State Fair (35 page)

“Bomb dog?” I said. “Do you think . . . ?”

“It’s just a precaution,” Jim said.

I went back to Elvia and Emory’s for my house key. In less than a half hour, the dog had cleared our house.

“Scout’s going to feel so violated having another dog’s scent in his house,” I murmured. Emory sympathetically squeezed my shoulder.

Jim, Emory and I entered the house. Since our alarm had never sounded, it appeared that the damage was only to the exterior. Everything looked exactly like it did when I left for the fair yesterday. It felt like a week ago instead of less than twenty-four hours.

Normally I’m a pretty neat person. Gabe is still half-Marine. Between the two of us, the inside of our house is usually fit to be seen. But it had been a busy week and with the fair and all, so things were a little messy. It embarrassed me that the officer with the bomb dog and some of his detectives had seen my and Gabe’s unmade bed, the breakfast dishes in the sink, our overflowing laundry basket.

But there were more pressing things for me to worry about, specifically that whoever vandalized our house was watching close enough to know exactly when they would be least likely caught.

One of the detectives found Jim and I in the backyard where we were inspecting for damage.

“One of the neighbors . . .” He looked down at his small leather notebook. “Mrs. Soto?”

“She lives catty-corner from us in the lavender and gray Victorian,” I said. “She grows African violets in a greenhouse in the back.” I didn’t know why I felt the need to tell that.

The detective, who had deep brown basset hound eyes and a habit of sniffing after each sentence, nodded like the information meant something. “She said she got up about one a.m. to . . . umm . . . you know . . . use the john and she thought she heard the screech of tires. She said she didn’t think anything about it because it’s happened so much with the Cal Poly kids . . .”

“Except that it’s summer,” I said.

He nodded. “Yes, she said that occurred to her so she looked out the window. Said she saw something, possibly a light-colored vehicle. She heard male voices. Then they drove on so she went back to bed. Said she didn’t bother calling because by the time the police got there, they’d’ve been gone.” He stuck the notebook inside his jacket. “None of your other close neighbors heard a thing.”

After Jim and I ascertained that only the front of the house had been vandalized, we went back into the living room. One of the detectives came to inform us that they’d taken pictures of the scene and gathered what evidence they could.

“Thanks, Stu,” Jim said. His cell phone rang. “Hey, Chief.”

While Jim informed Gabe about what happened and what was being done, I looked through the living room window at the crowd still gathered across the street. I watched people point a finger, then comment to each other. It felt like our house was a zoo exhibit.

“Benni?” Jim held his phone out to me.

“
Querida?
”

“Gabe.”

“My plane just landed. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

I handed the phone back to Jim. “I’d better start cleaning it up.”

“I’ll stay and help.”

I shook my head. “You go on back home to Oneeda. Tell her what’s going on. I didn’t tell the ladies all the details last night because I didn’t want to scare anyone needlessly. Everyone should be aware that we have these kinds of people here in San Celina.”

Jim’s dark brown eyes turned down at the corners. “Benni, people like that have always been out there. I’ll talk to Flory and she’ll tell the others, but don’t worry. We have all spent our lives looking behind us for people like that.”

I leaned my head back against the fireplace mantel. “Oh, Jim, I’m so sorry. Because of Gabe, I thought I understood a little . . . but I didn’t, not really.”

“There’s no way you could. Unless you’re a person of color, chances are you’ve never had someone pull their purse or package a little closer when you walk by. Or start a sentence, ‘I’m not a racist’ but then proceed to tell you some blatantly racist joke. Or ask me if I sunburn!” He smiled and shook his head, taking ten years off his face. “As my grandkids would say, duh! Sure I do, if I sit in the sun long enough.” He patted my shoulder. “We know that it can happen anywhere, anytime. And it’s usually when we don’t expect it, which is why we always unconsciously
do
expect it. Once they see Gabe’s back, I doubt they’ll be bothering you again.”

“I hope not. But, I’m wondering . . .” I chewed my bottom lip.

“Wondering what?”

“What if there is something that is connected with Calvin Jones’s death? Maybe . . .”

“Maybe you ought to let the sheriff’s department handle it,” Hud said, coming up behind me.

Jim’s eyebrows went up and he didn’t say anything. But his expression confirmed he was in complete agreement with Hud.

“Okay, okay,” I said, holding up my hands. “Honestly, I never thought I’d get into so much hot water just trying to do something my prim and proper great-aunt asked me to do.”

“On that loaded emotional note, I think I’ll head on home,” Jim said. “Tell Gabe I’ll call him later and let him know if we’ve found out anything more from the neighbors. We’ve still got detectives canvassing all the houses in a three-block perimeter.”

Then Hud and I were alone.

“I do think this is connected to Calvin Jones,” I said.

His face was blank. For the first time I noticed that his hair, a little long and shaggy, had streaks of gray in it. There was even a shadow of gray in his day old beard.

“I know you can’t tell me anything,” I said, “but—”

“But nothing,” Gabe’s voice said behind me. Honestly, I was going to start wearing one of those bike helmets with the tiny rearview mirrors. “He won’t tell you anything because you’re not going to be involved in this any longer.”

Hud smiled, held up a hand. “Thanks for the save, Chief. She’s all yours.”

“Let me know what’s going on,” I called after him. He didn’t even acknowledge me. I turned back to my husband, who, surprisingly, didn’t look mad.

