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Frank was disappointed when they got back to Monica’s and heard the message from her brother on the answering machine. Frank had been hoping he’d have a reason to stay with Monica and take her to work until her car was repaired. Now her brother Carlos said he would come by in the morning with a car she could use.
They had gone straight to the apartment after finally getting Thornberry more food, fixing his door, and settling him down in bed for the night. Monica explained the Taurus and the training she’d had as they drove to her place, and he decided he was glad she had the gun.
After hearing Carlos’ message, Frank said, “I don’t suppose it would be a good idea for me to be here in the morning when your brother comes.”
“Probably not.”
“Does he know about me?”
“Not yet. He will soon, though.”
He felt a little thrill of pleasure. “You’re planning to tell him?”
She stood on tiptoe and kissed him. “Of course. I’m planning to tell the whole family. I’ve already told my Tia. I tell her everything. Do you mind?”
“No, but will they accept me, a gringo?”
“They’d better.” She looked at him with that intent look that always got him wondering what she was thinking. “Now you’d better clear out and let me get some sleep. I’m worn out, going in the river last night and hassling with the body shop and the old man all day. I have to get into the office early and get started on his case.”
“You’re sure you can find some help for him?”
“Yes, I can find some help. The Adult Protective Service will go by and evaluate him. They’ll go tomorrow, if I insist. Where it gets sticky is, they may recommend a nursing home, and he’ll refuse to go. They’ll try to find his children and see if some of them can help. It all takes a while.”
“Maybe I’d better go by there tomorrow and check on him. Jesus! We start out on the trail of whoever ran you into the river, and we end up with a helpless old coot on our hands, and we’re no closer to finding out who was driving that Cadillac. I think we can safely say it wasn’t Thornberry.”
“No, it wasn’t Thornberry. No telling how long his car’s been gone. One of his children may have borrowed it ages ago, or it may have been stolen ages ago.” She gave him a light kiss. “We’ll keep at it. We aren’t giving up.”
“Of course not.” He put his arms around her. “Just the other day I was thinking about the place where my grandparents used to live. It’s a wonderful, peaceful place, out in the Hill Country. I inherited it from them several years ago. I found myself almost wishing I could leave this city life and move out there. Now you’ve given me new energy for coping with things.”
“You needed help, support. You never had it with Darlene. Forgive me for saying so, but it’s true. Even the Graces talk about it.”
He nodded. “I’m getting a late start at finding some happiness, and I keep having these moments of terror when I’m afraid it’s going to slip right through my fingers.”
She put her hand to his lips to silence him. “We’ll both do our best to be there for each other. We’ll make the most of what we have. We can’t worry. That erodes it. We’ll be cautious and we’ll be together as much as we can.”
Her words kept running over and over in his mind as he drove home. He wanted to imprint them on his brain and in his heart. If he made them a part of him, maybe he would be as brave as Monica, and be worthy of her.
He was so wound up in thoughts of Monica that he didn’t see the enormous truck in his driveway until he turned in behind it. Blackman Moving and Storage was painted on the side. He felt a smile curving across his face. Was it possible he was getting his furniture back? He walked to the cab and looked in at the young man slouched behind the wheel with a black cowboy hat pulled down over his face.
Frank rapped on the window. “Hello?”
The man stirred, pushed the hat back, and jumped at the sight of Frank. He rolled down the window. “You Frank Novak?”
“Yes. Have you been sitting here long?”
“Hours. They told me not to leave till I got this stuff delivered. They gave me a key to the gate and the house, but we didn’t really want to go in with nobody there.” He handed two keys to Frank.
“They?”
“The folks that hired me to bring this shipment down from Dallas.”
“That would be Darlene Novak and . . . Jason Abingdon.”
“Right. If you’ll unlock the door, I’ll wake my partner in the back and we’ll get this stuff unloaded.”
Frank opened the house and helped the two men move the furniture and boxes into the rooms where they belonged. They readily agreed to help him move the things he had borrowed from Henry and Ruby as near to the door as possible. He and Henry could carry them back across the street tomorrow.
He slept well, and it was after eight when he awoke. Frank showered, started the coffee, and called the police station to report finding the car that ran Monica off the road. He made arrangements for Monica’s car to be hauled to AAA Body Works and called and let the manager know to expect it during the morning.
It was well after nine when he finished the phone calls, what with being put on hold, transferred, and God knows what. He sat down with a cup of coffee and came to grips with planning the pre-demonstration neighborhood get-together he and Henry had scheduled for tomorrow night.
A major item was the Christmas tree he promised would be sparkling in his living room for the occasion. He’d buy it this afternoon, as well as an assortment of ornaments and lights. Then he could go by and see Thornberry. On second thought, better see him first—otherwise the tree would be stolen from the back of the truck.
He needed to clean the house, too. Do that this morning, and he’d be all ready to put the tree up when he came home. Then he and Henry could move the Jacksons’ things back later. Going back to work next week would be a bummer, after having all this freedom.
