Dad and I checked in at the shop, ready to apologize for being AWOL, but Cathy and Maxine seemed to be managing just fine without us. Better than fine. The shop was cleaner than normal. I changed into my glasses because I thought they might make me look just a little bit more literary, and I borrowed Cathy’s notebook with her most recent poems.
“Don’t you want the novel?” she asked.
I thought for a moment. She’d read portions to me during quiet mornings in the shop. I’d started having misgivings when I—or rather a character inspired by me—had heard a noise and went to investigate while wearing a sheer harem costume, complete with castanets. It did not get better from there. No way I was taking that. The way things were going lately, they’d end up publishing the thing.
“No, the poems are great,” I said. “Just in case they want to see a sample.”
“Well, if they do, you’ll tell me what they say, right? It’s really hard to get honest feedback.”
I promised, and soon Dad and I were off to the offices of Buffalo Chips Press.
“So what exactly are we going to ask them?” I asked.
“Let’s not go in there with a script,” Dad said. “It’s too easy to get caught that way. Always sounds phony. We play it by ear. Not too many questions, and let the natural conversation drive the interview.”
“Got it.”
Dad opened the door to Buffalo Chips Press, and we walked into what looked like an old newspaper office. Older than the Superman movies. Older than Kolchak: The Nightstalker, even. We were in His Girl Friday territory, complete with the odor of old printer’s ink. Now if only Cary Grant would saunter through the door from the back room and step up to the counter. But with my luck, Lou Grant would be more likely.
Imagine my surprise when it turned out to be Lexi Wolf. Minus the whip, the swagger, the fishnet stockings, and the curls. In their place was a short, messy bob.
And khakis. Lexi Wolf—or rather Tippi Hillman—wore khakis. She sure looked a lot different from her action figure. Even different from the time she went undercover as a school teacher to penetrate the defenses of the Kohara faction. I’d underestimated Craig when I’d assumed he’d hired an imposter.
It took great effort not to squeal and go all fangirl.
“May I help you?” she asked. Also sans that awesome Aussie accent.
Dad spoke first. I’m not sure he recognized Tippi without her costume, even though he’d suffered through more than one episode, always complaining of plot holes.
“Yes,” Dad said. “My daughter is a poet, you see.”
I held up the notebook but was too starstruck to answer.
“And she heard in one of her writing groups that you publish poems. Since she has a birthday coming up, I thought it’d be nice to surprise her.” He put his arm around me. “You can tell she’s a little nervous.”
“Aren’t you sweet.”
Lexi Wolf called me sweet!
“Why don’t we step over here, and I’ll tell you the kind of things we publish here. Let’s see what we can do to make those dreams come true.”
We followed her over to a pitted conference table where we sat while she pulled several paperbacks from a nearby bookshelf. My pulse quickened when I realized that one of them was her autobiography, Hungry Like the Wolf, about being a normal-sized woman pressured to lose weight during filming.
She started reviewing various options—matte versus glossy covers, different kinds of paper, various trim sizes for the books—when she stopped cold. She slammed the book down and stared straight at me.
“Yes, I am Lexi Wolf. You can stop drooling now.” She slouched in her chair. “Do you even write poetry?”
“I . . . have a notebook.”
Dad burst out laughing. “You got us. She has a few poems in the notebook, but we borrowed them from a friend. We saw you at the train and toy show, and my daughter is such a big fan. We just wanted to talk.”
“When I was in college I wanted to be you,” I said.
“Well, being Lexi Wolf wasn’t as glamorous as it appeared, but it was probably more fun than calculus.” She pulled out a business card. “Here. Tuck that in the notebook in case your friend the poet is interested. What would you like to know?”
All of a sudden, my vocal cords loosened, and I peppered her with questions about shooting locations, props, and costumes, while carefully avoiding the supposed plot holes that critics liked to point out. I think we were both pretty at ease when Dad started asking questions.
“So what brought you to Western New York? And to the train and toy show in particular?”
“Well, it wasn’t the weather, although I do like to ski so I’m okay with a little snow. But it’s the tale as old as time. There was a really nice guy. He was from Buffalo and wanted to move back, so I ended up here. Did a little local theater. Shakespeare in Delaware Park, in one of their all-female productions. That was a lot of fun, but it wasn’t a career anymore. I’ve always been a reader, even majored in English in college before I landed the part of Lexi. This seemed like a good fit.”