“Are you all right?” he asked, putting his arms around me.

“Yes, yes, yes,” I said into his chest. “Your detectives are through with photos and all. I was just getting ready to go outside and attempt a cleanup.”

“There’s turpentine in the garage. And, fortunately, there’s lots of trim and house paint left. Let’s get started.”

Emory stayed to help us, as did Beebs and Millee. A half hour later, thanks to Elvia, we had her father, Hector, two of her brothers, Miguel and Ramon, D-Daddy and Gabe’s son, Sam. When Sam drove up, Justin Piebald rode with him. For some reason I couldn’t look Justin in the eye. I doubted that he had anything to do with this, but I couldn’t help wondering if he knew that one of the young men I suspected was involved with the vandalism worked for his dad.

It wasn’t long before our house was almost back to normal. The only remnants we couldn’t completely clean away or paint over were the swastikas painted on the lawn. We tried mowing it and that helped a little. But we’d just have to let the grass grow long enough to cut off the paint on the thick St. Augustine blades.

“Maybe we can paint over it,” Sam suggested. “Let me find some spray paint.”

WHILE EVERYONE ELSE LOLLED AROUND THE FRONT YARD AND porch eating the doughnuts, muffins and coffee Gabe bought, I sat on the porch swing and talked to Dove on the phone.

“Garnet’s just sick about this,” Dove said. “Says she’s thinking about going back to Arkansas tomorrow. Said she brought this on y’all.”

“That’s ridiculous. Let me speak to her.”

“I dare you to talk sense into that woman,” said Dove before handing the phone to her sister.

“I’m sorry,” Aunt Garnet said. “I was being a foolish old woman and look what happened. Life is not a television show. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“You weren’t being silly. Look at it this way. We obviously did
something
to make these people nervous. You know there is something going on and, sometimes a little push is just what bad guys need to make that mistake that will get them caught. We have probably helped the cops.” Actually, what I was saying was a bunch of bull, which is exactly what my husband’s exasperated expression was saying to me. I shot him an apologetic look. All I wanted to do was make my aunt feel better.

“I suppose,” she said.

“You can’t go home yet because you haven’t taken care of business. You
know
that. I don’t know why you’re here, but I do know that you and Dove have got to talk. You can’t leave until that happens.”

Dead silence. “I think Dove is calling me.” Then she hung up.

I held out the cordless phone and stared at it, openmouthed.

“What’s wrong?” Gabe said.

“My aunt hung up on me! And I was trying to make her feel better about what she—”

Gabe cleared his throat.

“Okay, what
we
did yesterday. But the minute I mention why she is visiting, she’s gone.”

Gabe rocked the swing with one foot. “Perhaps you ought to keep a low profile for a few days.”

“You’re absolutely right,” I said, putting the phone on the side table.

“I’m totally minding my own business and not doing a thing to help anyone.”

And I did. For almost a day and a half.

A
PHOTO OF OUR VANDALIZED HOUSE WAS ABOVE THE FOLD ON the front page of Friday’s
Tribune.
When the chief of police is a minority and there is racist graffiti painted all over his house and lawn, that’s news in any town. San Celina didn’t have many incidents involving race relations, so here it was a major story. By the bare-bones reporting, the writer revealed he didn’t know the backstory about why we’d been targeted. The article suggested it was because of Gabe’s Latino heritage.

I didn’t go to the fair despite the fact that Katsy was giving a talk today. As much as I wanted to see her, I agreed with Gabe that it might be wiser to not make myself a target.

I spent most of the day doing household chores. In the afternoon, I sat on the porch with Scout and visited with Elvia who came by with some books I’d ordered. Just seeing my goddaughter’s plump velvety cheeks and shiny dark eyes made me smile. Beebs and Millee made a smoked chicken, wild rice casserole and banana cupcakes for my lunch.

“Oh, girls, I’m not sick,” I said, taking the white and blue Corning-Ware dish from Beebs.

“We know that,” Millee said. “We just didn’t know what else to do.”

“
We’re
sick,” Beebs said, carrying the plate of six cupcakes. “Sick that something like that can happen right here in our lovely town.”

I was sitting on the front porch when Gabe called at 4 p.m. “I have to work late tonight. Won’t be home until after nine. Maybe later.”

“Oh, man, I wanted us to go to the country rodeo tonight. I’m going stir crazy.”

He surprised me by not immediately arguing about why I should stay home. “You should be safe enough at the fair as long as you’re with other people. What about Scout?”

“I’ll ask the twins to watch him. I don’t feel good about leaving him here alone just yet.”

“I agree. Is there anyone you can ride with to the fair?”

The only people I could think of were Beebs and Millee, but I needed them to watch Scout. “I could go by the ranch and ride in with Dove and Daddy.”

“But you’d still be driving by yourself to the ranch.”

That’s when I really got angry. Not at Gabe, but at the people whose actions had made my driving the thirty miles to Paso Robles a major problem. “Those people . . . whoever they were . . . I hate it that they have that kind of power.”

“Yes,” Gabe agreed, but didn’t elaborate.

From my perch on the porch I, unfortunately, had a bird’s eye view of the remnants of the swastika on our grass. Or rather the odd, flower-like shape that Sam tried to change it into using a can of spray paint. We should just dig up the grass and plant flowers. “When they invaded our house, they took away our sanctuary.”