Iced Tea (19 page)

I called my bank and asked how to trace the check.
 
The rather snotty little person that took my call, checked my account, told me that I could easily get a copy of the check that I’d deposited, but that there would be a fee, and that I had to come to the branch to get it.
 
She also informed me that I would need proper ID and my account information.
 
Then, in a rather I-work-at-a-bank-and-I’m-special tone of voice, she told me that I should really make a copy of all checks before I deposit them, and keep that copy for at least 5 years.

I was polite.

My mother raised me well.

That doesn’t mean that I didn’t think about how nice it would be to say a few choice words about the fact that her mother obviously didn’t spend as much time on manners as mine did.

So, for the moment, I still don’t know anything about Steven.

But I do have an address!
 
He gave it to me so that I could send him copies of everything I thought was important.

I ran back over to my hatboxes and rummaged for the address information.
 
I logged onto the computer, and did a search for the address.

I cussed out loud.
 
The address came back to one of those mailbox places that give you a real looking address and then forward your mail somewhere else.

I called the place.
 
This time I got a really nice man.
 
I explained my situation.
 
Told him I had been sending mail to that address, silly me, I’d lost all other contact information, and could he pretty please give me a phone number.
 
He said he couldn’t do that, but would be happy to take my contact information and put it in the box.
 
Great.

What the hell is going on?

I sat and thought about it for a while.

I could hear music coming from the parking lot.
 
I checked the window and saw my neighbor with the big blue balls cleaning out his car, with the radio on a little loud.
 
I thought about it for all of 12 seconds, and decided it was time to get a fresh opinion.

“Hey.”

“Hi Cara, what’s up?”

“Do you have a few minutes?”

“I have all afternoon.
 
The shop is kind of slow, there are young family men there, I give up a few hours every week so that they can make a little extra.
 
What you need?”

“Your brain.”

“Sure, a beautiful young woman wants my body and the only part she wants is my brain.
 
Just my luck.”

I did the polite laugh thing, and invited him in for a cup of tea.
 
He said he’d be there in 5 minutes, just had to carry the stuff he’d collected from his back seat and trunk, into his apartment.
 
I offered to help.
 
He declined.

I went in the house, put the kettle on.
 
Did a quick ransacking of my cupboards to see if I had anything to offer him to munch on.
 
The junk food component of my food storage has gone down considerably since Teagan has gone back to work.

I had some cookies, some only slightly stale cinnamon rolls, some really good bread, and some left over chicken that might be dancing on the edge of salmonella or the plague or something.
 
I threw the chicken in the garbage before AJ ate it by mistake.
 
Thank God he grabbed the left over chicken fingers on his way out this morning.
 
Giving food poisoning to someone doing your family a favor is a big no-no.
 

I grabbed a teapot.
 
I put some boiled water into the pot, to make a proper cup of tea, when my neighbor showed up at the door, his own beer in hand.

Change of plan, I grabbed some chips and a cold Pepsi, and joined him in the living room.

“So, what do you need with my brain?”

“I have a weird situation, and I know you have a background in some kind of Army thing, and you seem to know all the cops in town, and I need your read on something, if that is okay.”

“I was special ops, that isn’t really ‘some kind of Army thing’ but go ahead.”

“Okay, let me start at the beginning so that you can see the whole picture and tell me if I should be scared or if I’m just being stupid.”

“Cara, you’re not the type of girl that overreacts, if you’re scared, there’s a good reason, what’s going on?”

“A while back, a good friend of my mom’s died.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“She was there to witness the earth’s crust cool, but she was a really good woman, and I miss her more than I ever thought I could.
 
Anyway, when she died, my sister Teagan and I started cleaning out her house for my mom, as a favor.
 
Then the family priest called and asked me if I would do the same thing for a guy in his parish.
 
At the time, I thought that they really knew each other well, but it turns out they didn’t.
 
Anyway, I emailed his brother back and forth, and we decided I’d clean everything out.”

I went on to tell him the whole story, including the part where Joe-the-cop showed up, and Teagan and I beat him up, and when he showed up at my parent’s house and almost ran over me and we called a supervisor, and when he showed up at the cemetery and said it was probably his sister, and how he told me that the whole thing was actually a covert mission, and that I couldn’t tell anybody about it.
 
Everything I could think of from top to bottom, from the weird journals I found in Louis’s condo, to the locked room with the table bolted to the floor that turned out to be for rehab.
 

In the middle of my story, he disappeared, came back with a six-pack of beer, and sat and listened intently.

When I was done, all he said was, ‘this is some kind of bullshit you got yourself in the middle of.”

“So you don’t think I’m crazy?”

“No, I don’t think you’re the crazy one.
 
I think you need to be real careful Cara.
 
Do you have a gun?”

“No I don’t have a gun.
 
They say that the majority of people with guns, the bad guy gets the gun away from them and they get shot with their own gun, cause we all know the bad guy gets the gun away from the good guy.
 
Even cops get shot with their own guns.
 
