JULIE, MARTHA, AND I were in the big bed at home. Joe hadn’t called, his phone was off, and I didn’t know where he was. Furthermore, Julie was in a state. Even a visit from Mrs. Rose hadn’t mollified her.
So what tragedy had befallen her?
She’d left her stuffed cow doll, Mrs. Mooey Milkington, in Cat’s car. There had been a lot of excitement when Cat and I met at the halfway point between Half Moon Bay and Lake Street. Martha was joyous. Julie was, too, but between grabbing the doggy, the kiddo, her bag of clothing, her barrettes and socks from the car floor, and her car seat, and cleaning out all the discarded trash she had spread around the back seat, no one noticed that Mooey had gotten stuck under the front seat.
“Julie, I know you miss her. Is there anyone else you could play with until we can get her back? Baby Bumpkin? Floppers?”
“Mooey doesn’t know where I am.”
“Fine. Can you get me my phone? Please?”
Julie went out to the living room, brought my phone back to me. I texted Cat. Told her that Mooey was in the car and to please tell her that Julie was home, and we’d bring her back soon.
Cat texted me back, Hahahahahahahaahah. Okay. Consider it done.
Thanks, I’ll tell Julie.
Cat sent me a string of emojis, some laughing, some growling, some sticking out their little tongues, one with a halo, then a string of hearts.
I texted, Back at you. Thanks.
I said, “Aunt Cat is telling Mooey now, okay?”
Julie was still unhappy.
I said, “Will you do something for me?”
“What? Okay.”
“I need you to read to me, Jules. I haven’t slept in so long. Days and days, and it will help me calm down if you tell me a story.”
“Brigid said I was a brat.”
“Okay, honey. That wasn’t nice. But she’s not used to having company, you know?”
“She gave me a coloring book.”
“Now, that was nice. Let me see.”
Julie went into her room and returned with a coloring book, got into bed again, and began to read the way she does. The pictures were of jungle animals, and Julie started with the elephant. And then she made up a story.
“This is Milly,” she said. “Milly has a baby named Blimpo. See, Mom? Milly eats chocolate-covered leaves ….”
I put my arm around Julie’s waist, and she told me about another few animals and I heard them in my sleep. It was Joe who woke me up. I sat up. Julie wasn’t there.
“I took her to school.”
“You did?”
“It’s a school day. She missed her friends.”
“Good, Joe. Great idea.”
I looked at the clock. I’d gotten two hours of sleep, not in a truck but with a mattress and pillows and blankets. I needed more.
Covering a yawn, I said, “What’s happening, Joe?”
“Big news, Linds. Vega fingered the guy he claims is responsible for all of those unsolved homicides of yours.”
“You’re serious? How does he know? Tell me everything.”
Joe kicked off his shoes and got into the bed, and as I had held Julie, my husband put his arms around me. He told me the tangled story of Ted Swanson and Fred Braun and their Mexican-American recruiter and tunnel man, Alejandro Vega. And he told me about a presumed killer I’d almost given up on finding.
“Anthony Ruffo Jr. With the BMW. The one who threatened me and attacked Cindy?”
“That’s him.”
I said, “He told Cindy to pass a message on to me. That it wasn’t over yet, remember? That nasty kid. I got a very bad vibe off him. Like what I’ve seen in hard-core criminals. We gave him a citation for parking in a no-parking zone. Damn it. That’s all we had.”
Joe said, “If it can be proven that he was a hit man responsible for the ‘You talk, you die’ homicides—”
“Please, God. Joe. Does Cindy know about this?”
“Doubtful,” said Joe.
“Any reason I can’t tell her?”
“Just make sure she knows it’s off the record.”
I didn’t know I had any laughter left in me, but I couldn’t stop laughing until Joe held my face with his hands. He said, “What’s funny?”
“We always tell her it’s off the record. Always. She hates that. Says, ‘You know what I do for a living?’”
Joe said, “Why do you smell so good?”
“Soap and water. Shampoo. Mouthwash.”
“I’m going to get me some of that.”
“Before or after?” I said to my dear husband.
“You choose.”
“As you are. I love the smell of flashbangs in the morning. Just take off your clothes.”