CHAPTER 19

The next day Digger said I could come with him after school to see Julio. “I want you to hear what he has to say about the time he spent as his uncle’s slave to see if there is any information you can corroborate.”

Mom came too. We had to wait about half an hour for Mr. Hammersmith because he never left Graver until the last student had departed. That was protocol, a word I understood even better now.

This gave us time to play with some of the foster dogs Alton Hammersmith and his wife Martha were caring for. Mr. Hammersmith is tall and thin. Mrs. Hammersmith is short and plump with a face so perfect it reminded me of my special doll from when I was a child. She explained that they always had four dogs at a time, dogs that were sent to them by the SPCA to care for and socialize so they could be adopted. You can imagine that my view of The Hammer was changing.

One of the dogs was all white with a big bushy tail. She was very friendly and rolled over on her back to have her stomach scratched. Another was big and gawky and very sweet. One little mutt looked like she had been put together from other animals. She had an anteater nose and bat ears and she begged to come sit in my lap. The fourth one went and hid under the table as soon as we came in. I thought maybe it was my wheelchair that freaked him out but Mrs. Hammersmith said no.

“He’s still very fearful. He was a street dog and had to survive eating scraps out of people’s garbage until the volunteers caught him. Then he had to be neutered and have all his shots. So it’s going to take a while for him to accept us.”

She said this very cheerfully, as if this had happened lots of times and the dogs all got over their fears and turned into the kind you would want to take home.

Which of course I did. But Mom said firmly that we were not yet ready for a dog. Even Digger, who said he was not much of a dog person, said he thought maybe he and Teresa should begin to consider taking in a needy one.

Julio was different from the sort of withdrawn guy he had been when Digger and I found him at the warehouse. He said hello and smiled and soon he was lying on the floor letting two dogs lick his face at once. I could hardly take it all in. First The Hammer turns out to be a dog lover and next the fearful Julio, who made us promise we’d never seen him before the day Trippy and I first met him, turns into a . . . a normal. I sort of realized how scared he must have been on our drive back to Woodvale, not knowing where Digger was taking him, not knowing if this protective custody arrangement was for real or if it was a setup and the gang would find him there. He was so relaxed and happy that it was hard to put together this Julio with the one we’d met before.

Back then, he mostly spoke only Spanish. In fact, he didn’t speak English at all during the whole year he was Jeb Blanco’s slave—Blanco and his accomplices only spoke Spanish to him. But The Hammer and his wife didn’t speak a word of Spanish, so living with them was life being in a permanent English class.

Mrs. Hammersmith said, “Julio’s been an enormous help with the dogs. He’s taken over the feeding and much of the walking. He’s ready for more as soon as this batch is ready to go.”

“Isn’t it hard, letting them go when you’ve gotten . . . like really attached to them?”

“Yes, in a way it is. But we know they’re going to good permanent homes. And there are so many others that need foster care. Not just in Florida, all across the country.”

“It’s worse here in the South,” Julio said. “People don’t spay and neuter their dogs, so they breed more and more and they end up roaming in a pack on the street.” I thought of Henry drowning his cat’s kittens until we took her to be spayed. And how Julio had lived on the street too.

Just then, Mr. Hammersmith arrived. After he kissed Martha and tousled a couple of the dogs, he said, “I think we need some refreshments.”

You would think the wife would disappear into the kitchen and come back with milk and cookies, but oh no. The Hammer himself did the honors and it was kumquats and oatmeal cookies he had baked from a special recipe.

“Alton loves to cook,” Martha explained. “He likes to concoct his own recipes, he says it’s like inventing new algebra problems.”

Concoct, I thought to myself. And kumquats, my favorite citrus, a sweet and sour mouthful. They almost rhymed.

“They’re just about out of season,” The Hammer said. “But I have an inside source.”

It was time to hear Julio’s story but first, Digger warned us. “This goes no further than here in this room.”

Mom said, “Of course,” as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Julio said, “I saw the murdered man up close only once. I was in the warehouse cleaning the monkeys’ cages and giving them a few banana treats and some fresh water after their evening meal when I heard the sound of a car arriving.”

Digger prompted him. “Was your uncle there at that time?”

“Yes, because he had just come to bring me my groceries for the week. I heard him swearing, telling this other man who had just driven up that he had no right to come out here, and the other man cursed him back with words I won’t repeat, but I was scared they would start to fight. Or pull a knife or a gun.”

“So what did you do?”

“I crept out very quietly through the warehouse door and flattened myself against the wall where I couldn’t be seen but where I had a clear view of the quarrel. If there was going to be a big fight I thought somebody might get killed. I didn’t know what I would do then. I was too scared to try to come between them.” There was a pause while Julio struggled with his feelings. His voice had cracked on scared and I was scared with him.

“Take your time, son,” Digger said. “Just try to remember what you saw.”

“He stood facing me for what seemed like hours,” Julio said. “I thought, This is it. This is when someone gets killed. So I tell you I would know his face anywhere. They were quarreling about money. The man facing me was furious that Jeb Blanco was cheating him out of his fair share and if Blanco didn’t agree to a fifty/fifty split he—Carlos is what my uncle called him—said he would rat on him.”

“Rat on him?” I asked, and Digger answered, “Tell the authorities. That’s how you say it.”

“Finally, my uncle’s voice changed. You know how polite and smooth he can be in public? When you first meet him you think, Oh what a nice gentleman? Well, that’s what he did. He grew soft and pleasant and said, ‘Okay. You are right, Carlos, we are equal partners. But I don’t have the cash here. If you will wait out on the end of the jetty tomorrow night after all the fishing people have gone, I will send a cigarette boat to you with $100,000 in $100 bills and you can count them on the spot.’ ”

“Is that a little speedboat? There are always lots of them whizzing around out there.”

Digger said, “Yes,” and nodded to Julio to continue.

“Carlos agreed. Then Jeb Blanco said, ‘The little boat may be very late, maybe after midnight. It will have to come after the cruise ships have departed because the tender that brings the pilot back in also brings in the week’s money. All of that takes time. You might have to take a little nap out there while you wait.’

“Carlos said, ‘That’s no problem. I have just the thing for a nap,’ and then I saw him pat his pocket. He took out a silver flask and showed it to Blanco. Then they each took a sip to seal the agreement.”

I got very excited. “The flask! Remember Digger, when you searched the body and you found a silver flask? And we both said it could be a clue?”

“I remember, chica.”

Then Digger added, “You did a good job retelling. Now comes the unpleasant end of the story. You must come with me and the officers to identify the corpse.”

I said, “All this time Carlos’s corpse, blue with cold, has been lying on a slab in the morgue in the dark with a ticket tied to his toe labeled UNKNOWN.”

Mom said, “You’ve been watching too many detective stories on TV, Lizzie.”

Which was true but wasn’t this a detective story? And hadn’t Julio come forth to solve it? Even if it meant he would be put back in juvie and the gang might get him?

When we said goodbye and thank you to the Hammersmiths, Martha Hammersmith said, “Come see us again anytime Lizzie. It’s good for the dogs to experience new people and new situations.”

I thought the “situations” had to do with my wheelchair, but I just smiled and thanked them both again for the refreshments.

“Bye Lizzie. See you around,” Julio said. “Anytime you’d like to help me walk the dogs . . . I could push your chair.”

I knew that was hard for him to say. “It’s a deal. If you push I can hold a leash in each hand.”