Fly Like a Bird

by Jana Zinser

  Edna Jean’s eyebrows wrinkled and a few strands of hair hung down from her unkempt wig. The faint, high-pitched yapping grew louder. Edna Jean adjusted her glasses, which magnified her beady eyes. “Tiny Fifi. Mommy’s here.”

  Charlie held up his hand, gesturing for Edna Jean to be quiet. “Luther, we can hear the dog. Hand me Fifi.”

  The rickety front door opened and they carefully stepped inside Luther’s broken-down house. The pungent smell of wet campfire mixed with dirty socks permeated the air.

  Ivy smiled and waved at Luther. He winked back. She knew he had not taken the lawn art, it was too easy a heist.

  Luther opened a cupboard door, picked up the yapping dog, and handed the wiggling poodle to Charlie, nearly knocking over a purple cookie jar sitting on the edge of his cluttered counter. Ivy’s mouth dropped open, and she pointed to the counter. “Hey, Uncle Walter, that looks just like your eggplant cookie jar.”

  Uncle Walter stared at the ceramic jar that was missing from his collection. “It is.”

  Luther picked it up and handed the missing eggplant to Uncle Walter. “Sorry, Walter. I fixed the broken lid for you.”

  Uncle Walter rubbed his hand over his long-lost cookie jar. “Thanks, I appreciate that, Luther. It’s hard to find a purple vegetable, you know.”

  Charlie shook his head and clicked his tongue. “Luther, you’ve got to stop pilfering things that don’t belong to you or I’m going to have to lock you up for good this time.”

  Luther scratched his hair, which stood stiffly on end like a frantic game of pick-up sticks. He stared at Charlie as if looking through him to something more important.

  Charlie took a step toward Luther. “Did you wrongfully appropriate the objects on Walter Taylor’s lawn last night?”

  Luther shook his head and a fly flew out of his hair. “No, they don’t interest me. There’s no challenge.”

  Ivy knew it. Luther looked at Ivy and smiled, showing his chewing-tobacco-stained teeth. “Besides, that mushroom gnome is a little too creepy, even for me. The evil pixie.”

  Ivy giggled but Charlie narrowed his eyes and tilted his chin down, adding another roll of skin on his neck. “Well, I don’t see it on your property. I better not find out differently.”

  “Are you questioning my honesty?” asked Luther, frowning at Charlie.

  “Wouldn’t think of it, Luth. Hey, you need to get that door repaired. It nearly killed me. You could use a handyman around this place.”

  Luther kicked a broken tile on the floor. “Hard to find a good one anymore.”

  Ivy and Uncle Walter looked at each other and smiled. Charlie adjusted his belt and sniffed. “Well, try to keep your nose clean, Luther. I’d hate to have to arrest you.” He looked around Luther’s dirty, cluttered home. “But then, maybe you’d enjoy our fine incarceration accommodations.”

  Luther scratched the seat of his jeans and pointed to Charlie’s head. “Charlie, you’d better have Judy down at the beauty shop do something about that white patch in your hair or the skunks’ll think you’re one of them.”

  “They’re friends of yours, I’m sure.”

  Charlie held Fifi out in front of him like a dripping sack of week-old garbage as she paddled her paws in the air. He handed the poodle to Edna Jean. “Here.”

  Edna Jean snuggled her face in the dog’s curly white fur. “My poor baby will probably never get over this trauma.”

  “Her yapping nearly drove me crazy anyway,” Luther said, yawning as if tired from the whole dog-napping ordeal.

  “Why’d you take her?” asked Charlie.

  “She seemed lonely,” said Luther.

  Tiny Fifi began her high-pitched barking. Edna Jean pushed up her thick glasses on her long, pointed nose. “You’re already crazy, you dog thief.” Her own shrieking voice sounded like Tiny Fifi’s yapping.

  Charlie shook his head as the group walked to the car. The poodle investigation was closed. He opened the car door. “Edna Jean, make sure that canine doesn’t relieve himself on the seats.”

  “Him? She’s a refined lady. Tiny Fifi would never dream of such a thing.”

  Edna Jean and the poodle slid into the front seat. Tiny Fifi wagged her curly tail and snuggled close to Edna Jean. “Now that you’ve found Tiny Fifi, you can start working on finding that UFO that landed on my lawn.”

