Nobody's There (5 page)

Abbie expected Mrs. Merkel to give a rude answer, but instead she turned around and smiled at everyone in the group, enjoying the praise, seemingly thrilled at having her idea accepted. Abbie surprised herself by feeling a sudden pang of sympathy for Mrs. Merkel.
I didn't realize she feels left out
, she thought.
Maybe if she were nicer to people
 …

“Usually I'm the only one here who
can
think,” Mrs. Merkel added, and Abbie's sympathy vanished.

Lawanda hefted herself to her feet. “There's nothin' I like better'n shoppin',” she said. “I want to be a Mystery Shopper.”

Officer Martin wrote Lawanda's name on a pad of paper on her clipboard, and everyone announced what they'd be willing to do.

Suddenly Abbie realized that everyone was looking at Mrs. Merkel. When she didn't respond, Jose said, “How about that? Edna the loudmouth's got nothing to say.”

“Sure, I've got something to say,” Mrs. Merkel answered. “I'm waiting for the lady cop to leave so we can get back to our book club business. Now that I've got a driver, I don't intend to miss a single meeting.”

An evil sparkle appeared in Jose's eyes. “I make a motion,” he said loudly. “Why don't we disband the book club and use our time to work for the Buckler Bloodhounds?”

Abbie saw him elbow Sam, who added, “I second the motion.”

“Oh, my! Then I suppose we'd better vote. All in favor?” Gladys asked.

The ayes were unanimous, except for Edna Merkel.

Olivia put a hand on Mrs. Merkel's shoulder. “I'm sorry you don't want to join us,” she said.

Mrs. Merkel angrily shook Olivia's hand away. “Who said I wasn't going to join you? I am. You all remember when I helped the police catch that guy who was parked near the children's playground?”

Jose let out a loud groan, and some of the others looked pained.

“We heard the story,” Lawanda said.

“Many times,” Dolores added.

Addressing herself to Officer Martin, Mrs. Merkel bragged, “I did just what you said. I kept my eyes and ears open and noticed things. When I saw the same car parked on the street across from the playground with that guy sitting in it, I knew he was up to no good. So I gave his license number and description to the police. When they checked him out, they found he had a record.”

“That was good detective work,” Officer Martin said. “That's exactly what we want.”

“You didn't hear the rest of the story,” Jose said. “When the guy got out of his car and walked toward the playground, Edna hit him with her handbag. The police didn't come because of her call, they came because they thought they were stopping a case of assault and battery. She's the one who should have been arrested.”

“I was just making a citizen's arrest.” Mrs. Merkel sneered at Jose as she added, “I've also had experience turning in illegals.” She said to Officer Martin, “It's decided. I'll be a private eye for Buckler's Bloodhounds.”

Jose hooted. “There aren't any private eyes in the Bloodhounds.”

Officer Martin politely smiled at Mrs. Merkel and said, “We like to think of senior citizen investigators as neighborhood scouts.”

“Don't call me a senior citizen,” Mrs. Merkel snapped. “That's a label for old people. And what kind of a name is
neighborhood scouts
? Do these scouts also help old ladies cross the street?” She tapped the officer's clipboard. “Write my name on there the way I told you: Edna Merkel, private eye.” She glanced scornfully at the others. “I'm not afraid to take on a dangerous job.”

Officer Martin took a quick step forward. “Please, let me assure you all, there is no danger in any of the jobs you're asked to do. We don't want you to confront someone who is breaking the law. We simply want information. You know—license number, name of the company contacting you, time, place—you'll be given literature that will explain all that.”

Later, after the meeting had disbanded and Abbie was driving Mrs. Merkel home, she asked, “Mr. Morales seems like such a nice person. Why is he so angry with you?”

Mrs. Merkel chuckled gleefully. “Jose and his son have a landscaping service. They have a rapid turnover with their crews, so they get help wherever they can. That means hiring illegal aliens who have sneaked into the country.”

