Elaine Orr - Jolie Gentil 04 - Any Port in a Storm (5 page)

Alicia gave a half-nod, and he continued. “You want to hang out with friends, that’s great. Jolie and I did that a lot in eleventh grade.”

“I only went to Ocean Alley the one year,” I said, in answer to the questioning look she gave me.
“I lived in Lakewood except for that year.”

“We did some dumb stuff, too,” Scoobie said.
He grinned at me. “Remember that time I was in detention?”

I rolled my eyes.
“Don’t go there.”

“Go there,” Alicia said, sitting up a bit straighter.

“I guess later, when bossy isn’t here.” He winked at her.

“We did dumb stuff, but nothing illegal.
Did we?” I asked, looking at Scoobie.

“Nope.
You wouldn’t even try beer,” he said. He looked at Alicia. “After high school, I screwed around, flunked out of college, and got arrested for using pot. And selling.”

“I don’t use pot,” she said quickly.

“Yeah,” he said. “I never smell it on you.”

She stared at him, wide-eyed again.

“But breaking into houses will get you sent to Juvie really fast,” Scoobie said.
When he saw her puzzled expression he added, “Live-in juvenile detention. The court’ll say your mom can’t handle you, and they’ll send you to people they think can.”

Alicia said nothing, but she had begun to look sullen again.

“So, here’s what,” Scoobie said.
“In exchange for not telling your mom Jolie found you in that house this afternoon, you and your friends are going to run a game at Talk Like a Pirate Day.

“We are not!” she said.

“Did I mention there is no air conditioning at Juvie?” Scoobie asked.

He really gets her.
I nodded to Alicia.

She slumped back in her space in our booth.
“What do we have to do?”

“You know what we’re doing, right?” he asked.

“Kinda. Raising money for food by making people pay to be pirates. I saw the signs.”

“Yeah, and Madge made me a great pirate costume,” he said.

“What are you going to do?” Alicia asked him.

“Secret,” he said.
“You and your friends will think of a game, and run it. People pay to play. We’ll give you the prizes to give out.”

“I can’t think of a game by Saturday,” she said.

“Alicia. You know how to break into houses, you can think of a game,” Scoobie said.

We talked for another twenty minutes.
I told Alicia about Jennifer’s plywood pirate ship with holes for bean bags, and suggested she think about birthday party games when she was little. “Maybe you can adapt Pin the Tail on the Donkey or something.”

Alicia’s eyes lit up just as Scoobie said, “Are you saying we need someone to play a horse’s ass?”

WE HAD PROMISED Alicia we wouldn’t tell Megan about her being in the house.
I wasn’t really comfortable with that, but I rationalized that after a successful Talk Like a Pirate Day the four of us would sit down and talk about what a good job Alicia did and how she was going to change her behavior.
Pie-in-the-sky thinking.

Aunt Madge was furious.
“You absolutely cannot keep something like that from Megan!”

We were in her great room, her sitting room as she calls it, and I was going through the two-page to-do list that somehow had to get done before Saturday.
“It was Scoobie’s idea,” I said.

“And you stopped thinking for yourself?” she asked.

“Just last…” I stopped myself. “Alicia trusts us, and she knows we’ll talk to Megan in a heartbeat if she messes up. This gives her a chance to do something constructive and talk to her mom herself.” Aunt Madge started to say something, and I continued, “And she promised not to go in any more houses.”

There was a bark from the back porch and I saw
Mister Rogers and Miss Piggy looking in with hopeful expressions. I walked from the couch to the door and slid it open. “No more chewing my lists,” I said sternly.

“I’m sure you’ve learned your lesson,” Aunt Madge said as she went back to a page in a home repair magazine.

I love Aunt Madge with all my heart, but there are times when she tries my patience.
As if you’ve never tried hers.
“No eating papers on the floor beside the love seat,” I said, scratching Mister Rogers’ head.

Lance Wilson was to join us for a light supper and go over the to-do lists with me to be sure everything was either done or would be by Saturday.
All the Harvest for All Committee members at least try to be helpful, even Sylvia, but Lance is the one I count on most for quiet advice.

The front doorbell rang and Miss Piggy and I went to let him in.
I looked around for Jazz as we walked through the guest breakfast area to get to the door. When she stays out of sight for more than a few minutes she’s either chasing a mouse in the huge cellar, because Aunt Madge hates traps with poison and the little rodents stay away from the spring traps, or trying to get into any nook or cranny she is supposed to stay out of.

