The Popsicle Tree (3 page)

Carlene and her girlfriend had moved to Carrington, where Carlene's sister lived, and where Jared taught at the college, about a year before. She and her girlfriend had been together since before Kelly was born. I gathered, from her reluctance to talk too much about it, that they had broken up very recently and she and Kelly had moved here. She'd found a job almost immediately, and had lived in a furnished apartment until she was able to buy a few basic pieces of furniture, then moved into our building. Kelly was enrolled in a day care/preschool run by a pair of lesbian sisters for the kids of gay parents. (Another significant look from Jonathan.)

When we adjourned to the kitchen, Kelly immediately spotted and headed for Jonathan's fish tank.

“Look, Mommy! They got fishes!” he proclaimed, standing on tiptoe trying to touch the tank. Jonathan scooped him up easily and held him in one arm as he pointed out each fish by name. Carlene looked at me with a bemused smile, and I excused myself to go to the bedroom to retrieve an empty hardcover suitcase to put on Kelly's chair so he could reach the table.

*

They left shortly before eight, and we finished cleaning up the kitchen, and then went into the living room to watch a little TV. Jonathan had been uncharacteristically quiet, and I was pretty sure I knew why.

“That was nice, wasn't it?”

“Yeah,” and, before he had a chance to say it, I added, “and Kelly was very well-behaved. Except perhaps for bursting into tears when Carlene wouldn't let him give the fish some of his cake. But Carlene must be exhausted by the end of the day. I suspect four-year-olds can be quite a handful.”

He looked at me out of the corner of his eye, but didn't say anything. It wasn't a very happy look.

You're a real wet blanket, Hardesty,
a mind-voice said disapprovingly, and I felt just mildly guilty for not being as enthusiastic as I'm sure Jonathan wanted me to be.

I was curious to know more about Carlene—whether she'd been married, who and where Kelly's father was, about the breakup with her partner, which I gathered had not been a smooth one…of course none of it was any of my business, but that didn't make me any the less curious.

*

I got up the next morning well before seven, managed to get out of bed without waking Jonathan, showered and dressed. I then woke him so he could get ready for work.

“How come you're already dressed?” he asked sleepily, propping himself up on one arm.

“I want to get to Cramer Motors before it opens, so I can see what sort of car a couple of people drive.”

“Why's that?” he asked, throwing the sheet and covers aside.

I tried not to look at him. I knew if I did I might not make it out of the apartment.

“I think I just might do a little basic detective work. I'll take the camera with me, too.”

“There isn't any film in it. I took all the film from our trip in to that photo place near work for developing, and I think the camera's empty.”

He came over, naked, to give me a hug, and…

“Hey, watch it!” he said. “I've got to get to work, and so do you!”

I hate it when he's right.

*

I parked close to the alley behind the lot, where I could watch the employees driving into the small parking area directly behind the office. Cramer's (I assumed) Cadillac was already there. A few minutes later, another car pulled in from the other end of the alley—the late-model Chevy I'd noticed before. I couldn't tell who was driving until I saw Judi Cramer emerge. She did not go directly into the office's back door, however, but stood there as if waiting for someone. Sure enough, a few seconds later, an older model Dodge station wagon passed me and turned into the alley. I recognized the driver as Dean Arbuckle. Even from my distance I could see Judi's face light up.

Arbuckle got out of his car, walked over to her, glanced around to see that no one was looking—
I
was, of course, but he obviously didn't see me—and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. She went to touch his arm, but he said something to her, and she went into the building. Arbuckle stayed outside and lit a cigarette, leaning his back against the building.

Damn! I wish I'd had anticipated that little scenario—it would have made a great photo if I'd have known it was coming, and if there'd been any film in the camera. Well, maybe it was a little morning ritual. I'd be back.

OK, that told me all I needed to know at the moment. When Arbuckle had finished his cigarette and gone into the office, I started the engine and drove down the alley behind the parked cars. I slowed down when I passed the Chevy and memorized the license number.

Since I had the camera with me, I decided to take another drive out to Arbuckle's house, in hopes of getting a picture of his new sports car. I had to stop, of course, for film, and on a whim picked up a roll of low-light film along with the regular daylight roll.

When I got to the Arbuckle house, I saw a woman working on a flowerbed beside the driveway. The garage door was indeed open, and the sports car was where I'd seen it before. I drove halfway around the block and parked. Not wanting to appear obvious about what I was doing, I put the camera in the glove compartment, locked it, and walked around the block to where the woman was still busily at work pulling blades of grass from between the flowers. She saw me as I approached, and when I got to the driveway I stopped, looking at the car in the garage as if I'd just noticed it.

“A beautiful car!” I said to the woman, who looked up and smiled.

“Isn't it? It's my husband's. He'll let me ride in it, but he won't let me drive it.”

I sighed. “I've always wanted one just like it,” I said, “but it's way, way out of my price range. And it looks brand new, too.”

“It is,” she said proudly. “Just three weeks old! My husband is in the car business, and he was able to get it through his employer—sort of as a bonus for all the double shifts and overtime he puts in.”

I'm sure,
I thought
.

I stared at the car admiringly, making a mental note of the plate number.

“Well, your husband is a lucky man.” I paused just for a moment, then said, “It was nice talking with you,” and continued my walk back to my car.

When I got to the office, I called Bil—yeah, only one “l” for some reason—Dunham, my contact at the DMV, and asked him if he could check on the address of the owner of the Chevy, when the sports car had been registered, and if it might have been owned previously. I sincerely doubted it, and as far as I knew Cramer dealt only in used cars.

