Magic Line (17 page)

Sarah said, ‘Where did he go to start?' and thought about her sister Janine and some of the places she had gone. Janine had been looking for herself for so long now it seemed as if the search must have become the destination. Sarah understood Zebulon's mother very well and had no helpful suggestions.

‘My daughter let him sleep at her place for a while.' Luella Butts shook her head, grieving. ‘She works the same shift as I do at the hospital and when she told me about it I said, “Baby, that's a mistake.” I said, “What's the use me doing tough love and then you take up the slack?” But she said, “Mom, we can't have him sleeping in the park with bums.” Well, I'd already thought about that; she ought to know I would think about that plenty. But the young always think they know better. She learned soon enough I was right. Before long he did what he always does.'

‘What's that?'

‘Takes advantage. Can't be satisfied with what you offer, has to have more. Messed her place up – after she warned him!' Luella Butts was twisting her hands together now. ‘So in the end she threw him out, too.'

Sarah said, ‘Where'd he go from there?'

‘Janet says she doesn't know and she doesn't want to know. “Just keep him away from me,” she said. How am I supposed to do that when I don't know where he is? But Zeb does that to people, makes them so frustrated – it's like he can't see past the end of his own nose sometimes. What kind of a crime scene?' she asked Ollie suddenly.

‘The one that's in the paper, the home invasion with the shooting.'

‘Omigod.' She clutched her chest. ‘Are you saying Zeb was there? Is that where you took this picture?'

‘Not at the house,' Ollie said. ‘He was running on a street a couple of blocks from there and—'

‘Well, then, you don't really know he had anything to do with it, do you?'

‘No. He's just a person of interest at this time. If you could tell me where to find him—'

‘Was that a drug deal gone bad?' Luella asked him, rolling out her
CSI
jargon.

‘Well, uh, I'm sorry, I'm afraid I can't . . . we aren't free to release details until I find him and talk to him.' Ollie hardly ever used official cant, and when he did he sounded embarrassed. Luella Butts took his embarrassment as an admission of dishonesty and pounced on it.

‘Now see here,' she said, ‘I pay plenty of taxes, I hold up my end, and I don't have to put up with this.' She had been carrying a lot of anger around for a long time and Ollie was standing right in the path of it now. ‘You come here to my house, two of you with guns and badges, probably get all my neighbors asking me questions, talking about me behind my back. And now you can't give me any details? What kind of bullshit is that?'

‘We're not playing tricks on you, Mrs Butts,' Sarah said. ‘We just need to talk to Zebulon.'

‘I'll bet it's got something to do with that sneaky kid named Robin that's always getting Zeb to come help him with something. Am I right? Thinks he's so smart, that guy. But he's no good for anything but causing trouble.'

‘I honestly don't know if he's involved,' Ollie said. ‘Do you know where I can find Robin?'

‘No, I don't. And why should I tell you if I did? You can't tell
me
anything
I
need to know, can you? So why don't you just get the hell out? Go on and leave me alone.' They did their best to reason with her, offered her their cards in case she . . . ‘Forget that, I won't call you. I don't want to see you again ever!' she yelled. She was in a rage now, all stops out and enjoying the release. ‘Never around when I need you, let me get run over on the street by these crazies going through red lights, and then you come here in my own house and bother me? Just get out!' She threw open the door and stood in it, pointing. As she had predicted, a couple of neighbors had come out to watch.

Finally they gave it up and started back to the car. When they were halfway down the walk she leaned out of her door and shouted after them: ‘You better not hurt him when you do find him. You hear me?'

Ollie said, driving away, ‘Sure wish we got the daughter's address before she blew.'

‘I bet I can find her anyway. Didn't Luella say her name was Janet? And she didn't mention a son-in-law. Janet's last name's probably still Butts. Pull over in this patch of shade and I'll research her.' Pictures were already dancing on her small screen. ‘Same shift at Carondolet as Mama, that's what she said, right?

‘Yes.' Watching her work, he said, ‘Wish I had a smarter phone.'

‘Why don't you?'

‘All those daughters.'

‘Come on, you only have two.'

