“Look!” Betty pointed at the kitchen floor. Liquid dripped out of the freezer side of the large Sub-Zero.
“Uh-oh,” Sarah said.
“Look!” Flipping the kitchen light switch up and down did nothing. No lights came on.
“Oh, I’d better call BGE.” Sarah reached for her cell phone.
Betty ran to the freezer and threw open the door.
“Bad! Food go bad!”
“Okay, okay.” Calling BGE was not going to get Betty to calm down. “How about if I put all the food in my freezer?” Sarah pantomimed taking the food out of the freezer.
In an instant, Betty stopped crying and smiled. “Yes.”
Well, that calmed her down in a hurry. “Good, you can help me carry it over to my house.”
The housekeeper gave her head a violent shake. “No! Haf to work!”
Light dawned. This wasn’t Betty’s only house to clean today. “Oh, you have another job to go to. I understand. I’ll take care of it, then.”
“Goot! Tank ooo!” Betty hugged Sarah and ran out the door.
Great, Sarah thought, now I have to lug all this frozen stuff to my house with my sore back. She found plastic grocery bags, filled them with frozen packages, and dragged them over to her house two at a time. There was so much food to move, she wondered if Ida had been saving up for a famine.
She flipped her kitchen light switch, to make sure the power was on in her house. Her power was on, but Aunt Ida’s wasn’t. Some fluke of BGE, she thought. Either that or Sol Weinstein had forgotten to pay Aunt Ida’s electric bill. She’d give BGE a call, then if that was the case, she’d let Sol know.
Six trips later, she finished moving every single hard, cold, aluminum foil wrapped thing over. There was just enough time to take a nap before she went to visit her mother. Fully clothed, she put her head down on the pillow and fell asleep. She woke up feeling groggy and dialed her voicemail. “Message one,” a female voice chirped.
“Vot? Is this thing working?” Gertrude asked. “Is this you, Sarah? Look, I gotta talk to you right away! Call me at this number!” Gertrude yelled out a telephone number, then coughed and until the message ran out of time.
What on earth could be so urgent? Sarah called the number, got the voicemail. “Hi, this is Sarah. Sorry I didn’t hear the phone earlier. Please try again.”
Sarah called the Baltimore County Police. Yes, they had BOLO’d everyone and told every shift. No, they hadn’t heard or seen anything.
She drummed her fingers on the kitchen table, got up, and rummaged in the refrigerator. Where were the pies? Oh. That’s right. She took them both to work. She settled on a container of low fat, sugar-free yogurt and an apple. Too darn healthy for today, but all she had.
She thought about calling Dan. Would that make Sarah seem too desperate? After all, wasn’t he already moving to Towson. Pursuing him like a hunting dog was not a good move. She didn’t want him to think she was a clingy, whiny woman. Instead, she called the social worker to ask about discharge planning.
“Your mother can be transferred to Shady Rest tomorrow, probably in the afternoon. When we have a better idea of the time, we’ll call you. That way you can meet her at the home and sign all the admissions documents.”
No sooner did she end the call, when the phone began to ring and vibrate in her hand.
“Vot have you been doing that you couldn’t call me back sooner?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear the phone before. What’s up?”
Gert hacked, caught her breath and rasped. “You told me Ida Mae Katz was missing, did you not?”
Sarah gripped the phone harder, hoping she’d heard from Ida. “Yes. I filed a missing person report with the police.”
“Vot would you say if I told you I saw her car?”
“Where?”
“At the Essen Deli.”
She had to be certain before she called the police again. Not jump the gun. They thought she was crazy. She better have proof this time. “Are you sure it’s her car?”
“Vot?” Gert’s voice filled with indignation. “You calling me a liar?”
How could she undo this insult? “No, but there are a lot of big white Cadillacs in Pikesville.”
“Listen, girlchik,” Sarah could almost see Gert shaking her index finger at her. “I know it’s her car because it has the bumper sticker I gave her on it—Mah Jong Maven!”
Sarah jumped to her feet and searched for her shoes and car keys. “I’ll be right there.”
