Stump automatically did the math. “Wow. That’s three-sixty.”
“He’s got girlfriends and wives too,” Juanita said.
“Four wives that we know of,” Manuel added, the veins in his neck bulging.
Juanita tapped Manuel’s knee. “Girlfriends too. He’s always hitting on women.” She made a tightened face. “Some of them go along with him.”
“Gross,” Stump said, matching Juanita’s expression. Then, “Do you think he’d hurt anybody, like Maria’s mama?”
“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Manuel said. “He used to drink a lot and throw his weight around. One day he threatened me, but we both knew I could rip his head off, so he backed off.”
“That’s when he started giving us odd jobs,” Juanita said.
“He’s lucky I didn’t kill him,” Manuel added, red-faced.
“Aside from a long time ago, is there any sign he’s beaten up anybody lately?”
“I’ve seen bruises on his wives before,” Juanita said. “And Francisca told me he pushed her down. Now, Inez is sweeping sidewalks again. I don’t know why he’d hit that sweet woman.”
Stump had had those exact thoughts. He nodded toward Juanita. “Maria mentioned a notebook?”
“Dixon keeps it in his desk. I clean his office and sometimes he leaves it out. I looked at it once, but I couldn’t tell what it said cause it was messed-up letters and numbers. One of his previous wives, Elizabeth, said that he does so many bad things he has to write them down so he doesn’t forget anything.”
“Could be a code.”
“That guy’s always up to no good,” Manuel said with a scowl. “I told her to steal the notebook and mail it to the police.”
“I told you I don’t want to get in trouble for stealing. And we could lose our jobs if I got caught.”
“If you could get it tomorrow,” Stump said, “I might be able to make copies in Mr. Kraft’s office after he goes home.”
“No, no, no,” Juanita said, shaking her head. “It would be too risky. If Dixon caught any of us, he’d blame me and throw us out.”
“What if you give it to me when I first get here? I can go up to the Fed/Ex store and make copies. Then we can put it right back.”
“I’d rather do that. But you have to promise that if you get caught you won’t say anything about us.”
“Of course not. I’ll just say I found it.”
Having no more questions, Stump excused himself. Outside, he realized he liked poking around. It was like solving a complicated math problem, only this problem actually had a legitimate purpose. He couldn’t wait to update Maria about The Case of Did He or Did He Not?
Chapter Thirty
Following Myles’s advice, Stump used his paycheck to open his first checking account. By the time he paid for new checks and peeled off ten bucks for spending money he remained nearly broke. On top of that, he’d lost a chunk of work time for the privilege of establishing said account and money not earned was just as costly as unwanted expenses.
The only good thing to come out of the irritating exercise was Myles had agreed to deposit another thousand bucks into the account to avoid monthly service charges. Disgusted, Stump mounted Ol’ Ug’ and pedaled off to Cal-Vista where he hurried to Juanita’s apartment for the notebook.
“You’re late,” she said. “I’m supposed to be working, not waiting around for you.”
“I’m sorry, but I had to—”
“Here it is,” she said, handing him the notebook. “Now hurry, I want to get it back into Mr. Dixon’s desk before he notices it’s gone.”
Stump sighed. “I’m really sorry but I haven’t checked in with Mr. Kraft yet.”
The muscles in her face stiffened. “But you said you were going to get copies right away.”
“I was, but something came up. I’ll get ’em right after I find out what he wants me to do today. I promise.” Stump lifted the flap of his backpack and tucked the notebook inside before he hurried toward Rodger Kraft’s office.
“I’m sorry I’m late, Mr. Kraft, but I had to get to a bank.” Stump adjusted his backpack. “How you feeling?”
“Been better. You’re going to clean out some gutters today, but it’s really hot on the roof so go in the kitchen and get yourself a large bottle of water, then check with Dixon. He’ll show you how to do it.”
Dixon? Ah, crap. That guy was always a pain in the butt. “Okay, we’ll take care of it,” Stump said, already in the kitchen area.
Kraft nodded. “I’m not feeling well, so I’m going to go home for the day.”
