The Ghost of Mistletoe Mary (12 page)

Sitting up in the hospital bed against the white sheets, without makeup and her long red hair brushed smooth, Lizzie look like a lost, frightened waif, instead of the hardened street-walker of the day before.

After she came off the drugs Mona had given her, Audra had tried to question Lizzie, but Lizzie asked if Jeremiah could be present, saying she trusted him. She didn't want a lawyer; she wanted Jeremiah Jones. Seeing how frightened the girl was, Audra called in Jeremiah. They sat on either side of Lizzie's bed in the private room. Bud Ornelas stood by the window. Stationed just outside the closed door was a uniformed cop.

“How did you end up in the back of the diner yesterday, Lizzie?” Audra began. “Do you remember?”

After looking at Jeremiah for encouragement, she said, “I was on my way to meet Mr. Jones over on Wall Street. I was almost there when Ernie found me and told me I had to get back to Hi-Life and see Ace. He said if I didn't go with him, I'd be in a lot of trouble. I didn't want no more trouble than I had, so I went with him.”

“Who is Ernie?” Audra asked, even though she'd since found out.

“He's a friend of Mona's. When we got to Hi-Life he told me Ace wanted to see me in the back. We went back to the office and Ace wasn't there, but Mona was. Ernie put a hand over my mouth and Mona came at me with a needle. That's all I remember until I woke up here.”

“So does Ernie work for Ace?” Bud asked.

She offered up her signature deep shrug. “I didn't think so, but when he came to get me, I thought maybe he was doing Ace a favor. You know, because Mona's his sister.” She looked off toward the window. “But I should have known something was wrong because he and Ace don't get along. Ace only tolerates him because he's friends with Mona and because he wants to stay on Mona's good side.”

“So he can run his business out of Hi-Life?” Jeremiah suggested.

“It's not really his business, the girls, I mean.” She paused. “Mona really runs everything. Ace just manages us but no one really knows that.”

This was news to Jeremiah, but not a surprise considering Mona was about to sell Lizzie like a side of beef. He looked over at Audra. If she was surprised by this information, she didn't let on.

“So Mona calls the shots?” Bud asked.

Lizzie nodded.

“Tell us about Mary's daughter, Lizzie,” Audra said.

Lizzie shook her head and her eyes got small and hard. “That wasn't her real daughter, although she made Mary believe she was. She was really the lady who hands out fruits and vegetables. The drug lady.”

“You're right about her not being Mary's daughter,” Jeremiah told her. “Mary's daughter, Cheryl, died when she was only
a few years old. Did you know that?”

Lizzie's eyes widened, then went small again. “No.” She reached for her water glass. Jeremiah handed it to her and she took a long drink from the straw before continuing. “I just knew she wasn't Mary's daughter. Mary talked nonstop about her daughter, always saying she was some fine lady with a big house. None of us believed it, of course, then this woman showed up saying she was Cheryl.”

“So how did you know it wasn't the real Cheryl?” asked Audra.

“Because one day I saw her driving a truck. I recognized the truck as the same one the fruits and vegetables lady used.”

“Did she see you that day?” asked Bud.

“No.” Lizzie looked up, then down at the cup and straw in her hands. “It was nighttime.” She paused, took a deep breath, then added, “I was walking down the street and stopped by this alley because my feet hurt. The truck came out of the alley pretty fast without its lights, so I jumped back against the building to get out of its way. The truck belonged to the fruits and vegetables lady. Greta, I think her name is. But driving it was Cheryl, Mary's daughter.”

“Which alley?” Audra asked.

“An old one. It runs behind some of the boarded-up places on San Pedro. I was on Crocker, near 5th heading back to Hi-Life. The next time I saw Greta, I knew Cheryl and the drug lady were the same people.”

“Why do you call Greta Miles the drug lady?” Bud asked, moving away from the window with curiosity.

Lizzie hesitated, then pushed on. “Because she supplies Mona with the drugs that Mona sells. Mona calls her the diner's produce supplier, but she's supplying more than just a few potatoes and heads of lettuce, let me tell you.”

“How are the dugs distributed exactly?” asked Audra. “Do people come to the diner for them?”

“Am I going to get in trouble for this?” asked Lizzie. “Maybe I should have a lawyer.”

