Gone in a Flash (9 page)

In a way, I hate to admit it, but I
was
right. I woke up Wednesday morning and the bed next to mine was empty – never slept in. I would have thought that Rachael and Brother Joe would be a little bit more discreet, but things aren’t like they used to be. People living in sin and having babies out of wedlock like it’s no big deal. Homosexuals having babies willy-nilly, and people talking out loud in mixed company about sex. But you’d think they would at least keep this stuff at home and not flaunt it in front of the entire choir like this.

I went down to breakfast and ran into my friend Ethel, another soprano. I said, ‘Guess who never came back to the room last night.’

She made an ‘O’ with her mouth and her eyes got big. ‘Not at all?’

I shook my head. ‘Not seen hide nor hair of her since we got back to the hotel last night.’

Then she elbowed me in the ribs. ‘Look! There’s Brother Joe.’

I looked. Sure enough Brother Joe was in line at the breakfast buffet, loading his plate like he thought calories didn’t matter. I couldn’t help noticing he was alone, though.

‘Do you think we should let them drive to school alone?’ Willis asked me as they pulled out of the driveway.

‘Ha! A little late to be asking that!’ I said.

‘Yeah. I didn’t think about it until I saw them pulling away,’ he said, the look on his face so tragic I wanted to take him in my arms and kiss his worried brow. I restrained myself.

‘They’ll be fine,’ I said.

‘Yeah,’ he said, although I could tell he didn’t mean it.

‘Tell you what,’ I said, picking up my new iPhone, ‘I’ll call them and have them call you as soon as they get to school, OK?’

He smiled. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘That would be good.’

I got Megan on the first ring. ‘Call your dad as soon as you get to school,’ I told her. ‘He’s a little worried.’

‘Yeah, whatever,’ she said.

‘Megan,’ I said, putting my voice on stern, ‘did you hear and understand my instructions?’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ she said, her voice on attitude.

‘Just do it, OK?’

‘OK, jeez!’ she said and hung up.

I smiled at my husband. ‘All taken care of.’

‘So when I don’t get a call, should I panic or just assume she forgot?’

‘The latter,’ I said, and kissed him goodbye at the door; a habit we’d gotten out of over the years, but one I’d brought back after the events of last summer. It felt good, somehow.

In a flash he was gone, the girls were gone, and I was left with dirty dishes and an entire day on my own. But my mind has a mind of its own, so to speak, and I couldn’t help wondering about the entire situation we found ourselves in. Was it just a coincidence that these men showed up shortly after the incident of the man at the Driscoll garage, or was there a connection? I had no idea what the connection could be, but something felt off to me; I just didn’t know what. I was still in my reverie twenty minutes later when the phone rang. ‘Hey,’ Willis said. ‘Megan actually called me.’

‘Yay!’ I said. ‘They’re OK, I assume?’

‘Safe and sound,’ he said. ‘You want to meet me for lunch today?’

I thought about my full day of leisure versus lunch with my husband. ‘Sure,’ I said. ‘What time?’

‘OMG,’ D’Wanda said.

‘Did you just die?’ Azalea said.

‘I tried to keep the other girls calm,’ Megan said. ‘They were getting hysterical.’

‘And you actually saw a gun?’ Azalea asked, wide-eyed.

‘It sure looked like one,’ Megan said. ‘I thought it was best to err on the side of caution, of course,’ she told her friends, ‘so I took the girls home and had our father contact his friend, the chief of police.’

‘Boy, you sure do get in a lot of adventures!’ D’Wanda said, her voice, her eyes, and her smirk all showing a bit of skepticism.

‘It’s just something in our genes,’ Megan said. ‘My mom has it and she passed it down to me. I’m her only
real
child, you know.’

‘What about Graham?’ Azalea asked. Having had a crush on Graham since middle school, Azalea tended to bring up his name a lot.

‘Why would I count him?’ Megan asked seriously.

‘Your mother gave birth to him too, for gawd’s sake!’ D’Wanda said.

‘True.’ Megan shrugged. ‘I’ve just never considered him to be a real person.’

The twins looked at each other then back at Megan. ‘Why the hell not?’ asked D’Wanda, the more outspoken of the two.

‘Well, for one, he’s not a girl, and for two, he’s like, you know, my brother.’ Megan shuddered and made a face.

‘You know, girl, you crazy,’ D’Wanda said, and turned her head around to see if there was someone in the cafeteria more sane she could sit with. Not finding anyone that fit that criteria, she said, ‘Well, if this all is really happening, whatja gonna do about it?’

