Sticks and Stones Read online

  “And that’s all you know ’bout it?”

  “Th-that’s it, man, seriously. That’s it. What else is there to know? Other than what I just told you, I don’t know shit.”

  “What about a new Stickman killin’ in Alvin a few days ago?” Dan asked. “Hear anything ’bout that?”

  “S-sure man, I read the papers. But . . . but it’s a copycat, right? I—I mean, Harry Stork’s dead, man.”

  “Anything else you wanna add?”

  Scoop stared at him, wide-eyed. “N-no, man, I’m good.”

  “Okay.” Dan released his grip and Scoop fell back into the chair, his shackles sounding like a hammer on an anvil so loud Leah thought even those concrete walls might shake.

  * * *

  “Well, that was a waste of a drive,” Dan said. They were back in Leah’s Bonneville and headed toward Alvin.

  “Not for me.” Leah smiled. “I got to see my man in action. You were incredible in there.”

  Dan grinned. “Thanks.”

  “No, really. I thought Scoop was goin’ to crap his pants.” She laughed.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Just thinking. ‘Scoop poop’.”

  Dan had complained before getting in the car, saying Leah should give him the keys. “We’ll get home an hour early.”

  But she had insisted on driving. “I don’t wanna get home an hour early in this rain, I’d rather just get home alive.”

  Now, though, she kind of wished he was driving. After the thrill of watching him with Scoop, she figured she could stand a little more action. “You know what I can’t stop thinking about?” she asked.

  “What’s that?” Dan rolled down his window and rested his arm on the bottom of the frame. The smell of the rain filled the car.

  “Ain’t your arm getting soaked?” she asked him. “My seat sure is.”

  “It’ll wipe up,” he said. “I like the rain. Cools me off. What can’t you stop thinkin’ ’bout?”

  She put her attention back on the wet road. “That thing you said about there maybe being two Stickmen working together and Harry Stork was just one of them. I reckon there might be something to that.”

  “I’m not just another pretty face,” Dan said, looking ahead.

  “But you really think it would take the other one fifteen years to find a new partner?”

  “Hell if I know, it just occurred to me. I only gave it maybe two seconds’ thought. I’d have to look at all the reports.”

  “You’ve got your own case to work on,” Leah said. “I’m the one who’s gotta look through a mountain of reports. I don’t know if I’ll get through everything before Halloween.”

  Dan gave a little laugh.

  “I’m serious. I need to not only read them, but analyze them. I need to know this case as good as my pa did. And he knew it inside out.”

  “Just don’t go making yourself sick about it,” Dan said.

  “What’s that s’posed to mean?” Leah asked, glancing his way.

  “Now, you know exactly what that means. Try to keep some distance.”

  Leah let it lie and they drove for a while in silence until Dan finally broke it. “Can you break the speed limit a little bit?” he asked. “For me?”

  * * *

  Leah did eventually get them back to Alvin alive and well. She decided the day had been long enough and they would just go straight to her house. She had copies of everything she needed to study there, anyway, and that’s where Dan’s work was, too. Before they got there, though, Dan made a request she had been expecting.

  “Do you mind stopping at a liquor store somewhere for me? I got a lot to get through tonight.”

  She almost let out a big sigh but caught herself. She didn’t want to get into an argument about anything, not now. Right now she needed to concentrate on the Stickman. Besides, she still hadn’t made up her mind about how much his drinking was affecting their relationship. So, hiding her emotions as best she could, she answered. “Sure. There’s one on Main Street.”

  “Thanks,” Dan said. And the rain from outside continued to come down through his open window, soaking him and his seat.

  CHAPTER 14

  “. . . so you were really in the Mafia?” Carry asked Jonathon’s grandpa, Raven Lee Emerson. When Jonathon introduced them, his grandfather had asked Carry to just call him Raven. She thought Raven was a cool name.

  They were sitting in the living room of Raven’s small house. An old sofa, nearly bloodred, sat at an angle in one corner of the room. Beside it were two dark brown wooden chairs. One had a wicker back. Carry couldn’t tell what the back of the other looked like on account of the blanket draped over it. Like the sofa, both chairs faced the small TV across the room. The black iron feet of a potbellied stove stood on a wooden board beside the television. A rug knitted rust red and hunter green covered most of the dark oak floor.

