Chapter 38

Penelope stepped quickly down the sidewalk. She’d left her messenger bag up in the film office, only tucking her phone in her coat pocket and her ID and some cash in her jeans. She slowed to a stop when she reached the front door of the homeless shelter on the next block. Faded flyers were taped to the glass door, little tags of paper with phone numbers fluttering in the breeze. One was giving information for an AA meeting nearby, and another was offering guitar lessons for twenty bucks an hour.

She paused for a second and thought about moving ahead with her walk. But something made her reach out and tug on the door.

Stepping inside the dim entryway, Penelope saw a woman at a desk to her left, and just beyond in the lobby, several people sat at tables watching a daytime talk show on the television.

“Help you?” the woman asked. She sat forward in her chair, her ill-fitting uniform shirt tugging at her shoulders.

“Hi,” Penelope said. “I’m not sure if I’m in the right place, but I was wondering if you could tell me about one of your residents?”

Penelope watched the woman’s guard go up, her expression hardening. “You police?” she asked.

“No,” Penelope said quickly. “I’m a chef.”

The woman let out a small laugh. “A chef, huh? We don’t get too many of those in here. First time for everything, I guess.”

Penelope leaned an elbow on the tall desk. “I’m Penelope. What’s your name?”

“Brandi,” the woman said. “With an I.” Penelope wondered how many times Brandi had said that in her lifetime.

“The thing is, Brandi,” Penelope began, “the day before Thanksgiving I met a couple of women who I think might stay here sometimes, at least one of them does. Did. We exchanged information. I was trying to track her down to follow up.”

“How much she owe you?” Brandi said with a chuckle. Her hair had been braided close to her scalp in an intricate pattern of rows with strands of magenta and gold threaded through the strands. Her lipstick was a matching magenta shade and perfectly complimented her smooth brown skin.

“Oh, it’s not a money thing,” Penelope said. “It’s actually…” Penelope stalled, trying to think of how to word her next statement. “I think she got mixed up with the wrong person somehow.”

“You talking about Mother?” Brandi asked. “Cops already been in here asking about her.”

“Yes. Gabby Bainbridge,” Penelope said. “She had my card on her when…”

“When some monster killed her?” Brandi said matter-of-factly.

“Yes,” Penelope said. They shared a moment of silence. “Why was she known as Mother, anyway?”

Brandi stood up so she and Penelope were eye to eye, with only the desk separating them. “That’s what everyone called her. Because she was like a mother to the young ones, coming in fresh off the street. She said she was a nurse back in the day, midwife too, the way she told it. They’ve been calling her Mother for as far back as the beginning of time.”

“Oh,” Penelope said. A new wave of sadness washed over her. She remembered how full of life Gabby had seemed at the market, her mischievous grin and energetic personality. All of those things gone now, taken away by a killer.

“How long did Mother stay here?” Penelope asked.

Brandi shrugged again. “Mother has always been here. Way before I have, anyhow.”

“Did she have a family?” Penelope asked. She looked over her shoulder at the common area and saw no one was paying attention to them, all eyes were focused on the television. A woman on the screen was yelling at a man who stared at the floor. The caption beneath them read Paternity Test Reveals!

“I think so,” Brandi said. “But I’m not sure. She might have had children at some point, she said something about a man once. But no one came around here to see her, that’s for sure.”

“She ever say anything about New Jersey?”

Brandi shrugged and shook her head.

“If Mother had a family, why would she stay in a shelter?”

Brandi looked at her sadly. “It’s not that simple. What did you say your name was again?”

“Sorry, it’s Penelope,” she mumbled.

“It’s not that simple, Penelope,” Brandi said. “I bet almost everyone in this place has some kind of kin somewhere. Family is complicated, they don’t always want you around. Especially if you’re struggling with…things.”

“Was there anyone she hung around with? I saw her one time with a middle-aged lady over in Jersey.”