“The guy from Buffalo. It wasn’t Craig McFadden, was it?” Dad asked.
She rolled her eyes. “I’ve made some mistakes in my life, but he wasn’t one of them. No, Steve and I are still together and very happy. And since I agreed to move to Buffalo with him, he financed this thriving venture.” She gestured around the dilapidated office. “My cleaning staff is on vacation.”
“You knew Craig, though,” I said.
She nodded. “He came to me with an idea for a comic book series. I told him I’d never done comics before. Mostly this place was just inserts for local newspapers—sale ads, that kind of thing—before I added trade paperbacks. I told him I’d have to hire people to do the layouts. He didn’t seem fazed, so I quoted him a super high price, kind of hoping he’d just go away. He recognized me right off the bat. I think he just wanted to thank Lexi Wolf in the acknowledgments. Next thing I know, he’s forking over the deposit. Said the rest of the money would be in soon.”
“What happens to that series now?” I asked.
She folded her hands in front of her and studied my face. “Why are you asking?”
I looked to Dad, who did a good job of not appearing flustered.
“We heard about the series, and it sounded interesting. Just wondering if it was still going forward. Might even make for a good investment.”
“You want to invest in Mr. Inferno?”
“Why not?” Dad said. “You must think it has potential, if you were willing to publish it.”
“I was willing to print it,” Tippi said. “There’s a difference.”
“So with Craig dead, does the project go forward?” I asked. “The circumstances created a bit of a sensation, and I’m sure that kind of thing could be spun into decent publicity.”
“That depends,” she said. “Craig signed over a bunch of rights in the initial contract.”
“Is that typical?” I asked.
“No, but in Craig’s case, I insisted on it. Adding comics required new equipment and personnel. It protects our investment. We put time and energy and money into it. And I know how easy it is for writers to get cold feet. Or run to another publisher and leave us holding the bag. Legally, we can go forward. Just not sure it makes sense yet.”
“What would tip the scales?” Dad asked.
“I sent a digital galley over to a freelance comic book editor, and he said it has potential. But that doesn’t mean it will find an audience and magically catch on. I popped a preliminary cover image up on Amazon to see if it generates many presales. We’ll see.”
“If it does take off, and with Craig gone, who’d get the royalties?” Dad asked.
“Not sure I want to answer that,” she said. “Let’s just say I have a very good intellectual property attorney.”
“And Craig didn’t,” I said.
She shrugged. “He signed the contract. Now, do you want to keep grilling me, or can I get back to work?”
“One more question,” I said. “Can I get a signed copy of Hungry Like the Wolf?”
# # #
I scored more than a free book. Heading south out of the city, we happened across a Lloyd Taco Truck. I didn’t have to twist Dad’s arm to convince him to stop for an early lunch, especially since Jack’s place would likely be off limits for some time. At least until I got up the nerve to see him again without bursting into tears.
But as we were leaning against my Civic eating our tacos—I got the pulled pork while Dad opted for braised beef—I realized that he’d left the toyshop before Cathy had a chance to tell him the good news. The circle of people who knew about the newest McCall in town was growing, yet Dad hadn’t yet learned he was going to be a grandpa. I needed to get him there quick so he could hear it from Parker or Cathy and not through the grapevine.
“What’s next, kiddo?” Dad asked.
“Back to the shop. We owe it to Cathy and Maxine to at least put in an appearance.”
He looked reluctant, but when we headed down Main Street, he rubbernecked the comic book store where a woman and a teenage boy were standing in front shoving a key in the lock.
“I thought they weren’t coming back until the weekend,” I said. “That’s when Maxine said she was going to help with inventory.”
Dad smiled at me. “How about we introduce ourselves to the new neighbors?”
A parking spot magically opened up right in front of the store, but even while I centered my car between the lines, I prepared Dad for news. “There’s something you need to know before we go in there.” I told him what I had learned about Maxine being Craig’s mother—and the teen’s grandmother. “Although he doesn’t know it.”
