Chapter 14

Alene had to skip her morning workout. Several employees had stepped up in Jocelyn’s absence, but she and Ruthie were taking turns opening. Now Olly charged up the alley on his bike, ready to show Alene that he knew the opening protocol. She watched him turn off the alarm, his expression atypically glum. “Turns out I don’t like living alone as much as I used to,” he said.

So, Jocelyn hadn’t come home yet. “Stay positive, Olly,” said Alene. She felt about as despondent as he looked.

It was a typical Monday morning, with a steady stream of customers until half past nine. Kofi came in then and sat at a table near the crimson wall. Kacey hurried out of the kitchen to join him. Alene glanced around the café. At one table, two mothers sipped coffee as their toddlers made a mess, at another, two women were eating breakfast while thumbing their cellphones. At a third table, Toula and her husband were bickering, as usual, and in front of them, a woman Alene didn’t recognize was filing a fingernail. She debated going over to recommend a nail salon up the street.

Royce, Toula’s husband, abruptly pushed his chair back and stormed out of the café for the second time that week. Neal used to stomp around like that when he got upset, and Alene had often thought about telling him to go to his room back then. Now Toula burst into tears, and this time, Alene decided to go over and commiserate. Toula was pretty, even with blotchy skin and a red nose. The gap between her teeth made her look young, but she was probably about Alene’s age. “You seem so unhappy,” said Alene. “Ruthie’s breakfast babka has been known to lift spirits if you’re interested. My treat.”

“Thanks, Alene, but I don’t think I can swallow right now,” Toula said, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. “You know how when you’re young, you think your life is going to turn out one way, and you try to make it happen, but suddenly you realize that you’re a mess? And it’s too late to undo the damage because some things are final and can’t be changed no matter what?”

She was preaching to the choir. “Yeah,” Alene said. “I know exactly what you mean.”

Toula’s violet eyes glistened and she gave a weak smile. “Anyway,” she said, standing, “it’s been nice coming here. I always like the food and the music, all the friendly people, and it’s right next door to Better Be Fit. But I don’t know, it’s been hard. I haven’t worked out since Stanley died.” She hesitated. “I keep eating as if I did.” Then she told Alene how she’d met Royce at a bar where she’d gone with a couple of girlfriends to celebrate her breaking up with her college boyfriend after wasting nearly seven years waiting for him to decide about committing to the relationship. Alene wondered how she’d gotten those bruises on her arms if she hadn’t been working out all week.

Toula talked about falling in love with Royce, and how he’d always been a little gruff. They’d had several good years, and then, she doesn’t know why, he started suspecting her of all kinds of things. She’d begged him to go to couples’ therapy, but he’d refused, and now he wanted her in his sight at all times, but when she was sitting right in front of him, he had nothing to say. “Anyway,” she concluded, “I know it’s my fault that the relationship is so terrible right now, but I don’t know what to do.”

Alene reminded her that we’re all just doing the best we can, and she shouldn’t be so hard on herself. Toula, looked at her watch, said she had to go, thanked Alene for listening, and ran out the door. Alene cleaned up the table, wishing she was the kind of person who could help solve other people’s problems. She couldn’t even solve her own.

Ruthie had come out of the kitchen to make herself an oat milk latte and now she sat down with Kacey and Kofi. Kofi was leaning back looking pleased, one hand flung over Kacey’s shoulder, the other holding a blueberry apple hand pie. Alene wished she could make everyone stay seated on all four legs. Last thing she needed was for someone to fall back and crack his head. She made herself a cup of peppermint tea and joined Ruthie, Kacey, and Kofi. Olly hovered and chatted the way he always did. Kofi asked him if he’d noticed any homophobia in the jiujitsu world. “I saw some of them messing with you last week and I’ve been meaning to ask,” Kofi said. “Just so you know, if you ever need backup, I’m there.”

Hadn’t they just been arguing about how Julian got thrown out of that jiujitsu tournament? They must have made up. Kacey said, “That was really sweet, Kofi.” He looked away as if the compliment embarrassed him.

“What’d you do when they messed with you, Olly?” Alene asked. She was surprised he hadn’t mentioned it before, since that tournament kept coming up in conversation.

