Five O’Clock Shadow (20 page)

She buttoned the top button on her down jacket. The sun was low in the pale turquoise sky. There was maybe an hour before it set. The hum of the generators that provided electricity to the makeshift community seemed unusually loud and intrusive. Pauly looked across at the trailer where Jorge had gone that night. Did he live there? She couldn't be sure. The curtains were drawn; there was no sign of life.

“Lost?”

Pauly jumped, then laughed. She hadn't heard Steve come up behind her.

“Trying to become a parent but they're all sold.” She pointed at the sticker-picture of a Jack Russell terrier in the trailer's window.

Steve was beside her now squinting into the sun, a padded flannel jacket in a red buffalo plaid accentuating the size of his arms and chest. He smelled good, soap-fresh, like he'd just stepped out of a shower. And it was difficult to concentrate.

Pauly hated the way he made her feel. Well, only the part that made her feel not quite in control.

“Do you have to work tonight?” God, that sounded like she had something in mind for the two of them instead of just friendly conversation.

“Probably, unless I have a better offer.” He was grinning, sure of himself. “You know, I was hoping to see you tonight. How would you like to spend a one-of-a-kind Christmas?”

“Doing what?”

“Traveling south with a carnival.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Couldn't be more serious. We're heading out for El Paso in the morning.”

“Grams told me.”

“Did she tell you it was a virgin tour for the newest partner? A couple special performances Christmas Eve for the Ronald McDonald's house and a Shriner's parade on Christmas Day?”

“She and Hofer said they weren't going.”

“Yeah, the new kid is on his own.” Steve's lightness sounded a little forced.

“You'll do fine.”

“I think I'd feel better with a little moral support.” Imploring, sincere? Both, Pauly guessed. She could sense his nervousness as he waited for her answer.

“I'm driving your Grandmother's motor home, you can have that and I'll bunk with one of the mechanics.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“We'll head back the day after Christmas.”

Two days. She could find out a lot in that time, and not be suspect. And there was a certain safety attached to being out of town right now, even if it meant going back to El Paso; it made her harder to find, if anyone was looking, and they just might be. It wasn't difficult to conjure up an image of an irate Archer. And there was the fire. Wasn't Steve the lesser of a half dozen evils? And she could watch him. Surely there was safety in numbers. And he would be working.

“I'd love to.” She smiled; he smiled back.

“You're serious?”

She nodded.

“I thought I'd have a real battle on my hands. This was too easy.”

She could tell how excited he was. It was just as well that he didn't know the real incentive. But the invitation was perfect, perfect timing, perfect excuse for her to be involved.

“I won't handle snakes.” Mock-seriousness on her part as she watched him pause.

“That may screw the whole deal.” He played along.

“Actually, I'm halfway serious. Is there anything I could do to earn my way?”

“Is joining the clowns out?”

“Yep.”

“How 'bout working with the monkey?”

“No way.”

“Guess you're just going to have to be a guest and one-person cheering section. Hopefully, there'll be something to cheer about.”

“What should I wear?” Pauly dared him with a glance to say something about pasties and G-string, but he was serious, wasn't kidding around anymore.

“Dress code is pretty lax, jeans, sweatshirt, warm coat. We could have dinner across the border. Have you been to Juarez before?”

She shook her head.

“Border towns are fun. Great places to eat. I'll show you the sights.”

He was serious. She knew it, could hear the absolute happiness in his voice. She felt a twinge of guilt. Here she was plotting how to question Jorge, rejoicing at having two full days in the child's world, time that would surely give her an opportunity to interact normally without scaring him, and Steve could have no idea of her selfishness. But the prospect of finding answers—she could be within days, maybe hours of finally knowing the truth—was exhilarating.

***

Three was just too early to get up. Pauly felt drugged even though she'd gone to bed at ten. Her clothes were packed—the casual stuff that Steve had recommended—but warm. She carried her bag down to the kitchen. The yard was ablaze with lights and activity. Grams had set up a table with stacks of foil-wrapped breakfast burritos and two restaurant-big urns of coffee just inside the back door. At the moment it was the place to be.