“That’s why Maxine was so upset over Craig’s death,” he said. “Such a shame she never got to tell Craig before he died. Especially after spending all those months getting to know him.”
“I doubt the kid is carrying the same kind of emotional baggage Craig did. So there’s still hope she’ll be able to build some bridges with her grandson.”
Dad took my hand. “Family. We take it for granted.”
This touching Hallmark moment delayed us just long enough that by the time we arrived at the front door, the woman and her son had gone inside and locked it behind them. Dad knocked, and we stood smiling on the doorstep while the mother inspected us through the glass.
“If this is how the Jehovah’s Witnesses feel every time they knock on a door, remind me to be kinder next time,” Dad said out of the corner of his mouth.
We must have passed muster, because the woman opened the door. “Can I help you?”
“Hi,” Dad said, turning on his charm. He introduced both of us and managed to shoehorn in that he was the former chief of police. To gain her trust? Must have worked. She invited us in.
The air in the shop was stagnant, probably the time spent baking in the sun with the awning rolled up and the AC not running. It was dim, since the overhead lights were off. There’s something a little spooky about a commercial building with the lights off.
“Amanda Cooper,” she said by way of introduction. “And my son, Kohl.”
“Hi, Kohl,” I said.
Kohl looked up when his name was mentioned, but he didn’t say anything and never quite made eye contact. Instead, he flipped the page of his comic book, ran his hand along the paper, and went back to reading, his head bobbing ever so slightly in a comforting rock.
“Sorry,” Amanda whispered. “He’s a little uncomfortable in new situations and around new people.” I didn’t need that explanation to guess that Kohl was somewhere on the autism spectrum. When he did finally look in my direction, I smiled at him. He quickly broke eye contact again, but I noticed that when he looked down at his comic book, he was smiling too.
Maxine apparently hadn’t picked up on the child’s challenges yet, since she’d only said that the boy was quiet. I doubted it would make much difference once she learned, though. Grandmas are like that.
“We wanted to welcome you to East Aurora,” Dad said. “And offer our condolences. We knew Craig for a long time, but honestly, not that well.”
Amanda sent up a pained look and then tipped her head toward the corner of the store. “I’d rather not have Kohl overhear too much about his father. It’s kind of a sensitive subject.”
We followed her to the corner, and I glanced up at the spot where the photographs of Craig with his sponsored sports teams had been.
“Yes, I took them all down,” she said, catching my gaze. “Kohl just stared at them. Looked at all the faces. All the strange boys, but not one picture of his own son.”
“We didn’t mean to bring up a painful subject,” I said.
She shook her head. “No avoiding it. It’s going to come up. I’m just trying to keep it from coming up in front of Kohl. I’m not sure what part he understands. Most of it, I expect. He knew he had a father who never came to see him. But those pictures were hard to take.”
“Was Craig into sports when you knew him?” I asked.
She set her jaw. A tear formed in the corner of her eye. “Not my proudest moment. I didn’t know much at all about Craig. If I had, maybe things would’ve been different. All I knew was that my mother hated him, and that was all I needed.”
“You must have been very young,” I said.
“Old enough to know better. And old enough to pay the piper.” She closed her eyes. “And no, my mother didn’t really hate him. She could just see where it was all leading. And I was right at that place where if she’d told me to eat ice cream, I would have had a nice bowl of broccoli instead. Craig didn’t have good things to say about parents. I guess it fueled my rebellion even more.”
“How did you meet?”
“Detention,” she said. “My first one. Late book report. I thought it was like that old movie, The Breakfast Club. Everyone loves a bad boy, right? We only went out a couple times. I wouldn’t call it love at first sight, and I’m not exactly easy, but I was tired of being called a goody-two-shoes and a virgin. I got rid of those nicknames fast.”
“So you were never married,” Dad said.
“No,” Amanda said. “Not even sure I could even call him my boyfriend. It was over that quick. He’d been sent back to some juvie facility when I found out I was pregnant. I just wanted to leave him out of it, but Mom tracked him down. She got a lawyer. Made him take a paternity test. He didn’t send much child support at first, but it had been going up recently.”
“It must have been hard for you,” I said.
