Sweet 16 to Life (14 page)

W
hen I get home from my field trip, the first thing I do is hit the shower. Leaving the prison, I felt the same as when I visit a hospital—who knows what I may have picked up in there. I'm still getting dressed when the doorbell rings, and by the time I hurriedly finish and rush to the door, I open it to find no one there, but a padded mailing envelope falls onto my feet. I look around for any sign of whoever must have propped the envelope against my front door, but Aurora Avenue is deserted. I pick up the package expecting it to be for Lana, but it's addressed to me.

It contains three DVDs of black-and-white movies, and not because the director was trying to be artistic. I'm pretty sure the director didn't have a choice, given the movie covers. From the clothes and hairstyles of the actors, I'd guess the movies are circa 1940. I've been begging Lana to subscribe to one of those DVD subscription services, but I don't think she finally gave in. For one thing, she always says nine hundred channels worth of cable is plenty (like there actually are nine hundred channels!). For another, unless Lana subscribed to the lowest-rent DVD service she could find, this envelope doesn't look very official. The label with my name and address is printed, but other than that, nothing about it says legit. And there's no postmark, so the mailman didn't deliver it.

I drop the envelope and DVDs on the floor about the time my paranoia kicks in and my mind runs through scenarios of anthrax and mail bombs. Every scenario involves Lux. It's just way too much coincidence that he's running a DVD scam and I receive a package of DVDs.

A few minutes later, the doorbell rings again. This time I don't plan to open it until I look through the peephole and when I do, I find Marco standing there. That surprises me more than when I found the mysterious envelope. Marco has never been to my house before. Thanks to Lana, we're not exactly in the white pages. I also don't remember ever telling him my exact address.

“It's my turn to just show up at your house,” Marco says when I open the door. “I know you said you were doing all right when we last talked, but I wanted to make sure. In person.”

“You're really sweet, Marco, but I shouldn't have laid all my family secrets on you. It was kind of heavy . . . the kind of thing you only confide in a—”

“Friend—it's the kind of thing you talk to a friend about, right? Besides, I told you all my family secrets first.”

“Right,” I agree, though I was going to say it was the kind of thing you only confide in a boyfriend. The other thing I wonder but don't mention is why it's okay for us to hang out as friends but not as boyfriend/girlfriend. Do his parents have specific guidelines for this whole
forbidden to see Chanti
plan? Does being “just friends” make him less afraid of my sleuthing causing his family trouble?

“I get it if you don't want to talk about it, but if you need to, call me.”

“Thanks, Marco, I really do appreciate that.”

“Since I'm here, you gonna let me in?”

I was so surprised to find Marco at my door, apparently I forgot all my home-training.

“Oh yeah, of course. It is kinda cold out there, huh?”

“Kinda,” Marco says as he comes inside.

“I can get us some sodas, or something.” I say, feeling nervous even though we both know everything is strictly platonic between us.

“You dropped your DVDs,” Marco says, picking them up before I can warn him that they may be rigged with explosives or bioweaponry. Or not. “Hey, I thought you weren't into old movies. This is one of my favorite directors.”

“Those aren't mine.”

“The envelope has your name on them. Someone must think you like them.”

“Yeah, maybe my grandparents sent them. They like those ancient films. I guess they're trying to get me into it,” I say, hoping my explanation doesn't sound too lame. I figure it's best not to tell him I think they're a gift from the arsonist.

“Your grandparents have great taste. Hitchcock is my favorite.”

“Is that another detective from those old movies like that film festival guy you told me about?”

“Wow, I guess these really aren't yours then. If I wasn't planning to go into engineering or computers, I'd probably go to film school and this guy is the reason,” he says, holding up one of the DVD cases as though that's going to make me understand who Hitchcock is.

“Oh, I get it,” I say, realizing I got it all wrong suspecting Lux sent the movies.

“Get what?”

“You dropped these off hoping they'd convince me old movies are as great as you say they are.”

“What? I didn't drop these off.”

“Yeah, you did, because I wasn't interested in seeing that old detective film festival. Pretty clever how you made it all mysterious, dropping off an anonymous package. Now I
have
to watch them.”

“I'm pretty sure you'll enjoy the movies, but I swear it wasn't me.”

Just then, I get a text from Lana. Perfect timing. As much as I'm enjoying Marco's visit and his little game with the DVDs, I really want to start working on the information I got during my visit with Donnell.

“That's the ringtone for my mom. I have to check it.”

