Jubilee's Journey (The Wyattsville Series) (22 page)

“I know,” Olivia said, “and that’s what I’m hoping for. But until we find them…” She left the alternative unspoken.

“For now that’s okay. But—”

Before he could say something about calling the authorities, Olivia said, “Right now Jubilee has no one. She sees Ethan Allen as a replacement for her brother, and I know this is only a temporary solution, but …”

Mahoney pictured his own daughter who had turned seven a few months earlier. She had two siblings, a mother, a father, grandparents, but what if there was no one? He pushed aside the thought and said, “I’d like to help, Missus Doyle, but this case is not in my jurisdiction. What you really should do is call the authorities in Wyattsville and—” 

“Chesapeake Bay,” Olivia said. “That’s where Ruth and Anita grew up. They swam in the bay when they were younger, so she’s obviously from your area.” Olivia told him of her telephone conversation with Frances Margaret Jones. Although the woman had never mentioned Chesapeake Bay it seemed a logical enough guess since a good part of the bay lapped at the edges of Virginia’s eastern shore.

“Chesapeake Bay?” Mahoney repeated dubiously. “Well, I guess in that case I could check around, see what I come up with. But I still think you should—”

Not wanting to hear the same advice several others had already given, Olivia thanked him and hung up the telephone before he had a chance to mention the child welfare department.

Jack Mahoney

O
kay, you and I both know the Chesapeake Bay isn’t exactly an area for beach swimming, so this isn’t really a case I can justify taking on—officially, that is. But after dragging my feet on the Cobb arrest, I figure I owe Olivia Doyle.

The woman is a bit odd at times, but she’s someone with good intentions and I don’t doubt she’s got the kid’s best interest at heart. I’ll buy that she honestly believes the girl is telling the truth about her brother looking for a job. But I’ve come across some pretty convincing liars in my day, and it wouldn’t be the first time one kid lied to cover up for the other.

I’ll give this Frances Margaret Jones a call and see if she knows anything more than she’s saying. On Monday I can take a run over to Wyattsville and check on the kid in the hospital.  We’re talking about a few hours maybe. I’ve got no problem with that.

This job forces you to be cynical and focus on the facts, but when something is out of sync my gut starts arguing with reason. Right now I’ve got a serious case of indigestion. It’s telling me kids who cart around family pictures, a Bible, and a baby sister aren’t the type to be robbing stores. 

It doesn’t stand to reason
—
but then I’ve been wrong before.

The Long Weekend

A
fter Loretta called on Saturday, Olivia immediately grounded both Ethan Allen and Jubilee.

“Neither of you are to step foot out of this house,” she said, “and there are absolutely no exceptions.”

“What if Dog gets loose and I’ve got to go chase him?” Ethan asked. “What if—”

Before he could grab onto another outrageous thought, she repeated, “No exceptions!”

Olivia had a growing fear grumbling through her stomach and was not in the mood for discussing the fine points of their punishment. Not only was finding Anita proving to be far more difficult than she’d originally thought, but Jim Turner had for the third time called a special meeting of the Rules Committee to discuss the disruption a child brought to the building. At the latest meeting Jim insisted he’d seen Ethan Allen riding his bicycle across the lobby, a stunt which he believed would ultimately be the ruination of Wyattsville Arms. When a heated argument broke out, Fred McGinty told Jim that being president of the association wasn’t the same as being God and that he should stop making a mountain out of a molehill. When the other members of the committee applauded, the meeting ended.

Fred assumed the complaint was forgotten, but Olivia knew better. Jim Turner was a man who didn’t forget. If he got wind of a second child being in the apartment, there would be an eviction notice shoved under her door within hours.  It was a necessity that she keep both kids out of sight until she could locate Anita Walker-Jones or Missus whatever her married name might be.

Ethan Allen had barely finished his breakfast when he began wheedling to go outside. It was Saturday morning, and chances were good his friends already had a basketball game going.

“You need anything from the store?” he asked.

