by Ellie Hart
Looking at Marta, I nod in agreement. It’s time to call in the professionals.
Chapter Sixteen
“Thanks for getting here so quickly.”
Don steps forward to greet the two uniformed officers who join us in the foyer of the apartment building. Mrs. Hendershott has disappeared, probably to take care of another residential issue. Or to figure out how to explain the dearth of exit doors.
I, for once, am pleased to see our officers of the moment are both women. I know this seems both feminist and prejudicial, but my gut feeling—my womanly instinct—tells me this situation requires both intellect and intuition.
“You called in a missing person?” This is the younger-looking of the two, the one who seems barely old enough to purchase her own ammo. A hardness in her expression, though, tells me she is more than capable of handling anything from speeding tickets to physical takedowns.
“It’s Rex,” says Maxi, and the three of us let her give the particulars. He is, after all, her brother.
Held tightly in Marta’s arms, Tramp gives a sharp bark at the mention of his owner’s name. I reach over and give his soft ears a gentle tug. I can only imagine what he has seen.
Where is Dr. Doolittle when you need him?
“Will one of you show me the apartment?” The other officer walks over to where I’m standing next to Marta. Her shoulders are twice the width of Don’s, and when she crosses her arms, I can see the veins bulging near the surface. This is one tough gal.
“I can,” offers our intrepid reporter, and I nearly laugh. He is incredibly transparent, our Don. Silently I wish him good luck at pumping this particular officer for anything other than a comment on the weather. Marta buries her face in Tramp’s fur, hiding her smile.
Maxi has given up everything she knows about her brother’s current situation and possible whereabouts. As the officer finishes writing up her notes, Maxi walks over to me and stands closely, swaying slightly. I can see how pale her face has become, and I catch her just as she begins another slow descent to the ground. Maybe she’s not eating enough, I think. Maybe I’m not paying her enough to buy decent food. I make a mental note to check with Lou when I get back to clinic.
“Here, Gij, take the dog.” Marta thrusts the squirming bundle of puppy at me and reaches for Maxi in one smooth gesture. Bending down beside the girl, she carefully positions her head on the tiled floor, waiting quietly for her to open her eyes.
Across the foyer, I can hear the footsteps of Don and Officer Buff Arms headed our way, neither one speaking. I can hardly wait to get him alone and interrogate him, find out what he dragged out of the officer. My guess is zilch, judging by his expression.
“Hey, is she all right?”
Don’s irritation is quickly replaced with concern as he strides over to us. Maxi’s eyes flutter open and then widen, and she struggles to sit up. Marta holds her in place, firmly but gently.
“She’s fine,” she says over her shoulder. “Just shock.”
“Don’t you think we need to call someone, maybe a doctor?” Don is looking at Maxi as Marta helps her stand, his head tilted in question.
Beside him, I snort. “I am a doctor, you numbskull. And I’m already here.”
It’s Don’s turn to make a derisive sound. “Maybe if the little furry fella here needs some attention. I’m talking about a real doctor.”
Thankfully, the officers interrupt us before I clock the idiot across his skull and make the news in a not so good way.
“Someone will be in touch,” the younger-looking officer says, directing her comment to the four of us in general. Marta and I obediently nod in reply. Maxi, I notice, is leaning against Don’s arm, but her color is definitely better. Don’s, however, is something between bright pink and red. He really does need to cut out the ciggies and fast food; his blood pressure must be through the roof.
Of course, I might have helped it get there. The thought makes me grin, and he catches my eye, his own lips tightening into a thin line. I’d better play nice since he’s our ride home. And I really don’t want to be the subject of one of his in-depth investigative reports.
Silent for a moment, we watch the two officers walk out to their cruiser and pull out into traffic. Finally, Marta gives a small sigh and faces me, slipping an arm through mine.
“So, what’s next?” She looks from me to the other two, head tilted to the side like an inquisitive bird. I lean down and impulsively plant a kiss on her cheek, earning a brilliant smile in return. At least one person still likes me.