“Just what anyone would have expected me to do,” Olly said. He didn’t usually have such dark circles under his eyes, and the paleness of his skin made his freckles look three-dimensional. But he struck the pose of a boxer and displayed a few air punches. “Beat the crap out of them.”

“Yeah, right, that’s exactly what you did,” Kofi said, laughing. He turned to Alene and Ruthie. “They were younger kids, and he threatened them with violence if they so much as thought that way again. Some of them probably wet their beds that night.”

“Don’t worry about me getting insulted, guys,” Olly interrupted. “I’ve dealt with homophobia my whole life and I’m not going to let it ruin my day.” He’d gotten everyone’s attention with his drama, and most of the café’s customers watched Olly sashay back to the counter, tossing his curls and jumping into a monologue that grew in volume with each sentence. “That’s what I learned from my friend and roommate, Jocelyn DeVale, who is still missing in case any of you didn’t know or have already forgotten.” He stopped to stare accusingly at Kacey and Kofi. “I’m getting more and more worried about my friend Jocelyn, so the bottom line is that I’m not going to get bent out of shape when small-minded people call me names. I cannot pay attention to the little challenges of life when my best friend is missing.” His arms had flailed in the air, but his last movement was to place his right hand on his heart as though he was about to launch into the Star-Spangled Banner.

There was a moment of silence that Edith broke by saying, “She’s my best friend, too.” Edith pulled up a chair, so Alene glanced over to make sure someone was still serving customers at the counter. “And Jocelyn wouldn’t hesitate to protect Olly if people were making fun of him,” Edith continued. “She knows Krav Maga, and she says it’s even better than your jiujitsu.”

“My jiujitsu?” asked Kofi. He chewed slowly and said something to Kacey about how Jocelyn being so fast that she could have crushed him if she’d been in that tournament. Alene wondered if Jocelyn knew that Edith viewed her as a best friend.

“Maybe she could have beat you, Kofi,” said Kacey, “but Jocelyn does all that stuff to protect herself. She’d never start a fight or anything like that.”

Olly said, “I agree with Kacey, and for sure Jocelyn would never have hurt her father, if that’s what any of you are thinking.”

“Nobody’s thinking that,” said Edith, pulling her floral cardigan around her bony frame, her hair a flat cap. “No matter how badly he treated her,” she continued, addressing them like they were students at an assembly. “She wasn’t surprised that someone murdered him, though. He wasn’t a kind man, he made a lot of enemies, and he cheated people. Jocelyn thought someone just snapped and killed him on the spur of the moment.”

Everyone looked at her. Edith enjoyed gossiping, but it was generally negative. Now here she was defending Jocelyn. “And Jocelyn couldn’t get past the fact that her father never accepted her the way she was,” Edith continued in her lecturing tone. “It was terrible for her because she always grappled with who she was.”

Ruthie, who hadn’t spoken much, said, “That’s really perceptive, Edith.”

Edith blushed, and said, “Well, she knew very early in her life that she was supposed to be a girl. Oh, there’s someone waiting for a smoothie.” Edith jumped up and ran to the counter to serve a woman with straight black hair.

“That was unexpected,” said Alene, exchanging looks with Ruthie and wondering when Edith had developed insight into Jocelyn. “I still want to understand the whole jiujitsu tournament situation.” She wondered if it could be connected to Stanley’s death in some way. Maybe someone who was at the tournament went straight to Better Be Fit.

Kofi said, “I’m already over the whole tournament situation. Julian made a mistake but it’s not like he went there planning on screwing up. It happens. I’ve been thinking of switching to Krav Maga instead of jiujitsu. I don’t really like these tournaments and Jocelyn says they don’t make such a fuss about rules.”

“What do you mean they don’t make a fuss about rules?” Alene asked. Jocelyn had been encouraging her to register her children for Krav Maga classes. “Do they let children hurt each other?”

Ruthie said, “I hope that’s not what you meant, Kofi.” Ruthie looked like she was ready to march over to the nearest Krav Maga place and give them a talking to. “There’s a huge difference between protecting yourself and hurting other people.” Alene loved Ruthie no matter how preachy she got.

