Dixon peeked over his shoulder at Maria, who was sitting, hands folded in her lap, on the couch next to her mother. He turned back to Stump. “She’s busy.” Dixon pulled out his own cell phone, waved it at Stump. “I already told you to get off the property. You want me to call the cops?”
“No. But it’s nearly seven miles.”
“Boo hoo,” Dixon said and closed the door in Stump’s face.
Stump’s eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “Fuck you, Dixon,” he said at the last second. He only had one other option. One day in gym class, he had run a mile in ten minutes. Maybe he could get to a store or somebody who would loan him a phone.
Chapter Forty-One
Myles returned to the meeting room where nearly all the seats were taken. Mayor Curtis sat down, flicked on his microphone. “Can you hear me in the back row?”
Heads bobbed and the chatter subsided.
“Everybody please take your seats,” the Mayor said. “We need to get started if we’re going to get you all out of here by eight o’clock.”
Bernice Bickle closed the doors.
Myles approached his saved seat where the fellow next to him leaned over. “I don’t know who the hell is behind all this bullshit, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let any of these big shots force me to make repairs to my home.”
A gentleman behind them leaned forward. “Idiots must think we’re made of money.”
Myles wondered where Stump was.
“It’s nice to see so many concerned citizens here tonight,” the mayor began. “Due to the size of the group, and in the interest of giving everybody a chance to participate tonight we’re going to keep our announcements brief. We just want to remind everybody that next month’s meeting will be the last one for this year and it has been moved up one week because the building is scheduled to be sprayed for termites. Then we’ll be on break for four months before resuming our meetings. You can find more information on our website.” He pointed to the back row. “Or watch for Anderson Powell’s articles in the Palmdale Herald.” Powell waved nonchalantly to the crowd.
The Mayor proceeded to introduce the Council members and the people at the side table. “If nobody has any other announcements, I want to call Neal Joseph Randolph to the podium. Mr. Randolph wants to discuss safety issues in the older part of town. Would Mr. Randolph please come to the lectern?”
Myles waited a few moments just in case Stump made a last second entrance, but no luck. People began to mumble and look around.
“Is Mr. Randolph here?” the Mayor asked.
Myles rose. “Mr. Mayor, I’m Myles Cooper, Neal’s father. I don’t know where my son is, but I can assure you this meeting was very important to him. He probably had to work late or something. If you can move his portion to later in the program, I’ll go look for him. He has to be on his way.”
Moans of frustration permeated the room.
“I can vouch for these people,” Councilman Barella said from the mayor’s left. “We’ve been working together on this project.”
The Mayor nodded toward Myles. “How long will you be?”
“It’ll probably take me ten minutes to get to his work, if I have to go that far, and that long to get back.”
“Alright then, I guess we can move on to the next person on the agenda. Mr. Marvin Berkowitz. About rezoning the commercial lot on Highway 14. Is Mr. Berkowitz here?”
While Berkowitz took the podium Myles slipped out the door and Danielle Delgado followed. In the hall she asked, “Do you need another pair of eyes?”
“Thanks, but it might be better if you’d stay here until I know what’s going on. I’ve got your number.”
“I’ll wait out here. Good luck.”
Worried, Myles rushed to his truck.
Chapter Forty-Two
After he had jogged a half-mile, Stump’s calves tingled, his breathing was labored and his heart pounded. It would be impossible to maintain that pace for six more miles. He switched to a strategy he used to employ when he lived with his mom: run a block, walk a block, and try to regain his wind in between.
He slowed to a fast walk. His calves and thighs were noticeably weaker. He sucked at the air. A moment later it was time to run again. He had to ignore the discomfort.
Just then, a car whizzed past him. So did another. He had an idea. If he timed it right he could keep going, but turn around anytime a car got close and stick out his thumb. Maybe somebody would stop and take him to the meeting.
Another car was coming. He stuck out his thumb but they didn’t even slow down. Back to the plan. Run a block, walk a block, turn around, thumb out, keep going, time to run again.
