Dark Moon Crossing (15 page)

“About what?‌” She sucked so hard on the cigarette I
thought she was going to inhale the whole thing and then before I could say
another word, she burst into a fit of coughing. Holding onto the doorframe for
support, she hacked and gagged and wheezed so violently I thought she was
either going to barf or check out altogether. Not sure what to do, I called
out, “Is there anything I can do?‌”

“Jesus,
Grandma!” A young woman with spiky brown hair appeared out of nowhere and
rushed to the woman’s side. “You’re not supposed to be up.” She shot me a
startled look and shouted, “Wait there, I’ll be right back,” as she led the
still-coughing woman away.

Oh,
my. I eased my weight onto an old wooden Adirondack chair beside the door and
leaned my head back, suddenly feeling bone weary. Two nights of lost sleep
were catching up with me. I wished I could close my eyes and lie down on the
mat beside the dog. “Want some company, fellah?‌” As if he understood, the
hound raised his freckley brows and wagged his tail.

As
I sat there listening to the lonesome whisper of the wind dancing through the
high grass, I sensed more than just an air of disregard surrounding the place,
an actual pall hung over the house. But then, it had only been three months
since Bob Shirley’s untimely death.

I
think I may have actually dozed off for a few minutes when I heard the hinges
on the screen door squeak. I blinked and looked up as the lanky girl stepped
onto the porch and pulled the front door shut behind her. She wore heavy eye
makeup, hip-hugger jeans and a midriff T-shirt that showed off her belly button
ring. “Hi, I’m Jennifer Shirley.” Her open, friendly smile was a welcome
contrast to her grandmother’s brittle reception. “Grandma says you know Walter
and Lavelle.”

“That’s
right.” I introduced myself and handed her my business card.

Reading
it, she plopped down next to the dog and ruffled his floppy ears. “How’s my
old Buster doing?‌” Expectantly, she turned back to me. “So, you work with
Walter?‌ How are they liking Castle Valley?‌”

“Just
fine, I think.”

“I
felt bad that I didn’t get to say goodbye when they came by a few weeks ago,
but I was away at school. Say, your hair is really cool. Are you a natural
redhead?‌ I’m thinking about dyeing mine red,” she said, fluffing her short
bangs.

She
seemed anxious to talk and that was great, as I was anxious for information. I
thanked her for the compliment and motioned towards the green car. “So, you
attend the U of A in Tucson?‌”

At
the mention of school her face lit up. For several minutes, she chattered on
about her hopes to major in microbiology, work for a big pharmaceutical firm
and find the cure for cancer. Lofty goals.

“Do
you come home often?‌”

Her enthusiasm diminished. “Twice a month. Sometimes
my two brothers drive down, and once in a while my big sister comes to help
out,” she said, stuffing my card into the front pocket of her jeans, “but it’s
not much fun being here anymore. In fact, it’s like a morgue. There’s nobody
to talk to most of the time.”

“Why
is that?‌”

She drew her knees up to her chin and sighed. “As you
could probably tell, Grandma’s got emphysema, so she can only talk for two
minutes before having a coughing fit. She’s not supposed to smoke, but she
gets on my ass if I say anything.”

“And your mother?‌”

Her swift shrug and upward eye roll told me a lot.
“She pops Prozac all day or else she’s zonked out on sleeping pills….” Her
voice trailed off and she stared straight ahead blank-faced momentarily before
meeting my eyes again. “Why do you want to talk to her?‌”

“I wanted to ask her some questions about your dad.”

Little distress lines fanned out across her forehead.
She lowered her eyes and absently petted the dog again. “Good luck.”

“Why
do you say that?‌”

“Because,
she gets totally paranoid if we try to talk to her about him.” She paused to
clear her throat. “Maybe things will be better when we sell this place and she
moves up to Tucson. Bad vibes here now.”

“Your
brothers, are they at the university too?‌”

“Yeah.
Carl’s got one more year, I’ve got two, but Todd just started.”

I did a quick calculation. Tuition, room and board
for three college students would add up to a substantial amount of cash. Would
the financial burden have pushed Bob Shirley to abandon his principles and
become involved in drug smuggling to augment his income?‌

“We’ll be there for the rest of this semester anyway,”
she said, sounding despondent. “If the house doesn’t sell and we don’t get the
grants we applied for…well, we may all have to drop out.”

“Losing
your dad has obviously been pretty hard on the whole family emotionally and
financially.”

“Nothing
will ever be the same.”

