Don't Forget to Breathe (17 page)

“Why not?”

A flushing smudge painted his cheekbones. “Even before that Dyl dude came to my house, my father found out that I’d been hanging at the Baskerville Estate.”

“Did you tell him?”

“No, not at first.” He kept arranging and rearranging his glasses on his nose. “My dad noticed some of his tools were missing. And I used his credit card to buy the duck blood and a few other things. Then, I forgot his drill at the mansion when I was rigging up the mannequin. He spazzed and threatened to take away the car if I stepped foot in there again.

“When the detective came ringing our doorbell, my dad played it cool, but I could tell he was ready to combust. Dyl interrogated me like I was a crime suspect. He wanted to know what I was doing in there and what I saw in the attic. He never mentioned you once.”

“So what’d you tell him about the attic?”

“I told him I saw a mannequin hanging from the rafters. I wasn’t lying, ‘cause I went in after you and the police left this morning.

“You…you’re not going to back me up?” I felt the sting behind my eyelids. “Everyone already thinks I’m delusional. I can’t believe you did this to me.”

“It’s better this way. Let’s forget about that haunted house.”

“
You
can forget about it, but it’s
my
mom who was murdered.
My
mom whose picture mysteriously appeared in the attic.” I swiped at the tears tripping over my lids. “I can’t forget. I want her killer to burn in hell.”

Henry jumped from the chair and elevated my sagging body from the table, binding his arms under my armpits while I wept.

“Sorry, Leo. I’m sorry. After school tomorrow I’ll go to the police station and tell the detective about your mom’s picture in the attic without my dad being around.” His attempt at patting my shoulder seemed soothingly awkward. “Will that help?”

“Yes, that’d help a lot.” I sniffled and mopped my eyes on his sleeve.

After Henry left, I cleared the kitchen table in a hurry, shoving the notebooks under my bed. I heard the side door opening and ran into the living room and hopped onto the couch. Dad strolled in minutes later. “It’s getting late. You should be in bed instead of watching television.” He walked over and kissed my forehead. “How you feeling?”

“Good.” I yawned. “What happened to your old secretary?”

In the course of disrobing his coat he turned looking bemused. “What’d you ask?”

“Regina. What happened to her?”

“She’s on the ninth floor now. The receptionist for the trust department.”

“Did you ride her too hard?”

Dad hesitated. “Something like that,” he said with an obvious eye flinch. It seemed our discussion was over, he walked into the bathroom.

Before snuggling beneath my comforter for the night, I made an impractical decision and called Nona to join my subterfuge. Afterwards, I didn’t even remember falling asleep—

The rancid smell roiled in my belly like a trapped typhoon. The developing scene liquidy. Red ribboned Mom’s arms and fingers.

“
Leo
?”

My jaw moved, no words, vocal chords felt frayed as my retina’s focused onto the sea of red. My ears drowned in the blare of sirens. “Dad,” I forced through a scratchy throat, “is that you?”

Evading the bloody sight, I clamped my eyes. A stampede thundered on the stairs. Light touches of hands—on my shoulders, on my neck, on my chest. “She’s alive.” Someone held my wrist. My body declined to cooperate with my psyche, I couldn’t move. “She’s in shock. We’d better get her out of here.”

“Not yet,” an unsympathetic tone. “Have my men take the pictures first. Get the hell out of there, Murphy. You’re contaminating the scene with your boots.”

Again, I moved my lips attempting to speak.

“She’s trying to say something.”

Someone angled over me, I felt breath close to my face. The same voice, but this time compassionate. “Did you see what happened? Do you remember anything? Shake your head or blink if you understand me.”

“Mom…” I breathed on the brink of unconsciousness. Involuntarily my body started thumping around like a dying fish.

“We’re losing her. We’re losing her!”

***

I awakened to a grueling heart beat, and felt like I was having a coronary. Parting my mouth, I gobbled a deep breath and held it, then again, and again, until the jackhammer in my chest subsided.

Dividing my eyelids, I peered through the slit around the room. My clock blinked six-ten, time to get up. I’d slept through the night, however, my muscles felt like I’d labored the past six hours. Shunting into an upright position, I massaged my head and moaned and remembered.

We’re losing her, and nothingness. Then I woke in the hospital on a gurney. A flurry of nurses and doctors coming and going taking my vitals, my temp, administering intravenous drugs, I laid there like a limp dishrag.

I was in and out. When did Dad come to see me?

Detective Dyl made an appearance. After conferring with the doctor on duty, he walked over to my gurney. His lined face looked overwrought like he was fearful I might go into cardiac arrest. “How are you, Leo?”

I stared.

“Are you up to a few questions?”

I stared.

“Do you remember seeing anyone out of the ordinary?”

Blank.

“When you got off the bus and walked down the street, anything?”

