by Gigi Pandian
I returned to the house shortly after dark, empty-handed. I was frantically considering options when a very dirty Brixton opened the back door with the key I’d given him.
I ran up to him and gave him a hug, a huge wave of relief washing over me.
“Are you okay?” I held him at arm’s length, looking him over. Dirt covered the lower half of his face and much of his clothing. He held an odd hard hat in his hand. “What happened?”
“I’m fine. You can chill.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing. I was out with Veronica and Ethan.”
“You should have told me you were going out.”
“My mom never asks me.”
Of course not. “What were you doing?”
Brixton grinned and held up the strange hat I’d noticed. “Spelunking.”
The hard hat was clean but looked decades old. A light was affixed to the top. “Where on earth did you find that?”
“Ethan found it online. He gets bored. I think the school he went to before moving here was harder. He’s always buying stuff online. He found this and thought it would be perfect for the tunnels. He knew I was bummed about Blue, so he ordered us all hats so we could go out and stay busy.”
I softened a little. “That was nice of him.”
“Ethan’s generous like that. So, um, have you learned anything else about Blue? Like with the poison Dorian and I got for you?”
“Brixton, you know you can’t tell anyone what you did, right? Not even Veronica and Ethan.”
“I’m not stupid.”
“It wasn’t long ago that you were trying to convince them about Dorian.”
“That was two whole days ago.”
Right. What was the calculation of two days in teenage years? Definitely a lot longer than what two days meant to me.
“Things are different now,” Brixton said. “I know Dorian is a secret, and obviously B&E is a secret. V is great and all, but she’s sort of a gossip.”
Which explained how everyone knew about my “French boyfriend.”
“Good,” I said. “Nobody besides us knows about the breaking and entering.”
“You going to tell me what you learned?”
“I was right that Blue didn’t poison herself.”
“You told the police?”
“There’s nothing I can tell them. I told you the evidence is worthless now.”
“But it should lead you to the person who did it.”
“It only told me Blue didn’t create it herself.”
“I thought you were supposed to be good at this stuff.”
“Being good at something doesn’t mean it’s easy.”
“Then what’s the point?”
“I may have found a way to counteract some of the effects of the poison.”
“Really? You can cure her?”
“I don’t know if it worked or not. I went to visit her in the hospital today. Visiting hours were ending, so I couldn’t stay longer to see if she would wake up.”
Brixton slammed the hard hat into the arm of the couch.
“It could still work,” I said.
“Right.” He turned away from me and wiped his eyes with his sleeve, then brushed past me to pick up the hard hat from where he’d tossed it.
“Why did you need the hat for the tunnels?” I asked. “Don’t they have lights?”
“Not the ones we go to.”
I was about to suggest it was a bad idea to go exploring unlit city tunnels, but stopped myself. I wasn’t his mother. His mother would be here shortly. She could deal with him. Besides, the tunnels were probably a lot safer than what was going on above ground.
“Why don’t you get cleaned up before your mom gets here,” I said instead.
“Is the shower fixed yet?”
“I’ve had other things to deal with.”
I chose to ignore the language he used as he dragged his feet up the stairs. Brixton would be leaving shortly, so I returned his phone to him.
A few moments later, it began to ring. “Zoe!” he called from the top of the stairs. I rushed back into the living room, expecting to find that he’d fallen through a rickety stair.
“It’s Blue!” he said. “You did it! She’s awake!”
“It’s her on the phone?”
“Yeah.” He put the phone back to his ear. “Blue, I’m here with Zoe. We’re coming right over. Wait, what? What? No, don’t go. Blue? Blue?”
“What’s going on?” I asked.
He stood mute, then sank down onto the top step.
“Brixton, what’s happening?”
“She’s awake,” he said, “and they’re arresting her for murder.”
twenty-three
“Hold on!” I said as Brixton rushed past me.
“We need to go!”
“No, we don’t.” I caught up with him before he reached the front door and put my hand on his dust-covered shoulder. “We know she’s okay, which is what counts. If the police are arresting her, it’s not a good idea for us to go to the hospital.” I thought of the dropper of tincture left on her bed. That was one reason I wanted to stay far away from the hospital. I also didn’t want Brixton to see Blue being hauled off by the police.
“I thought you cared about her too.” He shrugged off my hand. “But that was a lie, wasn’t it? You were just using her to help Dorian.”
I stared at him.
“You thought I didn’t know he’s dying?” Brixton said.
“He told you?”
“He didn’t have to.” He glared at me. “I’m not stupid. I saw there was something wrong with him, so I asked him. You could have told me what was going on.”
“I was—”
“What? Trying to protect me? You were trying to protect yourself. Are you going to the hospital or what?”
“We’re not going,” I said.
“Maybe you’re not.” He ran to the back door, grabbed his bike, and sped down the driveway.