I
flipped open my notepad and leaned forward. “Jennifer, I’m hoping you can
answer some questions for me. I’m trying to help out a friend who’s in some
serious trouble. I can’t give you specifics except to say there are bizarre
similarities between her current predicament and something that happened
involving your dad. I’m trying to figure out if there might be a connection
between these two situations.”

The color seeped from her face. “What are you talking
about?‌”

“Did your father ever discuss his work?‌”

“Sometimes.” A cautious note had entered her voice.

“Did he ever talk to you about one particular
immigrant he arrested in a place called Morita?‌” I consulted my notes and
tacked on, “It happened the last week of June.”

Her eyes fogged for several seconds then cleared.
“Oh, you mean the guy who thought he saw a space alien or something?‌”

“Exactly. What was your dad’s reaction to his story?‌”

“At first we all laughed about it, but then later
on….” She hesitated for a few seconds before fixing me with an odd look. “You
know, so much was happening around that time, I hadn’t really thought about
this until now.”

I leaned closer. “What?‌”

“A couple of days afterwards, when Todd was joking
about it at dinner, my dad just suddenly lost it. I mean he got really mad and
said he didn’t want us to discuss it ever again.”

“Really?‌ Did you think that was strange?‌”

She hitched one thin shoulder. “Kind of.”

“How would you rate your dad’s state of mind during
that time period?‌ Did he seem depressed?‌”

“Well...I wouldn’t exactly call it depressed, but I
did overhear him talking to Mom that he was bummed about his job and he was
thinking about quitting.”

“Why?‌”

“He was totally…well, disillusioned is the word he
used. Half the time he was out of his mind with boredom, but when they did
catch a group of migrants it was like playing a game of tag because they’d just
come back again.” Her elongated shrug and sad little smile spoke volumes. “He
used to say that it was like a revolving door.”

I nodded, thinking that his complaints echoed exactly
the grievances quoted by the disgruntled agent in the article I’d read last
night.

She chewed her lip for moment before tacking on, “Mom
was always giving him grief about the low pay too. She said it wasn’t worth
him working such crappy hours and certainly not for risking his life in some
cases.”

I knew the next question was going to hurt, but I had
to ask it anyway. “Tell me, Jennifer, do you know anything about the
allegations that he….”

Fury erupted in her eyes. “Don’t even say it! I
don’t care what you’ve heard or what you’ve read, my dad was
not,
and I
repeat
not
, involved with drug smugglers. He was honest and decent and
kind and he would never, ever in a million years have done anything like…like
they’re saying.” Her voice trembled over the last few words and she pressed her
lips shut.

I smiled in sympathy. “I’m sorry. I know this is a
painful subject, but Walter doesn’t buy the official ruling that your dad
committed suicide. What do you think?‌”

She
appeared to be straining for composure. “Like I said, he wasn’t exactly
himself those last few weeks, but who would be with that kind of shit coming
down?‌” She pushed to her feet, marched to the edge of the porch and stood with
her back to me for a minute before she swung around to face me, her eyes
luminous with tears. “Does it sound logical to you that a man with a wife and
four kids and a grandbaby on the way would kill himself the night before his
fiftieth birthday party?‌”

Frowning,
I shook my head. “No.” The mournful wail of the wind seemed to accentuate the
unspoken realization that passed between us. “Jennifer, did your father have
any enemies?‌”

“Not
that I know of.”

We
both flinched when a voice commanded, “Jennifer! Get inside right now!” I
swung around. A haggard-looking woman with eyes as morose as the hound dog
stood behind the screen door. Wrapped in an oversized terrycloth bathrobe, her
graying sandy hair was squashed flat against the side of her head as if she’d
been lying on it a long time.

Jennifer’s
brow crinkled. “Mom, what’s wrong?‌”

She
edged the door open, beckoning frantically. “Get in here. You shouldn’t be
talking to this woman. She works at a newspaper! You could be endangering the
whole family.”

Her
choice of the word ‘endanger,’ coupled with the expression of fearful agitation
tarnishing her dull blue eyes, set my pulse rate skyrocketing.

Jennifer
fired a bewildered glance at me as she brushed by and disappeared inside the
house. “Mrs. Shirley,” I began, “I’m sure your mother told you that I’m a
friend of Walter and Lavelle….”