“Vot’s the hurry now?”
“The hurry is I want to get over there and see the car.”
“You can’t see the car.”
“I don’t understand.” Sarah felt like she was in an Abbott and Costello routine. “You just told me her car is at the Essen Deli.”
“No, I told you I saw her car.” Gert sounded annoyed. “It was parked in that parking lot across the alley where the theatre used to be.”
Take a deep breath, Sarah. Stay calm. “Well, where is it now?”
Gert exploded. “How the hell would I know? It was towed away.”
After ten minutes of smoothing Gert’s ruffled feathers, Sarah drove to the parking lot and got the address of the impound lot off the ‘No Parking’ sign, then called Officer Mike.
He answered on the first ring, his voice brisk and official. “This is Officer Corrigan.”
“I got a call from Gertrude Rosen saying she’d seen Aunt Ida’s car being towed away from the theatre parking lot next to the Essen Deli. I think they have it at Pollack’s.”
“How do you know it was her car?”
“You can’t miss a white Cadillac with a bumper sticker that says ‘Mah Jong Maven.’ Mrs. Rosen gave her that bumper sticker. She’ll swear it’s Aunt Ida’s car and that she saw being towed away. Now are you interested?”
A long silence fell and finally, he said, “Have you seen the car?”
“I’m heading for the impound lot now.” Sarah pushed him a little more. “Can you meet me there?”
“Let me talk with my lieutenant. Is there a number where you can be reached?”
Sarah arrived at the impound lot and stated her case to an indifferent attendant. He wore a uniform of a gray jacket and baseball cap, both labeled with “Pollack’s Towing” in dark green embroidery. His greasy gray hair hung in a long ponytail over his collar. A “Monster Trucks” program played on a tiny color television in his smoke-filled booth that reeked of marijuana.
He wouldn’t make eye contact. “You got proof it’s your car?”
“It’s my aunt’s car, I just told you that. Can I look at it? She’s missing.”
Gaze glued to the TV, his voice a monotone, he said, “If it’s not your car, you can’t see it, and you can’t have it.”
Sarah bit back her irritation and pulled out her trump card. “What if the police say I should have it?”
“Then come back with a cop.” He opened a window and a breeze blew out the remains of the reeking smoke. “Otherwise, you got no business here.”
“What happens to her car if I can’t get the police out here?”
The attendant turned his head and stared at her with bloodshot eyes. “We write a letter to the Motor Vehicle Administration and get the name and address of the owner. Then we send a letter to the owner of the car. If there’s no response in 30 days, we junk the car.”
“You junk it?”
“Lady, if we don’t hear back from the owner, we got the right to do it.” He turned back to the television and slammed the door to the booth.
A cold stomp around the perimeter of the impound lot fence and she found a big white Cadillac sitting at the end of a row of cars. The driver’s side window had been covered with black plastic. She strained to see the front of the vehicle and make out the license plate. It was Aunt Ida’s car. She returned to her car and called Officer Mike again. He was out, so she left him an urgent message.
Aunt Ida would have never parked at the theatre’s par
king lot. She’d had her car towed once before and had no intention of going through that aggravation again.
If she didn’t park her car there, who had?
What had happened to her window?
And where was Aunt Ida?
* * * *
Exhausted, sore and frustrated, Sarah arrived home to an exuberant Winston. The cats were more subdued in their responses, electing to sit and stare at her from the counter and the tea towel on the floor. She fed everyone, including herself, then she realized she had been so caught up in finding Aunt Ida, she’d forgotten to visit her mother.
I’ll be spending most of tomorrow with her while she’s being admitted to Shady Rest, she thought. That will make up for today. She was beat.
Then she remembered Aunt Ida’s hot tub. She smacked herself on the forehead. She’d never called BGE or Sol. Time to kill two birds with one stone. She’d put on a swimsuit and robe, go over to Aunt Ida’s and see if the power was still off. If it was out, then she’d make the calls. If not, then she could relax and enjoy the hot tub.