‘They seem like more. So many needs.'

‘OK, I've got her. Janet Butts, she's an admissions clerk at Carondolet.'

‘Young girls are like alien life forms invading a swamp, you know?' Ollie's big hands curled into claws. ‘Spreading unchecked, growing and changing . . .' Sarah had heard Ollie's family rant so often she knew parts of it by heart. She went on searching, found Janet Butts on Facebook and LinkedIn. By the time he got to the part about special shampoos and slumber parties she had email and street addresses. ‘No phone number yet but come on, let's go there and find her.'

‘Probably just get yelled at again,' Ollie said.

‘So what? Sometimes they yell something useful.'

‘Especially when they're family,' Ollie said. ‘Don't get me started on families.'

‘I won't.' She gave him the address and in a few minutes she said, ‘I think it's that big apartment complex up ahead there, behind the bus stop.'

Janet Butts was home and let them in reluctantly. She didn't shed any tears over the picture, just nodded and handed it back to Sarah.

‘That's your brother?'

‘Yes. Are you going to arrest him?'

‘We just want to talk to him,' Ollie said. ‘When did you see him last?'

‘Tuesday morning. Early, about six o'clock, when I threw him out of here and told him never to come back.'

‘He made you mad, huh?'

‘Yes, he did.'

‘What did he do?'

She drew a shaky breath. ‘He didn't stay in the laundry room where he belonged.'

‘He belongs in the laundry? How come?'

‘Because he . . .' She began to pace. ‘When he comes out he cooks my food, sits in my chair . . .' Sarah and Ollie watched her, waiting to hear the bad part. She blew up suddenly like her mother, yelling, ‘See, that's the infuriating thing about Zeb: when I say what he does wrong it makes me sound so petty! Because I can never explain how with him it's always one little thing after a hundred other little things, and—' Breathing hard, she gave it up. ‘Hopeless,' she muttered.

Ollie said, ‘So . . . you haven't seen him since Tuesday morning?'

‘No. I mean, not to talk to.'

Four detectives' eyes fastened on her like magnets on metal. Sarah said, ‘Not to talk to, but you did see him?'

‘At the gas station. And that's infuriating too – what's he doing, getting a car serviced in my neighborhood? He doesn't live here!'

‘We don't know,' Ollie said. ‘We were kind of hoping you'd tell us.'

‘I have no idea.' She shrugged, walked around some more, shrugged again. Zeb seemed to be the kind of a guy who made women pace and shrug. ‘But that old car – I've seen it around here before with somebody else driving it.'

‘Who?'

‘I can't remember!' She tossed her hair back, combed it with her fingers.

‘Tell us about the car,' Sarah said. Janet looked puzzled. ‘Can you describe it?'

‘Well . . . I don't . . . it's gray. Kind of old-looking.'

‘Two doors or four?'

‘Wow, I don't know. Just . . . kind of square and stodgy . . . like that thing they say . . . your father's,' she flapped her hands, ‘whatever.'

‘It's an Oldsmobile?'

‘No. Um . . . I want to say Buick. Mom had a Buick for a while and seems to me it was square like that and had a logo like, kind of . . . shields?'

‘Very good,' Ollie said, encouraging. ‘But you can't describe the person who was driving it before?'

‘No. I can't remember. Isn't that crazy? But soon as I saw Zeb standing by it, I thought, what's he doing with
that
car?'

‘Tell you what,' Sarah said, handing her a card, ‘if you see that car or your brother again, will you call me?'

Janet looked at the card but didn't take it. ‘I don't want to get involved in anything that's going on with Zeb.'

‘You won't. Just make the phone call and we'll take it from there.'

‘I know you mean well,' Janet said, ‘but you don't understand how hard it is to not get involved with a screw-up like my brother.'

In the end she took the card. But Sarah said, as they drove away, ‘I bet she throws it away as soon as we're out of sight.'

‘I'm beginning to want to meet this guy,' Ollie said.

‘Me, too,' Sarah said. ‘Those are two very frustrated women. But they can't seem to explain why, can they?'