He said he would and would get back to me within the hour.

I puttered around the office until, a little less than forty-five minutes later, Bil called with the information. Judi's address, it turned out, was less than three blocks from our apartment. And Arbuckle had registered his
new
car, purchased at City Imports, exactly three weeks ago.

Now, it's possible George Cramer had a very good friend at City Imports who would be happy to give a hefty discount to one of Cramer's employees, but it's also possible that elephants could fly if they ever thought about it.

*

When I got home, I was rather surprised to see Carlene and Kelly in the living room with Jonathan. Kelly was on the floor playing with his dump truck, and neither Carlene nor Jonathan were smiling.

Jonathan got up to give me a hug—still without a smile.

“I think Carlene needs your help.”

We went quickly over to her while Kelly made sounds like a dump truck. I saw she had a piece of paper in her hand.

“What's the problem, Carlene?”

She handed me the paper. On it were written three words:
“You're dead, bitch!”

CHAPTER 2

“I tell you what,” Jonathan said, “why don't Kelly and I take a walk down to the store. I'm almost out of Coke. That way you and Carlene can talk.” He looked at Carlene. “That be okay with you, Carlene?”

“Thank you, Jonathan. That would be nice. I'm so glad you two live here. Kelly needs to have some men in his life.”

Don't we all?
I thought, before pulling myself back to the seriousness of Carlene's situation.

“Come on, Kelly,” Jonathan said extending his hand. “Let's go for a walk.”

Kelly scrambled up off the floor, picked up his dump truck and, tucking it under one arm, took Jonathan's hand with his free hand.

“Can we get candy?” he asked, staring up at Jonathan.

“We'll see,” Jonathan said, leading Kelly to the door. “But if we do, you can't eat it until after supper, okay?” He looked at Carlene for approval, and she nodded.

When they'd left, I took the chair across from Carlene.

Returning the paper to her, I asked, “So, what's this all about?”

She shook her head. “I'm sorry to bother you with this, Dick. I never would have, but we'd just walked in the door and I found it sticking out of my mailbox. It just upset me so that I started crying, and just then Jonathan came in and…well, here I am.”

“Did the envelope have a postmark?”

“No. There wasn't any envelope. It was just folded in half and slid partly into the slot on the mailbox door.”

“Do you know who wrote it?”

She nodded. “It has to be Jan.”

“Jan is…your ex?” I asked, and she nodded again.

“Has she ever done anything like this before?”

She sat back on the couch. “Not like this, no, but…she was my very first lesbian experience. My parents were both dead, and Jan was very protective of me—too protective at times—and after Kelly was born, protective became possessive, of both me and Kelly. We always referred to Kelly as ‘our' baby, but it got to the point where Jan was taking control of our lives. It was as if she wanted to raise him on her terms, and my opinion really didn't matter.

“We began to argue more and more frequently, and the arguments became more intense. And then, during our last argument, she slapped me, and that was it. I just couldn't take any more. The next day I just wrote her a long letter explaining how I felt, and I left.

“Of course I felt terribly guilty about it in a way, for abandoning her. Her father was involved in gambling and loansharking, and was killed when Jan was three. Then when her mother met another man, she just dumped Jan onto an aunt. The aunt raised her as her own, but Jan's never forgiven her real mother, and I can't blame her. What a terrible thing to do to a child. And now I've abandoned her, too, and taken Kelly with me!

“But now she's found me, and I really don't know what to do! She wants Kelly back, and I know she really loves him, and I'm sorry, but I just can't….”

“Is there anything we can do to help?”

I realized that for the umpteenth time I was stepping boldly into something that was none of my business.

She looked at me, as if startled, and quickly said, “Oh, no. No thank you. I'll be fine, really. I just…”

“Look,” I said over the protest of my common sense, “do you think it would help if I were to talk to her?”

She looked at me again, her eyes mirroring her anxiety.

“I really don't know. I know
I
can't, but I can't afford to hire a private investigator.”

“Don't worry about it. It won't cost you anything for me to at least talk to her. If you give me her phone number, I'll see what I can do.”

I got up to get a pad and pencil by the phone and brought it to her.

“Are you sure you don't mind?”

I just shook my head.

“She gets home about six, but obviously she was here in town today.”

“Well, I'll try to call her a little later. In the meantime, if you should have any problems tonight, just stomp on the floor and we'll be right up.”

She managed a small smile. “Thanks, Dick. I really appreciate it.”

At that point the door opened and Jonathan and Kelly came in, Jonathan carrying the dump truck and a carton of Coke, Kelly carrying a small paper bag. Kelly ran over to his mother and gave her the bag.

“Jonathan got us candy!” he proclaimed as Carlene opened the bag. “But we have to eat supper first. Let's go now!”

Carlene smiled her thanks and got up from the couch. Jonathan handed Kelly the dump truck.

“Did you thank Jonathan for the candy?” Carlene asked.

Kelly looked up at Jonathan. “Thank you for the candy.”

“You're welcome,” Jonathan replied, smiling broadly. He walked them to the door and opened it.

Carlene turned, looking from Jonathan to me. “And thank you both for your kindness,” she said. Kelly darted out the door and headed for the stairs.

“Kelly! Don't run!” she called as she quickly followed him.

*

After we'd had our own dinner, Jonathan said, “Do you suppose we could go for a ride?”