“No, I don’t,” Olivia answered. “And I’ve already said you’re staying in today.”

“But errands ain’t the same as—”

“No.”

It continued all morning. Ethan had seventy-six arguments for going out and not a single reason for staying inside. First he complained checkers were boring. Then they couldn’t do the one thousand piece puzzle because some of the pieces were missing. When Olivia suggested a game of cards, he looked up with a grimace.

“I ain’t interested in playing Old Maid,” he said emphatically.

He went on to say he wasn’t one bit interested in straightening the mess in his room or watching television shows meant for little kids.

“What about Jubilee?” Olivia asked. “Maybe she wants to see those shows.”

“She ain’t interested either,” Ethan answered.

“Let her decide for herself,” Olivia said. She turned to Jubilee and asked, “Don’t you want to see the Saturday Cartoon Carnival?”

For a moment it looked as though Jubilee was going to nod yes, but then she looked over at Ethan Allen and defiantly shook her head in exactly the same way he’d done. “Unh-unh,” she echoed. “Cartoons is for babies.”

Ethan Allen gave a proud grin.

Now defeated on two fronts, Olivia handed over the poker chips and a deck of cards. When they settled at the family room table, she whispered in Jubilee’s ear, “Please don’t tell your Aunt Anita I allowed you to play poker.” She turned and started to walk away, but Jubilee’s answer trailed after her.

“I don’t think Aunt Anita gives a damn,” she said.

Olivia turned back in her tracks.

“Jubilee! Who taught you to say such a thing?” she demanded. She knew the answer when Ethan Allen slinked down in his chair and started looking smaller. After an obviously overdue reminder of her rules about cussing, Ethan Allen settled into playing cards and gave up trying to gain his freedom.

Although the child’s answer had shocked Olivia, she walked away with an odd feeling of gladness. She could see how Jubilee had indeed latched onto Ethan Allen as a substitute for her brother. Apparently it didn’t matter whether a person was seven or seventy, when you lose someone you love you cling to any life raft floating by. Right now Ethan Allen was her life raft.  For now it was a workable solution. Finding Anita would change things. It would give Jubilee a new life of loving and being loved. 

Having one child to care for had been more challenging than Olivia ever thought she could handle, and this sample of having two was proving nearly impossible. She couldn’t imagine why young couples rushed to add a second, third, fourth, and sometimes fifth child to the family tree. 

Weary of thinking such weighty thoughts, Olivia brewed herself a cup of cinnamon tea and sat at the kitchen table. Although she tried to concentrate, map out the possible ways a person could be found, the slightest sound threw her off track. The children laughing, a horn beeping, the rustle of trees—they were all saying something, but Olivia didn’t know what. She was lost in thought when the doorbell bonged.

Certain it could only mean trouble, Olivia shushed the kids and did not answer the door.

“Open up!” Clara yelled.

“Thank heaven it’s only you,” Olivia said and swung the door open.

“
Only
me?” Clara repeated. “What kind of a greeting is that?” She bristled her way past Ethan Allen who was telling Jubilee he’d raise her five and call.

“Do you know what those kids are doing?” Clara frowned.

Olivia rolled her eyes and nodded. “Playing poker.” Without any further explanation, she headed back to the kitchen.

Clara followed along and plopped down on a chair. “I suppose you heard?”

“Loretta called first thing this morning. She said the boy in the hospital has refused to talk. He won’t even give them his name.”

“Yeah, well, Loretta ain’t got all the facts,” Clara sneered. “I just came from Fred’s, and he was on the phone with his niece. She was there and knows what happened!” Before Clara could get to what she was trying to tell, the doorbell started bonging again. Not just once but several times with no pause between one gong and the next.

When the door opened Fred McGinty rushed in looking as if he were about to explode. “We’ve got problems! Last night Linda was at the hospital—pediatrics not intensive care—but after I asked her to check on the kid, she stopped by ICU and found out he’s regained consciousness.”

“But that’s not the problem,” Clara added.