“Me lady,” said Lance, as I opened the door.
He bowed halfway, taking off his pirate’s hat as he did so.

Behind me Aunt Madge laughed, and I joined in.
“OK, Lance. You’re in character,” I said.

Miss Piggy backed up in the foyer and did a little whine, and
Mister Rogers barked from the entry to the breakfast area. Lance held his hat at his side, and Miss Piggy walked slowly to him. “I’m not going to get down that low, girl,” Lance said to her, “but you can come get a smell.”

Mister Rogers loped over as Aunt Madge turned to walk back to the kitchen/great room area.
The side door that leads from the breakfast area to the small parking lot opened and Harry came in.

He didn’t knock!
Now I know they’re serious.

“Hey, Jolie, Lance,” Harry said, giving Aunt Madge a light kiss on the cheek.

She smiled and looked at Lance and me. “Harry’s going to join us for seafood stew and then he and I are going to the movies while you two work.”

“Close your mouth, Jolie,” Lance whispered in my ear as he followed us into the kitchen.

DINNER WAS LONG OVER and Lance and I had six pieces of paper on Aunt Madge’s oak table.
Each was nearly filled. We were doing everything too fast this year, since we decided late and a September 19th Talk Like a Pirate Day gave us no scheduling flexibility.

Business Donations

Games

Publicity

Volunteers

Money

Food

The list called
Money had replaced our earlier ‘What to Charge List,’ as we had already decided everything would be fifty cents except the ‘stop talking like a pirate’ fee, which would be one dollar. The Money list now dealt with topics such as who would get change and how often we’d collect money from the volunteers and give it to staff from one of the banks, who had volunteered to take money off site several times during the afternoon.

Publicity was done, with newspaper and radio ads underway and signs on every public and business billboard in town.
Arnie Newhart had corralled several other restaurant owners and they had borrowed the three huge grills Lions and Rotary use for pancake breakfasts. The restaurant owners were going to cook hot dogs all afternoon. Aunt Madge was helping Monica organize a way bigger bake sale than Monica had ever orchestrated.

The Games list had Jennifer in big letters and just a few other items.
I didn’t have to worry about that list, and would owe her big-time when we were all done. Lester had surprised me by, as he put it, “hitting up a bunch of businesses for dough.” The city can’t let anybody use the park for free, and liability insurance was more expensive that I would have dreamed possible.

I put my head on my arms for a second and then looked up at Lance.
“If I say it’s okay to do this again next year, do you promise to check me into a funny farm somewhere?”

“Second time’s easier.
I think I’ll do an S-A-L when we’re done with all this,” Lance said, looking at the papers spread across the table.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Screw-up Avoidance List,” he said.

A GUY WHO LOOKED older than a high school kid. That’s who Scoobie had seen Alicia with in the college cafeteria, and the only real description Scoobie had was white, brown hair, about five feet ten, good looking but with a kind of sullen attitude. I didn’t know how to find him, but if he was hanging out with Alicia and maybe encouraging her to break into vacant houses, I wanted Alicia away from that.

She’s not your kid.
But I’ve spent more time with her during the last six month than with my two nieces. And I really like her mom.

Unless I tripped over Alicia when she was with the sullen guy, all of this would have to wait until after Talk Like a Pirate Day.
That was the plan until I walked into Harvest for All and found the file cabinet drawers open, papers all over the floor, and anything that had been under the counter scattered throughout.

CORPORAL DANA JOHNSON looked around the room. “How do you get into this stuff?” She had finished making notes and walked again through the small food pantry. Dana didn’t wait for me to respond. “Nothing taken?” she asked.

I shrugged.
“If they took a few cans of food I can’t tell, but it doesn’t look as if they were after food.” Somehow I knew this wasn’t about the food. This was someone trying to make trouble for me. And the only thing I might have done, lately, to irritate someone was insist that Alicia talk to Scoobie and me.
You know Alicia wouldn’t do this. Yeah, but what about the sullen guy Scoobie saw her with?

Dana pulled her ringing cell phone from a pocket.
“Yes. Tell him I do, please.” She hung up and looked at me. “Dispatch asking if they should send a fingerprint guy.”

I studied her for a couple seconds as she stooped to look at the shelves under the counter.
Dana is probably my age or a couple years younger, so about twenty-six or seven. With her reddish-blonde hair and green eyes she’s very pretty, but when she is in her full police uniform and not wearing much make-up you don’t spot that right away. Which is probably what she wants.

