No Such Thing as a Free Ride

by Shelly Fredman

  I stopped off at Sam’s Deli on the way home to get a hoagie for dinner. Out of deference to my “new and improved” eating regimen, I asked Sam to hold the mayo.

  “Brandy, I’ve been making hoagies for you since you were a little girl. You’ve never asked for mayo on a hoagie in your life. And besides that, I’d never make a hoagie with mayo. It’s just not right.”

  “Then it shouldn’t be a problem to hold it,” I told him.

  Sam laughed and put down the lit cigar he’d been chewing on. The health department has rules against smoking in public places, but Sam considers his deli an “extension of his home.”

  “So how’s your father?” he asked me, grabbing a roll from beneath the counter. “Are him and your mother ready to move back from Florida?”

  “Nah. I think they’re pretty happy there,” I told him and prayed it was the truth. I love my parents very much, and eleven hundred miles seems just the right amount of distance to keep it that way.

  While I was waiting around for my sandwich, I checked out the dessert case. Sacrificing the mayonnaise left room in my almost cholesterol-free diet for a cannoli. I got one for myself and then I realized that Rocky and Adrian would probably like some too, so I bought a couple more. I figured I’d keep them in my refrigerator and they could help themselves. And if not, I’m sure someone would eat them.

  “Here ya go, doll.” Sam handed me a paper bag. Grease stains had already begun to form on the bottom, assuring me it was going to be an excellent dinner.

  Paul was waiting for me when I got home. He was standing on the curb outside of the Koslowski’s house talking to Heather. I got a nervous pang that he was going to be hungry and I’d have to offer him some of my hoagie. I waved at them and walked into the house heading straight for the kitchen.

  Paul trailed in after me. “Did you tell Mom I signed up for J Date?”

  “Try some of this hoagie. It’s delicious!”

  My brother knows it bugs me to have to share my food. He sighed and took a spite bite.

  “I’m sorry, Paulie.” I cut the hoagie in half and stuck it on a napkin in front of him as a peace offering. “It’s just that she was on a roll about me not going out with anyone. I had to throw her a bone.”

  “It’s okay. I’d have done the same thing.” Eyeing the sandwich he added, “You sure?”

  “Yeah, go for it. And just to show you how much I love you, I bought a canoli and I’m willing to split it with you.”

  “Wow. You do love me. So,” Paul continued, with a mouthful of food, “Heather s-says you had some c-company yesterday. Some really good looking g-guy was carrying you up the steps.” He tried to keep his voice casual, but the stutter was a dead give away.

  “Well, Heather’s a regular little Chatty Cathy, now isn’t she?”

  “Bran, is there any-th-thing I should know about?”

  “Nope. Not a thing.”

  “It was Nick, wasn’t it?”

  I sighed. “Paulie, there’s nothing to tell. I ran across him while I was out jogging and I’d sprained my ankle so he was helping me home. End of story.”

  “You? Out jogging? Now I know something’s up.”

  “Oh, fine. Don’t believe me!” It’s amazing how self righteous I get when I’m telling a big fat lie.

  Paul left at around eight. His bartender called in sick and he had to get back to the club. I’d offered to fill in for him, but he said he’d be okay. Ever since I worked for Paul a couple of months back, he always turns me down whenever I volunteer my services. I think he feels like he’d be taking advantage of me, but I like helping him out. Besides, I have excellent people skills. My customers were always asking to see the manager, telling him they couldn’t believe the kind of service they were getting.

  The house felt really empty after Paul left. I’d been so busy running around all day it was easy to block unpleasant thoughts from my head. But now, they were all consuming. Where was Crystal? Was she curled up asleep under a bridge somewhere? Had she eaten dinner? Was she safe? Was she scared?

  And what about the girl from the hospital? She died a “Jane Doe.” Was someone grieving for her tonight? The thought ate away at me. I had to know. I picked up the phone and called the police station.

  I asked for Mike Mahoe. It took a while but he finally got on the line. I sensed he was reluctant to talk to me. I’m pretty in tune with these types of things… Plus, I overheard him whisper, “Christ, what does she want from me now? Tell her I’m not here.”