“You have a right to a lawyer, of course,” Audra said, “but tell you what, Lizzie, talk to us and we'll get you help. We'll set you up in a drug program, get you a fresh start somewhere.”

“And if I don't?” Lizzie asked, a worried look on her face.

“Then we'll put you back out on the street and you can take your chances,” Audra told her, not sugarcoating it. “Providing, of course, we don't find something to charge you with.”

“How long do I get to make up my mind?” Lizzie asked.

Bud looked at his watch. “One minute, Lizzie. Sixty seconds and this goes away.”

Lizzie glanced at Jeremiah and he gave her a nod of encouragement.

After taking another deep breath, Lizzie said, “Okay. Mona employs drug runners. People who deliver the drugs to customers. Mary was one of them.”

“How about you?” asked Audra.

Lizzie shook her head. “No, Mona never asked me. I only knew about it because Mary told me. The runners, all girls, never handled the money. The customers paid for the drugs in some way they didn't know about. Mona would give them
the drugs and tell them where to deliver them. Sometimes it was to guys in fancy cars stopped at street corners. Sometimes it was someone standing by a building, or seated on a bus bench, or waiting for an order at a lunch counter. It operated sort of like an ATM. The customers would give the girls a code and if it was the right code the girls would hand over the drugs.”

“Were the drug runners Ace's girls?” Jeremiah asked.

“Not that I know of. Mary only became one after Ace cut her off because she got too old and ugly to work the streets. Some of them worked days, some nights. From what Mary told me, they got paid per delivery and on how big the order was. Some of them made good money, especially the daytime runners. A lot of businessmen from the financial district would come down on their lunch break to score drugs. Mary said business was really good on the first and the fifteenth of each month when a lot of those people got paid.”

“I don't understand something,” Bud said. “If business was good, why did Greta pass herself off to Mary as her daughter?”

“I knew she wasn't my kid,” came a hoarse voice from near the door to the room. Only Jeremiah looked up, trying hard to hide his surprise at seeing the ghost of Mistletoe Mary standing there with Granny.

“Look who I wrangled up for ya,” said Granny proudly.

“I don't know really,” Lizzie said, answering Bud's question. “Mary wouldn't tell me where she worked or was living, but said the clients were coming to her instead of her being sent all over downtown. She said it was a sweet deal and she would soon have enough money to rent a decent place someplace else. She wanted me to go with her.” Lizzie smiled sadly, remembering. “She was always looking out for me, but she could barely take care of herself.”

“I did want you to go with me,” Mary Dowling's ghost said to Lizzie even though she couldn't hear her. “I had it all planned out.”

“I knew Mary had gotten herself into bad trouble the last time I saw her with that woman,” Lizzie continued. “There were some really bad vibes coming off her when she told me to leave her alone with Mary.” Lizzie started weeping. “I knew Mary was probably dead when I stopped seeing her around. But that's all I know about anything. I swear.”

Jeremiah got up. “If you folks will excuse me, I need to make a quick call.”

As he passed Mary and Granny, he nodded at them to follow him.

Granny nudged the other ghost when Mary hesitated. “Go on with you. Jeremiah needs to get to the bottom of all this and can't do it here.”

When he got in the hallway, Jeremiah asked a nurse if there was someplace he could make a confidential call. She gave him directions to a very small room near the elevator outfitted with a tiny table and a few chairs.

“Why do we have to talk here?” Mary asked after he closed the door and took a seat.

“Because,” Granny said, “he needs to ask you questions and couldn't do it in front of the others. Sheesh. You do know you're dead, don't you?”

“Of course I do, you old bag,” Mary snapped. Granny looked ready to slap her.

“Okay, ladies,” Jeremiah said to the ghosts. “Calm down. Fighting won't accomplish anything.”

He didn't bother with his phone since they were alone, but he kept it ready in case anyone poked their head into the room or looked through the narrow window in the door.

“Mary,” he began, “do you know why Greta was pretending to be your daughter?”

“Sure. To get the drugs.”

“But I thought she supplied the drugs to you.”

“She supplied them to Mona,” Mary said. “I stole them from Mona.”

“That was a crazy thing to do,” Granny said to her. “No wonder you were whacked.”