“Certainly changed my plans. Instead of staying up late studying for exams, I was up walking a cranky baby. Those first few weeks were tough, but then his stomach straightened out and we were doing good. He was such a sweet boy. I got my GED at night when Mom was available to watch Kohl. Poor little guy would try to stay up until I got home. He’d run out to meet me, jabbering a mile a minute.” She bit her lip. “And then he started talking less. You can probably figure out the rest.”
I must have looked sad.
“Oh, but it’s good. Not the life I might’ve picked, but Kohl is doing well. We got him into a special program early enough that it really made a difference. He’s doing a pretty good job managing his challenges and frustrations. Now, of course, he’s a bit stressed out. But when he’s feeling secure and comfortable, he’s pretty much that sunshiny boy that I remember. Not many moms of teenagers can say that. Now, some people have a hard time telling.”
I nodded. “I think you met Maxine the other day. She’s been putting in some hours in our toyshop. She’d just mentioned that he seemed well-mannered and quiet.”
Amanda smiled, then winced. “Now I feel bad about fibbing to her.”
Dad pulled a bin of comic books closer and started to thumb through them. “She was under the impression that you weren’t going to be working here until the weekend.”
“I wasn’t sure about having her around Kohl,” she said.
“Maxine seems like such a nice person,” I said.
“I’m sure she is very nice. She volunteered to come in and help, even though I told her I wasn’t sure I’d be able to pay her. But Kohl was upset about his father, and Maxine had worked with him. I’m sure the subject would’ve come up, and I was just thinking it’d be awkward for all of us. Do you think it’ll offend her if I don’t take her up on her offer?”
I looked to Dad. I wasn’t quite sure what to say. I could understand why she’d want to insulate her son from more pain, but she was unwittingly keeping him away from a grandparent.
“I think Maxine would understand,” Dad said, “but the job would be a lot easier on you with her here. Comic books definitely have a learning curve, and she already has a good working knowledge of what you have in the shop. You’d probably be cutting off your nose . . .”
“To spite my face?” she said. “Apparently that’s my MO.”
“Would you like us to talk to her, maybe fill her in on the . . . special challenges of the situation?” I asked.
“I guess that was a snap decision on my part. I could use her expertise. See how it works out. But I meant what I said that I wasn’t sure I could pay her, at least not right away. I know Kohl should get something, but that’ll be down the road. Until that happens, we’re stretched kind of thin.”
“Have you decided what you’re going to do with all the stock when you’re done with the inventory?” Dad asked.
“That I’m still trying to figure out. I just want to sell it, but Kohl has it in his head that he wants to work in the store and sell comic books. I’d like to get someone to go over the accounts and see if that’s a financial possibility, especially since Kohl is the actual beneficiary of all Craig’s assets.”
“It was good of him to remember his son,” I said.
She shrugged. “Who else was he going to leave his stuff to? Right now, though, I have no idea if he was even in the black or what any of this is worth. But I guess the shop computer was stolen, and the police have the backup files.”
“They should be able to copy those for you,” Dad said, pulling out his notebook. “I’ll ask them. I’m retired, but I help out from time to time.”
I snorted. Couldn’t help myself.
“That’d be wonderful,” she said.
“If you decide to stay, East Aurora is a good place to live and do business,” Dad said. “And for what it’s worth, Craig seemed to be making a go of it. I can introduce you around to the chamber of commerce folks. There’s a meeting tonight if you’re interested.”
Amanda glanced at her son. “I couldn’t. Not tonight.”
“I understand,” Dad said. “You probably need time to make up your mind. But if you decide you want to sell, I wouldn’t mind putting in an offer on the stock.” He pulled out one of his business cards and handed it to her. “No pressure, though. It’s up to you.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, tucking the card into her pocket.
When we climbed into the car, I turned on the ignition. “How do you think Maxine is going to take the news that her grandson has autism?”
“I’d think she’d be delighted that she has a grandson. I hope she gets up the nerve to tell Amanda. That could work out very well for all of them.” But Dad didn’t look all that happy.
“What’s the matter?” I asked. “Bummed out about possibly losing that comic room that we have no space for anyway?”
“Perhaps that’s it,” he said.
“Let’s get back to the shop.” I expected his mood would change pretty quickly. After all, Maxine wasn’t going to be the only one to learn she was a grandparent.