Kofi, looking peeved, sat up straight. “Some people don’t have a choice about learning how to fight, ladies. You think you’ll always be there to protect your kids? Krav Maga comes from a part of the world where one group of people is trying to push the other group into the sea. You come up across that kind of hate, you better be prepared to do whatever it takes to protect yourself and your family.”

“I want my kids to learn self-defense,” Ruthie said, “but I don’t want them to turn into bullies.”

“I’m not a bully,” said Kofi, looking a little offended. “I just want to be sure nobody kicks my skinny butt.” He finished his pie and gave Kacey a half-smile that showed just one of his dimples.

Alene had never heard Kofi say so much in one sitting. Too bad none of the martial arts were going to protect him from getting banged up while searching for cast-off materials. All his lacerations came from transporting bulky things and digging through building sites. She said, “I wonder if Krav Maga skills would allow someone like Jocelyn to overcome someone who was much bigger and stronger?”

“I’ve never seen her lose a fight,” said Olly, who’d come back to the table and now flopped down onto a chair with an iced tea he’d made for himself.

Kofi pivoted to look at Olly and acknowledged LaTonya, behind the counter, by raising his chin. LaTonya kept glancing at their table, looking like she wanted to join the conversation.

“If she’d been at that tournament, it wouldn’t have been so boring. It would have been soooo quiche.” Olly was either Alene’s source for the latest slang, or he made up new meanings for words. Calling something “quiche,” he’d told her, meant that it was sexy.

Kacey said, “It probably got even more boring after Kofi and Julian left.”

Alene sat up straight in her chair. “I thought only Julian got kicked out.”

Kofi said, “I left too. Don’t worry, I already told your boyfriend all about it.” Frank hadn’t said otherwise, so what if both Kofi and Julian were still suspects? Maybe she’d be careful about tossing around accusations this time.

“I have a question for you,” said Alene, relieved to have thought of a perfect way to change the subject. “Do you know where Jocelyn is?”

“Nope,” said Kofi, his eyes holding hers. “I haven’t seen her.” Of course, he’d say that.

“As soon as I get the moves under my belt,” Kofi added, “I’ll look forward to sparring with her, although I might not be ready to be humiliated by a girl.” Alene frowned. It was a compliment, but Jocelyn would be upset that he’d called her a girl instead of a woman. She’d be grateful that he didn’t call her “trans.” Alene imagined a large man trying to force Jocelyn into a car with shaded windows, but at the last second, Jocelyn fights back and the guy ends up writhing on the ground. It was a cheering thought.

Ruthie had gone back to the work and now poked her head out to beckon to Kacey, who hugged Kofi and headed back to the kitchen. Alene said goodbye and also left the table. She hoped Jocelyn had hidden herself in a comfortable place with good Wi-Fi and had just spent the past week catching up on all her Netflix shows.

A few hours later, Edith, who’d been uncharacteristically silent all afternoon, must have thought it was time to weigh in again. As the lunch crowd thinned, she left the smoothie section and walked over to Alene. “You might be interested to know that I started taking Krav Maga with Jocelyn,” she said. “I’m trying to do whatever it takes to make sure that nobody ever manages to bash me in the head again. Jocelyn says that I have a lot of muscles and hardly any extra body fat. And she’s grateful for my help with her cat.”

It sounded like she was angling for a compliment. Alene rang up a latte and was about to call Jack over. He needed to restock the small under-counter fridge where they stored the different kinds of milk. She stopped to stare at Edith. “Are you, did you just …?” She had to consider exactly what she needed to ask. “Edith, are you taking care of Jocelyn’s cat?”

“Well, it’s not like she knows how to deal with bacterial infections,” said Edith, unable to keep a judgmental tone from creeping in. “When she was growing up, her mother was allergic. Then when she was about eight, her parents got divorced, and her father married Sylvie, who always had a cat. So, Jocelyn loves cats, but she never learned how to take care of them when they’re sick.”

Edith had been bizarrely cheerful, hardly dampening anyone’s spirit, not at all depressed about Jocelyn being missing all week. She must have been dying to tell someone what she knew. Alene leaned over the counter and whispered, “You know where she is.”

“I’m not saying a thing,” said Edith with a self-congratulatory little nod. “We’re very good friends, Jocelyn and me, and she trusts me.”

