Too Little, Too Late (15 page)

Mrs. Kinkirk led Liz into her office before closing the door. Taking some photocopies from her desk, she handed them to Liz. “There was an Elizabeth Farrell born at St. Rose’s, in Santa Monica, exactly eighteen years ago today to a Maria Weaver. Father is listed as unknown. The address given for Maria Weaver was one in Woodland Hills.” She looked at Liz closely, waiting for a reaction. When there was none, she continued. “When I cross-referenced the address on the computer, I found that the address in Woodland Hills belongs to Woodland Hills Lodge.”
 

Liz stared at her in confusion. “I don’t understand.”
 

“Woodland Hills Lodge is a home for the mentally ill,” explained Alice’s mother. She came around the desk and sat beside Liz. “Your mother was a patient at Woodland Hills.”
 

“What was wrong with her?”
 

“She was diagnosed as autistic,” Mrs. Kinkirk explained carefully.
 

“Are you telling me my mother’s crazy?”
 

“I think “mentally challenged” is the proper term.”
 

It didn’t take Liz long to reach the obvious conclusion. “Oh my God!”
 

The older woman was quick to reassure her. “It wasn’t your fault.”
 

Liz stood up and anxiously paced the small room. “If my mother was mentally challenged, she wouldn’t have understood the concept of sex, right?”
 

“Yes, I suppose that’s true.”
 

“Then the only way my mother could’ve become pregnant was if she’d been raped!” Liz faced Alice’s mother, her face ashen. “Who raped her?”
 

“The police were called in but no one was ever charged in your mother’s rape.”
 

Liz’s mind reeled from all the information. “And I’m the end product of that rape.” Her voice was bitter, “Happy birthday to me.”
 

“Listen honey, you’re not the only kid in the world who’s the by-product of a mistaken night of passion, an unplanned pregnancy – or a rape,” Mrs. Kinkirk remarked candidly. “You have to focus on what lies in your future, not the circumstances that led to your conception.”
 

“Kind of hard to ignore, though, wouldn’t you say?”
 

“I’m sorry to have been the one to tell you this.”
 

“That’s okay,” Liz replied with false bravado, “but it doesn’t change the fact that I want to see my mom.”
 

Alice’s mother shook her head. “I’m afraid it’s not that simple.”
 

“Why not?”
 

“Your mother dropped off the map after you were born.”
 

“What?”
 

“Not long after she gave birth to you, Maria was moved from Woodland Hills Lodge.”
 

“Where’d she get moved to?”
 

“That’s just it, Liz,” said Mrs. Kinkirk in frustration. “I have no idea. It’s like she disappeared off the face of the earth.”
 

“I don’t understand it.” Liz suddenly became fearful. “You don’t suppose she died giving birth to me, do you?”
 

“I don’t think so,” she replied grimly, “but I promise you, I’ll find out, one way or the other.”
 

The tears Liz had bravely been holding in check now coursed down her cheeks and she didn’t have the strength to pull away when Alice’s mother took her in her arms. All the frustration she’d felt for years came bubbling to the surface and she sobbed without restraint, unable to stop. When her tears were finally spent, Liz pulled herself together.
 

“I won’t give up until I find her, okay?” Mrs. Kinkirk gently pulled the damp hair away from Liz’s face.
 

Liz nodded, unable to speak.
 

True to her word, three days later, Liz got a call from Alice’s mother to meet her at their house after school. When she arrived, the older woman was waiting for Liz, full of nervous energy.
 

“The reason I had such a hard time finding your mother was because she’d been moved to a private sanitarium in San Francisco.”
 

Liz looked overwhelmed. “I just want to see her.”
 

“I figured as much so I called Serendipity and made a few discreet inquiries.” Mrs. Kinkirk’s features became set. “It appears the only way you’ll ever get to see your mother is by approval from her doctor.”
 

“Then I’ll have to get his approval,” Liz replied quickly.
 