“I’ll walk you to your car,” Stump said.
As Kraft drove off, Stump considered using Mr. Kraft’s copier to copy Dixon’s notebook, but Dixon was always lurking in the weeds and Stump already promised Juanita he wouldn’t do that. Instead, he threw the water into his backpack, returned to Ol’ Ug’ and biked to the Fed/Ex store.
There, a woman in a red jogging outfit was busily working at the copy machine. “Excuse me,” Stump said. “How much longer are you going to be?”
She pointed to a full canvas sack on the floor. “About five minutes. I’ve got a few more things to copy for a party.”
Thirsty, Stump gulped down some of his water then noticed the Dollar Store just a couple doors down. He returned the bottle to his backpack, which he plopped next to the copier before heading outside and down the sidewalk.
Inside the Dollar Store he rushed to the greeting card section, perused a few cards, found one he liked for Maria and hurried to the checkout area where he penned a comment inside the card before rushing back to Fed/Ex.
At the copier he swapped the card for the notebook in his backpack, set the backpack aside and proceeded to copy nearly forty pages. Some minutes later he paid for the copies before opening his backpack to lock away the notebook and copies. Oh, crap. The water bottle had leaked and drenched both his schoolbooks and Maria’s card. The only items that weren’t wet were the copies and notebook.
He shook his damn head, went outside, dumped out the damn water, threw the damn bottle away, and dangled the damn backpack, wet books and all, over his damn handlebars. He threw Ol’ Ug’ on the ground and maneuvered Dixon’s notebook and the sacked copies behind his back, under his shirt and inside his belt.
As he made the return trip to Cal-Vista, his eyelids narrowed to slits. An hour ago, he had ten bucks, which he planned on using judiciously until the next payday, but he’d blown nearly all of it on the copies and the card. On top of everything else he’d just lost another half-hour, for which he could have earned five bucks and tripled it, and he’d probably have to pay for his damaged books. How the hell was he going to get a car if he kept pissing away his money and time on everybody else?
An irritating return trip to Cal-Vista ended at the bike rack where Dixon was standing, arms folded. “At it again, I see,” he said, in a snarky tone.
Careful not to reveal the bulge under the back of his shirt, Stump wiggled his bike into position. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh bullshit, rich boy. Your pattern is as predictable as gravity. You waited ’til the old man drove off and then went for a joy ride.” Dixon held out his hand, “Give it to me.”
“Give you what?”
“You know what, rich boy. My notebook. It’s missing and I’m betting you’re the one who has it.”
Stump might have crapped his pants right then and there if Dixon’s word choices had been different. The words, I’m betting meant Dixon wasn’t sure where the book was. “I don’t know nothing about no notebook,” Stump fibbed.
Dixon pointed at the backpack. “Then you won’t mind showing me what’s in there.”
Stump felt like the cat that ate the canary, but he played it straight. “I don’t have to show you nothing.”
“What you afraid of, rich boy?”
“I ain’t afraid. It’s just stupid to play games. I’m going to go put my stuff away, then I’ll be rea
dy for work.” Stump flung the still-damp backpack over his shoulder to hide the bulge under his shirt before walking off.
In Kraft’s office, he quickly dragged a chair to the bookcase and hid the notebook and copies on top and out of sight. He then laid his backpack on the floor and perfectly aligned it with the edge of the center cushion.
He grinned and returned to the courtyard, where Dixon had leaned a twenty-foot extension ladder against the side of building two. “You’re going to clean out the gutters,” Dixon said. “I want you to scoop out the debris with your hands and drop it over the edge to the ground. When you’re done, go around and clean up your mess.”
Sounded easy enough except for one thing: Stump had never used an extension ladder. He grabbed ahold of a rung and looked skyward. The damn thing reached half-way to the sun.
He sturdied it as best he could and apprehensively stepped on the lowest rung. Once there he brought his other foot to the same rung. Only a bajillion more steps to go.
“What’s the matter, rich boy? You scared?”
Damn right he was but he wasn’t about to admit it. “I’ll be alright. I just have to get used to it. That’s all.”