  Charlie nodded and backed the car out of Luther’s dirt driveway. Ivy soon noticed a growing wet spot on the front seat next to Fifi.

  The next day, Uncle Walter and Ivy stopped by the sheriff’s office to see if any more suspects had been rounded up now that Luther wasn’t under investigation for Uncle Walter’s looted lawn art. Charlie sauntered toward them as they entered the office.

  “Walter, I’m glad you’re here. I just tried to call you. We found your lawn things.” He pointed to the ceramic creatures placed against the far wall like a police lineup. “And we’ve got the two perpetrators in custody. We also got a witness.” He beckoned to them with a flip of his hand. “Come over here. You’re going to want to hear this.”

  He led them to his office where Weston Thrasher sat with his ratty high-top sneakers resting on the handle of the padlocked file cabinet drawer. Charlie pushed Weston’s shoes off the drawer. “Get down, boy. Now, tell Walter Taylor what you observed.”

  Weston stood up, his baggy bell-bottom jeans dragging to the floor. “Last night, I saw these two black guys running away from the cemetery.”

  Charlie nodded at Weston. “Tell them who the thieves are.”

  “Ben Roberts and Otis Norton.” Weston smirked.

  “That’s a lie,” Ivy gasped. “You made that up!”

  “I saw them. You can thank me any time.” Weston glared at her. His long greasy hair fell over his eyes.

  Charlie’s hands rested on his wide, black leather belt. He stuck out his lip. “Thanks, Weston. You can go. I’ve got your statement. I’ll let you know if we need you further.”

  Weston tapped his foot on the floor. “Whatever.” His shoulder bumped into Ivy as he sauntered out.

  “Uncle Walter, you’re not going to believe Weston, are you?” “No.”

  “Walter, we found your lawn things in a circle around your brother’s grave.”

  “Charlie, that doesn’t make any sense. Why would Ben and Otis want to do that?”

  He shrugged and rubbed his hand over the top of his bristly crew cut. His silver streak rippled like corn stalks in a stiff wind.

  Uncle Walter shook his head. “I want to talk to them.”

  “There’s no need for that. Listen, you can take your things home now. We just need you to sign the paperwork.”

  “Well, I’d feel much better if I could talk to them. Won’t take a minute.” Walter brushed past Charlie and headed toward to the cells.

  Ivy grabbed his arm. “Uncle Walter, last night we were on the back road to the cemetery. We saw Uncle Tommy and Reuben out there. They were dressed in black, with their faces painted black.”

  “Now that makes more sense,” said Uncle Walter.

  Charlie followed them to where Ben, twenty-three, and Otis sat on a metal bench inside the cell. Otis seemed embarrassed as he rested his head in his hands. Ben looked scared and bewildered.

  Uncle Walter looked over at the deputy sheriff. “Hey, Charlie, you have no business putting them in a cell.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Precautionary measures. You never know.”

  Ivy took a deep breath, trying to control her anger. She tucked her straight hair behind her ear. “Never know what?”

  Charlie pointed to Otis and Ben and whispered behind his hand. “Unpredictable.”

  Uncle Walter shook his head and turned back to the accused men. “You didn’t take my lawn art, did you?”

  Otis stood up, his head almost touching the low ceiling of the cell. “No, Mr. Taylor. I’ve told the sheriff I don’t know what he’s talking about. I mean, I know your lawn things. I get a kick out of them. But I didn’t take them.” />
  “I knew you didn’t, but I had to ask,” Uncle Walter said. “What about you, Ben?”

  Ben shook his head. “No, sir. My mom would kick my butt if I did anything like that.”

  Ivy knew Ben was right.

  Charlie shook his head. “Don’t take their word for it. I have a witness.”

  Uncle Walter raised his eyebrows and scratched the side of his face. “Charlie, if they said they didn’t do it, then they didn’t do it. I’m not going to press charges against them. If I was you, I’d let them go before Miss Shirley gets wind of this.”

  Ivy thought she saw Charlie shudder.

  Otis nodded. “Thanks, Mr. Taylor.”

  “Call me Walter.”

  Ben rose to his feet. “Yeah, thanks. I don’t want any trouble with the law. Mr. Norton just got me a maintenance job at Warner College until I can save enough money to go to EMT training.”

  Uncle Walter shook Ben’s hand through the bars. “Well, congratulations, Ben. I’m sure Miss Shirley is very proud.”