Finding a swimsuit was a challenge. Her one-piece was too painful to put it on, even with the cervical collar. The shoulder straps kept pulling down on her sore muscles, making her wince with pain. She gave up and decided to see if her mother owned any loose swimsuits she could wear.
In the top drawer of her mother’s dresser lay a handgun. Well, that was an ugly surprise.
When had she gotten that? Why did Ethel feel the need to keep a weapon in the house? Was she afraid of intruders? Her mother had forced all her children to learn how to shoot rifles. Sarah had hated guns, but surprised everyone with her sharp shooting skills. When she went away to college, she gave up the sport. Sarah had no idea when her mother switched from a rifle to a .22 Ruger, but it could stay right where it was.
The next drawer was a little more helpful. In it were a variety of very dated two-piece suits. She pulled out a lime green and pink hibiscus flowered swimsuit and held up the bra to take a better look at it.
“Jeez, Mom! When and where would you have worn this? You are just full of surprises today! My, my, my, you got some splainin’ to do.”
She held the top to her chest, looked in the mirror, and noticed a little straw sticking out between the bra cups. Sarah turned it inside out and took a closer look. The label said “Cole of California Top Secret.” It was inflatable.
“Mom, this is too funny.” She blew through the straw and watched with amusement as the cups increased in size with each breath. She decided to be generous and gave herself a D cup. She put on the suit and looked in the mirror. “Dolly Parton, eat your heart out.”
Her mother was going to get an earful about this little discovery. Her cleavage could give Rivah a run for her money. Sarah sashayed back and forth in front of the mirror. Between the black cervical collar and the tropical colored swimsuit, she looked like a tawdry advertisement for a personal injury law firm.
“Robe, slippers, flashlight,” she said. “I’m ready for anything.” She walked the short, dark distance to Aunt Ida’s house. The corner lights were on, and she could hear the waterfall running in the fishpond. Excellent. The power was back.
The fish were due for a visit. She squatted down next to the pond with a tiny handful of food and extended her hand. Jaws, the giant Koi, was being coy. The other fish rushed to the surface, nibbling the tiny balls from her hand.
“Not too much guys, you’ll get sick. Aw, come on, Jaws,” she said. “You know you want it. Just a little closer, now, you can do it.”
She leaned forward to reach closer to Jaws, stretched her arm out farther, teetering on the edge of the pond. A tremendous blow struck the back of her head, and everything went black.
* * * *
“What if she’s alive?” a woman with a husky, Lauren Bacall voice said. “I can’t see her under those big-assed leaves!”
“Leave the bitch to me,” a man said.
“No knives, you moron. We’ve been through this a hundred times. It has to look like an accident.”
“You better hope your plan works,” he said.
Sarah was no longer on the edge of the fishpond. She was in cold water, and it smelled like rotten vegetation. Eau de low tide. Pewh. Jaws tickled her chin, nibbling at it. This was the closest the damn fish ever got to her. She couldn’t see her assailants, because giant lotus leaves that grew up like trees in the fishpond obscured her vision. That meant they couldn’t see her, either. Thank God, the pond hadn’t been winterized yet. Otherwise, all the leaves would have been cleared out.
“My plan is still good. We got the old lady. Now we got this fat bitch. And we got rid of all the evidence. Even if she survives this, which I doubt, we have an ace in the hole.”
She called me a “fat bitch,” Sarah thought. That really hurt. She was certain she’d lost a few pounds in the last week.
“We have to lie low for at least a month,” the woman said. “After that, the car’s junk. You know that. You worked for that towing company. As long as Miss Nosy is out of the picture, the police will forget about the old lady. This will be a simple case of trip and drown. Then we can put our plan into action and wait for the big bucks to roll in.”
“I want to slice her up,” the man said. “Eye for an eye.”
“No more sharp objects,” she said. “I had a terrible time cleaning up the kitchen and the garage. I almost killed myself with bleach fumes. This has to look like an accident; otherwise the cops will get wise to us!”
“I don’t like it,” he said.