Maxi shrugs, seemingly lost for words.
“Let’s grab something to eat before we make another move,” Don says as we head outside, nodding in mutual agreement. “I tell you what would make my day. Another round with Jinx.”
Maxi stops walking, her eyes widening as she looks at him. “And what, exactly, does that mean?” She sounds suspicious, and I wait to hear how Don will explain himself to Jinx’s sister.
“I, uh, met him the other day for an interview.” Even though it’s the truth, I sense a tinge of something else. Don is clearly treading water in a conversational pond he’d rather not be in right now. “Ask the doc here. She set it up.”
“Indeed I did,” I agree, giving Don a smile. “Set you up with Jinx, I mean.”
“Not in that way,” he protests, drawing the keys to the van out of his pocket and giving me a disgusted glance.
“What way is that, Don?” Marta poses her question with complete innocence, making me laugh while Don scowls. Purposefully turning his back on the three of us, Don climbs behind the steering wheel and closes the door with a bit more force than needed, rattling the glass.
Marta and I exchange an amused look, and Marta reaches out to pat Tramp’s ears.
“We’re just teasing, Maxi,” she assures the girl. “Jinx was helping Don with a few things, that’s all.”
“And if you three women don’t get a move on, I’ll be having my next meal all by my lonesome.”
With a semblance of peace restored, we decide on the nearest all-day breakfast joint, Mama J’s Eggs ’n’ More. Its interior is a mishmash of yellow gingham and blue stripes, an entire flock of hens parading around the room on shelves, the menus, and in various other guises.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a chicken creamer before,” Marta murmurs in my ear, and I almost laugh aloud.
“Want one?” I ask in a quasi-serious tone, and act as though I’m about to pocket said creamer, milk and all.
Marta gives my hand a playful slap. “Put that back right now, Gij, before they kick us out of here. I have no desire to bail you out of the pokey over a ceramic chicken.”
Don’s attention is drawn to someone behind me.
“Well, maybe not for a fake chicken, but how about a real one?”
He nods toward the door, and we all stare as Jinx walks in in all his campy glory, head swiveling as he peers around the café. When his gaze falls on our table, he pauses and then starts as if he’s spotted the local bully. When he spins around to leave, I’m up and moving without even thinking about it.
“Not so fast there, Romeo,” I say breezily, pulling him back against the building by his thin arm. “Not in the mood for a friendly chat? Our friend Don seems to think you led him a merry chase the other night, maybe not telling quite everything. Wanna talk about it?”
“No, I do not want to talk about it,” he says as he tries to pull his arm away. “And why’s my sister with you?”
“I think you need to come and find out for yourself, pal. Maybe we can exchange some real information, figure out where Rex might have disappeared to and things like that.” I lean in closer, not caring my breath is more coffee than anything else. “Understand, rubber band?”
“Whatever.”
His tone is sulky, but he follows me back inside. I motion at the server for another chair and push Jinx onto the bench seat next to Marta, taking the chair on the end for myself. I’ve boxed him in as easily as if I’d pla
nned it. Maxi, sitting between Don and a low wall, just stares at her brother. And Jinx, I’m pleased to note, looks just this side of uncomfortable.
Looking over at Don, I nod. “Take it away,” I say, ignoring Marta’s amused shake of the head. “I think our friend here might have a few more things to tell us.”
“About what?” His tone is sulky, but he knows exactly what I’m talking about, judging by the fact that he can’t make eye contact with any of us.
“About your brother’s whereabouts, for starters.” Don leans forward across the table, and Jinx instinctively draws away from his intense blue gaze. “Any idea where Rex might be at the moment?”
“And Tramp’s out in the van, J,” Maxi breaks in, two bright spots of color on her thin cheeks. “He was all by himself, hiding under Rex’s bed, like he was scared of something.” Her voice is taut, as if she’s trying to keep from crying. Marta, bless her motherly heart, reaches across the table and lays a hand on Maxi’s clenched fists.