  Mike and I used to be an “item.” Well, not exactly an item. More like a “passing thought.” That is until he realized I had some unresolved issues with Bobby. And by the time we’d gotten past that hurdle, he’d decided I was way too high maintenance to pursue in the romantic sense of the word. But I know he considers me a friend… if the phrase “relentless pest” can be considered a term of endearment.

  Mike is my “go to” guy when I need information and don’t want to “go to” Bobby.

  “It’s not my department,” Mike said, getting on the line.

  “But you don’t even know what I’m going to ask yet. How are you, anyway, Mike? It’s been ages.”

  That got a laugh out of him. “I’m fine and I want to stay that way. If you need anything that could get me into trouble with DiCarlo I’m hanging up.”

  Okay, so I may have asked Mike a time or two about things Bobby considered strictly police business, but this wasn’t one of them. The reason I didn’t go to Bobby about the girl who died is I didn’t feel like hearing a lecture about the pitfalls of becoming emotionally involved in the lives of strangers. As if I do that. Sheesh.

  “Look, a kid was brought into the E.R. the other night. She didn’t make it. She was a runaway and the hospital couldn’t I.D. her. I just wondered if anybody—y’know—claimed her, is all.” I tried to keep the hitch out of my voice, but it was a fruitless effort.

  Mike softened. “I’ll see what I can find out and get back to you.”

  “Thanks, Mike. I really appreciate it.”

  *****

  It was after midnight but I just couldn’t fall asleep. I tried to conjure up sleep-inducing thoughts like Bergman films, or my mother’s story about the time she ran into a Dolly Parton look-alike at the airport in Des Moines, but nothing worked. It didn’t help that it was about 110 degrees in my bedroom. I really had to get that air conditioner fixed.

  I finally gave up trying to sleep and went downstairs. First, I surfed the net looking for information on homeless youth and then I took a quiz. “What kind of dog are you?” I took it three times, but it kept coming up Daschund. I was sorta hoping for something a little less sausage-like.

  Adrian sat beside me on the couch. Now, he sat up, his head tilted toward the front door. A slow growl grew in his throat and became full-fledged bark. Someone was right outside the door.

  It has been my experience lately that midnight callers almost never turn out well.

  I scanned the room for some form of protection but all’s I could come up with was the tv remote. I crept over to the door and put my ear against it and listened.

  There was some muted shuffling and then the doorbell rang. I let out a surprised squeak. “Who is it?” I asked.

  “Crystal.”

  Sighing with relief, I opened the door and stared directly into the barrel of a gun.

  Oh, shit.

  Chapter Six

  She pushed her skinny frame through the crack in the open door. Her eyes were practically bulging out of her head and her hands were shaking so hard I thought the gun would go off from motion sickness. For a minute I figured she might be tweaking, but, no, this was rage, pure and simple.

  “Come on in,” I said, acting like it was my idea and as if I had a choice.

  “Fuck you!”

  I tried to remain calm but it was impossible, what with a .22 staring me in the face and Adrian bouncing around at my feet like he was on puppy uppers.

  Suddenly I found it very diffi
cult to breathe. I steadied myself against the arm of the couch forcing myself to focus. “Okay, Crystal, you’re obviously really mad at me, only I don’t know what I did. Could you put the gun down so we can talk about it?”

  “Why?” she screamed, waving the friggin’ thing in my face. “So you can lie to me again? I never should have trusted you.” She glared at me with utter loathing. “You’ve fucked up everything. I should blow your goddamn head off.”

  “I really wish you wouldn’t. Look,” I said, trying to appeal to her animal lovin’ side. “You’re scaring the dog. How about I sit down on the couch, and you put the gun right next to you on top of the television set. If I move, shoot me. I sincerely hoped she knew that was just a figure of speech.

  Adrian began to whimper. He curled up against Crystal’s leg, pleading for his mommy’s life. Well, in all honesty, he was probably reminiscing about the swell time he had the last time she was here and he just wanted to play some more. Whatever, the momentary distraction seemed to break the mood. Her eyes never leaving mine, she slid the .22 on top of the tv set. Maybe it was wishful thinking on my part, but she actually seemed relieved.