“Too bad,” the woman said. “You’re not the one who worked like a slave for a year to make this happen. I set up this scam and you’re not going to—what was that?”
“What?”
“That light over there,” the woman said. “It’s getting closer.”
“Rent-a-cops.”
“They must be coming to check on the old lady’s house while she’s out of town. Let’s get out of here.”
Sarah heard footsteps running away from the pond. A car engine roared, tires squealed and then there was only the sound of the pond’s waterfall.
No rent-a-cops came to check the house or the grounds. She was afraid to make any movement for fear of giving away her position. Her toes were numb and she had to clench her teeth to keep them from chattering. Jaws circled her face and neck, and the smaller fish nibbled at her fingers. The terry cloth robe weighted her down, but, somehow, her head remained above the water. After what seemed an eternity, she slid across the slimy bottom to the shallow end, and grabbed onto a rock. Sarah dragged herself up and out of the water and lay with her face hovering over the gravel. Then it struck her why she hadn’t drowned. The combination of the D cup blow up bra and cervical collar had saved her life.
Chapter Fifteen
Sarah sat in the third row on a hard pew in the sanctuary of the Jerusalem A.B.E. Church, not far from the Johns Hopkins Medical Complex. When she’d arrived, a deacon had spotted her cervical collar and ushered her up front so she could get a better view without straining her neck.
“Brothers and sisters, thank you for coming today to Sister Bessie’s Brown’s homecoming to the Lord. Blessings upon y’all and upon Sister Bessie this great and glorious day the Lord has made,” Pastor James Black said. “Can I get an Amen?”
“Amen, brother! Amen!” people said in chorus.
Pastor Black could have made a living as a look-alike for Billy Dee Williams. Most of the congregants were already sobbing, and he’d just started speaking. People stood along the sides and in the back of the overheated church. Bessie Brown’s funeral had standing room only.
One of these people was a sexual predator, Sarah thought. But how would she find him?
Dressed in bright orange robes, Pastor Black stood at a podium on a stage. Behind him were identically attired members of the choir and the organist. On the stage was an extra-large coffin, covered with white and red roses. A life-sized cardboard photo of Arlene’s mother, Bess
ie, wearing an orange robe stood next to Pastor Black. Her cardboard cutout showed an enormous, smiling dark-skinned woman with three chins. Sarah stared at the photo, looking for a resemblance to her friend. At length, she decided Arlene had her mother’s eyes.
Sitting motionless in the front row, her hair swept up in a severe bun, Arlene wore a high-necked, long-sleeved black dress. In the same pew, a boy around eleven years old sat next to her friend Jazmin.
“Please, turn to Hymn one-hundred and twenty-six, and join us in singing. Mrs. Black?”
He nodded towards the organist, who began to play a lively gospel tune. Mrs. Black was a beautiful woman with the skin color of a Starbucks café latte. Her braided blonde hair bounced as she leaned into the organ, raising a joyful song to the Lord. As the choir sang and rocked, Sarah hummed along.
Unlike some of her white colleagues, who darted glances around the church, Sarah felt comfortable. She’d been to similar services as a child and, in a weird way, was grateful to her mother for having exposed her to a variety of religious observances. Ethel had attended church the way other people went to the movies. As children, Sarah and her brother and sister were dragged to every holy-roller church in their little hometown and in the surrounding towns and cities. On numerous occasions, they had been the only people not jumping, dancing, or singing in congregations where people were often “taken up by the Spirit of the Lord” and spoke in tongues. By comparison, this service was tame.
A variety of odors from deodorants, perfumes, after-shave, hair products, and sweating, clapping, singing folks wafted through the sanctuary, along with the distinct fragrance of Dan’s favorite after-shave. Sarah scanned the crowd, hoping he’d appear. Oh well, a lot of people wear that scent.
When the hymn ended, everyone sat down. The boy with glasses continued to stand and clap his hands, bobbing his head like Stevie Wonder. Jazmin stood up, whispered something into his ear, and then he sat down.
Some Other Child Page 15