Other people's moms call or text to check up on them. Lana does that, but she also checks in with me so I know she's okay, too. When you have a cop for a parent and they're on the street working, you never know if it might be the last time you get to talk to them. I always answer, especially since Lana's the only parent I have. Although I guess that isn't exactly true anymore.

“I'm sorry, Marco. I've been a slacker host,” I say, reading Lana's text, “but it isn't the best time. Can I call you later?”

“No worries. Let me know if you change your mind about catching that film festival.”

 

Lana doesn't really have anything major to text me after all, just that she's on her way home and why don't we go out for dinner tonight. It's bad when you start looking for ulterior motives from your mother, but that's exactly what I've been doing since she told me it was my father she's been hiding from. I suspect that's what this dinner offer is about since we don't eat out very often unless we can pick it up from a counter and pay a uniformed cashier for it. Otherwise it's pretty much Red Lobster on her birthday and The Cheesecake Factory on mine, and maybe T.G.I. Friday's when I get a good report card, which is every semester.

That's where we are now because I wasn't creative enough to pick a special place to have another Big Important Talk about my long-lost father. Or not have one. I think I'm ready to hear the next part of my father's mystery, but I doubt Lana's going to tell me anything about the night he was arrested. That doesn't keep me from asking about it once we've given the waiter our order.

Instead of looking directly at her, I stare at all the buttons on the shirt of the waiter taking an order at the next table and hope he doesn't think I'm checking him out. Normally I like to read people when I question them, especially Lana, but I've learned from experience that this topic makes me a little crazy, and I don't want to go off in T.G.I. Friday's. Sort of like watching a solar eclipse—maybe if I don't look directly at her, I won't have a meltdown.

“So, any news on the paternal front?”

“No, but I'm working on it.”

“He hasn't called in a while.”

“Because I changed the number, remember?”

The waiter has finished taking the next table's order, so now I have to pretend I'm looking over the dessert menu.

“It wasn't like we gave him our old number, but he found it anyway.”

“That's true, especially considering Mama and Dad swear they didn't give it to him.”

“Maybe he got the point and he's done.”

Lana reaches across the table, takes the dessert menu from my hands, and looks at me trying to figure out what I mean by that before she just straight-up asks.

“Would you be disappointed if he is?”

“I don't know. Maybe more disappointed that he backed down from you so easily.”

“If he did, it's only because he got the message
I
don't want to see him. He doesn't know about you, Chanti. He isn't giving up on you. Besides, that might change once I do a little more digging.”

“Suppose you don't find anything?”

“Yeah, right. You don't call me super cop for nothing. Well, except to be snarky.”

“Speaking of,” I say, glad Lana has given me an opening, “do you remember arresting a dude named Tragic last summer? It wouldn't have been long after you found MJ in that motel room on Colfax where her cousin was dealing.”

I've been wanting to ask Lana this question ever since Donnell mentioned Tragic had been arrested by a cute lady cop. It likely would have been someone in Vice and there aren't many women in the Vice Squad. Lana is cute, so the odds are good.

“Tragic? Um . . . I don't . . . I'm not sure if that name rings a bell.”

Lana picks up the dessert menu and starts looking it over, but unlike me, she probably won't be having dessert. She's not much on sweets, so I know she's using the menu as a cover, just like I had done a second ago. What I don't know is why Tragic's name makes her nervous.

“It isn't a typical name—seems like you'd remember a guy named Tragic.”

“On the street, all the names are something like Tragic. Ask me about a guy named Bob or Richard and I could probably tell you every detail of the arrest. This brownie sundae looks good, don't you think?”

“Yeah, and I also think you remember all your arrests, even the ones with names like Tragic. Especially considering what he was trying to sell to undercover cops got him a tune-up.”

“I wasn't involved in that tune-up. Internal Affairs cleared me,” Lana says, giving up on trying to hide the fact she remembers Tragic's arrest. Or that it was so shady an IA investigation was opened on it. “How do you know about that case?”

I tell her what I learned about the deal going bad from Donnell without actually telling her that's where I got my information or that I'd visited him in prison today. When she assumes MJ somehow knew this information and shared it with me, I don't correct her.

“Now that you mention it, I remember Tragic being really surprised to find those drugs and armor-piercing bullets in his case.”

“What had he expected to find?”

“I never found out. When the meet was arranged, there was never a discussion of any transaction taking place. We'd already met two of his soldiers—they set up the introduction.”

That must have been Donnell and Lux.

“Tragic was the boss,” Lana continues, “and we were just going to have a meet-and-greet, but he said he was excited to show us something. We were excited too—more like worried what he was about to bring out of that case, but we let him. There were three of us and one of him so it was safe. He acted as surprised as we were when he opened it.”