Another half-mile and Stump’s body pulsed from head to toe. His lungs burned. Perspiration trailed down his temples and dampened his shirt. His toes ached from jamming into the front of his tennis shoes. That damn Dixon would be sorry for all of this. It was getting dark. Stump had to keep moving.
Another two-block combination and Stump came to the parkway he’d ridden past many times. A thirty-foot wide riverbed was lined by a six-foot stone wall on each side and both walls were topped by an equally tall wrought iron fence. A convenience store and Stump’s bank were directly across the river. The flashing clock on the bank’s sign had the time at seven-nineteen.
He looked right. The nearest crossover bridge was six blocks away. It would take too long and his legs were limp and sore. As an alternative, the water in the river looked to be no more than a foot deep. He had to make a shortcut.
He hustled down the embankment and wrapped his fingers around the top crossbar of the closest wrought iron fence. He sucked in a deep breath and pulled himself to the top, where he forced his leg over and pivoted, then dropped down to the other side. The sun had just faded over the horizon and darkness loomed. He had to hurry.
A closer look revealed that the stone wall was a little taller than he’d first thought, about eight feet. He had to get down there and then across the river and up the other side. The riverbed was covered with softball-sized stones and bushes. He sat on the wall, turned around and let go.
Suddenly his left foot crashed onto a loose rock. Excruciating pain shot up his leg as his ankle rolled and forced his knee to bend sideways and take the entire weight of his crashing body. He yelped and crashed to the ground. Instinctively he rolled to his back, grabbed for his knee, rocked forward and back and damn near cried. Suddenly, reality struck him. He had to get out of there while he could still see. He cringed and forced himself to lean against the wall but the pain forced him right back down.
A small opening between the branches of the bushes revealed that across the river occasional vehicles passed by the bank. He watched several of them zip by before a white pickup truck rolled slowly through. Myles!
Stump’s heart skipped as he yelled and waved his arms wildly, but Myles had already passed him and there was no way Myles could see Stump in a rear-view mirror.
Chapter Forty-Three
After Marvin Berkowitz finished giving his presentation, the Mayor had a brief conference with the Council members while the rest of the attendees watched the clock and the door in anxious anticipation.
“Okay, everybody,” the Mayor finally said. “Since Mr. Randolph has still not arrived, we’re moving to the next matter. We need Mr. and Mrs. Trevor Warren to approach the lectern. They’re requesting that the city modify some parking arrangements near South Palmdale Park.”
A chorus of moans wafted through the air while a tall, thin man and an elderly woman with a walking cane took the spot behind the lectern. Danielle Delgado used the opportunity to scoot down the hall to call Myles.
“Any luck?” she asked as soon as Myles answered.
“No,“ Myles said, obviously exasperated. “I went all the way to his work, but didn’t see him riding anywhere. I’m backtracking now. Heading back your way in case I missed him. This doesn’t make sense. He’s been looking forward to this for weeks.”
“We
ll, I hope he’s okay. The Mayor didn’t sound too happy. He moved on to the next issue. There’s only one more after that. You must know what Stump wants to talk about. You could probably speak for him.”
“Right now, I’m too worried. Something must be wrong. I’ve got to find him.”
“Okay. What do you want me to do?”
“Just stall them the best you can. I’ll let you know when I find him.”
Chapter Forty-Four
Worried, Stump dragged his good leg underneath him and put both hands on the wall by his butt cheeks and pushed himself up. Once standing, he tested his knee. The pain was dull, deep and severe, but he could withstand it if he didn’t bend it. Now, how to get out of there? There was no way he could jump up the wall, at least not in that immediate area.
He looked up and down the riverbed and remembered some kids he’d seen playing under the crossover bridge a couple nights earlier. They must have had some way to get down to the river. He gritted his teeth and limped toward the bridge. “You fucker, Dixon.”
