Dream With Little Angels (8 page)

“You're right. They was even nice to Billy
after
the wedding.”

“Of course they was. That's the way your folks were. Your pa only hated Billy on account of he reckoned he was taking you away from him.”

“You think?”

“I do. When it came down to it, your pa would always be there for you, no matter
who
you married. I remember how concerned he was for you when Billy died. It was
real
concern, Leah. He worried about you and those kids
constantly
. You could've relied on him much more than you did.”

“He was in no shape to worry about me,” my mother said. “I should've been worrying more about
him
.”

“He got
sick,
Leah. There's nothing you could've done differently to save him. Be happy Abe got to spend as much time with him as he did. He has good memories of his grandpa. Happy ones. Nobody can ever take those away from him.”

Silence followed and I had to come in close to hear my mother when she spoke again, because her voice was so quiet. “You're right, Ethan. I know you're right. It's just so hard. Sometimes I miss him so much.” I heard tears in my mother's voice. I always hated it when she cried, and lately she'd been crying more than ever.

But Chief Montgomery didn't let up. “And your pa made certain you were financially okay,” he said. “He made
damn
sure of that. Christ, Leah, he got you this job.”

“Yeah, but you know? It's not always about the money, Ethan. And even if it was, when you're blindsided a half dozen times in as many years, you learn to look out for yourself. And your kids. And if that's taking on too much responsibility, well, then I guess I'm guilty.”

I heard Chief Montgomery's mug settle onto his desk. “Leah, nobody's ever gonna accuse you of not being a good mother to those kids. That's not what I'm talkin' 'bout and you know it. I'm talkin' 'bout the way it's all spilled over into this case. I'm talking about Ruby Mae Vickers. And don't you even try to tell me you don't think Ruby Mae had nothin' to do with your pa dyin'.”

There was a pause and then my mother's voice rose a good octave. “What the hell are you talkin' 'bout now?”

“You've never forgiven yourself for Ruby Mae because she was your first big case and you've always felt you let your father down. You were promoted to detective and you botched your first case and never got over it. I was there, Leah, remember ? I know you thought you disappointed your pa, and that disappointment put some distance between you. Distance I know now that you regret.”

“You're crazy. There was no distance between us.”

“There was so, and that's why you were so hellbent on raisin' them kidss yourself.”

“No, Leah, I'm not crazy. What you tend to forget is that you ain't really no detective. Alvin is too small for a detective. You were given this position only so that we could raise your salary, not because anyone expected you to suddenly be some kind of super crime solver. If it weren't for the county regulations, you'd just be a cop like the rest of us. You
are
just a cop like the rest of us. You have no extra responsibilities, so stop pretendin' you do.”

Another long pause and then I heard my mom sniffling. “I miss Dad a lot sometimes.”

Chief Montgomery's chair squeaked again as I heard him get up and come around his desk. “Oh, honey, we all do. Your dad was a great cop. And a great father. And he'd be nothing but proud of you. I know you don't believe that, but I knew your dad better than anyone. For over twenty-three years I worked with Joe. I was there for him when you got pregnant with Carry. Had you been my daughter? I'da been swearing a side off a greased-up hog, but your pa? He never once said a bad word about it. He was nothin' but proud.”

I heard more crying from my mother.

Chief Montgomery continued talking. “Oh, he was ready to hunt down and kill that Billy Cunningham kid, don't get me wrong. I had to talk him down a few times. But not because he didn't love you or Carry. See, you come by this responsibility thing naturally. Your pa never once left a mistake without fixing it up one way or another. But if he were here right now, I can promise you this: He'd tell you it's time to stop blaming the world on yourself. There are things you can control and things you cannot. Focus on the right ones, cuz the others are like bashing your head against a wall of bricks. You follow?”

I heard more sniffles.

“I'm serious, Leah. If you don't understand this, I'm pullin' you off this case.”

“I understand,” my mother said quietly.

Dewey finished his game with the binders and came over to where I stood. “What're you doing?” he whispered.