  “If you call the cops I’ll fucking kill you.”

  Staring back at her, I eased myself onto the couch. “Understood. But why would I call the cops on you? And what is it you think I’ve done?”

  “Oh, don’t act like you don’t know. They raided our squat because of you. Tore the place apart—”

  “Crystal, back up. Look, I swear to you I haven’t talked to the police. I know you don’t know me very well, but I would hope I’ve built up a little credit with you. What’s going on?”

  Crystal quieted down a notch. “You mean you really don’t know? It was all over the news tonight. I don’t even own a tv and I saw it!”

  “The news is depressing. I was watching High School Musical on the Disney Channel.”

  She gave me the biggest eyeball roll in recorded history and turned on my computer. A minute later a clip from tonight’s WINN broadcast popped up on the screen. It was Art Metropolis, news anchor and colossal pinhead.

  “Police are searching tonight for a person of interest in the murder of 39 year-old Olivia Bowen, a case worker for homeless youth in Philadelphia. Bowen was spotted earlier on the evening of the murder speaking with an unidentified person in the parking lot of Kenny’s Steak House. Bowen’s body was discovered late last night by dock workers, in the Delaware River marshes, just north of the airport.”

  “Why would Crystal want me to see this?” I thought. A split second later I had my answer.

  “If anyone has information on the identity or whereabouts of this person, please contact the police department at the number on the screen below.”

  I automatically glanced down at the number and when I looked up again a graphic of the “person of interest” appeared on the screen. She was big as life and twice as ugly.

  “Holy Cow, it’s Bunny!”

  Crystal clicked off the computer screen. “Don’t act so surprised. If you didn’t tell the police where to look for her who did?”

  “Crystal,” I said, trying to choose my words carefully. “I honestly don’t know. I gave you my word that I wouldn’t involve the police and I didn’t. But I think you’re missing the big picture here. The cops probably think Bunny killed that woman. ‘Person of interest’ is usually just a euphemism for ‘We know you did it but we can’t prove anything yet.’ If you know where Bunny’s hiding, then—”

  “Then what?” Crystal exploded. “Turn her in? You think it’s that easy? You have no fucking idea what my life would be like if word got out that I snitched. I’d be dead inside of a week.”

  Uttering those words seemed to unleash a torrent of pent up emotion in the poor kid. She paced around the room talking non-stop for the next thirty minutes describing, in sometimes horrifying detail, what it was like for kids living on the streets. I sat cross-legged on the couch, silent, listening and fighting my impulse to fling my arms around her and tell her it would be alright. Because the truth was I had no idea in the world if things would ever turn out okay for her, and the last thing she needed was one more lying adult in her life.

  When she was finished she stopped pacing and sat down, the wind finally out of her sails. I got up and went into the kitchen, returning a minute later with a package of Tastykakes and two glasses of milk. I set them on the table.

  “Help yourself.”

  “I haven’t had one of these since I was little,” she said quietly. “My grandma used to send them to me every year on my birthday.” She picked up a cupcake and took a big hungry bite.

  “So, you didn’t grow up around here?”

  Crystal shook her head. A regular fountain of information, that one.

  “Is your grandma still alive?”

  “I haven’t seen her in a long time. After—” She shrugged. “We don’t keep in touch.”

  Crystal finished her cupcake and downed the rest of her milk. “Thanks.” She gestured toward the empty glass. “Look, for the record, I don’t know where Bunny is. I haven’t seen her since yesterday afternoon. You don’t have to believe me but that’s the truth.”

  “I believe you. But if you did know—well, just do what you have to do to keep yourself safe.”

  She gave me a look that was borderline sheepish. “Um, there is something I should maybe mention to you.”

  Uh oh. I’ve said those very words to people just before I tell them something they really don’t want to hear… Okay, stay calm. She won’t confide in you if you overreact.

  “Yeah? What’s that?”

  “Bunny knows who you are and probably where to find you.”

