Chapter Nine
“Miss Kelly, I got news, but it isn’t all good. Of course my friends—uh, contacts—are all older than Bella Garza, but they know her by reputation and they hear things. They tell me she’s tough, and she’s out for revenge. Brags about stalking you, scaring you. I don’t know if she’ll do more than that, but I wouldn’t take a chance. The mom is absolutely no help—no control over the kids.”
“What about the boys?”
“The thirteen-year-old and the fifteen-year-old, Michael and Alex, are both on probation. But if that’s the case, they should be sent to the alternative school. I know—I been on probation. It don’t mean you can sit home all day and watch TV. I told the mom she needs to call the school, but I’ll check in a couple of days. If she hasn’t done anything, I will.”
“What about the older boy?”
“She calls him Ben. He’s a dropout, but he isn’t working either. I’m going by one day and take him—oh, I don’t know, maybe bowling. Talk to him about responsibility and helping his mom. It might work, probably won’t.”
“Joe, if he earns his GED, like you did, I’ll pay his first semester tuition at the county college.”
“Miss Kelly, you can’t do that!”
“I can. Now I’m only sorry I didn’t do it for you.”
“No, no. You gave me the will to go there. I’m proud I did it myself, but I thank you for the shove.” I heard him chuckle.
“Thanks, Joe. I appreciate what you’re doing. I’d like to see those boys helped—the whole family in fact. Any mention of a dad?”
“In prison—for a long time apparently. Don’t know what for.”
“Well, as for Bella, I don’t know what to do. I guess I’ll just keep being careful, but she’s beginning to get on my nerves.”
“That’s what she wants, Miss Kelly. She wants you to get fed up and let your guard down. Next time I have a day off, I think I’ll stalk her and corner her so I can talk to her.”
“Joe, I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Theresa and me, we owe you everything. I do whatever I can.”
“Joe, one more question—on a different topic. Will you be free on Halloween? Mike has this ridiculous notion that neither Keisha nor I can take the girls trick-or-treating. He wants a man with them.”
I could practically hear him shake his head over the phone. “No, Miss Kelly. We have a Halloween party at the YMCA. But Theresa can bring the girls. They’d have fun.”
“Hmm. I’ll run it by Mike before I mention it to them. He’s taking fatherhood really seriously.”
“Good for him. I’ll be in touch. Bye, Miss Kelly.”
By the time I got back to the living room, Claire was saying it was time for her to leave. “Mike and I had a good visit. We agree on some things—like you being careful.”
“I will.” No need to go into Joe’s report right here. I gave Claire a hug and said, “Let’s not wait so long to get together.”
Mike stood to walk Claire to the door—with his walker. “Kelly may be free more often from now on at lunch time,” he said. “Buck Conroy wants me to take a desk job in the precinct and study for the detective exam.”
I would have thrown my arms around him, except for fear of sending us both crashing over the end table he was standing by. “Mike, that’s wonderful.”
“Maybe. Time for me to get out of the house. I’ll just be answering phones but I’ll be back in the midst of things.” He smiled a bit. “And I can make sure Kelly isn’t meddling in police work.”
I raised a hand as if to smack him, but he grabbed it and kissed it.
“That’s good news, Mike. I hope it works out for you.”
“Thanks.” And he actually hugged her.
After Claire left, I asked, “Have you decided she isn’t responsible for Jim Guthrie’s fatal accident?”
“No, that doubt will always be in the back of my mind. But the system has worked. I have to be satisfied.”
We sat at the table, sipping wine. “Mike, are you really pleased at Conroy’s offer?”
“Yeah, I am. It does mean telephone duty—but not like 911. And I’ll study for the exam. Bottom line, though, is Buck says they’ll probably never put me back on patrol. I couldn’t run hard or fast enough if I had to.” He hung his head. “It’s disappointing, because I really liked being on the streets, and because it means I’ll never do those triathlons. All because some idiot ran a stop sign… and killed an innocent girl, besides messing up my leg.”
It was time to tell him about Joe’s findings of the day, and I did.
His first reaction was predictable. “Kelly, I want you to take the course, get your
CHL
, and carry a small handgun in your purse all the time.”
“Mike, you know I’m opposed to that. I’d shoot myself before I shot the bad guy—or, uh, girl.”
“Not if you had training. I’ll make some compromises with you but this isn’t one of them. I can’t quite see arming you with a knife. I’m afraid then you would get hurt worse than the other…uh…person.”
We both knew who we were talking about and that she was probably proficient with a knife, her weapon of choice.
“As for Joe, bully for him for taking on the Garza family. But Kelly, remember that’s not your fight. You have me and the girls to take care of, and now I’m sure you’ve taken on this Otto Martin. You simply can’t save the world.”
“I can try.”
He smiled and held out his arms, and I walked into them, sitting carefully on his lap for fear of hurting him.
Maggie bounded into the room then stopped short. “I caught you smooching!”
I laughed, “Yes, you did. Is that so bad?”
“No, it’s
kinda
nice. Mom, did you ask Mike if we could go to the YMCA Halloween party?”
“Maggie Spencer, how did you know about that? Were you listening in on my conversation with Joe?”
“Only that part of it,” she said, hanging her head.
Mike was stern. “I should say no, you can’t go because you did what you know you’re not supposed to. You listened in on someone else’s phone call. That’s eavesdropping, and it’s wrong. I’m tempted to let Em go and keep you at home.”
Tears puddled in her eyes, but she was determined not to cry, big as she was. Mike gently pushed me aside and pulled Maggie into his arms. “Promise never to do that again?”
She nodded.
“You can go, only if Theresa takes you.”
She threw her arms around him and hugged tight. That made
me
teary.