“Well, get going. The old man ain’t paying you all that big money just to suck your thumb.”
Stump’s fingers shook. If other people could do it, he could too. Just raise one foot and keep going. He squeezed the next rung so Dixon wouldn’t see his fingers quiver. He took another step and followed it with a few more before the ladder began to pulsate. Why would it do that?
Another up-glance revealed he’d barely begun. His toes went numb but he forced himself to continue. The next few steps took him a full eight feet off the ground where the pulsation had become more like a vibrating jackhammer. Dixon had to be screwing with him, but a look out of the corner of Stump’s eye revealed that Jiggle Jaw was off to the side.
“This is great,” Dixon chortled. “I ain’t seen knees tremble like that since the last earthquake.”
Screw him. Stump took another rung. Then the next. Keep going. It got a little easier. Finally, he’d made it to the top, some two stories above ground. He leapt from the ladder onto the roof and stepped back out of Dixon’s sight before letting out a deep breath of relief.
“Good news,” Dixon yelled from below. “You’ll be up there the rest of your shift. Now you won’t be distracted by your girlfriend.”
What a strange effin’ dude.
Chapter Thirty-One
The view was pretty cool, up there where the birds spied upon the land creatures. At the same time Cal-Vista’s roof was hotter than Satan’s oven. Stump attempted to kneel down near the edge of the building, but when his hands hit the roofing asphalt he sprang back and had to regroup.
He removed his shirt and folded it to make a mat. He knelt before one of the over-sized gutters that were packed with three inches of black grossness, presumably rotted palm leaves. Dixon must have known this was a disgusting job, but complaining would only lend the bastard extra pleasure.
As instructed, Stump shoved his bare hand into the near-scalding gooey mess and stirred up a roof-stink that would have humbled a sewage plant. He wished he’d brought gloves. With a handful of gutter-gunk, he peeked over the edge and dropped his first stink bomb, which splatted violently on impact. It was sorta neat, until he recalled that there were windows down there. He’d better avoid messing them up or Dixon would make a stink of his own.
Stump scanned the ground, found a space between windows and dropped another glob but it splattered on the building itself. After a couple more messy experiments he settled on making bigger piles but fewer of them and a little further away from the building.
Before long he made a game of it. With each new handful of goo he pretended to be a precision dive-bomber, who dropped bombs on bad guys without causing collateral damage. He made a whistle trail as the gunk-bombs fell. Then when they hit their target he made an explosion sound and waved his arms around as if to swat away dangerous shrapnel.
After that, he became a rescue worker as he dropped supplies out of a helicopter to starving children. Then he was God himself punishing the sinners with a brand-new black plague that no bad man could possibly survive. Before he knew it, he’d made it half way around the building and to the corner. His hands were pink from the heat and disgusting but he’d killed all the bad guys in the entire world.
He rose, opened his combination T-shirt and kneepad and picked the least dirty spot to wipe his dripping brow. He wished he’d brought another bottle of water. He turned to get to the next gutter just as Dixon came out of Mr. Kraft’s building. Stump grinned. No doubt Jiggle Jaw had checked out his backpack. The beauty of it was Dixon would find nothing while the very thing he wanted was hiding just inches above his head. Served him right.
Stump finished cleaning out the other sides of the building and rose. There were six more buildings to go. He bopped around to the ladder and suddenly all of that dive-bomber courage he’d experienced earlier had evaporated. God, it was a long way down. How do you get around to the front of a ladder without falling on your ass? What if it slides to one side? His knees began to quiver again. He paused a second, wiped off his hands and snagged his cell out of his pocket. Even the best fighter pilots called in the reserves when needed.
While he waited for Maria to come hold the ladder, he reminded himself that the next City Council meeting was just days off and he still hadn’t completed the work Danielle Delgado requested. There was only one way to get everything done. He texted James. Gotta cut school tomorrow. Watch for robo-call.
“Hey? You up there?” Thank God. The Cavalry had arrived.