  Shit! Fuck! Damn! Piss! “Oh?”

  “Man, you’re taking this a lot better than I thought you would. I thought you’d be mad at me.”

  “No, I’m not mad.” I’m freakin’ petrified! “I’m glad you told me. So, just out of curiosity, how did she find out?”

  “Remember when she saw us together? Well, I’ve got this little tear in my backpack, and your card fell out. I didn’t tell her on purpose, I swear it.”

  My guess was she did, but felt bad about it.

  “So, did you tell her I’m helping you look for Star?”

  Crystal shook her head. “Not at first. I just told her you were lost and needed directions. But…”

  She stopped and I waited. “But then she started hassling me about wanting to be my street mom and I thought—I thought if she knew Star was coming back she’d leave me alone.”

  Crystal’s shoulders slumped, the magnitude of her situation finally catching up with her. “I fucked up so bad. I should’ve kept my mouth shut. But it just came out. And now it’s not just Bunny I have to worry about. She’s going to tell everyone I was the one who got you involved in street business.”

  The news report said the woman who was murdered was a case worker for homeless youth. Did Bunny thinks Olivia Bowen had somehow gotten all up in her business too? Wow. If she did kill Bowen, I got off lucky. If I hadn’t knocked Bunny out, I could’ve been the warm-up act.

  “Crystal, did Bunny and Olivia Bowen know each other?”

  “I don’t know. I stayed away from Bunny as much as possible. Why?”

  “I was just wondering what their connection might be. If she is involved in this woman’s death, what would be her motivation?”

  “Maybe she got pissed off because of Star.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That Bowen lady was Star’s case worker.”

  I tried to keep the “Why the hell didn’t you tell me” tone out of my voice and said calmly, “Crystal, that’s the kind of information that could be very helpful. I’m wondering why you didn’t mention it sooner.”

  She shrugged. “You didn’t ask.”

  I opened my mouth and closed it again. I had to remember I was dealing with a teenager trapped in an alternate universe. What was obvious to me wasn’t always the case with Crystal.
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  I needed time to sort all this out, but right now, there was a more pressing problem.

  While Crystal helped herself to another cupcake, I got off the couch and sauntered over to the television, and casually deposited the gun in the plastic palm tree my parents sent me from Florida. The thing is hideous, and I suspect the cat has used it as a litter box on more than one occasion, but I can’t throw it out. That would hurt its feelings.

  Now that the lethal weapon was out of plain sight, I turned back to Crystal. “Listen, kiddo, I don’t know how to say this except to just, well, say it. I think we should tell the police about Star going missing. Her disappearance may be tied in somehow to Olivia Bowen’s murder.”

  Crystal’s delicate blond eyebrows arched and I could feel the heat rise from her body.

  “Now before you get all bent out of shape, just hear me out. You said it yourself that everyone was going to blame you anyway for the police showing up, so it’s not safe for you to go back there. And what if by withholding information from the cops we end up endangering Star’s life? Look, Bowen was Star’s case worker. Star’s missing and Bowen’s dead, and Bunny was involved with them both.”

  “But what if I’m wrong about Star? What if she’s fine and she doesn’t want to be found?”

  “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

  Her silence spoke volumes.

  “Listen, the important thing right now is getting you to a safe place. I can arrange for that if you’ll let me.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “I know you can take care of yourself. But for once you don’t have to.”

  *****

  It was after two and Crystal reluctantly agreed to stay at my place overnight. As she so graciously put it she couldn’t go back to her squat, and all the good outdoor crash spots were taken so she might as well hang out with me. She fell asleep immediately, curled up in a fetal position on the couch with Adrian sacked out beside her. She didn’t seem to be concerned about the whereabouts of her gun. I think she was just as happy to be rid of the damn thing.

  After Crystal had gone to bed I went around and checked doors and windows. A couple of months ago I’d had an alarm system installed, but for some reason it kept going off every time Mrs. Gentile used her microwave. I never got around to getting it fixed, but I turned it on now and prayed she didn’t get an urge for popcorn at three in the morning.