Crusader (30 page)

"No? Why?"

I didn't know why, but I came up with this answer: "Because I don't think Hawg is capable of being sneaky. Whoever did it is very sneaky."

Two guys from Crescent, still wearing their
SAVE THE MALL
T-shirts, propped the entrance doors open with folding chairs. I walked back inside. In the distance I could see Leo setting up some big fans to blow the smell out. Mr. Lombardo, Mrs. Weiss, and at least ten other people held wide brooms and were pushing the remnants of the brown water toward the grate in the rotunda.

Everybody froze for a moment as the Channel 57 truck suddenly roared to life and started to move. I stood aside, by the mall office, and watched it roll toward me. Bill was again at the wheel.

The truck halted right next to me, and the cameraman reached out a long arm holding a videocassette. He said, "Here's the tape for Knowlton."

"What am I supposed to do with it?"

"I don't know. Angela said he has to preview everything we filmed. It's one of Knowlton's rules. Tell him to FedEx it to the studio when he's done."

"Sure. Okay." I took the tape, the door closed, and the truck rolled on. I went into the mall office and stashed the tape in the mall newsletter drawer.

Between the commotion outside and the lingering smell inside, there were zero customers left in the West End Mall. I walked back through the rotunda, past the blowing fans, trying to breathe only through my mouth.

Suzie positioned herself in the middle of the rotunda. She turned to the south and then to the north, yelling the same message down each line of the mallway. "Go ahead and close! No one is coming in here tonight."

I walked into Arcane to tell Uncle Frank what Suzie had said. I passed Hawg just as he was stepping into the Crusader circle. I said, "Do you want me to start it for you?"

"Nah. I got it." He picked up the helmet. But before he put it on he said to me, "You ever try this one, Roberta?"

"I've never tried any of them. You know that."

Hawg looked at me curiously. "No, I didn't know that. I figured you was just sick of em all. You know, with you growin' up in an arcade."

"No. I'm not sick of them all. That's not it."

Hawg shrugged and pulled on the helmet. "Well, if you ever get the notion to, I'd recommend this one. It's kick-ass."

"Okay." I left Hawg to his Arcane experience. I walked to the back and opened the office door. Uncle Frank wasn't in there. I heard a hose running, so I continued outside. I looked to the left and saw Uncle Frank rinsing out the bristles of a pushbroom. I called over, "Uncle Frank, Suzie says we should all close up. No one's coming in tonight."

He turned off the hose. "Suzie's right." He didn't say anything else, so I assumed that he meant for us to close. I went back inside and told Karl the news. He didn't seem to hear me, but a few seconds later, he put down his magazine and started the closing checklist.

Hawg was still inside the Crusader ring, hacking at imaginary Arabs. I stopped for a moment and watched him. Was he really hacking at Sam? His teeth were set and showing through his lips. The sides of his mouth, however, were curving upward—not in a snarl, but in a smile. A delighted smile.

Hawg finished the experience and pulled off the helmet. Karl yelled to him, "You'd better spray that helmet. You got lice."

Hawg joined Karl to help wheel in the Sony monitor. He said, "Back home, son, we call 'em cooties."

Griffin knows more about these hate crimes than I do. He has evidence, and his notes in his notebook. But he has also
seen Hawg in moments like these, when he is just a big kid playing an arcade game. For me, that's evidence, too.

Karl and I stood together in the mallway watching Uncle Frank lock the sliding-glass doors. It was only eight-fifteen, but here we were, locking up. Uncle Frank turned and said, "Come on, Roberta, we'll give you a ride."

I lied. "No, thanks, Uncle Frank. I have a ride with Mrs. Weiss."

"Okay." He set off, all business, toward the entrance. Karl scrambled along behind him.

I walked over to Isabel's Hallmark and peered through the doorway. It was dark inside. Mrs. Weiss was already gone. I stood still for a moment and listened up and down the mallway. I listened for quiet. When I was sure no one was watching, I walked slowly to Slot #61, took out my master key, and opened the front door. La Boutique de Paris was even dustier than the last time I had been there, when Kristin and I were models. I slipped inside, sat in the window, and hid behind the mannequins' unclothed bodies.