She dropped her jacket and bag in the hall and helped her grandmother hand out breakfast.

“I'm glad you don't mind my going. I feel rotten promising to be here for Christmas and then running off.”

“Darlin', I'm thrilled that you'll go with the carnival. I always hoped when you were a child that you'd grow to like all this. And don't you say otherwise, I know that handsome young partner of mine had something to do with it.”

“But what about you? Isn't there a special someone that you'll be spending holiday time with?” Pauly was tempted to go further. Maybe now was a good time to find out about Grams' love life.

“My special someone will be doing just what I'd like her to be doing.…” Grams gave her a little conspiratorial wink and squeeze around the shoulders just as Hofer walked up. Was it Pauly's imagination or had Grams ducked the question because of him?

Pauly idly wondered how early Grams had gotten up to look that “together” in the middle of the night. Smooth skin, maybe a little puffy around the eyes, glowed with the expert application of foundation and blusher. The false eyelashes, short thick ones for street wear, framed violet eyes. Violet? Pauly looked closer. Grams was wearing colored contacts. The lightning-white hair was piled on top of her head, difficult to tell what was hers and what was a hairpiece. A wide violet scarf seemed to anchor everything in place. And other than looking like a leftover from
Dynasty,
Grams looked pretty good. Maybe she'd just stayed up, hadn't gone to bed at all.

“The motor home is parked out front. Here are the keys. I'll tell Steve that you've gone on over. It'll take him awhile to get this show on the road. Here, let Hofer hand out the rest of these burritos.”

Pauly started to protest.

“Go on now. We can handle breakfast. You have just one bang-up Christmas, you hear?”

Was there a little extra emphasis on the “bang”? Pauly wondered. But Grams had quickly hugged her and hadn't said any more. She was obviously pleased that Pauly would be spending the holidays with Steve.

Pauly grabbed a burrito, her bag, and a jacket, pausing only to slip it around her shoulders before she walked back through the house and out the front door. The motor home sat in the semicircular gravel drive close to the house, and loomed up to block the circular rock garden that defined the driveway's inner edge. The coach was a boxy thing, a rectangle on wheels in varying shades of pinstriped brown. “The Southwind” was stenciled artistically along the side amid one-dimensional cacti and yucca in yellows and greens. The artist had even signed his work.

Pauly unlocked the side door and, tossing her bag ahead of her, climbed up the fold-down steps. The living area was deceptively spacious but crowded with ugly overstuffed flowered velvet furniture in wine tones. The interior paneling was dark, fake walnut Pauly guessed, while the short hall leading to the one-piece, molded plastic bathroom had speckled rose wallpaper. A bedroom just as garish, if Pauly remembered correctly, was a cubicle beyond that.

The whole thing had a little old Mom and Pop feel to it, something to tool around in once the nest was empty. It needed a bumper-sticker that said “We're enjoying our kid's inheritance.” Depressing, but Pauly was too tired to care. She stretched out on the sofa. She hadn't slept well the night before in El Paso, and the fight with Archer had robbed her of energy. Now she felt safer, locked in a motor home. Only Grams and Hofer and Steve knew where she was, and she could keep an eye on Steve. She'd wake when he got there.

But she didn't. It was nine thirty and they were almost to El Paso before she sat up, trying to get oriented.

“I figured you needed your rest.” Steve glanced back at her in the large rearview mirror.

“My God, I must look terrible.” Pauly quickly tried to fluff her hair. “How long before we stop?”

“We'll be taking over the National Guard Armory. It's across town, not too far from the border. We're probably talking an hour, maybe forty-five minutes before we get there.”

Pauly pulled back the curtains from the square picture window to her right. The sun flooded in, high in the sky, painfully bright. Pauly blinked, then squinted at the landscape, the outskirts of El Paso. A metal building on River Street floated into her consciousness, the fire, a young boy, the transient; she turned away. Could all that have happened just night before last?