Over the next few months, Liz wrote several letters to Serendipity’s Door but all of them came back with the same response; that there was no patient by the name of Maria Weaver staying with them. She voiced her frustration to Alice’s mother.
 

“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me.” Mrs. Kinkirk sipped her coffee thoughtfully. “Maybe we should consider a different line of attack.”
 

“Like what?”
 

“I talked to my editor this afternoon,” she told Liz. “I suggested running a story on your mother and she agreed, as long as we gave Serendipity prior warning.”
 

“Then what?”
 

“If they don’t respond, we publish the story.”
 

Liz took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s do it.”
 

Unfortunately, nothing prepared Liz for the events that unfolded once Serendipity had been notified of the impending story. First, Liz received notification from the sanitarium that effective immediately, Maria Weaver would be released into her custodial care. Second, Liz never heard from Alice or her family again.
 

The parking lot of Ralph’s grocery store on East Compton was almost full so parking spots were scarce. Leo had to drive around several times before he found a spot. Getting out of his car, he pressed the remote, locking it. He would come back later for it. There were lots of late-model cars in the lot but not many that were black. Leo didn’t think it would be that hard to find the car and tried to be as inconspicuous in his search as he could, but it wasn’t easy. The tool he’d slipped inside his pant leg was making it difficult for him to walk. He was glad he’d at least remembered his baseball cap which served to keep his face partially obscured.

He finally spotted the late-model black sedan parked between an old pickup truck and a rusty Chevy four-door. Leo checked the license plate to make sure he had the right car. Although he could’ve had his pick of cars in this lot, he had purposefully chosen this one because its owner was an illegal alien who would never call the police. Going over to the driver’s door, he glanced around to make sure he wasn’t being watched. As discreetly as he could, he removed the Slim Jim from his pant leg and slid it between the window and the weather stripping. With the newer model cars, the doors housed various function controls as well as air bags and electrical wiring for power locks. Luckily, with this being a much older car, Leo didn’t have to worry about any of that getting in the way of what he was trying to do. He slowly moved the piece of spring steel back and forth, all the while keeping an eye out for nosey passersby. Suddenly, he felt the tool grab the lock rod before the lock flipped over.

Triumphantly, he slid the tool out before opening the door and getting in. It was sweltering inside the car but he didn’t dare waste precious minutes opening the windows. Reaching down under the dashboard, his shaking fingers found the wires he needed in order to hotwire the car. When the huge V8 roared to life, he wasted no time in pulling out of the parking spot before cruising down the laneway and out onto East Compton without a backward glance.

Her feet hurt and now her stomach hurt, too. Stopping, Maria sat down and touched her bleeding heel with the tips of her fingers. Bringing her bloody fingers up close to her face, she smelled them. She didn’t notice the black car that had quickly slid behind another parked car. She stood up and stared at the pole across the street with the twisted blue sign before looking down at the sidewalk. She saw that the last slab, right before the sidewalk ended, had all four corners missing. She still had a long walk ahead of her.

Maria left the sidewalk and walked up a grassy slope to a closed gate, the grass tickling her bare feet. Carefully placing her backpack down on the ground, she reached over the gate and undid the latch. Pushing it open as quietly as she could, she walked across the yard, hoping not to wake the big dog sleeping in the house. He had barked at her once before. The other side of the house had a chain link fence that had been shredded and she gingerly pushed her way through the fence on her hands and knees, pulling at her backpack as it dragged behind her. When she was through, she picked up the backpack and trudged along the path that led to the concrete embankment.

She made her way down the embankment, trying hard not to fall. The traffic echoed all around her as she turned and limped her way along the junction to the freeway underpass. She paused to look behind her, noting that the red piggies were following her. She giggled before resuming her journey.

***

Leo quickly sandwiched his stolen car between the two Japanese models parked illegally on the street. He didn’t want Maria to see him. He waited until she’d gone through the gate of a house before getting out of his car and sprinting across the street. He was just in time to see her go through a shredded chain link fence on the other side of the yard before her limping form receded down an embankment.

