Hiding in Plain Sight (7 page)

“I
was
,” he grumbled, “but this here food, if you can even call it that, ain't fit to eat. Ruined my appetite.”

I looked at the dinner plate, where a thin slice of meat lay in congealed, nearly transparent gravy. Beside it, limp green beans sat in a puddle of water next to a blob of mashed potatoes. I saw that he'd taken a few bites but most of it was undisturbed. I have to admit it didn't exactly look appetizing.

“It looks cold,” I said slowly. “Maybe there's some-where I could heat it up for you.”

“Nah,” he said, “it was warm when it got here. It just doesn't taste like real food.”

“Is there anything I could get for you? From the cafeteria, maybe?” I asked.

“Thanks, little one,” he said, “but it's probably all the same. I'll have a bite of toast later. Anyway, how's Ernie?”

“He's fine.” I smiled to show I meant it. “A bit headstrong, maybe.”

“He is at that,” Mr. Stanley chuckled. “But he's still a fine fellow underneath it all. I'm awful thankful you're taking care of him.”

“The days must be long for you in here,” I said after we'd chatted for a few more minutes. “Would you like me to bring something for you to read?”

“Well, now, I think I would,” he said, nodding. “If it's not too far out of your way, would you stop at the library and get me
Seventeen
by Booth Tarkington?”

I'd never heard of either the book or the author, so I hauled out my notepad and scribbled them down, told him I'd do my best to have it for him the next day, and left. The thought of his cold, dismal dinner made me stop in the hallway and add “fruit and snacks” underneath his book request.

I stopped to call Mom before continuing on to the Thompsons' house, just to let her know I'd be late for
dinner. She asked how my first day had gone, said she'd put a plate in the fridge for me to reheat later, then told me she and Dad were going to the Austers' place to play Canasta.

As I made my way along Hubert Street, I couldn't help thinking that Mom was starting to loosen up a bit. There was a time not too long ago when she'd have asked me a thousand questions about why I was going to be late, where I was going, how long I'd be there, and on and on. It used to drive me crazy, so it was kind of strange how I felt almost, well, sad that she'd let up on the interrogations. It's not like I was feeling sorry for myself or thinking she just didn't care anymore or anything crazy like that. Just that it was a bit strange to be treated less and less like her little girl. Which, of course, I no longer am.

Anyway, I got to the Thompsons' house and went around to the side door, which everyone uses. Betts answered my knock, shoved the door open, and turned away as I stepped inside.

“Something wrong?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she said, her voice heavy and helpless. “The police arrested Mom.”

“No!”

“About three hours ago. They took her to the station, but Dad went down too because they said she'd be released once the charges were laid. Then I think they
said she'll have to go to court for a plea or trial or however it works. I wasn't listening all that carefully, if you want the truth. Do you know anything about that stuff?”

“No, not really. Anyway, that's down the road. The best thing to do is deal with things as they happen and not worry too much about what's supposed to happen later. Did your mom call her lawyer to meet her at the police station?”

“I think she told Dad to do that when they were taking her to the car. Can you imagine!” Betts's voice suddenly quavered and her mouth trembled as tears began. “My mom! In jail! I just can't believe it. Why can't they see that there's no way she did something like that?”

By the time she'd managed to get that much out, she'd broken right down and was sobbing too hard to say anything further. My heart went out to her, and I hugged her until she finally stopped.

“It just feels so unreal, you know?” she said softly. “How can they even think that about her? I mean,
why
would my mother do something like that? She is
not
a criminal!”

“I wish I knew what to say,” I said, feeling as helpless as she'd sounded earlier. “I can't imagine how hard this must be for all of you.”

It was true, too, I couldn't. I tried to visualize my own mother being arrested and charged with a crime, but the idea was so ludicrous I couldn't summon any
kind of mental picture of it. Of course, last week I'd have said that nothing like this could possibly happen to Betts's mom, either.