She
cut me off with a curt, “Did anybody see you come here?‌”

“What?‌”

“Does
anyone else know you’re here?‌” Her eyes

darted
all around and then widened with fright when her gaze locked onto something
behind me. “Hell’s fire, they’re still watching me. Get out,” she snarled.
“Get out of here now and don’t ever come back!” The door slammed in my face.

I swiveled around in time to see a white Chevy Blazer
slowly cruising past the house. A lightning bolt of alarm shot through me when
I recognized the beefy skinhead I’d seen earlier at the café. The menace
smoldering in his close-set eyes was every bit as frightening as if he’d
reached out and wrapped his hands around my throat.

Twenty
miles later, my apprehension persisted. Keeping one hand on the wheel, I
adjusted the rearview mirror again. The road was clear behind me, but the
knowledge that I had been followed to the Shirley residence, coupled with
Loydeen’s claim that she was being watched, unnerved me. There was zero doubt
in my mind that the malevolence directed towards me both yesterday and today
was a direct result of my association with a person of Mexican origin, plain
and simple.

The
skinhead’s timely appearance, combined with the Shirley woman’s violent
reaction, gave merit to Walter’s assertion that Bob may have had some
association with the Knights of Right, and his warning that the situation could
get dicey had me wondering how best to proceed. I couldn’t realistically take
my fears to the authorities, as there’d been no direct threat against me.

I
headed to the mission, determined to pick up Lupe’s bag before going to the
ranch. With Sunday services long over, the place looked deserted again. I
parked near the pink house and entered the kitchen. Celia and the second
Hispanic woman were there washing dishes, but when I asked for Sister
Goldenrod, Celia shook her head and pointed to the door. I gathered she wasn’t
around and headed towards Javier’s room.

Judging
by the clean soapy smell and the shine in his dark hair, it was apparent that
Sister G had given the little guy a bath. An empty plate and new stuffed toy
sat next to him on the floor of the closet. The touching scene thawed the cold
dread icing down my insides. Even if it was eventually revealed that Sister
G’s ministry was bogus, her concern for the illegals and her affection for this
little waif appeared genuine. I wondered how she would react to Mazzie La
Casse’s request.

I grabbed Lupe’s bag from the floor and Javier
returned my smile with his timid one as I waved goodbye before closing the door
to his sanctuary. Disappointed that I was having no luck connecting the dots
in this weird puzzle, and grappling with an overpowering sense of defeat, I
headed down the hall, anxious to get to the ranch, fearful that the little
orange kitten might be dead. I’d definitely have a few words to say about
Jason Beaumont’s deplorable behavior.

I
hadn’t gone two steps past Sister G’s bedroom door when I heard rustling
followed by a soft thump. I halted, listening intently. Perhaps I’d
misunderstood Celia. I tapped lightly on the door, calling softly, “Sister
Goldenrod?‌” before easing it open to stare in surprise. The noisemaker proved
to be Froggy McQueen. Balanced atop a small stepladder, he was so absorbed in
rummaging around inside some cardboard boxes on the top shelf of her closet I
knew he hadn’t heard me. Well now, what was this?‌ Instinctively, I knew he
shouldn’t be there. And wouldn’t it be a crying shame to let an opportunity
like this slip by?‌ Warily, I eyed the far corner of the room and suppressed a
shiver of terror before tiptoeing into the room. Why did I always torture
myself with the irrational belief that a spider could vault from its web and
travel by air to pounce on me?‌

Preoccupied
in his explorations, Froggy did not notice my stealthy approach. “Where the
hell did you hide it, you miserable bitch?‌” he muttered, stopping to wipe beads
of perspiration from his forehead before reaching for a bottle of beer perched
on the lower shelf. He tipped it skyward, drained it and then let out several
croaking belches that actually sounded like the call of a bullfrog. The origin
of his nickname perhaps?‌

The word obnoxious couldn’t begin to describe this
guy. It also occurred to me that Froggy must indeed have an alcohol problem if
his drinking had begun already. It wasn’t yet one o’clock. When I cleared my
throat, he started so violently he almost lost his footing. “Jeezuuuus!” he
cried, gawking open-mouthed at me while grabbing the shelf for support. “You
scared the everlivin’ shit out of me!”

“Sorry.
I was looking for Sister Goldenrod.”

He
swallowed convulsively and clambered down, missing the last rung on the ladder
and almost falling. “Ah…she’s not here, but I expect her back any minute.” He
punctuated his statement with a hiccup.

It took all my willpower not to laugh out loud. I
said nothing, just stared at him coolly until he offered up a sheepish smile.
“She…um…asked me to do some cleaning for her.”