A healthy person might be able to walk a mile in fifteen minutes, but Stump needed that much time to limp his way along the riverbed to the bridge. A single streetlight on the other side of the river shone on a four-foot pile of softball-sized rocks with a kitchen chair stacked on top, like a throne. That had to be the way the kids got in and out.
Stump wiped the sweat off his face and hobbled toward the shallow, flowing water. Any other time he could have jumped the little brook with ease, but there was no way his bad knee could handle the take-off or the landing. He plunged his right foot into the water and welcomed the coolness of the filthy liquid that filled his shoe. He dragged his left foot to meet his right. He lifted his right foot out of the sucking mud and repeated the process several more times until he finally reached the other side and fell to the rocks.
He crab-crawled slowly and painfully to the rock pile and worked his way to the top, where he stabilized the chair. With his hands on the chair-back and his weight on his bad leg, he slid his good knee slowly onto the seat. But that was the easy part. He gnashed his teeth. It was time to take the more painful move. One. Two. Three. When he folded his bad knee underneath him it was as if the devil plunged a pitchfork deep inside the joint. “Damn you, Dixon,” he screamed.
Now kneeling, he had to stand up to get within reach of the top of the wall. Okay. Lean the chair into the back of the wall. Don’t fall. He shifted his knee and foot of his good leg so that half his body was squatting. His better leg lifted him to a standing position while his damaged leg eased next to it. He’d made it to a standing position and celebrated with three rapid breaths.
From there he reached for the top of the wall and pulled himself up as if he was doing a chin-up. A thirty-second breather was followed by a dozen slow and agonizing steps and he finally reached the final obstacle: the other wrought iron fence. As he gasped for air, his half-limp arms pulled his mud-soaked body to the top where he worked his way over and crashed onto the grass on the other side. A jolt of adrenalin lent him a momentary reprieve before the throbbing returned. He moaned as he massaged the grapefruit-sized knob that had overtaken his kneecap. A couple deep breaths were followed by a few baby steps up the embankment and he’d finally made it to the sidewalk. Now it was just eight miserable blocks to the convenience store. The shortcut nearly cost him his life.
Chapter Forty-Five
For the next ten minutes Stump plodded and limped and cursed as he forced his feet to shuffle towards the convenience store. Finally, out of breath, sweating like a marathon runner and covered in mud, he reached a gas pump where an old man with a baseball hat had just pulled in. “Sir, Do you have a cell phone I can use? It’s an emergency.”
The man obliged just as the bank’s digital clock next door flashed eight and two ones. Stump plunked at Myles’s cell number knowing that the meeting was probably over.
“Myles Cooper.” Myles’s voice was rushed, anxiety-riddled.
Relieved to hear Myles’s voice, Stump nearly sobbed. “Myles, it’s me, Stump. Can you come get me?”
“Of course. Where are you? Are you okay?”
“I’m at the Stop and Pop next door to the bank. I can’t bend my knee.”
“I’ll be there in five minutes.”
Thank God. Stump returned the cell phone to the stranger, and waddled toward the sidewalk in front of one corner of the store where he sat on the curb, raised his better knee and lowered his head into a wobbly arm-nest.
His bad knee thudded like a base drum until Stump heard an engine and approaching tires. Myles tapped his horn and Stump pulled himself into the cab. “Is the meeting over?” he asked, as he twisted his way onto the seat.
“Good God,” Myles said. “This is worse than I thought. I’m taking you to the medical center.”
“Not right now, Myles,” Stump said while massaging his knee, “I need to get to the meeting before everybody leaves.”
“It’s already too late, Stump. I just spoke with Danielle. They already adjourned.”
Stump lowered his head. “I want to go there anyway. At least I can apologize to anybody who’s still there.”
Myles sighed. “Alright. If you’re sure you can handle it, but we’re going to the center after that.”
As they progressed toward City Hall, Stump told Myles about his missing cell phone and that Dixon had slashed Ol’ Ug’s new tires, and all that happened after that.
Partly because of what Myles had said some time back, Stump left out everything that had to do with Dixon walking in on him and Maria. Instead, he simply lowered his head and rested until they arrived at the City Hall building.