I wasn’t able to catch him, but I could follow. I knew where he was going. The tires of the truck screeched as I pulled out of the driveway and headed for the hospital. What I didn’t count on was the fact that there was traffic. The start-and-stop traffic inched along, making me more anxious by the minute. It was Saturday evening and apparently everyone in the city of Portland had decided it was a nice night to go out.
I ran into Brixton’s teacher Sam—literally—as the elevator doors opened on Blue’s floor of the hospital. I nearly knocked down his tall frame in my rush to find Brixton.
“Blue is with the police,” Sam said. “They won’t let me see her.”
“Have you seen Brixton?” I asked, catching my breath.
“He was here a few minutes ago. I assumed he was here with you. Were you parking the car while he came up?”
“He ran off without me.”
He gave a sad chuckle. “He’s like that.”
“You said he was here. Does that mean he’s gone?”
“I don’t know where he went. He was really upset when they wouldn’t let us see Blue.”
“She’s all right?”
“You could call it that. She seems to have made a miraculous recovery. But the police are questioning her. I heard a little bit of the conversation before they pushed us back. They’re treating her like she’s a suspect in her own attempted murder. I don’t get it.”
“Did you hear anything else?”
“Like what?”
Oh, I don’t know, I thought, like about a tincture dropper on her bed?
“I need to look for Brixton,” I said instead.
“If he left without you, I have a feeling I know where he might go.”
“Where?”
“His mom is still out of town, right?”
“Try Max Liu’s house.”
“The detective?”
“He’s one of the few adults Brixton trusts.” Sam consulted his phone and wrote down an address for me.
———
Thirty minutes later, I knocked on a red door with a gold dragon knocker.
“Have you ever thought of being a detective?” Max Liu asked as he opened his front door for me.
“I take it I was right that Brixton is here?”
“Come on in,” Max said.
“Go away!” a young voice called from somewhere beyond the threshold.
Max smiled at the admonition, quickly followed by a cough to cover it up.
The exterior of the single-story house was Spanish architecture with a red-tiled roof that matched the front door. Inside, Max’s house was simplicity itself. The open floor plan revealed only the barest assortment of furniture. A single white couch with a pewter-topped coffee table filled the center of the hardwood living room floor. Two large canvas paintings of scenic forests, each at least six feet high, covered one wall. The only thing out of place was Brixton’s bicycle, which was propped up in the entryway.
The main room looked over both the kitchen and, through sliding glass doors, the backyard. The only items visible in the kitchen were a cast iron tea kettle resting on the gas stove and two framed photos: a colorful image of a twenty-something south Asian woman in a field of tulips, and a black-and-white photo of an older Chinese woman in front of a row of metal jars.
Though it was a moonless evening, a soft light from an outdoor lamp illuminated the backyard. I could see that the small yard held a tree, an assortment of edible herbs and plants in a row of clay pots, and a wooden bench sheltered by an awning. The bench was in the perfect position for the person sitting on it to gaze at the tree, herb garden, and sky. Right now a cranky teenager sat on the bench.
“Your house is perfect,” I said, not realizing I was speaking aloud until I’d already begun.
“A lot of people ask if I’ve just moved in and haven’t bought any ‘stuff’ yet.”
“I don’t mean to intrude, but I need to get Brixton.”
Max tilted his head toward the backyard. “What did you do to him? It looks like he bathed in mud.”
“I have a new appreciation for mothers.”
“He’s a handful, but he’s a good kid.”
“I know. His mom is due to pick him up at my house any time now. I’d better let her know we’re running late.”
“I think Brixton already took care of that.”
Brixton opened the sliding doors. “My mom texted me. She’s outside.”
“Your stuff is still at my house. Should I bring it by your place later?”
He looked at his mud-covered shoes. I cringed when I thought about what Heather would think of my child-care abilities. “Nah,” he said. “Can Dor—I mean, can me and my mom go by your place on our way home? I still have the extra key you gave me. I’ll bring it back to you tomorrow.”
I hesitated for a moment. Even if he was at home, Dorian was good at hiding. And even though Brixton was upset, I didn’t believe he was trying to reveal Dorian’s existence any longer.
“Sure,” I said. “See you tomorrow.”
Brixton gave Max a fist bump before leaving.
“He doesn’t want you to see where he lives,” Max said.
“That’s what that was about? Is it that bad?”
“Only the fact that the apartment is in a rundown building. I checked in on him there a few times after he got into trouble. It’s a nice enough place. His mom is a painter, and keeps the house full of art and books. But most of his friends have houses. He’s kind of touchy about it.”
“You mentioned when he got in trouble—”
“You want some tea?”
“I’d love some.”
Max went to the kitchen and put water in the kettle. It was both ornate and simple. And old. An embossed Chinese dragon wrapped around the iron kettle.
“Where did you find that?” I asked. “It’s beautiful.”