Abbie was puzzled. “How do you know they do this?”

“Their crews work in our neighborhood—mow lawns, trim bushes, and all that. I keep a sharp eye out. I remember faces. The law's the law. You can't hire illegals. So twice now I've notified the INS to check them out, and I was right. Jose and his son have had to pay fines. One more time and
they're in really big trouble.” She looked smug as she added, “Which they may be in again. Their excuse is that they can't get enough U.S. citizens or foreigners with green cards to do the work, but that doesn't matter. I'm not going to let Jose get away with breaking the law.”

She deliberately got Jose into trouble
, Abbie thought.
And it looks as if she plans to do it again. No wonder he can't stand her.

As Abbie stopped the car in front of the walkway to Mrs. Merkel's front door, Mrs. Merkel ordered, “Come inside. As my assistant, you'll need to know what to do.”

Abbie looked at her watch. “I've been with you all afternoon,” she said. “I have to get home to help my mom make dinner and have the car there if she needs it. You know I'm using my mother's car to drive you around.”

Mrs. Merkel stubbornly folded her arms across her chest. “Then I'll tell you what you need to know right here,” she said.

Abbie sighed, realizing that she was going to have to listen whether she wanted to or not.

“First of all, you can't talk about what you see or hear when you're with me. I wouldn't be surprised if I just might be involved with a major case, and I don't want you spilling the beans to people I'm investigating.”

“I'm not going to spill anything. I think you've watched too many old private-eye shows on TV.”

“Don't interrupt. Children should be seen and not heard.” Mrs. Merkel hurried on. “Your main job will be to drive me where I need to go and
make sure I don't misplace any of my equipment.”

“What equipment?”

“Don't ask stupid questions. Private-eye equipment. Digital phone, notebook and pen, dark glasses, maybe a camera. Now, tomorrow—”

“Sundays I get off.” Remembering what was printed on one of the sheets in her folder, Abbie quickly added, “And on Monday after school the girls who are in the Friend to Friend program will meet with Mrs. Wilhite.”

“A lot of good it's going to do me to have
you
for a driver!” Mrs. Merkel complained.

“The meetings are only one Monday a month,” Abbie explained.

“I'd say they're one Monday too many. You already know what they expect you to do, so anything else is a waste of time.”

Abbie wanted to laugh, realizing that she and Mrs. Merkel had finally agreed on one thing. “I'll see you Tuesday after school,” Abbie said. “Would you like me to drive you to the grocery store?”

Mrs. Merkel brightened. “I'd like to go to that big supermarket in the new shopping center,” she said. “The store in my neighborhood has a bunch of losers for clerks. They can't get along with anybody.”

“I'll see you Tuesday,” Abbie said, eager to leave.

Mrs. Merkel nodded before she slowly climbed out of the car. She paused before she closed the door, bending down to look in at Abbie. “Tuesday
at three o'clock. Don't be late. No excuses. Besides going grocery shopping, I've got big things in mind. I won't tell you my idea because you'd just blab it to everybody.”

The excited flush on Mrs. Merkel's face worried Abbie. “Remember what Officer Martin told you,” she said. “The police don't want you to do anything dangerous.”

Mrs. Merkel's eyes narrowed. “Maybe I should let that stupid group leader know you're uncooperative.”

For an instant Abbie closed her eyes, pretending in the darkness that she could magically cause Mrs. Merkel and Mrs. Wilhite to disappear. She opened her eyes again, half hoping her wish had come true, only to see Mrs. Merkel staring at her.

Abbie sighed. “I'll be here on Tuesday at three o'clock,” she said.

O
n Sunday morning after church, Mrs. Thompson drove Abbie and Davy to the Pancake House.

“How come we're here?” Davy asked as he pressed his nose against the car window. “We only eat here on birthdays.”