After the girls were tucked in bed that night, Mike and I sat close together on the couch, not talking about much, just enjoying being together. But we both decided we were really tired.
As I turned out the light in the front window, I saw the green Nova across the street.
Doesn’t that child ever sleep?
I left the porch light on and checked the alarm but didn’t mention the car to Mike, just snuggled a little closer to him in bed.
As I drifted off, I made a note of another chore for the next day—call Tanya, the young single mother whose yoga studio was threatened by
Lattimore’s
commercial development. I should have started yoga two months ago. Okay, I should have been doing it all along—I needed exercise, and I hadn’t been getting it. Claire was kind to offer but I wanted to support Tanya, and I would feel guilty taking charity from Claire.
Noises in the driveway wakened me in the early morning hours. The motion-sensing lights came on and the driveway was flooded with light. And someone was yelling, something that sounded like, “Yippee!” over and over. I sat up in bed but Mike was already up and out of bed, this time using his walker for speed, his service revolver in his hand. If I hadn’t been so scared, I’d have realized he made a ridiculous image wearing only boxer shorts.
I heard the front light switch click off and then the front door open. Good for Mike—he left the alarm system on. Within seconds, its sirens began blaring outside and inside.
The girls were in our bed before I could blink. They had heard too many things go bump in the night during their young lifetimes, and they were easily scared. Now they both had their hands over their ears.
“Mom, what is happening?” Maggie whispered.
“I don’t know, but Mike will tell us,” I whispered back. Then aloud, “We don’t have to whisper. No one can hear us, and whispering just makes us more afraid.”
“But I
am
afraid,” Em wailed.
“Mike will keep us safe,” I said.
Flashing lights filtered through the blinds, and I knew the police were here. Mike clumped down the hall to get a pair of pants and commanded, “You three stay right here. Go to sleep.”
As if we could!
He was gone forever, or so it seemed. Finally I heard him click on the porch light, set the alarm, lock the door, and come haltingly down the hall, without the speed he’d shown getting out. Dispiritedly, he sat on the edge of the bed, commanded the girls to look the other way, and then slid out of his shoes and pants and crawled into the bed.
“Girls, you may sleep with us, but you best sleep on the other side of your mother. I need her as a barrier between me and your kicks.”
They didn’t say a word but settled down quietly.
“Mike?”
“She slashed the tires on both cars. Conroy’s sending someone to get me in the morning. Can you get Keisha to get the girls to school while you call Triple A about getting the tires changed and Dave Summers about insurance?”
“Sure.”
So
o
ur girl did have a knife. Guns weren’t her style. Probably smart of her. And probably something she learned fighting in the streets.
I wondered if she had scars I hadn’t noticed.
Mike fell asleep instantly—how I envied him that ability—and on the other side of me the girls slept, comfortably curled about each other. I lay awake, dreading the future.
****
When I called Keisha early the next morning, she reminded me—as she had twice for the last week—that the zoning commission would hold an open hearing that morning on Tom
Lattimore’s
petition for a variance. There went Triple A—I’d have to deal with the tires in the afternoon. Mike protested that since it was his first day back at work, sort of, he couldn’t attend the meeting, and I understood.
Keisha and I delivered the girls to school, went to Starbucks, ran by the office, and were in the zoning commission hearing by nine o’clock. I’d been in zoning commission hearings before, though never over a huge commercial property. My interests had been for remodeling houses, preserving the neighborhood, small stuff. But I knew that the men and women who sat impassively behind that long table were just people like everyone else, albeit with more knowledge of the zoning laws and regulations. Zoning variation requests looked like they were written in a foreign language until you understood the code. In this case I understood only too well: Tom wanted a change from light commercial to heavy. Accordingly the commission had sent notices to property owners within 300 yards of the property to be affected, and these property owners were invited to be present at the hearing and to speak in an orderly and brief fashion. It would, I knew, be a long morning.
Tom presented his case, stressing economic benefits to the area, increased availability of affordable goods in the satellite stores as well as fresh and healthy food in the new anchor store, and surprisingly, neighborhood support for the project. He brought forth a string of witnesses—the taco shop owner testified that he supported the development because it promised him better quarters for his business; one or two other small businesses near the site echoed that sentiment. Had Tom “forgotten” to tell them about the new plan calling for adaptive re-use? Or was he simply hoping to push the original plan through with this commission and deal with John Henry later? A couple of owners of residential properties behind the site testified that they would welcome the convenience of nearby shopping, and several residents welcomed the idea of a gourmet shopping center in the neighborhood. With a final sweeping gesture, Tom laid his petitions before the commission members.
When testimony from the opposition was allowed, pandemonium broke loose with people clamoring to testify—including me. I glanced at Tom and saw his face pale.
The chair of the commission announced that ten people, chosen at random, would be allowed to speak and requested all who wanted to testify to stand. I stood, and I prayed that Otto Martin would be chosen. He wasn’t—in retrospect that was a good thing. He might have repeated his threat on Tom’s life. Keisha was chosen, and so was I, along with Tanya who owned the yoga studio, and Christian. I didn’t recognize the others. Keisha gave the same impassioned plea she had at the meeting in our office; Christian spoke in business terms about the impact of the neighborhood, especially traffic congestion, which would affect not only the immediate area but almost the whole of Magnolia; Tanya told her own personal story in a most effective way; and I began with Otto Martin’s story then moved into the real estate implications. I talked so long that the chair cut me off with a curt, “That will do. Thank you.”
The other testimonies were along the same lines, dwelling upon preserving the neighborhood ambiance, the friendly familiar comfort of Fairmount as a neighborhood. There was no reading the commissioners’ faces, but I noticed Tom running a nervous finger around his collar.