“It was my grandmother’s kettle.”
“It’s your grandmother in this photo?” I indicated the black-and-white photograph in a simple bamboo frame. In the photo, the woman stood in front of a cabinet of brass jars. I remembered Max saying his grandparents had been apothecaries in China. Her lips were unsmiling, but the photograph captured a mischievous smile that could be seen in her eyes. I could tell why he liked the photo.
“It was taken in China,” Max said, “before she came here with my mom. The other is of my wife.”
“Your wife?” I croaked. He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, but not everyone did. I had already been feeling foolish about my feelings for the man, and now I had even more reason to do so.
“Chadna passed away shortly after we were married.”
“I’m so sorry, Max.”
“It was a long time ago. Shortly after she finished medical school. Chadna was the one who saved me from the immature ideas I had about magic as a child. It’s because of her that I straightened my life around.”
I gave him a moment, but he didn’t seem to want to say more. “I wasn’t kidding when I said this house is perfect,” I said, changing the subject. “It’s rare to find such an uncluttered space.” I couldn’t remember seeing anything so purposefully sparse in the last century.
Max turned off the kettle as it began to steam, then removed two handleless porcelain teacups from the cupboard, along with a box of loose leaf tea.
“If you have one teapot,” he said, pouring hot water over tea leaves, “that will do you quite well. How much does he lack himself who must have a lot of things?”
“You’re quoting Sen Rikyū,” I said. At that moment, I wished more than anything that I had been in Max’s house under other circumstances.
Max tilted his head and looked up from the tea. “How did you know that?”
“One of the few books I’ve kept in my trailer over the years is a book of quotations about tea. It reminds me to live in the moment and appreciate what I have in front of me.” I didn’t add how many years I’d had to read about tea and learn that lesson, but here in this house I found myself wanting to tell Max everything. It was a dangerous impulse, especially after hearing him talk about his scientific wife and dismissing the teachings of his grandmother. It was foolish of me to hope we could share something. Yet in this sanctuary he’d created for himself, I was more drawn to him than ever. I pulled myself back from that dangerous ledge and changed the subject. “You were going to tell me about Brixton.”
“I wasn’t, actually.”
“It sounded like you were.”
“You’re too damn easy to open up to, Zoe. Do you know that?”
“I feel the same way.” Our eyes locked and I lost all sense of time and place.
Max cleared his throat. “Breaking and entering, and assault. That’s what Brixton did.”
That startled me back to the present. “He’s just a kid. How can whatever he did count as assault?”
“He beat up a guy who was harassing his mom. His stepdad was out of town for a while and this guy was hitting on his mom—close to harassment, but not enough for a restraining order.” Max sighed and looked out the window. “Brixton was only twelve at the time, smaller than he is now. He knew he was too little to do anything to the guy if the guy could see it coming, so he broke into his house one night and beat him up, telling him never to touch his mom again.”
“That sounds more heroic than criminal.”
“The guy ended up in the hospital with several broken bones.”
“Oh.”
“Nobody liked it, but the guy wanted to press charges.”
“Did he go to juvenile jail, or whatever it’s called?”
“You felt sorry for him, like he got a bad deal.”
“I saw myself in him.” He paused as he finished making the tea and handed me a cup. “I could see what was coming. I thought getting caught up in the system might push him into doing more bad things, because he saw that what he thought was a good deed was met with getting arrested.”
“Were you right?”
“Yes and no. His mom isn’t much of a disciplinarian. That friend of his, Veronica, keeps him in line more than his mom.”
“I thought he said he had a stepfather.”
“He’s not around much.”
“You said you saw yourself in him,” I said, wondering what he’d meant a minute before.
“So,” Max said, suddenly very interested in his tea leaves, “Brixton told me Blue woke up. I’m glad to hear it.”
“Yeah, except that now she’s being arrested.”
“At this point, she’s only being questioned. But that’s why Brixton came over. He didn’t know I was off the case. He was upset and thought it was my fault.”
“So she’s not under arrest?”
“I told you I’m off the case.”
“Surely you know what’s going on, though.”
“I’m on leave, Zoe. I told you I play things by the book. I’m here in my sanctuary, not following up on cases that aren’t my own.”
Max’s cell phone rang.
“Liu,” he said. He listened for a few moments, his face stoic. “Sure. I know where she is. I’ll bring her.” He clicked off.
“What was that about?”
“Blue is asking for you,” he said. “She says she’ll talk, but only if you’re the one she talks to. She says you saved her life.”
I gripped the teacup. How did Blue know? And what had she told people?
“Why would she say that?” Max asked.
“I visited her. I’ve always wondered if people in comas can hear what people say to them. Maybe she heard me.” I was used to leaving out details that would make people think I was crazy, but I hated lying to Max. Maybe I really should leave Portland before it was too late.