“Hello, Henriette.” Aunt Madge gestured that she should sit down and gave her the pile of lids to match with the many assorted plastic dishes of all shapes and sizes. I glanced at Michael who nodded toward the dining room, so I excused myself and followed. I was pretty sure Aunt Madge gave me the evil eye, something new for her.
“She said you told her we were doing this,” he said as he picked up a silver sugar bowl and made as if he were about to throw it at me.
“Jennifer called Harry’s office just as she came in. I guess I told Jennifer why I missed her planning meeting on Sunday.”
Hearing that, he did look put out. “That would have been a good time for one of your white lies. How am I going to get rid of her? I can’t very well throw her out.”
“Put her in a room by herself. Maybe one of the guest rooms. She’ll get bored and go home.” This was, of course, wishful thinking, but it could work.
“Jolie,” came Aunt Madge’s voice. “Would you warm up the water for tea?”
I gave Michael a glum look. “Even Aunt Madge doesn’t want to be left alone with her for three minutes.”
When Michael reentered the kitchen a few minutes later, he suggested that Mrs. Jasper might tackle the guest bath upstairs. “A lot of the stuff under the sink can just be pitched, but if it looks pretty new you could take it to the girls in the teen mother program Mom volunteered with.”
I was actually sorry she liked this idea. Aunt Madge and I had been responding to her with mostly “ummms” and Mrs. Jasper had looked as if she might like to leave. Now that she felt useful, she’d stay.
Michael looked pretty pleased with himself as he came back down alone. “That’ll give us a few minutes of peace.”
“I need to pray for patience,” Aunt Madge said as she poured the last bit of now cold tea down the kitchen sink and reached for the kettle.
I decided that if I prayed for anything it would be that Mrs. Jasper get laryngitis. However, this proved unnecessary, as ten minutes later we heard her walking briskly down the steps, and she went to the dining room to tell Michael she had forgotten all about having promised to pick up some food pantry donations, and left.
Aunt Madge had bought frozen bread loaves to cook for the four p.m. guest snack, so we left about two o’clock. The guys needed a walk, and I needed a run to de-stress from the latest Joe Pedone sighting. I had asked Michael if he wanted to come, but he had found a box of photos in the credenza and said he wanted to look through them. I thought I hid my disappointment well.
I RAN UP THE boardwalk until it ended at the far north side of town, then slowed to a walk as began the trek back to Java Jolt. The light breeze was from the ocean today, and I breathed in deeply. I love the smell of the ocean in the fall; it somehow seems cleaner than when the weather is warmer. I would probably like it as much in winter, but it is generally too cold to want to take a deep breath.
Even a run on the boardwalk could not put Elsie and Paul Hammer out of my mind. Elsie would have had access to Michael’s pills, and she could have used her key to enter the house at any time – assuming she knew the code to turn off the alarm system once she was in. Though I had not paid much attention to her after Mrs. Riordan’s funeral, my impression was that she was upset about her employer’s death. Maybe she was just an accomplished actor.
Gradually I grew aware of footsteps behind me and remembered Pedone. I looked over my shoulder and saw Scoobie walking with his head down and hands in the pocket of an old wool pea jacket that looked as if it was a Salvation Army reject. I stopped and waited for him. When he came closer I realized he had trimmed his hair and beard. I called to him.
He must have been deep in thought, because he stopped abruptly and at first seemed not to recognize me. When he did, he gave his most charming smile. “Perfect. Do you have a library card?” he asked.
“For Lakewood,” I said, waiting for him to say why this was pertinent to a walk on the boardwalk.
“You could get one here.” He was even with me now and we walked together. “They won’t let me check out
The Prophet
for awhile. You could do it for me.”
For a moment his request didn’t register, then I realized he meant the book by Khalil Gibran. “Uh, I guess I could. A favorite of yours?”
“
If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life. For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.”
He grinned. “Thus speaks the Prophet.”
The Scoobie I remembered could not have told you who Gibran was when we were in high school. My father liked the Lebanese-American poet, so I would have recognized his name, but certainly could not have quoted him, then or now.