Nothing stirred. I watched and listened for footsteps anywhere on the mallway. The place was completely deserted. That's why I was so startled when the sound came. It was a sharp click, followed by a door opening. Someone had just entered La Boutique de Paris from behind me, from the outside. I looked at the sliding-glass doors in panic. Was there time for me to get out?

The intruder moved quickly to the front of the store. He would have seen me no matter what I did, so what I did was stand up and face him.

It was Sam.

He hopped up onto the wooden platform quickly and confidently, like he thought he was alone. Then he skidded to a
halt. He gasped at the sight of me, and his face drained of blood. We stood staring at each other until he croaked out, "Roberta? What are you doing here? How did you get in?"

"I got a key when I was modeling. How did you get in?"

"I got a key from Verna."

Sam sat down heavily against the wall, right where the mannequin once stood. My eyes opened wide. So, that was why the mannequin had moved. Sam had moved it.

I sat down, too. I explained, "Griffin told me what's going on."

Sam was cagey. "Griffin?"

"Yes. Detective Griffin."

"I see. What did he tell you?"

"He told me you've been the victim of hate crimes."

Sam stared into my eyes, but he didn't say anything.

"And that you've been trying to solve them yourself."

Sam looked off down the mallway. He didn't say anything else, so I settled into a comfortable position. I couldn't stand the silence for long, though. I whispered to him, "Why do you sit here and look? Why don't you just use a video camera to catch him?"

Sam answered sadly, "I have used a video camera. I've used every gadget at Crescent. I've had some kind of camera up and running every night this month. It hasn't caught anybody."

"Why?"

"Why? Because 'the alleged perpetrator,' as the detective calls him, knows it's there. He works here in the mall. He sees it sitting there."

"How do you know it's a he?"

Sam scoffed. "I know exactly who it is."

"Who?"

"You know who. The redneck."

"Hawg?"

"Exactly."

"Why are you so sure he did it? Couldn't it be someone else?"

Sam's eyes narrowed angrily, but he admitted, "For a while there, I thought it was someone else. I thought it was Devin. I got into a big hassle with him about the Nazi stuff in his store window. I told him I didn't want my customers walking past that. I told him I'd get his rent raised if he didn't move it. Anyway, I spent some nights in Slot Number Nine figuring I'd catch Devin with a paint can, but it didn't happen."

"So now you're sure it's Hawg?"

"Yeah. And this time it's not just me. It's Griffin and Verna, too. They've both seen him with the red paint, the same stuff that was on my window and my car. And they've heard him threaten me, more than once." Sam turned and asked, "Did you know he tried to flee the state?"

"Yes."

"That's because we finally have him."

We both heard a sound and froze. It was footsteps. In a moment, though, we saw Leo walking down the mallway with his camera equipment.

I realized that I had leaned closer to Sam. I also realized that I liked it.

We sat like that for two hours. Sam talked about a lot of things. He told me about the University of South Florida and the classes he was taking there. He told me a little about his family.

During one lull, I decided to talk some myself. I asked him, "What is your brother's name?"

He seemed surprised. He answered, "Samir."

"Your brother is named Samir, too?"

"Yeah. We're Samir Abdul and Samir Ahmad."

"You even have the same middle initial?"

He laughed. "Yeah. I guess we do."

"Wow. That's like
Too Many Daves.
Do you know that story?"

"I don't think so."

I started to quote it. "
Did I ever tell you that Mrs. McCave had twenty-three sons and she named them all Dave?
"

"No, I guess not."

"Well then, do you know this one? It's from a Dr. Seuss story, too:
That Sam-I-am. That Sam-I-am. I do not like that Sam-I-am!
"

"Oh yeah. I do know that one.
Green Eggs and Ham,
right?"

"Right."

A silence followed that exchange. I started to feel really self-conscious. I figured Sam now thought I was an idiot. I figured he wanted to leave, but to my relief, he launched into a new topic. He asked me, "So what did you think of Mr. Ray Lyons?"

"He seemed nice."

Sam scoffed. "Yeah. And he saved all those kids' lives, too." Sam added bitterly, "Just like he's saving us."

"What do you mean 'saving us'? Do you mean with the recapitalization?"