“I am crazy,” she said looking at Granny and tapping the side of her head with an index finger. “Crazy as a fox. I took a lot of it, as life insurance and leverage.”

“Tell me about it,” Jeremiah said. “It will help Lizzie.”

Mary paced the tiny enclosure with its pale green walls, then finally said, “I didn't understand why I couldn't stay in the apartment with the other girls and Lizzie, but Ace and Mona said I couldn't. They stuck me in that filthy laundromat with no running water. A place not even the rats wanted to live and put me to work delivering their drugs.”

“Lizzie said the runners were paid well,” Jeremiah said.

“Some made a mint, but not me.” She continued pacing back and forth like a wild animal penned for the first time. “But not me,” she repeated. “The only customers I got were those they could send to that filthy alley for pickup. The nickel-and-dime shit. The other runners got the big shots from the high-rise office buildings. The ones who bought big. We were paid on delivery and the size of the sale. I got cut out of all the good scores and left to rot in that laundromat.” She stopped pacing and grinned at Jeremiah. She had so many teeth missing, she looked like a Halloween ghoul.

“One day I went to the diner hoping to score some food. Sometimes Miguel, the graveyard-shift cook, would give me something. If he was alone, he'd let me come in. If he wasn't, I had to wait in the alley.” She pounded a fist into her other hand. “Always the alley for me. Even with my johns.”

“Keep it going, Mary. Remember, this is for Lizzie.” Jeremiah knew Lizzie was in the clear, but he sensed Lizzie's welfare would give Mary a motive.

“That morning I told Miguel that I needed to use the ladies room. He was alone, so he let me in. I used the bathroom and washed up a bit. It was glorious to feel hot running water, let me tell you. He fed me a hamburger and gave me some fruit. On the way out I walked past the office and saw the delivery from Milestone Farm. It was still all boxed up in Mona's office, not in the kitchen where it belonged. I asked Miguel about it and he said Mona gave strict instructions that only she could unpack it and she'd been out when it had arrived the day before. Well, I put two and two together. I told Miguel I'd show myself out and since he was busy getting stuff ready for the morning shift, he went back to the kitchen.” She flashed her raggedy grin. “The cocaine was under a small flat of tomatoes. I took it and ran.”

“How did they know it was you who took it?” Granny asked. She was near the door, staying out of the way of the
pacing ghost.

“They first accused Miguel of stealing it. Of course, he was innocent and confessed he'd let me use the bathroom.” She paused and her mouth turned downward. “I haven't seen Miguel since.” As quickly as her mood changed from pleased to sad, it ricocheted to unconcerned and the ghost shrugged. “Oh well.” And she was back to her ghoulish grin. Granny and Jeremiah exchanged glances.

“I don't understand why they didn't kill you and take the drugs back?” Granny asked.

“Because she hid them, didn't you, Mary?” Jeremiah said to the ghost.

Mary pointed at Jeremiah. “This guy knows the score, old woman.” Granny let out a low growl and for a minute Jeremiah thought one ghost was going to bite the other.

Jeremiah continued, piecing the puzzle together, “Greta had to have her own supplier and if a lot of drugs went missing she couldn't pay him or couldn't recoup her expenses.”

“I'm not as burned out as people thought,” Mary told them. “I'm sick and my body's wasted, but I still have a few flashes of brilliance.”

“That so-called brilliance got you killed,” quipped Granny.

Before the two ghosts could tangle up again, Jeremiah said, “I still don't understand why Greta posed as your daughter.”

Mary turned to him. “Because she
thought
I was a total burnout. She knew I had a daughter somewhere and that she'd grown up to be a lady.”

From behind Mary's back, Granny looked at Jeremiah, pointed a finger at her own head, and turned it in circles, giving him the universal sign for nuts.

“She also knew I hadn't seen Cheryl for years,” Mary continued, “so she tried to pass herself off as Cheryl to find out where the drugs were. Pretending to be Cheryl, she kept promising me that as soon as I gave Mona what I owed her, she'd take me to her house and I'd live there for the rest of my life.” She paused and looked from Jeremiah to Granny and back to Jeremiah, again pleased with herself. “I played along and told everyone I was going to live with my daughter. Until the last time that fake Cheryl and I met.”