  Charlie’s arms gestured erratically in the air. “What is this, a kissy-face party? Walter, based on my substantial law enforcement experience, I think releasing them is a mistake. You can’t let these boys get away with dangerous pranks. It just leads to violent crimes. I think the situation warrants further investigation.”

  Uncle Walter shook his head. “Charlie, they didn’t do it. Let them go.”

  Ivy looked up at Charlie. “The ones you’re looking for are Uncle Tommy and Reuben. They’ll probably tell you all about it at the Blue Moon tonight.”

  “Ivy’s right. This is Tommy’s kind of caper. Remember the time they broke into my home and destroyed my cookie jar?”

  Charlie bit his lip to stop smiling. “Yeah, I remember the zucchini incident.” He rubbed the extra skin under his chin. “Well, at least your lawn figures were returned unharmed.”

  “Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t want to look into Tommy and Reuben,” said Uncle Walter.

  Charlie let the two men out of the cell. “Okay. Go on home, you two.”

  Otis stepped out of his cell. He shook Uncle Walter’s hand and pointed to the lawn creatures in a row against the wall near the entrance. “Can we help you carry your things to your car?”

  Uncle Walter put his hand on Otis’ shoulder. “Well, thank you, Mr. Norton. That’s mighty nice of you.”

  “Please call me, Otis.” Otis turned to Ben. “Grab a . . . animal, son.”

  Ben picked up a deer. “It looks like the ear got a little chipped, but you can’t hardly tell.”

  They carried Uncle Walter’s ceramic figures to his car. Otis held the brown mushroom and he stared in astonishment at the tiny pixie face of the gnome. “Good Lord, this gnome looks just like Thelma Sampson!”

  Ivy smiled. “Right?” She examined the lawn art as each piece was carefully placed in Uncle Walter’s trunk. “Hey, Uncle Walter. Look, there’s a sunflower seed stuck to the gnome’s hat.”

  Uncle Walter bent over the trunk and flicked the sunflower seed off the gnome with his finger. “There’s your conclusive evidence.”

  “Mr. Taylor and Mr. Smith ought to find another hobby, don’t you think?” Otis asked.

  “Yeah, this is getting real old,” Uncle Walter said as he closed the trunk. “A lifetime of pranks can wear a person down.”

  Chapter 22

  THE GREAT PURPLE DOG

  The strong winds in late spring bent the green stalks of the tulips until the colorful blooms almost touched the ground. April’s warmth coaxed the buds on the trees to grow. Life returned to Iowa’s black soil. With the end of the school year nearing, Ivy’s escape from Coffey had almost arrived. She and Jesse had planned to backpack across Europe right after they graduated high school.

  Ivy picked up a passport application from Uncle Walter at the post office, but it required a birth certificate. Grandma said she couldn’t remember where Ivy’s birth certificate was, so as soon as school let out that day, Ivy went to the courthouse records office to get a certified copy.

  Maggie’s neighbor, Ruth Jackson, still worked as a clerk for the county. She greeted Ivy at the records counter. “Hi, Ivy. What’s up?”

  “Hey, Ruth. Grandma can’t find my birth certificate. I need to get one for my passport.”

  “Finally going to Europe, huh?”

  Ivy smiled and nodded.

  “I’ll just need your birth date and full name,” said Ruth as she handed Ivy a slip of paper.

  Ivy wrote down her details and passed the paper back to Ruth.

  “So, you’re finally getting out of Coffey, huh?”

  “Yeah, as soon as I graduate.”

  “Well, good for you. I can’t even get Virgil to go to Des Moines with me. Says he’s got everything he needs here, and you never know where you might not be welcome. I’ll be right back.”

  Ruth disappeared into a room filled with white file cabinets lined up against the walls like giant teeth. She emerged several minutes later with a certified copy of Ivy’s birth certificate. “Here you go, Ivy. So, when you’re gallivanting around Europe, who’s going to take care of your Uncle Walter after his knee surgery?”

  “What are you talking about? No one told me anything about knee surgery.” Anger surged through Ivy. Why were they always keeping stuff from her? She wasn’t a child anymore.

  “Oh gosh, Ivy, I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have said anything. Miss Shirley mentioned it and . . .”

