?”
“Down here!”
“Ah,” he said and rolled away. Cat repeated, “Why do you hate Ms. Arkan?”
“Because—” Granny Lupe waggled a finger at her. “You don’t need to know everything. Not yet.”
“I need to know this.” Granny Lupe stroked Cat’s hair with cool fingers. “Well. That woman was competition for your father’s heart.”
“I thought you didn’t like Evil Dad. Wouldn’t you have been happier if he had married her?” Granny Lupe put both hands on Cat’s cheeks. “Then you wouldn’t have been born. And I will grant this. He made your mother happy, for a time. The Arkan woman—” Granny Lupe shrugged. “Well. She tried everything to keep them apart.”
“Could she hate me because Mama won and she lost?”
“Who cares what an Arkan thinks? I promise you, now that I know she’s here, she won’t trouble you for much longer.”
“Thanks, Granny Lupe.” Cat glanced at the time on her cell and stood.
“Where are you going?”
“To get ready for dinner with Uncle Olujimi and Auntie Fong.” Granny Lupe winced, then smiled. “Tell them I think of them often.”
“You could join us. I closed all the curtains.”
; “No, my terror.” Granny Lupe took Cat’s chin in her hand and peered into her eyes. “Some things cannot be. It’s not because I don’t love you. And I’ll give them this much. It’s not because they don’t love you.”
Cat shrugged. “It’s cool. I get two birthday celebrations, dinner with them and a party with you and Tia Ysabel.” She caught herself in time to keep from saying, And Cousin Baldomero. A secret should stay a secret. She liked knowing she and Baldomero shared something no one else knew. She added, “Next year, we could reverse that.”
Granny Lupe smiled. “The de la Sombras prefer parties to dinners.”
“Okay. See you after trick or treating.”
“You’re old enough to prefer tricks to treats, you know.” Cat sighed, “Yes, Granny.”
She ran up to the hall, then gasped in surprise. Her father was sitting by the front door. He said quietly, “Kid. Is there something you’d like to tell me?”
Had he seen her at Ms. Arkan’s building? As blood rushed to her cheeks, she realized she was assuming too much. “Did the police call you?”
“Yes.”
“I was going to tell you, but I forgot.”
“You forgot you were nearly run over?” She shrugged. “It missed me. No biggie.” He shook his head. “Kid, nearly getting hit by a car is a biggie.” She wanted to throw her arms around him and say she was more afraid than she had ever been. She wanted to know that he would find the driver of the orange van and make her fear go away. She shrugged as if she didn’t care and said, “I went to tell you when I got home. You were out.”
“Had to return some books to the library.”
She studied him. He could have been lying to her all his life. Shouldn’t a daughter be able to know when her father lied?
A car door slammed in the street. Professor M said, “That must be —”
Cat turned and ran to the front door. Throwing it open, she called, “Uncle Olujimi! Auntie Fong!” and raced out to meet them.
As a man in a white suit and a woman in a black one came from the taxi, Cat thought anyone could tell they were her father’s family, even if they came from distant branches. So what if Uncle Olujimi was a stocky Yoruban who shaved his head and Auntie Fong was a tall Chinese with long white hair? Uncle Olujimi and Auntie Fong had the same dark brown eyes as her father, and Auntie Fong had the grim look that said any price is better than surrender.
Like her father, Uncle Olujimi and Auntie Fong wore silver rings shaped like snakes wrapped around gems. Uncle Olujimi’s was an onyx, and Auntie Fong’s was a sapphire. The only time Cat ever saw Granny Lupe frown as if she was truly angry was when she looked at those rings.
Cat threw her arms around Uncle Olujimi, and he pulled her into a big hug. “Hey, Tiger! How is it you get more gorgeous every year?”
She grinned as she let go of him. “Best uncle ever!”
Auntie Fong held out her hand. As Cat took it, Auntie Fong said, “You look well, child.”
“Thanks, Auntie.”
Professor M braked just behind Cat, then pushed against his armrests to stand, saying, “Olujimi, mi hermano!”
They hugged, and Professor M added, “How are the Udofias?”
Olujimi’s grin grew wider. “My family is well, thank you. Dayo is expecting a child. How are the Medianoches, my brother?”
Professor M said, “The ones in Tucson are glad you’re here. Last I heard, the Spaniards are still doing the same old things in the same old ways.”
“People like tradition,” Auntie Fong said, nodding to him. “It binds us.”
“That’s the word I’d use,” said Professor M. “How are the Fongs?”
Auntie Fong narrowed her eyes at him. “Have you heard of any trouble in our part of the world?”
“No.”
“Then you know.”
“Excuse me,” said Cat, looking at the shopping bags that Olujimi held. “It’s Selfish Birthday Girl Day, and that looks like—”
“Dinner from Maya Quetzal!” said Olujimi. “Pupusas, chips and salsa, chile rostizado, chile relleno, borracho beans, rice, fresh corn tortillas, quesadilla with mangoes—” He sighed. “I have missed this country.” Cat looked at the bag in Auntie Fong’s hand. “That doesn’t look like food.” Auntie Fong said, “No.”
“I’m the luckiest girl ever,” Cat said, thinking, This is how
Halloween is supposed to be.
“I hope you are,” said Auntie Fong.