"Listen: The recap is a fantasy. It's not going to happen. Ray Lyons doesn't want it to happen. Lyons will force us all into bankruptcy, and then young Richard, the golf pro, will get the property cheap. It's a done deal. The bulldozers will roll again, and we'll all be entombed." Sam looked at his watch. "Okay. That's it for me. It's eleven o'clock."

Sam got up to leave, so I did, too. He asked me, "How are you getting home?"

"I'll call home for a ride."

"Yeah? Somebody will come and get you?"

"Right. My dad."

Sam looked suspicious. "How about if I give you a ride?"

"No. He wouldn't like that. Thanks anyway."

Sam unlocked the back door to Slot #61, and we found ourselves in the front parking lot. Sam said, "I'll be here tomorrow, if you want to try again."

I said, "Yeah. I definitely do."

"Come to this door. It's less obvious."

I walked off toward the pay phones by the entrance. Sam said, "Would your father mind if I waited until he picked you up?"

"Probably. He thinks I'm working on the books. He doesn't know what I'm really doing. It'd be better if you left."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure. Thanks again."

Sam waved and headed off toward his BMW. I hoped no one had vandalized it tonight. Apparently no one had, since he pulled away immediately. Then I was free—free to stop pretending about my dad, free to walk home in the dark alone.

I was standing with Mr. Herman outside the office this morning, with the Pledge and Banner video in my hand, when I heard Hawg's voice out in the hallway. He sounded very agitated, like he might be near tears. I could hear someone answering him briefly and quietly.

I watched the doorway for a few seconds until they appeared—Hawg and Archie. Hawg was appealing to Archie to help him get back on the football team. Archie was clearly uncomfortable with the conversation. He was trying to inch away.

Then Hawg caught sight of Mr. Herman. I'm not sure if he
saw me or not. He quickly looked back at Archie and told him in dead earnest, "I can't be off that team. You understand? That can't happen."

Archie assured him, "I'll see what I can do."

Hawg took off, muttering under his breath. Archie waited until we had played the Pledge and Banner tape. Then he knocked on his father's door and went inside—I guess to see what he could do.

Mr. Herman's fifth-period lecture today was on the power of journalists. "Edward R. Murrow and his colleagues invented the live broadcast. News that is broadcast live is a dangerous thing, Roberta. Why?"

I thought about it and answered, "Because no one has a chance to change it before you see it. It's what's really happening."

"Precisely so. Because it can show you reality."

Betty raised her hand. "So who changes the news before we see it?"

"Why, the government, of course. Any government. Including, boys and girls, the good old USA."

We heard a stirring from the back of the room. I turned around. The football guys were actually listening, and they didn't like what they had heard.

Mr. Herman continued, "The German people thought, until the very end, that they were winning World War Two. That is what they read and heard every day, so naturally they believed it. The German government controlled the press.

"Are we any different? Yes and no. The American government did not control the press in Vietnam. Because of free journalists, the American people saw the horror of the war in Vietnam, and they insisted on putting an end to it. But the
government learned from that mistake. No journalists were allowed near the fighting in Operation Desert Storm. Was that a good thing?"

Hawg, of all people, answered. "I'd say so. What good are the damn reporters, anyway, if they ain't even on our side?"

Mr. Herman addressed him, probably for the first time all year. "But they aren't supposed to be on 'our side.' They are supposed to be on the side of truth."

"They're on their own damn side. That's all. They're just out for themselves."

Mr. Herman looked at me for a comment, but Hawg wasn't finished.

"The way I see it, if America's in a war, I'm either fighting to win it, or I got no business being there."

Mr. Herman responded tersely, "Unless your business is to report the news as a member of a free press."

"Well, the way I see that one, all we have to do is lose one of them wars and there ain't gonna
be
no more free press."

Mr. Herman shook his head at that, but no one else did. Hawg's remarks turned the discussion around. Even I had to agree with him. Some of the football players and some of the other students started to speak up, and everyone who spoke supported Hawg.

Mr. Herman didn't like that one bit.

When I got to the TV studio, I walked into a frenzy of activity. Outside, Bill and Mr. McKay were wheeling equipment to the RV, Inside, Mrs. Knight was on the phone, speaking very tensely to someone named Veronica.