I shushed him.

“What?” he asked.

“Listenin',” I said.

“What're they sayin'?” he whispered back.

I shushed him again. That's when we both looked up and found Ethan Montgomery standing over us with the door open.

He leveled his eyes directly at me. “You boys need to learn to mind your business,” he said. I could tell he was mad, but not real mad.

“My mom tells me that all the time,” I said.

This almost made him smile, but he held it back. “Your mom's a smart woman. Do you good to listen to her instead of eavesdroppin' on our conversations. You got that?”

I said I most certainly did as I tried to look around the doorway to where my mother was standing holding a Kleenex up at her face, but Chief Montgomery stepped sideways, blocking my view. “What did I just tell you?” he asked.

I was about to question why my mom wasn't my business, but Dewey interrupted, pointing to the gun on Chief Montgomery's hip. “That real?” he asked.

“What do you think?” I asked him back. “Now why would the chief of police carry around a fake gun?” I looked up at Chief Montgomery and smiled.

“Think you're pretty smart, hey?” he asked back. I thought about replying, telling him how I didn't think it took a lot of brains to figure that one out (which would really be a remark directed at Dewey), but decided things were too strange lately and I might not be the best judge of what's permissible for me to say and what's not at this particular point in time. So I just let it go.

My mother stepped to the door. “You okay?” Chief Montgomery asked her.

She nodded. She wasn't crying, but her eyes were red. The Kleenex was gone from her hand.

“You're gonna remember what I said?” Chief Montgomery asked.

She nodded.

“All right. Then for now, you're still on the case. But I'm watchin' you.” He did the “I'm watching you” sign with his two fingers by pointing them first at his eyes and then at her. Then he gave me a wink, making things feel almost normal again.

T
he next afternoon was the afternoon Carry was meant to go to Satsuma to meet her friends for a pizza and a movie. I was still uncertain about what she was really doing and what she was saying she was doing and how the two things were different in the minds of my mother and Uncle Henry, but I gave up trying to sort it out. There were more important things to think about.

Like how Mr. Wyatt Edward Farrow and the missing roadkill was connected. I was still clinging to my theory of the Roadkill Frankenstein monster. It was a good one, I thought. One that made a lot of sense when you plugged in all the different variables.

My mother drove Carry to the bus stop for Satsuma. On the weekends the bus came to the top of Main Street, almost all the way up to the courthouse building. I came along for the ride. Once we got back home, Dewey would be coming over and spending the night, so I decided to get as much non-Dewey family time in as I could.

My mother pulled up to the curb in front of the bus stop and Carry got out, dragging her backpack from the floor of her seat and hefting it onto her shoulder. She had been sitting in the passenger front seat of the car and the window was rolled down. The day was exceptionally mild, a nice change from all our recent rain. Carry shut the door and said good-bye before going over to the bench beside the stop and having a seat.

The car remained at the curb. Both me and Carry looked at my mother expectantly. After a few seconds, Carry closed her eyes, stood and, leaving her backpack on the bench, came over to the open window. “You're not gonna sit here and wait until the bus comes, are you?”

My mother sighed.

“Why don't you just follow me all around Satsuma?” Carry asked with a defiant gleam in her eyes.

“I would if I thought I could get away with it.”

“Mother,” Carry said, “either you're okay with me going on my own or you aren't. This is ridiculous.”

My mother took two deep breaths before responding. “You're right. I'll leave you to wait for the bus. Remember: home by five.”

“Bye, Mother,” Carry said, turning her back and returning to the bench.

Pulling away from the curb, my mother turned down the first side street, turned the car around, and headed back down Main Street toward our house, taking one last glance at Carry as we went past. “I hope you never go through this, Abe,” she said to me.

I was about to make a snide remark, asking if she meant she hoped I was never going to discover boys, when something darted out in front of us from between two buildings. For a brief second, I saw it, frozen in place like a picture. It was a possum. Then there was the unmistakable double bump as the car ran it over.