Alene moved closer to Edith and asked, “She’s at your apartment, isn’t she?” It would be a perfect place for Jocelyn to hide out. It seemed that Edith had kept the secret until she couldn’t hold it in any longer. Alene shook her head slowly, feeling a bubble of anger rise to her throat. “You never said a thing, and I’ve been sick to my stomach worrying.” She hoped the intensity of her voice didn’t sound threatening the way she knew it sometimes did.

Edith looked away. “I’m pretty sure I told you, but you rarely listen.”

“Really, Edith?” That was one thing Alene would have heard.

Edith leaned forward and whispered, “She was afraid that whoever killed her father would come after her, so I did my best to keep her safe. And she knew she could count on me.”

Alene closed her eyes, inhaled, and tried to control herself for yelling at Edith. Jocelyn had definitely not instructed Edith to keep her whereabouts a secret from Alene. That was Edith’s doing. Alene walked straight back to her office and wrote a note on an old envelope, then returned to where Edith stood behind the counter and handed it over. “I know I can trust you to deliver this, Edith,” she said, in a much calmer tone although she still had to control her anger. Maybe it was useless to be angry. As Ruthie always said, everyone has limitations.

Edith took the note and stuck it in a pocket before looking around like a wannabe spy, nodding with a knowing look and proudly smirking. Alene would have liked to rush over to Edith’s apartment and demand an explanation, but did Jocelyn owe her one? Alene thought they’d become friends over the past half-year, but maybe to Jocelyn, she was just another boss. After another hour, Alene packed up, said goodbye, and headed to the hospital, glad to get far away from Edith.

Cal was still asleep, so she zipped over to visit Lawrence and Lillian. She hadn’t thought it through though, because it was Monday, and Lillian was at work. Lawrence lay in the bed, still swathed in bandages. He clearly had a long recovery ahead of him. He greeted her with a weak smile and thanked her for stopping by. She asked how he was feeling.

“I’m uncomfortable, I’m bored, and I need help doing everything,” he said, looking defeated, his voice weaker and raspier than when she’d heard him speak before.

“At least the staff here is wonderful,” said Alene. “I know because my dad’s been on the tenth floor for a week.” She hoped the doctor would release Cal that afternoon now that he was well past his myasthenia crisis. “He can’t wait to get out.”

“It ain’t easy,” Lawrence nodded. “Your dad’s lucky to have you.”

“He’s the only dad I have, so it’s my pleasure. Also, my kids and I live with him. We’re all looking forward to him coming home.” Alene had had several conversations with Lawrence but could only recall that he’d done legal work for Stanley. Was he widowed or divorced? Did he have children? Maybe he was one of those people who rarely share information about themselves.

Lawrence asked, “Have they figured out who murdered Stanley? Lillian told me that you’re somewhat involved in the case.”

“I’m not really involved,” said Alene, “but I don’t think they’ve figured it out yet”

“We had our professional differences,” said Lawrence, “and I didn’t agree with all of his methods, but he was a disciplined man and a heck of a personal trainer. He was too young to die. I know he also had a child who still needed him. Lillian told me she’d gone missing.”

Alene said, “That’s true.” Should she still consider him a suspect? He wouldn’t be asking these kinds of questions, unless he had nefarious reasons for wanting to find Jocelyn. Still, it was unlikely that he’d planned to be nearly killed in a hit-and-run accident just to distract the police.

“She’ll come home safe,” he said, although his mouth formed a distinct frown.

Alene said, “Hope so.” She started to inch backwards toward the door. Lawrence was a gentle, sweet old guy and Lillian was too good a judge of character to be with a murderer, but what if the actual murderer had purposely tried to hurt him? Again, she went back to his work with Stanley and the possibility that the murder had to do with money. She asked, “Do you think your accident was connected to Stanley in any way?”

Lawrence shook his head, now smiling. “What a funny question. I can’t imagine why anyone would want to hurt Lillian or me. And even if someone did, how could they have known where we were going to dinner that night? I think we’re just going to have to accept that another distracted driver refused to take responsibility, and I’ll just have to pay more for car insurance.”