He didn’t want to think about his promise to Henry, but it was there, knocking at the door of his consciousness. He had promised to help Henry burn down the crack house. That was the reason they had planned the party, to give themselves an alibi. Looking at their plan in the bright light of morning, with considerable time and space between Henry’s anger and his resolve, he knew they were crazy.
Monica would think they were crazy, too. And Ruby. Ruby would have a fit if she knew. He had made the promise because Henry was so full of rage he might have gone off half-cocked, without planning, and been arrested for sure. But a promise was a promise, and he’d stick to it. Bobby Ledbetter had been informed about the demonstration; he would leak the information to Mary Williams, and the house would be empty.
He could talk to Henry when they moved the furniture. Get the plan firmed up. Merry Christmas, Mary Williams.
He wondered if crack dealers had cherished family albums stored near their back porches. Did Mary have clippings of a son’s football triumphs? Maybe she was a Billie Holliday fan—or maybe Miles Davis. Were all her old vinyl albums sitting there, waiting to melt in the heat?
There must be a personality of some sort under that inscrutable mask of a face. He wished he could strip back the cover and reveal it. Then there would be some hope for her, for the neighborhood, and the city. Get at her problems and her pain.
The only thing that would work for him now was to see her as she appeared—cold, mercenary, and ruthless. If he were going to help burn her house, he would have to see her this way. He thought about the crack problems in the neighborhood as he cleaned the house. They couldn’t get rid of all the problems at once, but getting Mary Williams out would be a start.
He had a lunch of canned vegetable soup and grilled cheese and left for Thornberry’s house. The old man was sitting in the reclining lawn chair again, basking in the winter sun. “How are you doing?” Frank called as he got out of the truck.
Thornberry opened his eyes. “You the chicken man? You bring more chicken?”
“I can get you some. You walking this morning? Did you make it out here by yourself?”
“Course I’m walking. You think I’m helpless?”
“I’ll get some chicken. Back in a minute.”
Thornberry was asleep again by the time Frank returned with enough food for a couple of meals. “Let’s go in the kitchen and eat,” Frank said, nudging the old man, wanting to see whether he could walk.
Thornberry struggled to his feet and staggered toward the porch. “I’ll make us some coffee.”
“Don’t bother. I brought some. Anybody been here this morning?”
“No, nobody been here. Just me.”
The old man had almost finished eating when someone knocked at the door. “I’ll get it for you,” Frank said.
A small woman with big glasses stood at the door and clutched a folder across her chest. “I’m from the Adult Protective Service.”
“Come in. I was just leaving. I guess you’ll let Monica Cruz know if there’s anything further we can do here.” He turned to Thornberry and waved. “See you later, pardner.”
Thornberry waved a chicken leg and kept on chewing.
Frank kept thinking about burning Mary Williams’ house as he shopped for Christmas ornaments and a tree. He would have to see it as a duty, ridding the neighborhood of the blight of crack. Then it would be easier. If Mary Williams were a man, it would be easier. If he were sure she was behind the attempts on his life, it would be easier yet. Damn, face it, it wasn’t going to be easy. But by tonight, after talking to Henry, he would be in the right frame of mind.
He was screwing the perfectly shaped green spruce into the stand when Henry knocked at the door. “I got your message. So you got your furniture back. That’s a real blessing, brother.” Ruby stood beside him at the doorway, and Frank decided he might not have a chance to talk to Henry after all.
“I appreciate being able to use your things in the meantime.”
“You sure you don’t need to keep some of this?” Ruby asked. “It’s just stuff that was stored in the garage. After all, Darlene only sent back what was yours, and she kept the bulk of the furniture.”
“Thanks for the offer, but I can get along with what I have. I need to start acquiring a few things, gradually, so I can feel like this is home again.”
Ruby nodded. “I understand. Let’s get busy. I’ll carry some of the smaller items, and then I need to start baking cookies and fixing some dips for tomorrow night.”
They made three trips before Ruby disappeared into her kitchen. “We need to talk,” Frank said as he and Henry crossed the street to his house.
“I’ve been thinking all week,” Henry said. “This thing has been on my mind all the time. I’ve decided the whole thing is a real bad idea. I guess I went a little crazy, worrying about the crack in the neighborhood and wondering when my grandson was going to be exposed to it. We can’t burn the house, though. It’s too risky.”
Frank nodded. Thank God, Henry finally came to his senses. “I know. I’ve been thinking the same thing. We’ll keep on demonstrating, and next time we won’t let Bobby Ledbetter in on the secret. We’ll make it so hot for them here on our street they’ll have to move.”
“Of course, that doesn’t solve the problem for the city. Only for our street.”
“I know, but people are getting organized all over town to fight them. I don’t know what more can be done. Burning the house would only drive them to another part of town, too.”
They finished moving the Jackson’s things, and Frank went back to the Christmas tree. He set it in front of the living room window and began to string the colorful lights. He was relieved that Henry changed his mind, but there was something else. The deferral of retaliation, the stifling of righteous indignation, had left him feeling as if his path had been blocked, and he could find no way around the obstacle.