“And special occasions,” Mrs. Thompson said, her voice so light and bright that Abbie half expected to see stars float out of her mouth with her words.

“Why is this a special occasion?” Abbie asked. She tried to think what they might be celebrating and came up blank.

“We're celebrating the beginning of more family time together,” her mother answered.

Davy threw off his seat belt, bouncing on the seat. “You mean Dad will be here too?” he shouted.

Mrs. Thompson sucked in her breath. “No, honey. He won't be here. It will be just you and Abbie and me. We're the family now. And we're going to have fun and do things together and talk—really talk—to each other.”

As Mrs. Thompson opened her car door and stepped out, Davy confronted Abbie. His eyes reddened with the tears he was obviously fighting to hold back. “What's with Mom?” he demanded.

Abbie shrugged. “I don't know. Humor her.”

Davy's lower lip curled out, and he frowned. “It's because of you.”

“Me?”

“Getting arrested. Now Mom's gonna try to be Supermom and drive us crazy, and it's all your fault.”

Shocked, Abbie tried to answer, but Davy had jumped out, slamming the door so hard that the car rocked. Abbie got out of the car on the other side and hurried to catch up with her mother, who had crossed the parking lot and was waiting for them in the shade of the restaurant's overhang.

Abbie took a good look at her mother. The breeze from the bay had caught the hem of her pale blue skirt, swirling it around her long legs. Her strawberry-blond hair, which Abbie was glad she'd inherited, gleamed in the late-morning light. For a moment Abbie could see her mother
not as a middle-aged woman, fifteen pounds overweight, but as a young woman excited and happy about life. That must have been the way Abbie's father had seen her when they first fell in love.

As Mrs. Thompson stepped inside the air-conditioned restaurant, Abbie caught up with Davy. She gripped his shoulder hard. “Don't do anything to spoil Mom's day, or you're history,” she said.

“Quit that,” Davy complained. He tried to wriggle free.

Abbie released her grip, but she said, “I mean it. Mom's had a tough time, so be nice to her.”

Davy whirled to face her, anger still in his eyes. “
Mom's
had a tough time? What about
us
? What about
me
? Because of her I haven't got a dad around anymore.”

“You're wrong!” Abbie cried. “Dad left because he didn't want us. As far as he was concerned, we were nothing. We were nobody. It's not Mom's fault.”

“Shut up! That's a big lie! Dad wants us to live with him—I know he does—but Mom won't let us.”

Abbie saw the fear and desperation in Davy's eyes. Aching for him, and hating her father even more, she put an arm around Davy's shoulders. “Right now it doesn't matter what you believe or if you're right or wrong. We're all hurting,” she said. “Be good to Mom. Okay?”

Davy broke away. He ran to the door of the
restaurant, tugged it open, and disappeared inside.

Soon they were seated, menus in hand. Abbie stared at the words, which became unreadable dark squiggles on the page. She wasn't hungry. She really didn't want pancakes. She didn't want anything more than life as it used to be, and that was impossible.

“Oh, doesn't everything look wonderful?” Mrs. Thompson asked cheerfully. Her voice was so high and brittle Abbie winced, expecting the words to shatter and crash to the floor. “Davy, they've got that Strawberry Tower you like so much.”

“I hate Strawberry Towers,” Davy grumbled.

Abbie kicked his ankle under the table. He automatically kicked back, and she jumped as his shoe connected with her shin. Behind the menu she glared at him, but he simply looked away, as if he didn't care what she had promised or threatened.

“How about the apple pecan pancakes?” Mrs. Thompson asked, her voice less perky.

Aching for her mother, who was trying much too hard, Abbie said, “Great idea, Mom. That's exactly what I want.”

“Davy?” Mrs. Thompson asked.

Someone suddenly stepped between Abbie and Davy, resting his hands on their shoulders. Startled, Abbie quickly glanced up and saw her father.

“Dad!” Davy shouted so joyfully that people nearby turned to look and smile.