Olivia’s eyebrows shot up. “What is?”

“The boy can’t remember anything,” Fred said. “Nothing. Not even his name.”

Olivia gasped. “Dear God!”

“Worse yet,” Fred continued, “Sid Klaussner is still in a coma!”

Olivia gave a second gasp, and Clara nodded knowingly.

“Detective Gomez was there last night trying to talk to the kid.” Fred lowered his voice and continued in a gravelly whisper. “Gomez said if Sid don’t make it, they’re gonna charge that kid with murder.”

“Oh dear,” Olivia replied. “What if the boy is Paul and what Jubilee says is true?”

“That’s a problem,” Fred said. “Right now he don’t even know his own name, so how’s he gonna tell what happened?”

In a terrified voice Olivia said, “Without him, how are we going to find Anita?”

“And,” Clara added, “if he isn’t Paul, then where’s Jubilee’s brother?”

Olivia’s cinnamon tea suddenly became far too inadequate for the situation. She set a pot of coffee on to brew and added a small strip of okra. Although Canasta swore there was nothing magical about okra, Olivia simply couldn’t lose the feeling of contentment that came from knowing it was there.

 Olivia filled three cups, and they sat around the table trying to create a plan that would enable them to find out what they needed to know without giving away what little they knew about Jubilee and her brother. George Walther joined them a short while later. The only thing he had to report was that the scuttlebutt around the station house indicated they’d gotten a good set of fingerprints from where one of the assailants had banged open the cash register.

“But they haven’t gotten an identity yet,” George said sadly.

“If the fingerprints belong to that kid in the hospital, he’s had it,” Fred said, “whether or not he remembers what happened.”

“There seems to be no good answer,” Olivia said sadly.

Clara slapped her hand down on the table. “I ain’t for giving up! We had a bigger problem with Ethan Allen and found a way to fix it.”

“Yeah,” Fred agreed. “Ethan’s situation was a lot worse. We found a way to stop that crazy-ass murderer after him. If we could do that, we can for sure handle this.”

“In case you don’t remember,” Olivia said, “we weren’t the ones who stopped Scooter Cobb; it was Ethan Allen.”

“Oh, right,” Clara mumbled and gulped down a large swallow of okra-flavored coffee.

Fred glared at Clara with a look that indicated she should’ve kept her mouth shut. “What about that policeman friend of yours?” he asked Olivia.

“Jack Mahoney?” she replied. “I called and asked if he’d help us.”

“Well?” Clara grumped, “what did he say?”

“At first he said finding Anita was out of his jurisdiction.”

“So he’s not gonna help?” Fred asked.

“No, he’s agreed to look into it.” Olivia gave a mischievous smile. “But I had to tell a little white lie to get him to do it.”

“Little white lie?” Clara repeated.

“Yes.” Olivia nodded. “I told him I was pretty sure Anita came from over that way, because she and her sister used to go swimming in Chesapeake Bay.”

Clara doubled over laughing. “And you think he believed you?”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“Nobody swims in that part of Chesapeake Bay. It’s good for fishing but too rocky and deep for swimming.”

“Oh.” Olivia’s face fell, and her shoulders dropped into a downward slump. 

When there was nothing more to be said, Fred and George left. Clara stayed and shared the remainder of the okra coffee. Once Olivia had drained the last of it, her heart felt emptier than the pot. Thinking that another homeless child had been dropped on her doorstep, she gave a long soulful sigh and said, “Where’s hope when I need it?”

“It’s probably right where you left it,” Clara replied.

“Right where I left it?”

“Unh-huh.” Clara nodded. “Hope don’t leave. People just forget it’s there.”

Olivia leaned into Clara’s words.

“A while back you went around hoping for this, that, and the other thing. ‘I hope I find happiness,’ you’d say, ‘I hope I find love.’ Then Ethan Allen showed up and you said, ‘I hope I can find this boy a home.’ After that you got to loving him and said, ‘I hope I can keep this boy safe.’”