His fingers circled the rail of the gurney, was it me or did his body shake? “When you walked into the house. Did you hear or see anything? Anything at all?” Drilling dark eyes sparked. “Goddammit! What did you
see
?”

A hyperactive machine beeped and everything swam like a bad Picasso. Nurses rushed into the room, yelling at the detective and I’d launched into a much appreciated coma.

***

Dad had been showering and I dredged through my closet for something to wear. This sleuthing business wrecked my brain, bringing to life the past year in vivid Technicolor. Unusual for me to beat him into the kitchen, but I poured his typical glass of OJ and waited.

Donned in a charcoal woolen suit, he smiled and kissed my cheek. “Thanks, Leo.” He drank the juice.

“How come you didn’t come to the hospital right away to see me?” I asked out of the blue.

His arm holding the glass of juice stopped in mid-air. “What are you talking about?”

“You were at the house when I found Mom. How come you didn’t come to the hospital? I really needed you.”

His mouth moved like a wiggly worm. “Leo…I wasn’t there.”

“Yes, you were. I remember you leaning over me. You said my name.”

“No, you’re imagining things again.” He shook his head. “I wasn’t in the house. I was at work when the police called.”

“That’s not possible.” I sat on a chair and stuffed my feet into a pair of socks. “Then who called the police?”

“You did.”

“I didn’t call the police.”

“The police said the call came from your cell phone and it was a girl’s voice. It had to be you, kid.”

“I was so out of it, how could I call?”

“You must’ve instinctively dialed 911. You have more stamina than you realize.” He set the glass in the sink and walked to the closet to fetch his coat. “I’ll be home early tonight. We’ll talk then if you want. I’ll bring home supper, how about chicken?”

“Okay,” I said, distracted. For the life of me, I racked my brain to recall dialing 911.

Driving in Henry’s SUV, a significant dingy morning added to my doldrums.

“Leo, stop with the unhappy face.” His lenses looked crystal clear glancing my way. “I promise, right after school I’m going to see the detective.” A chuckle rumbled in his esophagus. “Now turn that frown upside down.”

“Cute, Henry.” Dripping with sarcasm, I wasn’t amused. “Your dad is going to find out you lied last night.”

“A-hah,” he chided, shooting an index finger in the air. “I didn’t lie. Just neglected the whole truthisms.”

“Is there such a word?”

“There is now.”

I obliged him with a flat grin.

“I can drop you at home after school first before heading over to the police station,” he suggested.

“That’s alright. I’ll take the bus.” I didn’t want to involve him in my scheme. “I might stay after. I need help with calc.”

His head rocked up and down. “Then you can teach me. I’d like to shoot whoever invented Calculus. I’ll never use that bullcrap in my lifetime, and it’s lowering my average.”

“Mine too.”

The highlight of my day was Mr. Slepe’s English class. Not particularly the class itself, but what Nona had disclosed. “My mom wouldn’t let me take the car today.”

My shoulders slouched, moping.

“But I got the next best thing.” Her face shone. “Becket’s taking us.”

That jerked me into alertness. “How’d he get involved?”

We quieted for a moment while Mr. Slepe’s rheumy eyes swept the classroom before going back his book.

With her elbow cocked on the desk and a hand cupping her mouth, Nona slanted and whispered, “Reggie’s car wouldn’t start this morning, so Becket picked us up. I mentioned you needed a ride into the city and he offered.” Her eyes sparkled.

“Sweet.” My doldrums squander into joy. “You didn’t say why, did you?” Guilt plastered Nona’s face. “You did, didn’t you?”

“Not specifically.” She flinched a little. “Just that it had something to do with your mom.”

Irritated, I shut my eyes and inclined into my chair. That’s when Mr. Slepe said, “Leo and Nona, is there something you wish to share with the class?”

We wagged our heads.

“This is reading day, girls. Not conversing time.”

* * *

Tumbling from the doorway with the rest of the students, my gaze slew to the right. I couldn’t miss his tall physique. Riding low on Becket’s head was a Panther’s baseball cap, the rim jutting downward as he talked to Marcy.

Marcy’s chin nudged in my direction and Becket turned. Shade from the cap hid his expression. I pretended to be searching for something in my messenger bag and spied Nona’s beckoning arm. I headed her way while Becket sauntered in a diagonal pattern to his car. I heard the locks pop. He opened them from his distance. Reggie and Nona cuddled into the rear seats. I was riding shotgun.

“Hey, how’s it going?” he said straightforward, depositing himself behind the wheel.

“I’m good.” When it came to him, I wasn’t the ultimate conversationalist.

“She speaks today. That’s a good thing.” Flashing a stellar smile, he shed the baseball cap, pronged fingers through his hair and replaced it on his head. Like it wasn’t perfect the first time.

We passed encumbering vehicles, and I detected a snub-nosed Marcy sneering from the window of her car. This time I could definitely read her lips, naughty word Marcy.