‘No. But . . . a screw-up, they say . . . he doesn't sound like a murderer, does he?'

‘No,' Sarah said, ‘he sounds like a mope who makes women crazy. And all that screaming, coming after three autopsies . . . please say it's quitting time.'

‘OK,' Ollie said, heading back to the station. ‘It's quitting time.'

‘I've never been that crazy about Wednesdays, anyway,' Sarah said, waxing irrational because fatigue was swamping her, ‘and today I'm trapped in one that's determined to go on forever.'

‘I'm with you all the way on this issue,' Ollie said. ‘We'll start a Hate Wednesday club; I bet everybody will join.'

Turning in at her house an hour later, though, the big trees all in fresh leaf, mockingbirds noisy in the high branches, and the good smell of something with beef and tomatoes, she left the department behind. She'd had her doubts about moving the four of them into this house together –
My mother, my niece and my boyfriend? Sounds like a French farce
. But Will had convinced her it was the only way they'd ever have any time together. And bless him, bless everybody, so far it was working better than she'd dared to expect. They were getting used to the house and each other, each finding their favorite spots to be alone in and the best places to talk when they felt gabby.

Denny ran out the door as she parked, grinning and waving a piece of paper. The second the car stopped she yanked open the driver's-side door and yelled, ‘I got A's in English and Math both, and Gram's teaching me how to make lasagna!'

‘Well, hey, a better than average day, huh? Come in with me while I change and show me that beautiful report card.'

In the master bedroom she locked away her shield and service weapon and got into soft clothes. Denny danced around her, showing off the good grades and telling her the rest of it, ‘The really super part.' Mr Carson, the math teacher, had kept Denny and two other students after class. ‘We were all like, oh, wow, what did we do wrong?'

But no, he wanted to tell them that since they all had near-perfect scores for three months running they were eligible to apply for a grant-sponsored math camp this summer. ‘Two weeks in the White Mountains and it's free and he'll help us fill out the forms, so can I go? Please, please, please?'

‘Of course you can go, if – I mean, is there something that tells parents who the supervisors are? And do you live in tents or . . . And who cooks?'

Denny said, ‘There's a brochure, what did I do with it? Oh, rats, it's in my backpack.' She started out the door.

‘Wait,' Sarah said. If it was in Denny's backpack they might never see it again. A low-level argument about the weighty clutter in Denny's backpack had been going on all year but right now she didn't want it to spoil the good mood the kid had earned.

‘Take your time – find it while I see if I can help Mom with dinner. I'm so proud of you; let's have a hug.' They treated each other to a big, rocking-and-patting embrace. ‘Now after all that praise you ought to be strong enough to sort out your backpack.'

Denny made a face and cried out, ‘Truly, Watson, there are times when the extraordinary demands of my vocation are daunting! I must go back to Baker Street and continue my research!' She staggered into her room, clutching her heart.

Sarah walked into the kitchen and told her mother, ‘Maybe I overdid it, giving her the whole collection of Sherlock Holmes.'

‘Better for her vocabulary than
Little
Women
,' Aggie said. ‘At least she's quit calling me Marmee.' She was sitting on a high stool spinning salad greens in a drying bowl. ‘You're home for dinner two nights in a row. Any chance this will start a trend?'

‘I hope. Can I finish the salad?'

‘Sure. Pull up the other stool. Veggies there in the crisper.' As Sarah chopped she said, ‘Denny tell you about the math camp?'

‘Did she ever. She's so excited. You think it sounds OK?'

‘Oh, it
sounds
wonderful. I guess to make sure we'll have to go over to the school and eyeball that teacher.'

‘You don't think he's—'

‘I haven't heard anything to make me dubious. But I don't want to sit here in July and worry about it.'

‘For sure. I'd like to meet the counselors, too, and some of the parents of kids who've gone to it before. Do you think,' Sarah threw cucumber slices on top of the lettuce, ‘if more people understood that parenting is just one worrying fit after another, the birth rate would be lower?'

Aggie made a small ironic sound. ‘Probably not. We all think we're going to be that one perfect person who can pull it off without a hitch.'