Alene wished Lawrence a speedy recovery and returned to her father, who was sitting in the chair next to the bed looking bored and irate. He held a plastic bag in his hands and was looking intently out the window. There was something zippier about the way he was leaning forward as if he wanted to see what was happening outside. He turned when Alene came in, and said, “I think they want to keep me here forever.”

“I won’t let them do that, Dad,” said Alene. “I promise.” He was better. That was a long sentence, and he was sitting in a chair instead of lying in bed.

“I can’t take another day,” said Cal, waving the plastic bag at her. He seemed more like himself, stroking his nonexistent beard and tapping his foot impatiently. “This is my stuff. You carry the ceramic cup and my book so we can get out of here before they notice anything.”

“Did the doctor release you?” she asked, sitting down next to him. She couldn’t have guessed how much she’d miss her dad calling out to her from his favorite chair, echolocating whenever she left the living room.

“Well, it’s not like I’m in prison,” said Cal. “I don’t need her permission to leave.”

“We need release papers if you expect Medicare to foot the bill, Dad.” Alene stood to kiss him on the cheek and pulled out the box of assorted scones she’d brought from the café. She was so grateful to see that his spirit was coming back. He’d been so vibrant before the disease. “I brought you a thermos of good coffee,” she said, pouring some into the ceramic mug that now had a few extra chips after nearly a week at St. Darius. “It’s still sunny and hot. Let’s relax for a bit.”

Cal looked exactly like Noah did when he was disappointed; his mouth tilted down, and his shoulders sloped. “You’re going to need to do an intervention then,” said Cal. “If I hear what’s-her-name screech one more time, I might go smother her with a pillow.” Even his crabby voice was back to normal.

“Dad!” Alene said, exasperated. It was too soon to joke about murder.

“Just kidding,” said Cal, leaning back in his chair. “What happened to your sense of humor?”

They heard a commotion coming from outside the room and Alene walked over to peek out the door. Sylvie was trying to push past Julian into the hallway. She reported back to Cal, “It looks like Sylvie is also trying to escape, but Julian’s blocking her.”

Cal shook his head. “She should definitely wait in the hallway and make a lot of noise. That way she can bother everyone on the tenth floor. It’s not like anyone is suffering from pain or anything.” He took a sip of his coffee and chose a tomato-basil scone from the box. “I’m going to start with savory before sweet,” he added. He was even back to announcing his eating plans.

“Enjoy,” said Alene. “I’ll be right back.” She walked out to the hallway, pondering what she should ask Julian about the night Stanley died.

Julian stood in front of Sylvie, who was leaning against the hallway wall, dressed in billowy pants and a long white tunic that looked a bit like a bathrobe. Sylvie said, “You’ve got to help me Alene. I want to go home but Julian is making me sit in that stifling room with no air.”

Alene was not in the mood to engage with Sylvie in any way. She said, “Julian, I heard that a few of you were disqualified in a jiujitsu tournament last Friday.”

Julian said, “Yeah, it was stupid of me to go in the first place.”

“Did you go straight home afterwards?” Alene asked.

He gave her puzzled look. “I should have stayed home, cleaned up after dinner and helped put our sons to bed. Maybe Phyllie and I could have talked. Maybe we’d have watched a show on tv and laughed together. But that’s not in the cards right now. My life is a nightmare of running back and forth between two women who can’t stand each other.”

He hadn’t answered her question, but his face turned beet red, and he paused to clutch his chest as if he were having trouble breathing. He took big gulps. Alene put a hand on his arm and asked, “Should I get help for you?” Maybe she should take him off her list of suspects, or move him down to fourth, after Harrison, Sylvie and Phyllie.

Julian shook his head. Not to be outdone, Sylvie managed to muster some maternal feeling, or at least to act the part by looking at him with a loving expression and softening her tone. She said, “I’m sorry Julian, I forgot how upset you can get. I shouldn’t have argued with you. Let’s go back in the room so you can rest.”

As she watched Julian walk back into his mother’s room, lean into the chair, and put his feet on Sylvie’s bed, Alene detected a brief smile on his face. Alene realized she’d just helped Julian out-manipulate his mother. Until then, she’d thought that Sylvie was the master manipulator.