The ladder was remarkably stable with Maria holding it and half-way down the jitters were gone. Stump wanted to kiss her for a couple different reasons. Instead he asked a favor. “Can you get me an old towel to replace my shirt while I get a drink out of the hose and move the ladder to the next building?”
“Only if you’re still going to see me and Mama later.”
He was already looking forward to it.
After two more buildings Stump cleaned up his messes and had used up his workday, but he still had some personal business to attend to. Back in Mr. Kraft’s office, his backpack was at least six inches away from where he’d left it. Obviously Dixon had checked for the notebook just as Stump suspected. “Screw you,” Stump said out loud. He washed his hands and face; then, he retrieved the notebook from the top shelf and hurried to Juanita and Manuel’s apartment.
Juanita flung the door open before he even knocked. “Where’ve you been? Dixon knows his book is missing and he thinks I did it.” They joined Manuel in the living room.
“I’ve got it right here,” Stump said, tapping his backpack.
Manuel shook his head. “You have to get out of here. If Dixon catches us together, he’ll know what happened. You can keep the copies but get rid of the notebook so he can’t catch any of us with it.”
“Will do.” Stump hurried out the back door and circled around the back of the parking lot so he could come in the back door to Maria’s building.
Maria must have been watching for him. She stepped into the hall wearing a lovely tight blouse and blue shorts atop those long, honey-colored legs. “Let’s go for a walk,” she said.
Stump grabbed her hand. “Are you sure? My clothes are so dirty, you must be embarrassed to be with me.”
“That’s silly,” she said as they moved through the hall. “You’re a working man. You have to get dirty. I’m proud of you.”
Stump beamed, silently. He wanted to hug her—and more.
As they marched up the street, Stump filled her in about Dixon, the notebook and the water leak in his backpack. “It even ruined a card I bought you.”
“A card for me?” she said, letting go of his hand. “Nobody ever bought me a card, except for my birthday.”
“I’ve still got it, but it’s all messed up from the water. You can see it if you want to
.”
“Yes. Yes. Show it to me.”
Amused, Stump retrieved the water-damaged envelope from his backpack. An ink stain had drooled all over her name on the outside. She grinned, opened it and read it out loud. Violets are blue, Roses are red. I’m glad you’re my girlfriend, the young dude said. She viewed the handwritten part. You’re one of my favorite people. Love, Stump. She pulled it toward her chest. “I love it.”
“But it’s all messed up.”
“I don’t care.” She threw her arms around his neck. “I love you too.” The kiss that followed was long, tongue-fun and sloppy. Stump’s mirror buddy would have been proud.
Chapter Thirty-Two
If adult life taught Stump anything it was that the benefits, such as long, late-night phone conversations with Maria, came with a high price. Among other things he had ditched school several times to catch up on his other obligations. Now it was Saturday morning and he was pooped.
He stuffed a couple pages of copies from Dixon’s notebook in his pocket and forced himself to get his ass to work. He mounted Ol’ Ug’ and felt as if the pedals were pushing back.
A mile up, he stopped at a convenience store, snagged a Red Bull and kissed his last three bucks goodbye. He threw down the first gulp, climbed back on his bike and thought about Maria. He wasn’t sure if they were actually in love but she’d mentioned people making love a couple of times and if he was reading her correctly there might be opportunities along those lines in the very near future.
One of the best ways to get her to play lip-lock was to have something new to tell her regarding his investigation of Dixon. Maybe the papers in his back pocket would serve that purpose.
At eight-thirty he flushed down the last of his energy drink and coasted into the bike rack. Across the courtyard Juanita’s cleaning cart sat parked on the sidewalk. Good, he had some news for her.
Juanita was scrubbing down the washing machines. “What did you find out?” she asked the second he entered the noisy laundry room.
“I threw out the notebook, but I’ve been too busy to look through the copies.”
“Everybody’s busy. Try being a mom and cleaning an entire complex.” She had a good point. People like her and Manuel obviously had it much rougher than he did. “Before you leave today,” she said to him, “you should go next door. The man who manages that place hates Mister Dixon.”