Jinx snorts, looking at Maxi.
“That dog is afraid of his own shadow, Max. Hiding is his thing.”
Before anyone else can jump in and contribute to what’s quickly becoming an emotional conversation, our server appears, a perky, high ponytail swinging behind her as she sashays up to our table.
“Welcome to Mama J’s,” she says, a slight drawl in her voice. I can’t tell if it’s real or not, but it’s already charming Don. Of course. “Can I start y’all out with some hot coffee? And maybe a milk for you, miss?”
I glance at Maxi, my lips folded tightly to hold in my grin. But Miss Perky isn’t talking to my receptionist. She’s looking straight at Marta.
“That would be lovely,” Marta says, shooting a quick smile at me. “And a water as well, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” says the server, shaking her head and sending her ponytail into frenetic motion. “When I was expecting my little guy, that’s all I wanted to drink.”
“I’ll take coffee, black,” says Don, breaking into this maternal camaraderie. “And one for him as well,” he says, jerking his chin at Jinx. Jinx says nothing, his eyes still fixed on the tabletop.
“I’ll have an iced tea, no lemon.” Maxi’s face is back to its normal paleness, her irritation at her brother forgotten for the moment.
“And for you, ma’am?” The pen hovers above the bright yellow pad as she looks down at me.
Fabulous. I’ve been designated the old lady of the bunch. Ignoring Marta’s amused expression—she knows how I feel about being labeled as “ma’am”—I ask for a Coke.
“And not diet, either. If I’m drinking the stuff, I want the real thing.”
Without another word, she’s off like a shot, giving Jinx a run for his money in serving style.
“So, back to what we were talking about,” I say, giving Jinx a hard stare. Since his eyes are still angled downward, he misses my tough-gal stance. Marta, on the other hand, doesn’t miss a thing. With a sigh, she leans over and puts an arm around Jinx’s slight shoulders. We are the quintessential good cop, bad cop combo. I wonder if this will translate into our parenting style as well.
“Jinx, we think something might have happened to Rex, that he might not be safe.” Her words are simple and have the desired effect. He looks up at her, worried. “Can you help us?”
Aha, I think. He does know something. I find myself leaning toward the two of them, eager to hear what he has to say. Don, on the other hand, has no such compunction.
“You can start by telling us what you know about this mess Rex is involved with,” he says abruptly, and it shatters whatever connection Marta has begun to establish. I feel like kicking him under the table.
I am not known for curbing my impulses.
Shooting a scowl in my direction, he leans down to rub his shin. Maxi, I’m surprised to note, has to duck her head to hide a smile. It must be very entertaining for her to see her boss out in the wild like this. Hopefully, I won’t end up on Facebook or Instagram or the latest social media platform.
“I don’t know anything,” Jinx blurts out more loudly than is polite. This garners our table a few curious glances, but that’s it. This is San Francisco, after all. It’s a city used to letting each person be herself, provided it doesn’t shut down the BART or cause a traffic jam.
“I think you do.” Maxi has finally joined the conversation, and her color is beginning to return. “Tell me what Rex was doing, Jinx. I know he talks to you more than he does to me.”
Our drinks arrive, along with a few minutes of scrambling into the menus so we can order. Finally we are finished, and with another flip of her ponytail and a wide smile for Jinx, our server promises to “get this right in, y’all, and just holler if you need me.”
Jinx nods, seemingly embarrassed to have been singled out. Maybe she’s recognized a fellow inmate in the industry. Or maybe she’s already pegged the rest of us as unworthy of her attention.
Don, I notice with amusement, is scowling down at the table. What must it be like to lose that fascination for the ladies? I sincerely hope I never have to experience that humiliation, my own lady included. Impulsively, I reach across the table and take Marta’s hand, nearly upsetting Jinx’s drink in the process. Marta smiles back at me and gives my hand a gentle squeeze.
“If you’re done with all that lovey-dovey stuff, you two, can we get on with what we were talking about?” Don’s scowl has transferred itself to his voice. Marta, always concerned for the feelings of others, withdraws her hand and reaches for her drink instead.