“Where to, Leo?”

“Ellicott Street, downtown. Are you sure you don’t mind driving me all the way into the city?” I looked over my shoulder at Nona who shrugged, and then to Becket.

“It’s a good day for a ride.”

“I’ll give you gas money.” It was the least I could do.

“Keep it,” he said, his tone crisp. He switched on the radio, silencing me.

“Leo, what’s the address on Ellicott Street?” Nona expressed from the back seat. “I’ll key it into my phone so Becket knows what ramp to get off on.”

“4545 Ellicott.”

I relaxed into the bucket seat as we merged onto the highway setting sights for the metropolis. By three o’clock in the afternoon, skyscrapers and opulent high-rises poked the cerulean skies.

Negotiating amidst a convoy of vehicles and trucks, Becket parallel parked less than a block from my father’s building. I was surprised when everyone departed the car, expecting to handle this on my own. “How about I meet everyone in a half-hour?” I said. “This won’t take me long.”

“I’d love to check out Macy’s while we’re here,” Nona said, as she eyed Reggie with keenness. Nona’s appetite to shop the posh, up-scale boutiques had Reggie looking less than enthused.

“We’ll meet across the street at Sharf’s,” I recommended, checking my cell. “At four, okay?” I took a step toward my father’s place of employment with Becket stepping in line. “Um…aren’t you going with them?” I glanced over my shoulder at the retreating backsides of Nona and Reggie.

“Nope, I’ll stick with you.”

“I can handle myself.” A nervous compulsion of fingering my hair ensued. “I’ve been here before.”

“Your hair looks like it’s on fire when the sun hits it just right. Did you know that?”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Brilliant.”

A compliment from Becket, I liked.

“I saw Henry James leaving school today.” His cadence nonchalant. “He must’ve had an appointment or he would’ve driven you in.”

He was digging for answers. “Henry doesn’t know I’m here.” Lowering my gaze, I sighted his lean legs and a pair of grey and orange sneakers keeping stride with my smaller steps. “How tall are you anyway?” Looking into his face, I squinted from the sunshine.

“Too tall or too short?” His fingers rounded the nape of my neck and skillfully dodged to the side to avoid me from rear-ending a lady pushing a wire cart. “Last time we checked, I was six-three.”

“Think you’re done growing?”

“Beats me.” After a brief minute, he said, “I was told not to ask questions, so I won’t. After we get inside would you like to me to wait in the foyer?”

Nona must’ve cautioned him not to say anything, I grinned. As he swung open the heavy glass doors to the building and neared the elevators, a feeling of insecurity washed over me. What was I trying to prove? Why did I feel this chronic urge? “You can come with me,” I sounded unsure. “If you don’t mind.”

Becket’s height drew people to branch apart into the packed elevator. When we hit the ninth, the doors shimmied open. Directly centered, a mahogany receptionist desk, and there sat Regina, my father’s old secretary.

She recognized me. “Why hello, Leo. What brings you here?”

Regina appeared regal, brunette hair flowed in ringlets over her shoulders. Reading glasses perched on the tip of her slim nose; she peered over the rims approvingly at Becket. I hadn’t seen or talked to her since Mom’s death, and I wanted to hear it from her own mouth.

“Mind if I ask you a question, Regina?”

“Not at all, dear. Is something wrong with your father?” She detached her gaze from Becket’s face to look at me.

Ignoring her question, I blurted, “Is it true that my father was in his office the day my mom was murdered? All day?”

Her chin knocked backward, astonished. “Er…ummm…” She shifted on the chair. “That’s what I told the police, honey. You came all this way just to ask me that when you know the answer? What is going on in that teeny brain of yours?”

“At that time you answered my father’s calls, correct?” I didn’t pause because I knew the answer. “You weren’t the one who took the call from the police, were you?”

A spiny blush crawled between the folds of her white button-down shirt toward her neck. She fixed her eyes toward the desktop where her fingers fidgeted with her pencil and pen collection, stabbing them into a round holder. “We were in a private business meeting in your father’s office when the call came in. The police know this.”

“In his office—just the two of you?” I went on, “Or were you somewhere else when the call was forwarded to your phone? I’ve been in his office, I’m aware of the outlet leading to the stairwell in case of fire.” Her head wrenched up.

“You have a lot of nerve coming in here accusing me of perjury.”

“I didn’t accuse you of perjury, yet. I want the
whole
truth. Was my father here when the call came in?”

She sniffed, twitching her nose and mouth. Regina’s gaze skidded over the reception area, either looking for help or hoping no one heard. “I am not on trial, missy,” she spat. “I told the police everything they needed to know. If you can’t get that through your thick skull, that’s too bad.” She wiped a finger beneath her nose. “Now go, I’m working.”

“Are you having an affair with my dad?”