‘What do you mean “really” happening?’ Megan demanded. ‘You don’t believe me?’

D’Wanda shrugged. ‘You have a tendency toward hyperbole, girlfriend.’

‘I believe you,’ Azalea said.

‘Thank you,’ Megan said. ‘And what am I going to do about it?’ she said, looking fiercely at D’Wanda, ‘I’m gonna cut them suckers!’ she said, and all three broke into hand-over-the-mouth snickers.

We had a nine a.m. choir practice with two other choirs we were going to sing with – one from Atlanta, and one from a little town outside of Baton Rouge. With our numbers at twenty-two, the Atlanta choir at thirty-four, and the Hixton choir (the one near Baton Rouge) at fourteen, we had a bunch, but the risers we were to stand on could have accommodated more like a hundred, so we were OK. We’d known for a while what songs we were going to sing, so it was just a matter of getting the three choirs to work together. But with three choirs there had to be three directors, and therein lies the rub. You know, egos.

Once we were up on the risers, I leaned forward a bit to check out the alto section, but Rachael wasn’t there.

Mr Smith’s phone rang. He looked at the caller ID. ‘It’s Mr Brown,’ he said to Mr Jones.

‘Yeah? Well, tell him you shot me in the foot!’ Mr Jones said.

‘Shut up!’ Mr Smith cleared his throat, rotated his shoulders, and clicked the button to speak. ‘Hey, Mr Brown,’ he said, putting a smile on his face in hopes it would put a smile in his voice.

‘What the fuck is going on?’ Mr Brown demanded.

‘Sir?’

‘Where the hell are you and where is that goddam satchel?’ Mr Brown demanded.

‘Things have gotten a little complicated, sir,’ Mr Smith said.

‘You know, I hired you two because of your reputation as go-getters, guys who really got the job done. It should have taken you no more than a day to get that goddamn satchel! I don’t see no job getting done around here, Mr Smith. Do you see a job getting done around here?’

‘We’re working on it, sir, swear to God.’

‘Swear to your fucking shoes for all I care, asshole, just get me that goddam satchel, or it won’t just be your reputation in shreds, it’s gonna be that plus your liver, your spleen, and your intestines. Get my drift?’

‘Oh, yeah,’ Mr Smith said, but the phone had gone dead in his ear.

They were sitting on either side of a king-sized bed they’d shared the night before. The only room left in the motel. It had been uncomfortable for Mr Smith, but more uncomfortable for Mr Jones because of his foot, or so he claimed.

Mr Smith stood up from the bed, still clad only in his Rule Britannia boxers, and looked out the window at the sad result of their car theft of the night before. It was a twenty-year-old white panel van, perfect for a child molester, but not so great for two guys trying to remain inconspicuous. It seemed to Mr Smith that everything that could go wrong had gone wrong on this job. And it was a big job, too: fifty thousand split two ways. But, Lord, was it a fucking mess or what?

Mr Smith knew in his heart that it was all Mr Jones’s fault. Everything that had gone wrong could be laid squarely at his size thirteens. Mr Smith had plans for this money, big plans. He was gonna ask Sheila to marry him. After all these years together, she might even say yes. Then a nice honeymoon in Hawaii; the perfect way to start their lives together. She’d always wanted him to go legit, so maybe he could use some of the money to buy into her brother’s western-wear shop. In Houston there was always a reason to dress up like a cowboy – the rodeo, the fat stock show, Thursdays. Texans loved to dress up.

But this job – this crazy job! From the get-go it was weird. Following that guy, the one with the satchel all the way from Houston, finally tracking him to an Internet café downtown, then he runs up the ramp at that parking garage. That crazy bastard, jumping off the roof like that. He, Mr Smith, had barely touched him. Really. The man just flew off the roof like he thought he was Superman or something. Then Mr Jones coming up onto the garage roof, asking him if he threw the man over the side. What kind of question was that? Why would he throw the man off the building? Was he bat-shit crazy? No, he mighta shoved him a little, but the guy just flew off the roof – again, like he was Superman or something. Mr Smith had nothing to do with it. That’s what he told Mr Jones, and that’s what he told Mr Brown. That man just flew off the roof. Like Superman. And to top it off, Mr Jones didn’t have the satchel. The truck’s owners had come before he could get it.

Now all Mr Smith had to do was get that satchel from the brown-haired girl and they were off, back to Houston. They’d get their fifty grand, and he and Sheila could get married. That’s all he had to do.