“Really?‌
You should get rid of the spider over there in the corner while you’re at it.”
I retraced my steps, calling nonchalantly over my shoulder, “I’ll check back
with her later…and I’ll be sure to mention that I saw you. Bye-bye now.”

I
hadn’t gotten more than ten steps outside the door before he caught up with
me. Breathless, he gasped, “Hold on a minute!”

Smiling
inwardly, I stopped and wheeled around to face him. “Yes?‌”

“Listen,”
he said, nervously rubbing his hands on his faded jeans. “Do you s’pose you
could maybe not mention anything about me being in her room.” His words
slurred just a little bit.

I
folded my arms and let him stew for a few seconds. “Well, I think we can work
something out.”

His
bloodshot eyes narrowed with suspicion. “How?‌”

“I have some questions I need answered.”

He
knew I had him and he looked like he wanted to cry. Furtively, he glanced
around before making tentative eye contact with me again. “What kinds of
questions?‌”

“For
starters, how long have you known Sister Goldenrod?‌”

Puzzled
frown lines formed a cleft Y above his mottled nose. “Why do you want to know
that?‌”

“Do
we have a deal or not?‌” I had the upper hand and intended to keep it.

He
hesitated, running his tongue along his lower lip. “Hey, listen, I’m kinda
thirsty. You wanna go out to my truck and have a beer?‌”

I
started to refuse and then changed my mind. Alcohol is wonderful for
lubricating the jaw muscles. “Sure.”

Outside,
he plucked two bottles from a Styrofoam cooler in his camper shell, popped the
tops and handed me one. “She won’t let me keep this in her refrigerators,” he
groused, taking a long pull from his beer and then wiping his mouth on his
sleeve. “Say, I heard through the grapevine that you was a reporter,” he
announced in an obvious ploy to change the subject. “Bet you got some real
interesting stories to tell.”

“Froggy,
I don’t have a lot of time. Answer the question.”

His
face crumpled like a petulant child. “I dunno. I met her three, maybe four
years ago.”

“Under
what circumstances?‌”

“She
lived in the same…um…place as my sister.”

Pretty
vague answer. “Which was?‌”

“Tennessee.”

Still
vague, guarded. I took a tiny swallow of beer and switched gears. “Tell me
something, is Goldenrod her given name?‌”

His
lips twitched with mirth. “No, it ain’t.” Unable to contain his glee, he
sniggered, “She don’t like anyone to know because she says people don’t take
her seriously, but you know what her real name is?‌”

I
shrugged. “I’m listening.”

“It’s Hoggwhistle. Shalberta Hoggwhistle.” He let
out a hoot of laughter and pounded his knee.

I
shook my head in wonder. With a name like that, I could understand why she
didn’t want to use it. “Charming. And is she really a minister?‌”

“So
she says. Hey, why do you want to know all this stuff?‌”

“I’m
just curious to know why you’re blackmailing her.”

He
made a little choking noise and his eyeballs practically bulged from their
sockets. “What?‌ Where did you…I mean, I don’t know what you’re talking
about,” he stammered, his face paling visibly. He looked so uncomfortable, I
almost felt sorry for him. Almost. Matter-of-factly, I said, “I think you
do.”

I
could see all kinds of activity going on behind his eyes in an apparent
struggle to decide what he would or would not tell me. “Look,” he said, his
tone now syrupy, “I ain’t doing nothing wrong. The good Sister, well, she got
into a little trouble a few years ago and says she’s happy to help me out a little
bit financially, if I keep that piece of information to myself.”

“What
kind of trouble?‌”

He
looked everywhere but at me. “Oh…nothing much. She just spent a little time in
the joint.”

Nothing
much?‌ So, Sister Goldenrod was an ex-con?‌ That certainly went a long way in
explaining her coarse behavior. “What was she in for?‌”

“She
swears she was framed,” he said, holding up his right hand as if he were being
sworn in. “I think it had something to do with cashing bad checks or
something.” His expression of contrived innocence told me he was lying but, if
he’d been telling the truth to this point, at least now I had enough
information to check out the story further. The rattle of a car engine made
his eyes widen with alarm. “Oh, shit, she’s back.” He grabbed the unfinished
beer from my hand and stowed it along with his empty bottle back inside the
cooler before slamming the door to the camper.

I
decided not to let him off the hook too easily. “I think we should talk
again. Soon.”