“Hm,” Brandi said, thinking. “She kind of hung around with everyone, you know? I don’t remember her mentioning New Jersey. I’m going to tell you, because you seem like a nice person. This isn’t a place people come to talk about things. We offer a clean bed and a hot meal, a place to rest for part of the day. We help folks get back on their feet, but we’re not a hospital staffed with counselors.”

One of the men in the other room got up from his chair and headed toward the desk. He wore a faded green jacket and black sweatpants and his hair was shot through with silver.

“Heading to the library,” he said to Brandi. “You want me to bring you back a new book?”

Brandi picked up a library book from her desk and checked where her bookmark was, tucked near the end of a Sue Grafton novel, the title near the middle of the alphabet.

“Get me L if it’s not checked out,” Brandi said.

“You got it,” he said. He bowed slightly at Penelope and her eyes fell to his jacket, where a row of small pins had been stuck through the rough fabric.

“Wait, sir?” Penelope asked after he turned to go. She dug in her coat pocket and found the little metal disk she’d tucked in there a few days earlier.

“Yeah, you want a book too? I charge a buck for each trip, bringing them to you or taking them back.”

“No, I don’t need a library book,” Penelope said. Her fingers found the medal and she held it up to him. “Do you recognize this?”

The man looked at the medal in her palm and smiled. He plucked it carefully from her, his fingers stained yellow from what had to be years of smoking.

“That’s a service medal,” he said. He pointed to his own row of medals. “I got one too. Vietnam.” He turned it over and looked at the back to reveal a dragon hidden behind a row of bamboo trees.

“Who would’ve gotten one like this?” Penelope asked.

“Anyone who spent more than a day in the jungle,” the man said. “Long time ago now, before you were born. Like to see kids today try and defend this country like we did. Down in the marshes, not playing video games behind a screen.”

“Okay, Bill,” Brandi said with a smile. “Thanks for getting my book for me.”

The man waved a hand and a smile came back to his face, the irritation slipping away. “You got it, Brandi. You know I didn’t mean you. You’re a hard worker, not like the rest of them.”

After Bill left, Penelope said, “Thanks for your help, Brandi.”

“Why you so interested in Mother, anyway? I didn’t believe that story you told when you first got here, by the way. I’m young but I’ve been around the block a lot of times already.”

Penelope laughed. “I can see that. Actually, I did meet Mother, and another woman she was with, where I live in New Jersey. We talked, and I liked her. When I heard what happened I just wanted to…”

“I know,” Brandi said. She placed a cool palm on Penelope’s hand. “It’s a shock sometimes when people pass. It’s good of you to check up on her.” Brandi sat back in her chair, which groaned slightly under her weight. She bumped her mouse on the way down and her screen saver dissolved away, revealing a job search website.

“How long have you worked here?” Penelope asked.

Brandi sighed and rubbed her chin. “My uncle got me the job about a year ago, right after I finished up community college. I work for the city for a while, they pay off half my student loans.”

“What did you go to school for, if you don’t mind my asking?” Penelope asked.

“Business administration,” Brandi said. “My year in here is almost up,” she said, pointing a close-cropped magenta fingernail at the screen. “I got my eye on a couple of things, planning to make a move. I like helping the people here, don’t get me wrong. But it’s not a salary I can live with long term, know what I mean? Not in this city.”

“I do,” Penelope said. “Well, thank you for all your help, Brandi.”

“You’re welcome,” Brandi said.

“Oh, if you want to stop down for lunch one day, that’s my food truck outside the Vitrine,” Penelope said. “If I’m not there tell the guys I sent you.”

Brandi smiled. “I bet a lot of people try and say the chef said it was okay to grab a free lunch.” She laughed and rocked back and forth in her chair.

“Okay, I’ll give you a password you can use, then they’ll know it’s been cleared.”

“Hmm,” Brandi said. “That might work.”

“Pickles,” Penelope said. “Say ‘pickles’ and lunch is on me. As a thanks. Also, here’s my card. If you think of anything else about Mother, give me a ring, okay?”

“Sure,” Brandi said. “And thanks for the lunch offer. You’re all right.”