  Carry and Jonathon were nestled on the sofa. Raven was seated on the chair with the wicker back. The blanket covering the other chair was a dazzling tapestry of colorful animal totems. Carry recognized a frog, a wolf, and a bear.

  Raven had long black hair that hung straight down his back, falling past his shoulder blades. He wore a leather vest with his arms bare, displaying his tattoos: more native art colorfully inked along his bicep and forearm. His pants were black with little feathers hooked down the outside of either leg. On his feet, he wore leather sandals. Carry had never met a real Indian before. She was delighted. Just sitting here made her happy.

  Once she had started looking around, she found the room held more surprises. She especially liked the two wooden aboriginal masks hanging on either side of the room’s picture window. One looked like an eagle, the other a bear. Their empty eye sockets seemed to stare right through her.

  “Well, I worked for the Mafia,” Raven replied, answering Carry’s question. “There is a slight difference,” he replied. His voice was raspy and low, with a light aboriginal accent. Carry could tell he’d lived an eventful life just from the room and the way he was dressed. He was obviously a man proud of his heritage.

  “Wow, that’s still quite a story,” Carry said. Her blond curls were free today. She had decided against the ponytail, so when she laughed they sometimes fell forward, cascading over her right eye, and then she’d have to push them back. “That’s a beautiful blanket,” she said, nodding toward the chair beside Raven.

  “Thank you,” the man replied. “My ex-wife made it.”

  “Wow, that’s awesome.”

  He nodded.

  “Tell her some of the things you did,” Jonathon said, getting back to the Mafia story. “Some of the things that happened to you.” He took a drink of the herbal tea Raven had made them both when they arrived. Carry’s mug was on the chipped coffee table in front of the sofa. Jonathon held his in his hands.

  “I was once the front man for a tavern. Police always raided it, all the time. And each time, I’d just crouch behind the bar and wait.”

  “Wait for what?” Carry asked.

  “For the shooting to stop.”

  “Was this during Prohibition?” Carry asked.

  Raven laughed. “No, this was in the sixties. It was a go-go bar. The cops hit us all the time because of all different reasons: prostitution, drugs, money laundering, everything. You name it. All the bars were the same like that. Just fronts with men like me who made them appear legitimate.”

  “But behind the scenes . . .” Jonathon started.

  “Behind the scenes we peddled in everything.”

  “Tell her about the hotel,” Jonathon said.

  Raven looked away, smiling. “That was before all this stuff.”

  “Tell me about the hotel,” Carry said, repeating Jonathon. She couldn’t help getting caught up in all Raven’s stories.

  “Not much to really tell. The Drisco Hotel. Biggest hotel in town. A friend told me my first wife was there sleeping with another man, so I shot it up.”

  “You shot up a hotel?”
Carry asked, unable to hold back a smile.

  “Yes. And that didn’t go well with the sheriff. He came after me, but luckily my brother was waitin’ down the road with a getaway car. He drove and I stood on the sideboards shooting backward at the sheriff chasin’ us.”

  “Holy cow!” Carry said. “What happened?”

  “It took some time, but I managed to shoot out his tires.”

  “It’s like a movie,” Carry said.

  Raven smiled. “After that, for years, I had to sneak back when I wanted to go to town.”

  “How many years?”

  “I don’t know. Three or four. The sheriff finally forgave me.”

  “What great stories!” Carry said.

  “Told you,” Jonathon said.

  “Did you ever get caught sneaking around?” Carry asked.

  Raven waved his palm. “No, that sheriff was not what you’d call swift.” He laughed. “But my wife used to say it was excitin’ to drive into town in the early mornin’ hours, especially when we had to hightail it out of there once the cops got wind of me bein’ back again.”

  “Why did you keep going back?” Carry asked.

  “It was the only town within a hundred miles of where we lived. We needed groceries.” He laughed and looked away again. “And booze. Always we needed lots of booze back then.”