What chance do I have, if a cop with a holster and training and everything, can’t keep the gun for himself.”

“Who is ‘they’ and who are they talking about?
 
I could teach you how to be safe with a gun in about an hour.”

“I’m sorry.
 
I’m not a gun person.”

“Well, how about your boyfriend?”

“I don’t think so, he shoots with a camera, he's a photographer.”

“Cara, this just doesn’t add up at all.
 
Isn’t your brother a cop?
 
Have you talked to him?”

“I didn’t know if I should get him in the middle of it.
 
If there was any truth to it at all, I didn’t want to screw up his career.
 
He is younger than me, and he has a wife and family, I don’t want my stupidity to ruin his life.”

“First, you haven’t been stupid.
 
Second, I don’t think if this cop is doing what we think he is doing, it can get you or your family in trouble, we might even be able to work this thing to your brother’s advantage.”

“That’s always good.
 
What do you think I should do?”

“Right now, I don’t want you to do anything.
 
Give me a little time to think it through and to come up with something.”

“I really didn’t mean to hand my problems over to you, I just wanted to bounce it off of you so that I could get the opinion of an uninvolved person.
 
My family always jumps into it if they think there’s any chance that one of us has a problem, and I didn’t want to do that to them.”

“Well, work has been slow, and I’m bored near to death.
 
This will give me something to think about.
 
I got a couple of things to do tonight, then I got work in the morning, but tomorrow afternoon, I can put some real concentration toward it.
 
How ‘bout we talk again tomorrow evening?”

“That would be great.
 
Can I cook you some dinner?”

He smiled, “How’s the boyfriend gonna feel about that?”

I laughed, “He is very enlightened, he’ll be fine, he won’t be home anyway, he has a night shoot, something to do with the lights in the background from that bridge over on Bundy.”

“That is a beautiful area.”

“Tell you what.
 
If we don’t speak first, I’ll have dinner ready at 6:30.
 
Will that work for you?”

“Sounds great.”

“I’m a country cook, not a gourmet or anything, do you have any requests?”

“I was one of those Army guys remember?
 
We eat pretty much anything they slap on a plate.
 
You learn that early.
 
I’m sure anything you fix will be great.”

He grabbed the remainder of his beers and headed for the door with a new little bounce in his step.
 
I guess once a tough guy hero, always a tough guy hero.
 

Nice to have someone to save again.

That thought made me shudder.

I decided to type up everything I’d told my neighbor about, printed out a copy, in case he needed to give it to the chief of police or something.

I took a shower, and decided to think about nicer things.

My phone was ringing when I got out of the shower.
 

Teagan.

“You did it.
 
You finally brought me over to the dark side.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Plogged.”

“What?”

“Plogged.
 
You have used that word all our lives.
 
It’s a stupid word, and I just used it.
 
I not only used it, but I used it in front of everyone at an important meeting.
 
I not only used it, in front of everyone at an important meeting, but someone called me on it.
 
I turned so red that Joany felt sorry for me.
 
Joany!!”

“Why would you be embarrassed to use the word plogged?
 
It’s a perfectly good word Teagan.
 
It’s the combination of plugged and clogged.
 
It describes the condition better than either word alone.”

“Cara, normal people don’t make up words.”

“Sure they do, Beyoncé made up bootylicious and they put it in the dictionary.”

“Number one, you’re crazy, and bootylicious is not in the dictionary.
 
Number two, you aren’t Beyoncé.”

“Beyoncé doesn’t get to make up words because she is famous, she gets to make up words because they are the most appropriate noise to communication her thoughts.
 
Just like anyone else.
 
And, yes, bootylicious is in the dictionary.
 
I’m telling you they put it in there.
 
The Oxford one.
 
Check it.”

“I don’t have time to check that kind of stuff, I have a life.
 
I just wanted you to know that your weirdness is contagious and you might want to stay away from young children and older people.”

“Thanks.
 
Besides, I think I might have lost my powers.
 
I’ve been thinking about this whole thing with the cops and the killers and nothing is coming to me.
 
I got nothing.”

“Cara, that’s because you’re trying to be logical.
 
You just aren’t a logical person.
 
That isn’t your talent.
 
Your talent is taking all the pieces of a puzzle, that everybody thinks is a picture of bubble gum balls, and figuring out before anyone else, that it’s actually marbles.”

“Gee, that is a talent worth honing.”

“It is.
 
You don’t give yourself enough credit.
 
The beauty of life is that all talents are valid and all talents are useful.
 
Stop trying to turn your talent into someone else’s talent and let it work for you.”

“Thank you oh majestic guru Teagan.”

“You’re welcome.
 
What are you doing tonight?”

“I’m going to cook dinner and hang out.
 
You want to come over?”

“Yep.
 
Can I bring Jessie?”

“Yep.
 
You have a request?”

“Moo, oink, cluck or the occasional gobble.
 
What about fish?
 
We haven’t done fish in a while.”

“Teagan, does a fish moo?
 
Does it cluck?
 
I don’t really do fish.”