What I
could
understand was why it would be almost easy for the police to believe Mrs. Thompson was guilty. Not only did the evidence point straight at her, but the temptation of that much money created an obvious motive. The only consolation in that thought was knowing that kind of motive would apply to anyone.

Not wanting to leave her alone, I stayed with Betts for the next hour and we talked about the whole thing, but it was like going around and around in circles.

I had intended to leave right away when Mr. and Mrs. Thompson arrived home. Instead, I found that Mrs. Thompson really wanted to see me.

“Shelby, I've told my lawyer about you, that you're working at NUTEC and trying to see what you can find out from inside the office. He thinks I'm quite mad, I'm sure, but I made it clear I'm not budging on this. At least he's not still talking about taking a plea bargain, but he's got who knows how many cases, and every conversation we have, he manages to bring up money one way or another.

“So, I instructed him to copy the file for you. Every document, photo, every last scrap of evidence. He's to have it ready for you tomorrow and I'll send Keith to
pick it up. I'll give it to you when you come by after leaving NUTEC.”

“There won't be any problem for me to keep working there?” I asked. It seemed possible that now that she'd been charged officially she'd no longer have any authority at work. If she even still had a job, that is.

“Oh, they'll keep you all right. They have no choice. I'm still the boss, even though I'll be suspended until there's an actual verdict. If I were to be convicted, then they'd have cause to fire me, but not before. Anyway, Darla has been very supportive of me through this whole thing. She'll do whatever I ask of her if she thinks it will help.”

The problem was, Darla couldn't help
me
because she didn't know my real role at NUTEC, and I was still unwilling to have anyone there told the truth about that. Still, there was no point in adding to Mrs. Thompson's worry at the moment. I said nothing and hoped that something would happen to clear my best friend's mother very soon.

I
'd barely walked into the kitchen at my place when I heard a crash from the living room. Since I knew I was home alone, it scared me half to death until I saw the black streak tear down the hall and disappear under the table behind me.

“What have you done?” I asked, leaning down and shaking my head. Whatever it was, it sure didn't sound like something Mom was going to be happy about.

Ernie looked back at me, wild-eyed and terrified. I could almost see his little kitty heart pounding.

“Oh, you're all right,” I told him. “No need to put on a big show just to try to get out of trouble.” Then it occurred to me that maybe something had fallen
on
him and he could be hurt.

“C'mere,” I whispered softly, holding my hand out toward him. “It's okay, don't be scared.”

Ernie showed no sign of regaining his courage right then, and I figured trying to grab him would only lead to more trouble. Besides, he wasn't bleeding or any-thing, so chances were good he'd only frightened him-self. Maybe, I thought, that will be a deterrent to future bad behaviour.

I went to the living room to inspect the damage and found that he'd knocked over a ceramic peacock that my dad's sister, Aunt Denise, had made. It was in dozens of pieces. I groaned inwardly and started gathering it up. This was bound to be the end of the line for Ernie. No way was Mom going to let me keep him another day.

You'd almost think, with all the havoc he'd created, that would have been a relief, but oddly enough, it was-n't. I was getting more and more fond of the little guy. Besides, I didn't want to let Mr. Stanley down.

There wasn't much I could do about it, though I had a moment of temptation when I thought of cleaning it up and not saying anything. It was possible that Mom might not notice for a while. (Dad might
never
notice, being a guy and all, so it was only Mom I had to worry about.) I dismissed the idea quickly, though, because it's been my experience that I'm not what you'd call lucky with that sort of situation. Somehow, I knew, it would come back and cause me grief.

I gathered up all the brightly coloured chunks of ceramic and carried them to the kitchen, where I bagged
them in a couple of paper bags and then a plastic one, which I tied. That went into the garbage in the porch, and I grabbed the broom and dustpan to go sweep up the rest. Before I could get there, though, the phone rang.

“Hello?” The call display said unknown number. Probably a telemarketer.