“We’re supposed to open in an hour,” I said.
All I needed was a news article about a break-in. As I walked away from Dana to look down a row of shelves my foot slid a few inches on a file folder and its contents.
Great. No one to sue but me if I break a leg.

Dana walked to the door that goes to the street.
“I figure the person who broke in used a crow bar to damage the door enough to open it. Wouldn’t take more than a couple seconds.”

“More money for the locksmith,” I grumbled.
We have a handle lock and chain, but no cameras. It would be a damn shame if we had to spend money for more security instead of more food.

“You can pick up the papers on the floor,” Dana said.
“I’m going to have the guys dust around the file cabinet and on these shelves. They were probably looking for money.”

“Which we don’t have,” I said, irritated.
“You’d think anyone would know we give food away, not collect money for it.”

“No one said burglars were smart,” Dana said.

I picked up the files and loose papers and placed them on the counter. I could organize them later. Right now I had to make Harvest for All look as normal as possible. And call a locksmith.

As I stooped to get more papers a ticket about the size of a mov
ie stub fell back to the floor. The writing was so faded it would take a minute to decipher it, and I didn’t have a minute. I stuck it in the manila folder I had just slid on, and added more papers to the file.
Where is Scoobie when I need him?

IT WAS THREE THIRTY IN THE afternoon. During the two hours the pantry was open to the public I had helped Megan distribute food, then left to appraise another house, and was back at Harvest for All placing boxes of macaroni and cheese in ten separate boxes, creating the monthly food boxes Harvest for All provides to families with young children. On the counter were ten more boxes going to senior citizens, which had less high-sodium food and more bread and canned fruit.

I was inwardly cursing Scoobie, who had talked the committee into changing how often we provide the baskets — now monthly instead of every other month.
Less food each month, but better spaced for eating purposes, or so Scoobie and a couple other clients said. They taught me a lesson.
But Scoobie isn’t here when this needs to be done.

The door to the street opened and Alicia walked in with a young man who matched the description of the man Scoobie said had been with Alicia at the college.
For a split second I thought it might be her father, who I’ve never met, then realized he was only about eighteen or twenty. His height, definitely six feet, and day-old facial hair had made him look older.
Definitely too old to be with Alicia.

Alicia, dressed in black pants and a black tank top and with one more ear piercing tha
n I remembered, slammed her purse on the counter. “You said you wouldn’t tell my mom I was in the houses!”

I jumped an inch, then blazed back at her.
“You want to talk to me, fine. But you cut the crap and ask a question. I don’t do tantrums.”

“Looks like you do them okay,” said the tall man.
He spoke in almost a drawl, and his languid expression was probably what Scoobie had referred to as sullen.

“And you would be?” I asked.

“Hayden,” he said.

“Hayden who?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Just Hayden unless I decide I like you.”

“Get the hell out, both of you!”

“We aren’t going until…” Alicia began.

The door that led from the pantry into the church community room area opened and Reverend Jamison looked at the three of us.
“Usually when we talk about hell in the church I’m at the pulpit,” he said, quietly. He looked at me.

“Alicia is annoyed with me,” I said.

“Imagine that,” he said, and turned to Alicia. “Can I help you with something, Alicia?”

She took a breath.
“No, sir. I just,” she paused, “I asked Jolie to promise something, and she broke her promise.”

“Actually, I didn’t.”
I stared directly at Alicia. “If your mom found out something you’re trying to keep from her, she didn’t hear it from me. Maybe she read the article George wrote.” There had been a very short article on the break-ins in the paper that morning.
I have another reason to be irritated with George.

Reverend Jamison held out his hand to Hayden.
“I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Douglas Jamison. You’re in my church.”

Reluctantly, Hayden shook hands.
“Hayden,” he said.

“Hayden who?” Reverend Jamison asked, pleasantly.

“Hayden Gross,” he said, apparently not willing to be as much of a smart aleck with Reverend Jamison as with me.

“I tend not to tell people to get out of the building,” Reverend Jamison said, “but I do ask that while you’re in it you treat one another with respect.”

Hayden stared at him, nodded, and walked out. Reverend Jamison and I turned together to look at Alicia, whose bad-girl attitude seemed to leave the room with Hayden. Her eyes moved from Reverend Jamison back to my face.

“I didn’t tell your mom,” I said.
“She probably guessed.” I could feel Reverend Jamison looking at me, but I didn’t glance his way.

“I’m not working at that stupid pirate thing,” she said, quietly defiant.

“In that case, I will keep my word,” I said, more calmly than I felt.

She gave me a stony stare and followed Hayden out the door.