“So, did Gibran replace John Lennon as your philosopher of choice?”
“You know, they aren’t all that different.
Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.
” When I said nothing, he asked, “John Lennon too heavy for you?”
We turned from the boardwalk onto Sea View, to walk the two blocks to the library. “Not too heavy. Not ‘too’ anything. Just…different from the Scoobie I used to know.”
“Everyone changes.” His tone lightened. “For example, I bet you haven’t been on the roof of the school since you’ve been back.”
I had to laugh at that. Scoobie had been in detention for stuffing the ballot box for the student government election (his candidate had been Mickey Mouse), and he wanted a distraction. “You know,” I told him, “if you had opened the window a little wider, I could have gotten Minnie and Goofy into your detention, too.” I had two small plastic toys attached to a long string and was angling to get them into the classroom through the window.
“You’re the one who made all that noise walking on the roof,” he said.
“Who knew there was all that gravel up there?” I had been lucky I wasn’t caught. The back of the west wing of the school was a berm, and I had just made it down the earthen hill when the head custodian came out the side door. Apparently the detention monitor, an older history teacher named Mrs. Hamilton, had thought the black Minnie Mouse that I had gotten into the window was a large spider. I had wondered what the screaming was all about.
Scoobie started laughing so hard he sat on the pavement. I grew aware of curious stares, and a couple disapproving ones from people coming out of the hardware store, so I sat next to him. “What? What’s so funny?”
“Spider,” he gasped.
I waited for his laughing to wind down, and said, “We should have known she was half-blind. Remember how she kept pointing to the Philippines and insisting those islands were Japan?” That sent him into another spasm, and I became aware of the cold pavement under my butt.
I stood and extended a hand to him. He took it, and when he stood he grabbed me in a hug that was tight and close. I was so surprised I relaxed into him. When he pulled back, I saw tears in his eyes. “Where have you been the last ten years, Jolie Gentil?”
“In another dimension,” I said softly.
He let go and said, “Me, too.”
We walked the rest of the way to the library without speaking.
I had not been in the library since eleventh grade, and would not have recognized it if I’d been brought in blindfolded and told to guess my location when the blindfold was removed. Gone were drab colors and the large card catalogs that had lined the wall near the entrance, replaced by walls of vivid orange and yellow and a large group of computers in the middle of the room. Each one was occupied.
The woman at the checkout desk eyed Scoobie as he left me and went into the stacks. When her gaze turned to me, she smiled and I recognized her as a classmate, the only black girl on the cheerleading squad. I had no clue as to her name.
“Well, Jolie Gentil. Everyone knows you’re back in town.” She laughed. “Still hanging around with Scoobie.”
Thank goodness for nametags. “Daphne. It’s been a long time.” I paused. “I may be causing some trouble. He wants me to get a card so I can take out…”
“
The Prophet
,” she finished. “It’s required reading for Senior Honors English at the high school, so I know there will be kids who want it. Otherwise, I just keep letting him check it out.”
“I wonder if he’d let me buy him one?”
She shook her head. “He has to have that particular copy.”
Scoobie emerged from the stacks, his eyes bright. “How about if I buy the library a copy?” I asked quietly.
“That would be good,” Daphne said. “Scoobie, you are so ornery,” she said as he came to the desk. But she smiled slightly as she said it. She handed me the brief application for a card.
He grinned, and teased her about being too strict as I wrote out my name and address. “Hey, Daphne. It says I need to show you something with my local address.”
She gave a low hoot. “Girl, everyone in town knows you’re back.”
As we turned to go, I felt a wave of sadness. I hadn’t realized Scoobie had so many quirks. Maybe he really was sick or something.
Elmira Washington came through the door, nearly bumping into me. I took a second to feel glad that she had been embarrassed in court, since I still resented that she had told Harry (and surely others) about my life’s spiral in Lakewood.
“Daphne,” she said, very excited, “Judge Rommer is going to announce his findings about Ruth’s son going to trial.”