I let my gaze rest on his just long enough to let him know I can read his thoughts, and then I face Jinx.
“So, back to what Marta asked you,” I say, leaning back in the hard chair and crossing my arms over my chest. “What was Rex’s part in all of this?”
“In all of what?” counters Jinx, his mouth set in a stubborn line. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He glances around the table. “And that goes for all of you. As far I as know, he’s just trying to make ends meet, like a lot of us.”
I notice with interest he uses the present tense when speaking of his brother. He either knows where Rex is or he’s incredibly naïve concerning everything that’s occurred since that morning phone call from Chrissy Burton.
“Where is he?” Maxi’s voice is soft, barely above a whisper. It has the desired effect on her brother, though, and he turns to face her. “Where is he?” she says again, and this time her voice is louder, more forceful.
We all face Jinx. He shrugs, but he’s not as sure as he was just a moment ago. Something of the seriousness seems to be getting through. Finally.
“You really don’t know where he’s at?” Jinx sounds incredulous, his gaze shifting around the four of us. We all nod in agreement. “I swear I thought he was at his place.”
“We’ve just come from there,” I say.
“And we had to make a missing person report, and Tramp was hiding under the bed,” Maxi says, her words coated with tears. “I’m scared, Jinx. I’m worried something bad has happened to him.”
Don, to his credit and my surprise, leans over and gives her shoulders an awkward side hug. Marta is already leaning across the table as far as her growing belly will allow, both hands reaching for hers. I can only sit and feel incredibly inadequate, silently vowing to give her a raise. It’s the least I can do so she’ll never have to sell her marrow or plasma or anything in order to make ends meet.
“Wait.” Jinx holds out both hands, palms outward. “Are you guys saying Rex is missing? And you had to call the police?”
The four of us answer him with nods, a full complement of bobbleheads gathered around the table. When the waitress brings our food, we barely notice. Instead, all of us keep our gaze fully on Jinx as he digests our concern in silence.
“Well,” he finally says, reaching for the spoon that juts from his Mama J’s Sunrise Bowl of healthy goodness. “What Rex told me makes some sense, then.” Taking a small bite
of the fruit topping, he chews and swallows solemnly while I exchange a surprised look with Don and Marta. Maxi is sitting as if in a trance, her chin propped up on one hand, staring straight at her brother.
“Could you tell us what it was he said, Jinx?” Marta’s voice is calm, but I know her well enough to see the rising excitement in her eyes.
Jinx shrugs. “I actually don’t know if this has anything to do with where he’s at right now, but he did happen to mention he was a little worried about someone. Not worried about them, but concerned about what they were doing.”
“Did he give a name?” I can’t help breaking into the exchange between him and Marta, my tone probably more strident than it needs to be. At the table next to us, I notice the occupants staring at me. I ignore them, focusing instead on Jinx.
“No, but something he said made me think it’s Bev. You know,” he offers with a small grimace, “that woman who got knocked down in the parking lot at the Vineyard.”
“Yeah, and she also happens to work with both Chrissy Burton and Marta,” I can’t help saying, a touch of acerbity in my words. “So if there’s anything we need to know about her, Jinx, spit it out. Now.”
“Give me a sec, all right?” His expression reminds me of a little boy who’s been caught with one hand in the proverbial cookie jar while blaming someone else.
“I know what he said,” says Maxi, and we all stare at her. She colors slightly under the scrutiny but lifts her chin and speaks. “Rex heard the organs are being sent to Syria. Something about being used for injured soldiers.”
“For our soldiers?” I’m trying to process the idea organ donors are supplying overseas recipients when nothing has been said about that anywhere—not on the news, not online, and certainly not at the hospital.
Maxi shakes her head, her gaze fixed on mine. “No, not for our guys. For the others. The terrorists.”
When I hear her say that last word, I am stunned. Beyond stunned, actually.
I am scared.
Chapter Seventeen