We finished up with the practice by eleven-thirty, and everyone headed to their rooms to get ready for the opening luncheon that started at noon. I, however, waylaid Brother Joe instead.

Grabbing him by the arm, I twirled him around and said, ‘OK, where is she?’

He looked at me, blank-eyed. ‘I’m sorry, Miz Vera, where’s who?’

‘Rachael! I know she didn’t come back to my room last night and she wasn’t here this morning. So what did you do with her?’

Brother Joe looked around. ‘You’re right, she wasn’t here this morning, was she?’

I didn’t say ‘duh’ like my grandkids woulda said, but I sure thought it. ‘No, she wasn’t. And I don’t see her now, do you?’

‘Well, no, I don’t,’ he said, in such a way that it was like he was talking to a person without all their faculties. Well, he had the wrong old lady this time!

And then he patted me on the shoulder. Patted me! ‘Miz Vera, are you sure she didn’t come back to your room last night? Maybe she just got in late?’

The man was patronizing me. I don’t truck with that, I just don’t. ‘Gee, maybe she didn’t come on this trip at all,’ I said. ‘Maybe I was sitting on a bench at the Smithsonian with a ghost yesterday.’

This time he rubbed my arm! ‘We don’t believe in ghosts, do we, Miz Vera?’

Good God, the man didn’t recognize sarcasm when it slapped him in the face!

‘That was sarcasm, you fool!’ I said, then immediately regretted calling him a fool. The Bible says not to call people fools. ‘Sorry, Brother Joe. But no, she didn’t come in late last night – she didn’t come in at all. Her bed was never slept in.’

‘Well, go on to your room and get ready for the luncheon, Miz Vera, and I’ll ask around, see what I can find out.’

I nodded, still ashamed about calling him a fool, and headed to my room.

‘So did you get all the classes you wanted?’ Bess asked Alicia.

‘Yeah. Except behavioral psychology. They gave me adolescent psychology instead.’

‘Great,’ Bess said. ‘Maybe you can figure out Megan.’

‘Not funny,’ Megan said.

‘Yeah, it is,’ said Alicia.

‘I don’t like it when you two gang up on me,’ Megan said, pouting.

‘We’re not ganging up on you,’ Bess said, as she and Megan walked to the shotgun side of the minivan. ‘We’re just teasing. Come on,’ she said, patting her sister on the back. ‘Lighten up.’

‘Really, Megs,’ Alicia said. ‘I didn’t mean anything— Hey!’ Alicia screamed.

The other two girls looked up to see that a white van had pulled up to the driver’s side of the minivan and someone from inside the van was yanking on Alicia’s satchel. Alicia was yanking back. Megan and Bess ran around the minivan, screaming ‘Nine-one-one!’ at the top of their voices, and grabbed hold of Alicia’s satchel with her. Kids began swarming the white van; one boy grabbed hold of Alicia by the waist and began chopping at the arm of the man trying to take the satchel. The man fell back inside, screamed, ‘Get the hell out of here!’ and the white van tore off.

A bunch of kids were standing around. ‘You OK?’ asked the young man who still had his hands around Alicia’s waist.

‘I’m fine, thanks,’ Alicia said, blushing.

‘I’m calling the police,’ the boy said, pulling out his cell phone.

‘Already did it, dude!’ called another boy from the crowd.

Alicia’s hero took his hands off her waist. ‘I’m Damon Scarpacci,’ he said, holding out his hand.

Alicia didn’t take it right away, so Megan shouldered her aside and took the outstretched hand. ‘Thanks so much for saving my sister, Damon. I’m Megan Pugh, and this is Alicia and our other sister, Bess.’

Damon took back his hand and grinned. ‘Oh,’ he said, nodding his head. ‘The Pugh girls. I should have known. Glad I could be of assistance.’

He turned and left the scene.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Megan demanded of her sisters. ‘The Pugh girls? Do we have a reputation? I finally meet somebody really cute at this school and he’s put off by our
reputation
?’

‘Get in the minivan,’ Alicia said, noticing that half the school was still in the area and listening to Megan mouth off.

They all crawled in and Alicia started the engine. ‘Was that them?’ she asked.

‘Sure looked like ’em,’ Bess said.

‘Oh, yeah. That was them, all right! But were they trying to take you or the satchel?’ Megan asked Alicia.

‘The satchel, I think,’ Alicia said. ‘I think they would have left me alone if I’d have let go. But, dammit! That satchel is mine!’