“When?” I asked.
She recognized me and stiffened slightly. “In a few minutes.”
“Come on, Scoobie.” I grabbed his arm and almost pulled him from the library as he stuffed the book in his knapsack.
“You’re going to the courthouse?” He said it as if it were a dirty word.
I slowed. “Oh, yeah. Not your favorite place?”
He shook his head. “On the other hand, since they won’t be talking about me, I suppose it won’t be so bad.” He grinned, but grew more serious when he saw my face. “What is it about this guy? He wouldn’t have given you, or me, the time of day in school.”
That was definitely the question of the hour. All I said was, “I just don’t think he did it, and I don’t like to see anyone get railroaded.” I looked down at my burgundy sweats and realized I was not dressed for court. I could only imagine what my hair looked like.
As we approached the courthouse I saw the local TV station crew setting up. Their cameras wouldn’t be allowed in the courtroom, but they would try to grab anyone they could on the way in or out. I made sure we steered clear of them as we climbed the steps.
“It’s way before eight-thirty,” Scoobie said. “You should call your aunt.”
So, he remembered Aunt Madge’s sleep schedule. “You’re right.” I pulled my phone from my purse, but there was no answer at Cozy Corner. “I can’t believe they just scheduled this at the spur of the moment,” I fumed.
Scoobie stared around the courtroom as we sat. “Definitely better from this side of the witness stand,” he said.
Aunt Madge squeezed in next to him. “Henriette Jasper just called to tell me.” She nodded at me, then looked at Scoobie. “And how are you, Adam?”
“Not bad,” said Scoobie. “You still make the best muffins in town?”
Her worried expression softened. “Thanks. You can stop by every now and then.”
I couldn’t see Michael anywhere and assumed he would come in with good old Winona. The smell of rotting food reached me and my eyes traveled to Scoobie’s knapsack. I hadn’t picked up on it when we were outside. “What the hell is in there?”
“Could be anything. I haven’t cleaned it out for a couple days.”
“Don’t eat it, dear,” Aunt Madge said absently as she scanned the growing crowd.
“Hot times in Ocean Alley,” Scoobie said to me in a low voice.
He was right. Murders were rare and the killing of a wealthy woman even more so. I saw George Winters slide into a seat behind what would probably be the defense table, and I wished for Scoobie’s old squirt gun. I’d put grape soda in it so Winters' rumpled gray suit would look even worse.
Prosecuting Attorney Small and a couple staff members walked out, and he didn’t look pleased. I took that as a good sign. I strained to look for Annie Milner, but she wasn’t there. A moment later Michael and Winona Mason came out of a side door. He scanned the room and started to smile when he saw me. His expression froze at the sight of Scoobie, and he nodded before he sat down.
“All rise,” said a bailiff, and Judge Rommer entered and sat at the bench. After again explaining that the purpose of the probable cause hearing had been to determine if the evidence supported going to trial, Judge Rommer said he found it to be “entirely circumstantial” and that a motive was “lacking.” There was a major rumble of conversation that died as he used his gavel. Michael lowered his head and then raised it to look at the judge.
“Mr. Riordan.” Michael stood. “The case against you can be reopened if the prosecuting attorney finds additional evidence.” There was a brief buzz from onlookers and he cleared his throat and it quieted. “However, from where I sit, it looks as if the police and Mr. Small should be exploring other avenues.”
I felt a huge wave of relief and didn’t listen as the judge made a few more comments. Aunt Madge reached over and touched my shoulder and blew me an air kiss.
“Lucky stiff,” Scoobie murmured.
When the judge rose to leave I expected Michael to turn to us, but he walked through the same door from which he had entered, ignoring calls from George Winters.
NO MICHAEL ALL AFTERNOON. I needn’t have rushed through my shower or shaved my legs. Aunt Madge figured he had a lot of calls to make, and she was probably right. I prowled around the house and finally settled in Aunt Madge’s sitting room with a book. I promptly fell asleep.