“Keep your word about what?” Reverend Jamison asked.

“You probably saw in the paper’s list of police activity that there have been people in a couple vacant houses.
I saw her at one of them when I went there to appraise it.”

When he gave me a puzzled look, I gave them the one-minute version of kids being in vacant houses, finding Alicia in one, and using that as the impetus to get her to organize a game at Talk Like a Pirate Day.

“Hmm.” His arms were folded and he stared thoughtfully at a spot on a shelf just to my left. “That explains why Megan was asking me if the church had a youth group.”

I moved back toward the carton of mac and cheese I’d been adding to the baskets.
“Alicia probably wouldn’t go.” I paused as I picked up a couple packages of noodles. “Do you know Hayden’s family?”

He shook his head.
“I’ll ask around.” He nodded toward my piles of food and baskets. “Someone coming to help you?”

“Monica and Sylvia,” I said.

“I’m sure you’ll enjoy their company.”

I could swear that was sardonic humor in his tone.

FRIDAY WAS SHAPING up to be a bear.
The
Ocean Alley Press
article about a break-in at Harvest for All Food Pantry didn’t help. I wished I hadn’t given my mobile phone number to so many people.
I don’t have time to talk on the phone all day
. It didn’t help my mood that half the people started the conversation with “ahoy mate” or something similar.

It was only nine o’clock, but I decided that since I’d taken a brisk walk on the boardwalk before breakfast I would treat myself to an iced coffee.
I parked near the boardwalk steps that are close to Java Jolt and, after I placed my order, went straight to the computers. If I didn’t send my mother and sister a note they’d hear about the food pantry break-in and my mother would call Reneé, since I only pick up about half the time my when mother calls me.

I sent the email and took my coffee with me.
My phone chirped as I pulled into the parking lot of the dollar store, which was donating a couple hundred little American flags to give as prizes.

“Is this me lady with the sharp cutlass?” Scoobie asked.

“Only if you’re going to tell me you aren’t going to do trash patrol at the park this evening,” I said.

He groaned.
“I forgot. I’ll get George to help.”

“Perfect for George.”

“Listen, I wanted you to know Alicia and her friends are going to finish making their game tonight and they’ll be there tomorrow.”

“Huh.
I figured she’d be too mad…” I began.

“Oh, she’s pissed all right.
But I think now more at her mother for figuring out she was in the houses than at you for telling.”

“Small favors.
Hey, how’d you find that out?” I asked.

“I have my ways.”
Scoobie hung up.

I shoved the flags in my trunk and headed to the library to get the boxes of books from Daphne.

“Hey, girl,” she greeted me with her usual big smile.

“How do you stay so cheerful all day,” I lowered my voice as I got closer to the check-out desk, “when you have so many people bugging you all day?”

She looked surprised. “Jolie Gentil. If you have to write out floor plans or whatever, would that bug you?”

“No, it’s my job,” I said, looking at the computer area where Max and Josh, my favorites among the local homeless guys, were engrossed in something on a screen.

“See,” she said.

I glanced at her, befuddled, and then got her point.
“You don’t mind your job.”

“I
like
my job,” she said. “Are we feeling crabby today?” She took a box of books from the table behind the circulation desk and set them on the counter.

“Just too busy,” I guess.

“Just keep telling yourself…”

“Jolie!” Max sounded thrilled to see me.

“It’s for a good cause,” Daphne finished, and smiled.
“After you talk to Josh and Max I’ll help you carry out the books.”

I walked over to where they were sitting.
Josh’s eyes were still on the screen, which showed a weather map. He looked up as I got closer. “Hey, Jolie. Looks like your pirate day could have rough seas.”

I groaned as he pointed to the screen.
“You think it’ll be a bad storm?” I asked.

Josh shrugged, and Max said, “Maybe really bad.”
Excitement punctuated every word.

Josh gave me a small smile and turned back to the computer.
“It should be just wind and a lot of rain. If you’re lucky it’ll hold off until late evening.”

“Then it’ll be here at noon,” I said, glumly looking at the bright spots on the map that indicated the hurricane, still far off the coast south of us.

Max decided to help carry the boxes to my car and chatted the entire way. It reminded me of how much Josh had to listen to Max all day. I didn’t think I could do it.

“And Scoobie said he has good jobs for me,” Max finished.

I hadn’t been listening, so tried to make up for it with a bright smile.
“That’s great. I’ll see you at the park tomorrow.”

He lowered his voice.
“And we’re staying in a motel tonight and tomorrow. That way we don’t have to watch our stuff.”