“And he didn't tell you later, after you arrested him?”

“No, because like I said—his being surprised was an act. Cons lie, so he just kept saying he'd been double-crossed, but of course he wouldn't tell us by whom. He did promise several times to make retribution on whoever it was. Kind of hard to do from a prison cell, though.”

“You'd think so, wouldn't you?” I say.

I
'm grateful for the full pot of coffee Lana left for me this morning and when I check the fridge for cream, I'm surprised by the turkey taking up a whole shelf. Oh yeah, that's right—it's the day before Thanksgiving. With everything going on, I completely forgot that's the reason I'm out of school this week. It's also just two days before my birthday and I have no party planned, no gift wish list made for Lana. With everything going on, it doesn't seem as important as it did a month ago.

I take my coffee in the living room and find the DVDs are still on the table where Marco left them. I didn't come up with any new ideas on MJ's case last night, but I do have a theory about these DVDs. At first I thought they were from Lux, though I hadn't thought up a reason why he'd send them to me. Then I thought it was a cute prank by Marco, but he swears he didn't send the package. I'm inclined to believe him because he isn't one to lie, even about a harmless prank. And if he really had sent the movies, it would have been so cute a prank that it bordered on being BF/GF-like, and we both agreed we wouldn't be going there.

So now I'm back to thinking it was Lux. But when I looked through the box in MJ's basement, all the movies I saw were no older than a year or two. I suppose there could have been some ancient movies at the bottom of the box that I missed, but I can't imagine there's a huge market for movies that are older than my grandparents. And I still have no motive for Lux to send them, unless he just wants to taunt MJ after successfully setting her up to get arrested. But why send them to me?

When the doorbell rings and startles me out of my thoughts, I'm expecting it to be MJ since I told her I had some news to share after my little field trip yesterday, but by the time I open the door, there's no one there, just another envelope. It's padded like yesterday's package, but I can still feel the corners of DVD cases through the bubble wrap. I step out on the porch looking for signs of Lux. He isn't anywhere to be found, but I do see two squad cars roll up in front of MJ's house. Just as they get out of their cars, Lana pulls into our driveway and hurries up the porch.

“Come on, get inside,” she says, rushing me into the house.

“What's going on?”

“I need to call Randolph Chatman.”

“Why?”

“After what you told me at dinner last night, I got curious.”

“Mom, that was just supposed to be us talking—I didn't think you were going to
do
anything.”

“When you're talking to your mother, you're also talking to a cop. Your source suggested we may not have gotten the right man, or at least we didn't get him on the right charge. Since I'm too close to this case, I told Falcone to check it out. He and another detective went to Lux's place to ask him some questions.”

“Don't tell me he skipped out.”

“He's gone, but not of his own accord. His door was busted in, his apartment ransacked. It looked like it may have just happened this morning.”

“How could they tell?”

“Falcone found some blood in the apartment—fresh. There was also a neighbor who said she witnessed an altercation between Lux and a woman just two days ago. By her account, the woman fits MJ's description.”

“So MJ was there and got into it with Lux. What does two days ago have to do with today?”

“The witness says the woman beat Lux up and threatened to kill him.”

“Oh, please—she's exaggerating.”

“How would you know?”

“I mean, who'd believe a woman beating up a guy?”

“Lux wasn't that big, and we both know MJ is capable. Not to mention the witness has photos of MJ about to choke Lux outside his apartment door.”

Uh-oh. I guess now I know where that chick disappeared to so quickly while I was moving MJ's car out of her parking space. There's always somebody ready with a camera phone, just waiting for a chance to get on TV.

“Did you see the photos? I mean, was there anyone else in them besides MJ and Lux?”

“No, I don't think so. Why is that important?”

“Oh, just wondering if there were other witnesses, in case this one isn't reliable.”

“You know, there might be. The witness said before MJ got into it with Lux, the witness was threatened by MJ after approaching her about parking in her assigned space. She says she feared for her life until another woman separated them and MJ left that fight to find Lux. Maybe we can find that other woman.”

“You won't have to look very far,” I say, realizing this isn't the time to try to keep Lana in the dark about how involved I am in this whole thing. “It was me.”

“Oh no, Chanti,” Lana says, shaking her head. “You're MJ's friend, you were there when she threatened him. You could be implicated.”

“Implicated?”

“I need to call Randolph right now.”

“Because the cops think MJ knows something about Lux's disappearance?”

“No. Because MJ is being taken in for questioning on the disappearance and suspected murder of Lux Trenton.”