  “No, I’m glad you did. Thank you for the birth certificate.” She looked down at the certificate and froze. Her birth certificate did not include her father’s name. She set the document on the counter and pointed to the empty space. “Hey, Ruth, how come my dad’s name isn’t on this?”

  Ruth glanced down to where Ivy was pointing. “Probably just the hospital’s mistake. You wouldn’t believe the sloppy record keeping I’ve seen.”

  “Seems weird,” Ivy said.

  “It’s sort of unusual. But it’ll still get you a passport.”

  Ivy nodded slowly. “Okay, thanks, Ruth. See you around.”

  She walked out of the building, her mind whirling in confusion. No father on her birth certificate and no one had bothered to tell her about Uncle Walter’s knee surgery.

  Grandma had stopped driving as soon as Ivy got her driver’s license a few years back. Her arthritis made it very painful to drive and even getting into a car took a major effort. Uncle Walter wouldn’t be able to drive after having knee surgery. So, who would get him to the doctor and run errands while he recovered? She knew Uncle Tommy wouldn’t do a thing to help. Her heart sunk. As much as she wanted to get away, Uncle Walter needed her help after his knee operation and during his recovery. She knew she and Jesse could go to Europe a little later, maybe at the end of the summer, but she felt as if the ground had turned to quicksand and the sinking feeling pulled her down until she felt like she couldn’t breathe.

  After her graduation ceremonies and parties were over, Ivy and Jesse sat on the glider on the back porch, enjoying the quiet. She had already told him about postponing their trip until after Uncle Walter’s knee surgery and recovery. Although it would delay their departure, their future stretched out before them, finally within reach. She had her passport and in just a few weeks, they’d be together, far away from Coffey.

  It was almost midnight. The locusts hummed, their shrill vibrating sounds amplified in the warm night. Ivy slapped a mosquito on her leg. The mosquitoes and gnats were bad. It was time for Howard Decker to start spraying the fogger pesticide.

  Jesse cleared his throat and scratched his head. “Ivy, I didn’t want to tell you and ruin graduation because I know you have to stay here and help your uncle, but I’ve decided to go to Europe anyway.”

  “What?”

  Jesse looked into the woods, his voice was soft. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”

  Ivy put her feet down, suddenly stopping the glider. “Tomorrow? Why?”

  “There’s nothing for me here.” J
esse shrugged. “I don’t want to be a porch-sitter. I’ve got to get out of here.”

  Ivy grabbed Jesse’s arm, trying to understand. “What about me? Jesse, don’t leave. We’ll be out of here soon. We’re so close.”

  Jesse looked down at his hands. “If I don’t leave now, I’m afraid something will happen, and I’ll never get out of here. I mean, look at you.” He licked his lips and took a deep breath as if preparing to dive underwater. “I’m leaving tomorrow morning. And Raven’s coming with me.”

  Ivy let go of Jesse’s arm and shrunk back. “Raven? Jesse, don’t do this. You know what she’s like. She just does what she wants.”

  “Ivy, sometimes I wish you were more like that. I’m not good at waiting.”

  The locusts stilled, and quiet filled the air.

  “Yeah, I see that.”

  He’d found his way out, just like she knew he would. But he wouldn’t be taking her with him.

  “I love you, Ivy, but there’s nothing for me here.”

  Jesse tried to kiss her, but she turned away before he could see her tears. She waved her hand. “Yeah, you’re right. Just go.”

  He walked off the porch and started down the path. He turned around. “I’ll be back soon.”

  Ivy didn’t respond. She sat down and rocked the glider with her feet, staring into the dark woods. A squirrel chattered from its hiding place in the trees. A summer in Coffey without Jesse was an eternity, a death sentence. As soon as Jesse disappeared around the side of the house, Ivy’s tears came in torrents. Raven had shoved her way in like she always did.

  As Ivy sat on her porch, fearful of losing Jesse and her dreams of freedom, intruders infiltrated Mulberry Street.

  Miss Shirley later told Ivy that the smell of meat must have roused the mighty King from his sleep. She imagined he got up from his usual spot near the kitchen stove and went out the swinging dog door. Outside, King probably yawned and stretched his paws, sniffing the air. He must have known the mulberries would be ripening soon. Miss Shirley figured that King circled the piece of steak on the ground, then gorged himself on the tasty and unexpectedly deadly midnight snack.