  “This would be your second wife, I presume?” Carry asked and laughed.

  “Yes,” Raven said. “And I only had two.” He held up two fingers, like a peace sign. “The second one was like solid gold.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “She’s moved on to a better place,” Raven said, solemnly.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” said Carry.

  “Omaha,” Raven said. “She works in a casino.” A pocket of silence followed until Raven finally laughed. Tears stood in his eyes. “No, I’m just jokin’ you. She died five years ago. Life’s a lot less excitin’ without her, that’s for sure.” He looked at the potbellied stove, but his eyes seemed focused on something farther away behind it. Carry sensed he was getting lost in time and memories. “A lot less,” he repeated after a bit.

  “I can understand that,” Carry said, and sighed, hoping her question hadn’t brought the man any sadness. “I lost my pa when I was six. Death sucks.” She scrambled to think of something lighter to talk about, changing the subject. “So what’s Raven Lee’s Pizzeria a front for?” she eventually asked.

  Another burst of laughter from Raven. “Nothin’,” he said. “You think I’m crazy? Those days are over. In the past where they belong. When your car gets blown up and someone burns down your neighbor’s house, you know it’s time to move on.”

  “Did that really happen?”

  “Yes, but those are stories for a different time. Tell me how you and Jonathon met. I know that day cost me a fortune in pizzas.”

  Carry glanced to her boyfriend. “I walked into him while he was carrying the pizzas. I guess I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

  “No,” Jonathon said, “I wasn’t watching where I was going and I walked into you.”

  Raven said, “You don’t agree? I already see the making of a great relationship.”

  “I think we’ll both agree the two pizzas we ate that day were the best two pizzas we’ve ever had,” Jonathon said.

  “For sure,” agreed Carry.

  “Then I’m glad that day cost me an extra seventy dollars,” Raven said, standing from his chair. “Before you go,” he said to Carry, “I have something I wish to give you.”

  “Give me?” Carry asked. “You don’t need to give me anything. I just loved hearing your stories.”

  “Just one moment.” He left the room, heading down the hall. Carry looked questionably to Jonathon. He returned the look with a shrug. A few minutes later, Raven returned with something in his hand. “I want you to have this.”

  Carry took it. It was a carving of some kind of bird hung on a black leather string. “Did you carve this?” she asked, turning the bird over in her hands. The detail was exquisite.

  “Yes, of course. It wouldn’t carve itself. I tried to make it do so, and it flatly refused.” Raven smiled.

  “I can’t accept this,” Carry said.

  “Why?” Raven asked. “Is it no good?”

  “No, it’s amazing, it’s just—”

  “Just take it,” Jonathon said. “He won’t take no for an answer.”

  * * *

  “I really liked meeting your grandpa,” Carry said on the way home.

  “Yes, I could tell. He liked you, too.”

  “I can’t believe he gave me this carving.” She held it out from where it hung around her neck.

  “It’s a hummingbird. It’s considered good luck.”

  Trees rushed past Carry’s window in her periphery. “How long did it take him to carve it?” she asked.

  “I don’t know, a month probably.”

  “A month? And he just gave it to me?”

  “That’s the way he is,” Jonathon said. “I told you. He’s a romantic. He and my grandmother were together fifty-five years before she died of a stroke a few years back. I thought for a while her death was going to take him with her; he got so sad. It wasn’t a good time. But he’s pretty near bounced back again now.”

  “Wow. That’s a long time to be together,” Carry said.

  Jonathon reached over and took her hand in his. “Maybe one day we’ll look back and say that.”

  Carry just beamed, feeling a stupid smile spread right across her stupid face.

  CHAPTER 15

  The day started off very gloomy. Me and Dewey were sitting on my bed wondering what we could do. Outside, the rain came down like aerial bombs and I could see more war clouds moving in. Things only looked like they were going to get worse. I heard my mother say they expected thundershowers tonight.

  I figured they were right. Whoever “they” were.

  “What do you want to do, Abe?” Dewey whined once more.

  “How many times you gonna ask me that?” I asked. “That’s gotta be at least the fifth time, and my answer hasn’t changed. There ain’t nothin’ much to do on a day like today. It’s just depressin’.”