“Think I'll brush my teeth.” There was no answer from Steve. He was concentrating on keeping his place in the convoy of trucks, motor homes, and trailers as they pulled single-file onto the first exit ramp.

Pauly had time to buy a newspaper when Steve stopped to gas up. She bought a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter. They'd be here for awhile. She scanned the front page, then leafed through the first section. She was looking for something in particular and almost missed it, the article was so small. Thursday's fire that had claimed a life in the industrial area of River Street was attributed to arson. No surprise there. The body still had not been identified, other than to announce that it was a woman somewhere in her late fifties. The article went on to say that authorities suspected it was the body of a transient often referred to as Maxine who frequented the area, and asked that anyone having information about this woman to please contact local law enforcement. There was a phone number.

Pauly wished the woman had remained anonymous. Now it was like she knew her, this Maxine who had accidentally gotten in the way, in the way of Pauly's death, and that made her feel responsible. She was the last person that Maxine had spoken with. Could Pauly have saved her? In all honesty she didn't think so. She could close her eyes and smell the gasoline, see the fire shooting down the hallway. The fire had simply exploded and burned so hot and quickly. She had been lucky to have escaped.

“Ready?”

Pauly crumpled the paper, then wished she hadn't started so violently when she saw Steve's quizzical look. She tried to wipe any semblance of guilt off her face. She'd just been reading the newspaper. Not a crime. Or maybe it was if you were withholding information.

“Want me to drive?” She smiled brightly. Change the subject, keep him from wondering what could possibly have been of such interest to her.

“Maybe later. Thanks.”

She sat by the window again and watched as they worked their way across town.

“We're almost there. We'll set up in the parking lot of the Armory. It gives us bathrooms and showers, a real luxury. Steve turned at the next corner and followed his entourage to the back of a two-acre lot.

“This is where it might get a little boring. We've got less than six hours to turn this area into a midway with rides and shows. You can watch, or stay here and rest. Take a walk, if you'd like. I wouldn't wander far to the south if you do. That's where it starts getting rough, about two blocks over. A little close to the border. But there are some shops to the north, a shopping center with a grocery store.”

Pauly checked her watch. Eleven-thirty. “I think I'll just wander around here, see if I can help anyone. I promise to stay out of trouble.”

She smiled and hoped she sounded casual and not like someone with a plan to find a child and question him. She couldn't wait to seek out Jorge. At least find where he was staying. It had never dawned on her that he might not be with the group. It was unlikely that he'd stay in Albuquerque. She assumed from the number of people involved in the show that he'd be one of them.

But she felt a twinge of apprehension. She had so counted on this trip for answers, what if her time was wasted? But she didn't know that for certain yet, and she had the next six hours to hunt unobserved.

“I'll meet you back here at six.” Steve pulled on a flannel shirt and tossed her the keys to the motor home. “You know you can always come back here before that if you want. Fridge is stocked, beer, sandwiches, help yourself.”

“Great, I will.” She watched him leave, trotting across the asphalt towards the eighteen-wheelers parked single file along a chain-link fence.

Pauly opened the fridge. Steve wasn't lying. There was more food than could possibly be eaten in a week, let alone a couple days. Grams' doing? Probably. Pauly pulled a sandwich off the saran-wrapped stack on the shelf nearest her, then searched for a baggy or foil, pulling out three different drawers under the counter before finding a selection of food wraps. On impulse, she added a second ham and Swiss on rye to the plastic bag that she dropped in her purse. She'd eat later, maybe find a picnic spot in the park across the street.

The afternoon promised to be warm, high sixties at least, but for now her down vest felt good. One more look around the motor home—did she have everything she'd need? Or was she just stalling? Being this close suddenly had given her the jitters.

Pauly took a deep breath, opened the motor home door, hopped to the pavement, and turned to lock up. This was it. No turning back now. She started towards the activity and quickly realized that she could get in the way by not knowing what she was doing. A Ferris wheel was being pulled into place with a winch and crane. A man yelled in her direction, warning her to stay back. It would be safer if she walked close to the trailers and motor homes and away from the trucks.