His
gaze turned flinty. I’m sure if he’d been a dog, he’d have grabbed my ankle
with his teeth and hung on, but since I appeared to be holding the cards, he
acquiesced. “Sure, sure,” he said, sliding an uneasy glance towards Sister
Goldenrod’s Bronco pulling into the garage. “Maybe I could buy you a drink at
La Gitana. I go there in the evenings sometimes.”

I’ll bet he did. “Perhaps,” I said. “I’ll be in
touch.” Damn, it felt good to see the self-satisfied smirk wiped off his face,
but I was frustrated that I hadn’t had the opportunity to ask him what he’d
been searching for.

I watched him climb behind the wheel and rev the
engine, but he didn’t get very far down the driveway before Sister Goldenrod
motioned for him to stop. “Why haven’t you left yet?‌” she barked, ambling up to
the passenger window, her face one big scowl. “I told you we need those
groceries here by four o’clock.”

“I’m goin’, I’m goin’,” he said, glowering as he
gunned the truck towards the road. Sister G shook her head in disgust before turning
a look of suspicion on me. “What were you two talking about?‌”

My
heart faltered for a second. Minus her white robe, her disagreeable
personality had reemerged. “Nothing in particular,” I answered, hoping I
sounded calmer than I felt. “I just stopped by to pick up Lupe’s bag. She
wasn’t feeling well and went home right after breakfast.”

My explanation didn’t diminish the worried glaze in
her eyes. “You didn’t talk to him about Javier, did you?‌”

“No.”

“Good.
He doesn’t really know anything other than he’s just a little kid that I’m
babysitting for a couple of weeks and that’s the way I want to keep it. That
man can’t be trusted to keep his mouth shut when he drinks.”

She was sure right about that. “Speaking of Javier,
what’s going to happen to him?‌ What happens to other children in similar
circumstances?‌”

A
look of melancholy softened her crusty demeanor. “Tragic. It’s just tragic.
In most cases, if the powers that be can’t locate a relative, these poor tykes
are deported to orphanages in Mexico where conditions can be unspeakable. I
can’t bear the thought of that happening to him.”

“What
are you going to do?‌”

“I
don’t know.”

Her
expression of genuine distress made it harder to accept the fact that she was
an ex-con in minister’s clothing. Was she really here trying to rectify her
past, or merely using her position to enrich herself by breaking United States
immigration laws?‌ I weighed my next move. Should I share what I’d learned
from the meeting with Mazzie La Casse?‌ For Javier’s sake, for Lupe’s sake, I
decided to go for it.

“What?‌”
she squawked when I’d finished. “You promised you wouldn’t tell anyone about
him!”

“She
doesn’t know who he is or where he is. Just hear me out.”

She
froze in disbelief as I relayed the similarities between Javier’s nightmares
and some of the incidents attributed to other witnesses. “My Lord,” she
gasped, pressing a hand to her bosom, “so, the poor baby’s telling the truth?‌”

The
whole idea was unnerving. “Well, I think it’s the truth as he perceives it.
Would you consider allowing her to place Javier under hypnosis?‌ It may help
him to remember more details.”

“But
that might scare him even more,” she murmured, picking at the hairs growing
from her chin. “I’m going to have to think about that.”

“Fair
enough.”

She
looked towards the house and back at me again, her forehead rumpling in a
frown. “If…if I do decide to let her talk to him, where would I reach you?‌”

I
hesitated. There was no guarantee I’d ever pick up a strong signal for my cell
phone. “I’m on my way to the Sundog ranch right now, but after that, I’m not
sure. I can call you later.”

Still
appearing undecided, she grunted, “Okay.”

I
started towards my car then swung back. “By the way, Lupe wanted me to ask if
you’d been able to track down the smug…I mean the person who guided Javier’s
family across the border.”

“I…haven’t
had time to look into that yet.”

I
could tell by her wary expression that she wasn’t about to tell me even if she
did know. “Okay, well, I have to go now. Here’s my card, or you can call Lupe
if anything new develops. And thanks for your hospitality.” Such as it was, I
added to myself, tossing Lupe’s bag onto the back seat of my car. As I made a
wide circle to turn, I noticed her staring at a slip of paper in her hand.
Frowning, she looked up and flagged me down. “Miss O’Dell, wait a minute!” I
stopped and waited while she lumbered towards me, waving the paper.

“I…I
didn’t mean to be so short with you,” she said, breathing heavily from the
exertion, “and thanks a lot for this generous donation. Every cent counts.”