I turned around and looked out the back window at the brown lump of dead possum lying in our wake. I couldn't believe it.

I couldn't wait to tell Dewey. The roadkill was back.

Then we stopped at the intersection in front of where the new sushi restaurant was being built. Well, the building was already there, they were just putting a new front on it. That was pretty much all the construction that happened on Main Street. The buildings were all brick and stone so they weren't going anywhere anytime soon. Shops would just redress the front and sometimes add new walls inside.

This restaurant had intrigued me and Dewey since they first started hanging the plywood signs from the top. A big purple fish arched above the main window with an army of Japanese people spewing from its open mouth, carrying thick swords and big silver shields. I laughed again now as we drove past.

“What?” Mom asked.

“That place looks funny.”

“Why?”

“Because it's called the Happy Shogun Sushi Palace and I don't think the fish or the guys with the swords look very happy. And is the fish swallowing them? Or are they coming out of his stomach?”

“Sounds like you've put a lot of thought into this already.”

A week ago the name had appeared along the bottom of the window, and me and Dewey nearly split a gut when we saw it. We'd heard about sushi, of course, but neither of us had ever tried it. “Isn't sushi like raw fish? Who wants to eat that? It doesn't sound very good,” I said.

“You have no idea how good it is until you try it. You shouldn't judge things like that. Millions of people around the world love sushi.”

“Not people in Alabama.”

“Not yet. We're only startin' to see the sort of immigration that brings people to our town who will offer us new food like this. You should be happy about it.” The Japanese family who owned the restaurant were called the Takahashis. They had moved to Alvin at the beginning of summer and were the topic of conversation for most of July.

I looked back at the fish. It had sharp teeth and the sword guys looked pretty mean. “Maybe the Takahashis took Mary Ann Dailey,” I said. For all I knew, Japanese people might eat little girls. If you ate raw fish, you probably ate anything.

“Now why do you say that?”

“Well, they just moved in a few months ago and then Mary Ann disappears. Just the timin' is all.”

“Listen, Abe, I don't want you accusing people just because of no reason. That's twice you've done that. I don't want you accusing our neighbor because he works all night in his garage, and I especially don't want no accusing because people are Japanese or any culture different than yours. That's racist. And I am not raising no racist. Not under my roof.”

“Well, they all have names that sound like Power Rangers,” I said, ignoring her comment about Mr. Wyatt Edward Farrow, who, secretly, was still my prime suspect. Not just in the case of Mary Ann Dailey, but in everything.

“What? I'm gonna pretend I didn't even hear that.”

“Why? Saying their names sound like a cartoon is racist?”

“Of course it's racist, Abe. Don't you even know? Remind me to get your Uncle Henry to discuss this with you.”

I didn't see how something true could be racist. I didn't say having cartoon names was a bad thing or nothing. I would actually like a weird name. Especially if it came with super powers of some sort. I decided to keep this thought to myself.

“What's sushi like?” I asked instead.

“I don't know, but I'm gonna try it before I say I don't like it. I think it's great that we get a chance to broaden our horizons without even leaving Alvin. This is one of the reasons for the outreach program.”

The outreach program was sponsored by our church in an effort to bring more immigration to Alvin. Me and my mother donated money once a week. The church had helped the Takahashis move here. So, in a way, I guess we're partly responsible for them and their new sushi restaurant.

“Okay, I'll try it too, then, before I say I hate it,” I said.

She sighed. “Well, that's a start.”

“What's a shogun?” I asked.

“Actually, I don't rightly know that, either. Some kind of Japanese warrior. I bet this is another good question for Uncle Henry. Then, after you find out, you can tell me and we'll both learn something. Or, better yet, next time you see Mr. Takahashi, why don't you ask
him?
Just don't say anything racist.”

“I reckon I don't know what's racist and what isn't,” I said.

“Okay, stick with plan A,” she said. “Ask Uncle Henry. That was a better idea.”