He quickly scanned the street and the house to which the yard belonged. All was quiet except for some guy about two blocks away, walking in the opposite direction. Quickly making up his mind, he unlatched the gate before stepping into the yard. He saw the blood in the grass and his heartbeat quickened. It could only be Maria’s blood. If she was injured, it might make things easier when he grabbed her. Halfway across the yard, he noticed the piles of shit that littered the far side of the yard like miniature landmines. His brain had barely registered the connection between the shit and the existence of a dog when a black Rottweiler fiercely lunged at the French doors of the house, barking hysterically at the top of its lungs. Taken aback, Leo tore back across the yard, fumbling with the latch on the gate in his haste to get out of there.

Back in the relative safety of his stolen car, he breathed deeply, waiting for his heart rate to go back to normal as he went over his options. The yard was obviously a short cut. The embankment on the other side had to lead under the Hollywood Freeway. Maybe that’s where Maria slept when she wasn’t roaming the streets. His hands shook as thoughts of her immediately consumed him. He needed her. Her innocence and purity would absolve him.

Managing to get his car out of its tight spot, he quickly turned onto Highland Avenue, heading north. At the first intersection, he turned left, slowing his speed as he scanned both sides of the street. Damn! She had to be here somewhere! Looking into his rearview mirror, he caught the unmistakable glimpse of a police cruiser and immediately adjusted his speed. His heart hammered in his chest. He’d have a hard time explaining what he was doing in a stolen vehicle if the cops stopped him. Forcing himself to check his rearview mirror a minute later, he saw with relief that he had not attracted the cruiser’s attention. Visibly shaken by his close call, he reluctantly decided to call it a day.

***

Traffic was light as Liz crossed Las Palmas but she barely noticed. She was too focused on every face that crossed her path to be aware of her surroundings. Somewhere close to here, her mother was walking around injured and barefoot and Liz had to find her. Maria was a creature of habit and up until a few months ago, it had been relatively easy for Liz to keep tabs on her. She had her usual haunt at the Hollywood & Highland Center and the six-block radius around it. Liz had been searching for Maria since her mother had left her apartment but so far, she had no luck in finding her.

She leaned against the nearest wall, lifting each leg to tiredly rotate her ankles. Ironically, the pain in her feet reminded Liz of the dire condition her mother’s feet were in and the thought of dirt seeping into those open wounds gave her the impetus to get back to her search.

Despite her resolve, the shop window on the corner of the next block caught her eye. Liz had never noticed the store before so she figured it was probably new. It was totally out of character with the rest of the stores on the block in that it didn’t have the requisite flashing neon sign and scruffy exterior of most of the junk and pawn shops surrounding it. An ornate Victorian sign proclaimed the store to be
Vintage Variables
and the entire storefront looked like it had been transplanted from Rodeo Drive. Peeking in the window, Liz spied an old Victrola off to one side with stacks of 45’s and LP’s surrounding it. Being an avid collector, the pull of the vinyl was too much to resist and her search was temporarily put on hold as Liz impulsively went inside to have a quick look.

No one bothered her as she quickly flipped through the piles of old records on the table. In the first pile, she found a Fats Domino classic,
“Ain’t That a Shame”
which Liz put to one side. In the third pile, she found a lesser-known Elvis cut called
“Baby Let’s Play House”
as well as
“Make a Wish”
by the Paisleys. A quick inspection confirmed that her selections appeared to be in good condition and all were in their original picture sleeves. At two bucks a piece, they were a great find!

Liz hurried over to the cash and stood in line. The customer in front of her unexpectedly stepped back, right onto her already sore foot. Wincing in pain, Liz dropped the Elvis 45. Bending down to pick it up, an old framed poster propped against a far wall caught her eye.
She had seen that picture before.
Liz left the lineup to take a closer look. Standing in front of the framed poster, she knew without a doubt she wasn’t mistaken.