“Hey! You're home.”

“Greg!” My heart leapt with excitement and happiness to hear his voice on the other end.

“Yeah. I called earlier and your mom said you were at work.”

“Mmhmm. I started a new job today, at NUTEC.” I hesitated and then filled him in as quickly as I could on the whole story.

“There's
no
danger,” I emphasized as I wrapped it up. Greg has a bit of a problem when he thinks I'm doing things that could get me hurt or killed. I guess boyfriends tend to be like that.

“Be really careful anyway,” he said quietly. “If the stolen software is worth millions, well, there are people who would do almost anything to make sure they don't lose that kind of money.”

“Don't worry. I'll be careful,” I said. “Anyway, when are you coming home?”

“Hopefully in a couple more days.” He made this funny sound then, like a he was clearing his throat and groaning at the same time. “I miss you like crazy, Shelby.”

“Me too. I mean, I miss
you
. I can't wait to see you.” I sighed and added, “I wish you were coming home now.”

“I do too, in a way, but in another way I'm glad we're here. This trip has been really good for Dad. I think it's the closest he's been to happy since my mom died.”

Greg's mother died in a fire two years ago, the summer before he and his dad moved to Little River. His father, Dr. Taylor, is a really nice guy, but you can always see this sadness in him, even behind laughter. I was happy to hear that the trip was doing him so much good.

“He's so much more like his old self, relaxed and everything,” Greg went on. “I've gotten used to seeing a hint of strain in him, no matter how hard he tries to hide it. It's great to see him like this.”

“I'm really glad to hear it, Greg,” I said. “I like your dad a lot.”

“That's one of the many things I admire about you,” Greg said softly. “You always think of others.”

“Well, I'm pretty much a saint,” I said lightly, embarrassed by the compliment.

“I'm not sure I'd go quite that far,” he said. “Anyway, I'd better get going. I'll try to call you again when I know for sure what day we're leaving to come home.”

“Okay.” I swallowed hard, trying not to feel sad. “I'm awful glad you called.”

“Me too. Bye.”

“Bye,” I said. I held the phone for a couple of seconds until I heard the click, just in case. Then I slowly put the receiver back on the cradle and took a deep breath.

I told myself that it would be ridiculous to cry, but I knew I was on the verge anyway. A sharp pang of loneliness jabbed me right in the stomach and made it kind of hard to breathe properly.

Tears were threatening to form when I felt something land in my lap, purring loudly.

“Ernie!” I said, startled. “What are you doing?”

In answer, he rubbed his face against my arm a few times, kneaded me like a lump of dough, and then curled into a ball and made himself good and comfortable. He continued to hum like a little motor and gland me with the side of his face. It was a welcome distraction, and I found myself patting him and scratching his chin gently, which made him purr even louder.

“You're not such a bad guy, are you?” I said. “I'm not sure how we're going to get you out of the spot you're in over the broken peacock, but I'll see what I can do. Mom might give you one more chance, but you've got to start behaving a bit better.”

I was right in the middle of my speech when he suddenly jumped down and walked off. It occurred to me that he'd sensed my mood and come to comfort me, then left when he figured the job was done. That made
me really determined to somehow persuade Mom to let him off this time.

Turned out, though, that there was no persuading needed. When they got home I explained what had happened and begged Mom not to evict the poor little guy.

“Well, now, it
was
just an accident,” Mom said. “We'll just put anything valuable out of harm's way while he's here.”

While Dad went off to make himself a snack, she patted Ernie and told him it was okay. Her reaction was nothing like what I'd expected, and I told her I was surprised how well she'd taken it.

“There are some things that are, uh, easier to part with than others,” she whispered, winking at me. “In fact, do you think you can get him to knock over the ceramic elephant in my sewing room, too?”

“Mom!” I was shocked in spite of my relief. “Aunt Denise made those things for you!”

“Yes,” she said sadly, “I know. That's why they've been on display all this time.”