When they went inside, to everyone’s surprise, Granny Lupe was waiting in the shadows of the parlor. She looked at the shopping bags, sniffed, and said, “As if I would poison the lot of you.”
Everyone was quiet for a second. Then Auntie Fong began to laugh, and the rest joined in, except for Professor M.
Cat asked Granny Lupe, “You’ll eat with us after all?”
“No.” She smiled at Auntie Fong. “I just didn’t want anyone to think I was hiding from them.”
“We have no illusions about you,” Auntie Fong replied, and held out her bag to Cat. “You might as well open this now.” Cat yanked wrapping paper off the top of the bag, then pulled out a pair of roller skates. “Purple! The perfect!” With a glance at Granny Lupe, Auntie Fong said, “Just something to get you out in the sun more.” Granny Lupe said, “A quiet way to travel is especially useful at night.” Olujimi, looking at the two old women, said, “Some things never change.” He grinned at Cat. “There might be something in my pockets for you.” And then he did his usual trick of reaching into different pockets of his clothes and handing Cat something from each. This time, he had a dream catcher from an Ojibwe tribe in Canada, a small bronze statue of an elephant-headed god from India, a porcelain Buddha from China, and a silver cross on a necklace from Italy. Each gift made Granny Lupe smile, except for the cross, which made her laugh.
Granny Lupe left them before dinner. Professor M never seemed quite as evil when Olujimi was around. The professor was still quiet, and his face was still grim, but when Olujimi laughed, Professor M would rock back in his chair slightly and nod as if he was laughing too.
As Cat was finishing dinner, her cell vibrated. She checked the screen: “TRICKORTREAT?”
She tapped “Y <3” and said, “Gotta go. Tee’s expecting me. I’m glad you could come.”
Auntie Fong said, “We had business with your father anyway.” Olujimi said, “Which means, we’re very glad we could come, too.” Cat hugged him, shook hands with Auntie Fong, nodded to Professor M, and started for the front door. In the hall, when the professor rolled up behind her, she looked back in surprise.
He said, “Kid, be careful out there.”
“I know. Run and scream, and if someone tries to force me anywhere, fight them. In that order.” She pulled the front door open. “Don’t worry. I’ve got my cell.”
“It’s charged?” As she glanced back at him, he said, “Stupid father question. You’re a teen. Of course your cell phone’s charged. One more thing.”
“What?” she said, barely keeping the exasperation from her voice.
He turned his head in the expression that, if she had not known how humorless and self-absorbed he was, she might have mistaken for a smile. “Have fun.”
“I will,” she said, and ran out, determined that no matter what happened, she would make that come true.
———
Tarika’s house was like most houses in Tucson’s Barrio del Rio: small, stuccoed, with a red tile roof, burnt orange walls, and purple trim around the doors and windows. When Cat rang the bell, a tall skeleton in a dark suit opened the front door and said, “You’re late.”
“Like that’s different.” The skeleton said, “On Halloween.”
“Uncle Olujimi kept telling funny stories about his kids and wives.
He’s so nice he likes Evil Dad. Also, something happened.”
“No talk.” Tarika yanked Cat inside. “The maestro must work.”
“But I’ve got to tell you about this afternoon!”
&nb
sp; “Which is why I’ll do your hands first.” Tarika dragged Cat to her room, a mash-up of Mexico and Africa.
Against one wall were an acoustic guitar, a keyboard, a doumbek, and a hammered dulcimer. One corner of the room was bare so Tarika could dance. One wall had a mural she had painted of her heroes. Muhammad rode a flying horse through the night sky, Jesus walked above a lake during a storm, and Shakira danced in space with the earth, the moon, and the sun behind her. Below the mural was lettered in gold paint, You are a song written by the hands of God.
Cat dropped onto a big pillow on the floor. While Tarika painted finger bones on her skin, Cat told everything she had seen and heard about her trip to Arkan Exterminators. When she finished, she asked, “What do you think?”
“I’m with Granny Lupe. Ms. Arkan’s a stalker ex-girlfriend.”
“And someone stole her van and nearly hit me? Big coincidence.” Tarika shrugged. “If there weren’t coincidences, there wouldn’t be a word for them. Is Ms. Arkan dumb enough to run someone over in a car with her name on the side?”
“Maybe someone wanted to frame her.”
“You think your dad could have two stalker girlfriends? Someone reads too much manga.”
“Would a stalker show up after fourteen years?”
“Why not? Your dad’s the hot.”
“The hot? Evil Dad?”
“Totally Heathcliffy.”
Cat frowned. “He’s like a cartoon cat?”
“He’s like the guy in Wuthering Heights. I would so stalk him.”
“La, la, la!” Cat stuck her fingers in her ears. “I’m not creeped out.” Tarika pulled Cat’s wrists down. “If I was old and into Heathcliffs, which I’m not. I want a boy who can laugh, like Trick or Ilya.” As she began painting Cat’s face, Tarika added, “You ever see any of the old Professor Midnight videos? From before you were born?”
“No. Like the new ones aren’t embarrassing enough.”
“He wasn’t Heathcliffy then. He joked around. Like he knew his show was silly, but he didn’t care, because he loved sharing what he knew about monsters and all. I’ll bet he was one of those guys who could’ve been with any straight girl or gay boy he wanted, only he was too clueless to know it.”
Midnight Girl Page 4