  “Wanna go outside and play cops and robbers?”

  I was still looking out my bedroom window. The backyard was all gray and glum. I was starting to see how much my summer break could be affected by something as small as the weather.

  “No,” I said. “I don’t feel like goin’ outside. It’s pissin’ like racehorses out there, Dewey. Sometimes I wonder where you get your thinkin’ from.”

  Dewey lay across the width of my bed holding his chin up with his hands. “There must be something we can do ’sides sit here and reckon what it is we can do,” he mumbled.

  Took me a minute to get my head around that, but I eventually figured out what he meant. “We need fallback activities for days like today,” I said. Outside lightning flashed across the sky. I caught it out of the corner of my eye. A rolling thunderclap shook my window two seconds later. Then the rain really picked up. I actually heard it hitting the glass.

  I sighed. “See? You gone and jinxed it.”

  “That thunder was mighty loud,” Dewey said. “I think we’re in for it.”

  “In for what?” I asked.

  He looked at me and I could tell there was nothing going on behind his eyes. “I don’t rightly know, Abe. Just . . . why do you count the seconds after the lightning until the thunder anyway?”

  I shrugged. “Search me. Maybe to see how far the lightning is away?” It made sense to me. Lightning would travel at the speed of, well, light. Thunder was much slower.

  “So, what happens when there is no delay? Does it mean we’ll be hit by lightnin’?”

  I could tell he was now really worried. “Listen, Dewey. I don’t think we’re in any danger of bein’ struck with lightnin’.”

  “Newt Parker got hit by lightnin’,” Dewey said. “Twice.”

&nbs
p; I stared at him. “Newt Parker did not get hit by lightnin’,” I said. “Not even once.” Newt Parker was a black man who used to live in Alvin before he up and died one day of mysterious circumstances. Ever since I could remember there’d always been wild stories about Newt Parker. Apparently, some folk said, he liked to barbecue roadkill and eat it, but I figured that was about as likely as the man having been struck by lightning two times.

  “I wish he was still alive,” Dewey said.

  “Who?”

  “Newt Parker.”

  “Why?” I couldn’t figure out why he suddenly cared so much about Newt Parker.

  “On account of that would give us somethin’ to do. We could go spy on him and see what other crazy things he did.”

  “I don’t think Newt Parker ever did anythin’ crazy,” I said. “Folk just like to make stuff up.”

  “My ma told me some things ’bout him,” Dewey said.

  “Yeah, well, your ma’s just ’bout as crazy as Newt Parker,” I said.

  “I know,” Dewey said and looked away.

  Something came into my mind, then. I remembered a present I got for my birthday last March. It was a science kit of some sort called My First Forensics Lab, and it had been in a very big and exciting box that I unwrapped with great anticipation. I remembered reading the back and finding out inside was all the stuff you needed to learn about forensic police work. It came from my mother, who told me she hoped it might direct me toward a promising future. I figured that meant she hoped I’d one day work as a police officer the way she did on account of her pa.

  I never actually opened the box. I guess I got so wrapped up in the rest of my birthday that it sort of wound up forgotten. I only remembered it now on account of seeing the big stack of file folders my mother had sitting on the kitchen counter when I let Dewey in earlier today. Those file folders had just flashed in my mind and that somehow led me to the forensics lab kit.

  “I reckon I know what we can do!” I said brightly, getting off my bed.

  “What’s that?” Dewey asked, suddenly with a bit more interest.

  “Hang on, I gotta find somethin’.” I opened my closet, figuring that would be the most likely place that box would’ve ended up. The inside of my closet looked like an airplane disaster. There was stuff thrown everywhere. Toys I hadn’t played with since I was a little kid. Lots of Star Wars stuff. Micronauts. Things like that. I started pulling everything out, trying to get through the different layers, when I realized that box had been so big it would have risen above the litter of toys. I looked up and checked the top shelf, where a number of boxes were stacked, but they were all puzzles and old board games like Pay Day and Monopoly and Risk. I used to play Risk with Carry all the time until she started refusing to play on account of she never won a single game.