There, a few stragglers were still filing out of the building. Stump limped inside where he found Danielle Delgado and Councilman Barella arguing in the conference room. “There they are,” Barella said.
The councilman hurried to Stump and pointed in his face, “I don’t know who you think you are, but I stuck my neck out for you, even paid for all those damn brochures. Then, when it was your turn to follow through, you’re out making mud pies.”
Myles stepped forward. “Back off, Barella, before I bloody up your thousand-dollar suit.”
“I’m going to send you people a bill,” Barella said before clomping off.
Danielle Delgado wiped some dirt off Stump’s eyebrow then dropped her hand to his shoulder. “Something awful must have happened. I’m sorry. I know this was real important to you.”
Stump dumped himself onto the bench and grabbed his knee. “Yeah. I’m sorry too.”
Chapter Forty-Six
So much to tell. So much more to hide. Delores stopped at the restroom before her next appointment with Dr. Jeanine Moreno. When washing up, Delores looked in the mirror. A detective was supposed to have her act together but how the hell was she supposed to be a leader when her own life was a complicated cobweb of confusion?
In her personal life, she held a life-long grudge against Tio, yet did virtually nothing about it. More recently, she stupidly chased another nice man away for no good reason. Then there was her turn-the-tables exploitation of Clint the cowboy who hadn’t really done her any wrong. In fact, she made things worse for herself when she led the dude on, then capriciously changed her mind, thereby earning the self-ascribed label: prick tease.
Her work life was just as bad. She was determined to show her higher-ups how mature she was by playing the role of a naïve teenager. How dopey was that? Not as bad as subjecting herself to a perv like Dixon Browne, as if convicting him would stop the thousands of pervs everywhere. The fact of the matter was there were so many similar cases on the shelves it would take an army of detectives to make a small dent in their number.
With so many misgivings, Delores had serious doubts whether she was really fit for police work. That’s why she needed another healthy dose of Doctor Moreno’s advice. Jeanine always made her feel better or at least gave her ways to deal with her anxieties.
“Good morning, Delores,” Jeanine said minutes later and directing her patient to the still-tidy sitting area by her big window. As usual, Jeanine snagged the chair to the right, thereby revealing the back of her hand.
“I see you redid your nails,” Delores said. “Mind if I look?”
Jeanine folded her feet up under her as she always seemed to do and extended her hands for inspection. This time one thumbnail was sky blue with a polished flat yellow stone glued near the cuticle; the other thumbnail had a darker background with a small pearl-colored button, obviously representing a full moon. Predictably, there were no clouds in Jeanine’s skies.
The remaining nails bore images of the toes of four different pairs of tennis shoes, each pair a different size and color. Somebody had painted dainty little laces on each shoe. Delores shook her head in admiration. “You are so creative.”
“Each pair of shoes represents a real pair in our family. That’s why my husband’s look so dirty, and the youngest girl’s shoelace is untied.”
Delores smiled. “They beat tattoos ’cause you can change your nails whenever you want.”
Jeanine put her finger to her lips. “Don’t tell anybody, but I have a Sylvester the Cat tattoo on my lower back. My husband calls it his Puddy tatt.”
“Puddy tatt?” Delores almost laughed out loud. “Well, I hope I have a family like yours someday.”
Jeanine pointed toward her desk. “Before we get going, you’ll be pleased to know the department has finally agreed to pay my fee for eight weeks.”
Delores raised her eyebrows. “That’s a relief. After what happened to me lately, I need every darn one of those weeks.”
“Why? Was this week worse than usual?”
“I wouldn’t call it worse,” Delores fibbed. “Just a lot more of the same conflicts.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, when you find yourself entangled in these confrontations do you remember to choose kindness over being correct, like we discussed?”
Delores grimaced. “To tell you the truth, Jeanine, most of my conflicts are with some pretty nasty people. It’s difficult to choose kindness with people like that.”