Elaine Orr - Jolie Gentil 04 - Any Port in a Storm (4 page)

“All those guys usually head south about mid-October or so.”
George continued. “If it stops then, that’ll tell us whether it’s any of them.”

“My guess is high school kids,” I said, and pointed to the high school on the map.
“Look, the houses radiate out from the high school, almost like bicycle spokes.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”
He traced a spot from the high school almost to Aunt Madge’s. “They’re getting closer to the B&B,” he said.

“I can’t believe they’d be that methodical,” I frowned.
“But I still don’t get how they are getting in.”

He snorted.
“Hell, Jolie,” George looked around and lowered his voice. “I have a set of lock picks.” He saw my expression. “Not that I use them for anything illegal.”

“If he does he wears gloves.
Good day, me beauty.” Scoobie pretended to take off a pirate hat, bowed, and then slid into a chair across from George. We had been so intent about the map I hadn’t seen him come in.

“Got you out of a jam once,” George said.

I have finally realized that Scoobie and George know each other pretty well, but it took me awhile to get that. I never asked how well, or even what they did or do besides go to some of the twelve step meetings together. “Like when?” I asked.

“Forget it,” Scoobie said, and scowled at George.

“I think I’ve seen someone else that Alicia’s hanging out with,” Scoobie said, “but I don’t have a name.”

George pulled his stubby pencil from the pocket of his Hawaiian shirt.
“And we care why?”

“They were out at the college this afternoon,” Scoobie said, looking at me and ignoring George’s question.

“The college!” I realized I had spoken too loudly when the rest of the room got very quiet. “Sorry,” I said to Joe, who had stopped pouring hot water into a small teapot for a customer.

“Brainchild,” George said.
“You gotta learn how to keep it down.”

I started to retort, but Scoobie kept going.
“They were in the cafeteria. It was two girls and two boys,” he said, “and one of the boys looked older than high school age.”

“Ooh boy,” George said.
“And I repeat, why do we care?”

“Did Alicia see you?” I asked Scoobie, also ignoring George’s question.

“Yep. I gave her the universal sign for call me.” He held his hand to his ear as if holding a telephone receiver.

“You don’t have a phone in your room,” George said, as if this would be news to Scoobie.

“She knows I wasn’t being literal. She’ll find me.”

“That means she got in a car with those kids,” I said slowly.

“And…?” George said.

“Megan’s worried because Alicia’s hanging out with new kids, and she isn’t getting home on time sometimes,” Scoobie told him.

“Getting in a car is different than hanging out on the boardwalk,” I said.
“We’re going to have to tell Megan.”

“Aren’t you kind of overreacting?” George asked.

“I don’t like being a tattletale, but if Scoobie didn’t recognize the boys…”

“Jolie, I’d agree with you if I’d seen them under the boardwalk,” Scoobie said.

“Your favorite place,” George said.

“Don’t remind me.
The thing is,” Scoobie turned more directly toward me, “Megan probably doesn’t know she was out there, but if they were really sneaking around they wouldn’t be in the cafeteria at the college.” When I didn’t say anything, he added. “Give me a day. If she doesn’t find me I’ll find her.”

I nodded slowly, “Okay.”
I pointed to George’s map, and he quietly told Scoobie what the red and blue Xs meant. I saw Joe Regan straining to hear and caught his eye and gave him a four-finger wave, something I learned from one of Aunt Madge’s B&B guests last spring. Joe gave me a smirk.

“So, what are you going to do about it?” Scoobie asked George.

“Start keeping an eye on some of the houses. There’s only,” he looked at his map, “nine. And I don’t think Morehouse knows about all of them. I talked to all the real estate agents,” he said, in answer to my questioning look. “The police wait for the agents to call, and they won’t all call the cops. They don’t want to call attention to how easy it is to get in the houses.”

“And you’re, like, going to knock on the door and interview a bunch of housebreakers?” Scoobie asked.

“Yeah, right,” George said. “I’m not Jolie. If it looks dangerous, I’ll call the cops.”

Perhaps sensing my irritation, Scoobie took a folded square of paper from his pocket and laid it on the table.

There once was a wench, Jolie.

A landlubber, not of the sea.

With her mate she was done.

Needs a new number one.

A role for a pirate must be.

George laughed so hard he knocked over his coffee.

“YOU PUT THE TWO OF them together and it’s like the Stooges minus Moe.” It was turning into a very long day. I’d been to the courthouse and had trouble finding records of sales that would support the price on Lester’s sales contract, and was in the Purple Cow, taking a short break before going to the last house I was to visit that day. Roland has free coffee for customers, and the Purple Cow is closer than Java Jolt. And I’m a customer. Sometimes.

“You know they like to get on your case,” Ramona said.
She was carefully changing the toner in the copier, trying hard not to get any of the dry ink on her skirt. Ramona favors the styles of the late 1960s or early 1970s and makes most of her own clothes. On anyone else it would look like someone stuck in time warp, but she pulls it off. “Ignore them,” she added.

“I wish.”

Roland’s oversized radio was playing softly, and I caught the tail end of a weather report.
“…not expected to do much more than create a rougher high tide very late Saturday, with minor flooding in low-lying areas…”

“I thought it was supposed to stay offshore,”
I almost squeaked.

“Take it easy,” Ramona said, wiping her hands on a paper towel as she finished with the toner.
It’s not going to be anything up here. It’s only supposed to be a category 1 when it hits Virginia, and all we’ll get is some wind and rain Saturday evening.”
Soggy would be okay for the end of Talk Like a Pirate Day on Saturday; torrential rain would not be good. I followed Ramona to the front counter. “I have to talk to Jennifer. We’re adding a game for some of the high school kids to run.”

Ramona gave me a raised eyebrow.
“Whose idea was that?”

I ignored her question.
Ramona would just tell Jennifer I was the one who added a game to Jennifer’s already finished plans. “Megan’s worried about the kids Alicia’s hanging out with, and Scoobie and I thought it would be good for Alicia and some of her new friends to have more to do than maybe hang out in vacant houses.”

“Scoobie would know,” she said.

IT WAS FOUR-THIRTY and I was tired and hot.
I had to finish my second house visit of the day and then go by Harvest for All with the sixty pounds of apples in my trunk that Mr. Markle had special-ordered for the food pantry.

The house I was to appraise on Ferry Street was several blocks from the center of town, in an area of primarily rental homes.
Now that beach season is mostly over it’s a quiet area. An older man was watering his postage stamp-size front lawn across from the house I was going to appraise. He glanced at me and went back to his begonias.

I parked one door down so I could take exterior photos from a good vantage point.
I guess that’s why whoever was in the house didn’t hear me until I put the key in the lock.

“Out the back!” a boy said.

“Hurry!” said a girl.

I jumped down the two front porch steps and raced around back.
This is not a good idea
. As I got to the back a tall boy and very slight girl just about knocked me over as they made for the alley behind the small house. I didn’t even have a second to see their faces. My eyes were on the girl still on the porch.

“Don’t even think about it, Alicia,” I said, trying to sound stern at the same time I tried to catch my breath.

She looked at me sullenly and sat on the top step of the small concrete porch. Her jeans had deliberate holes, she had more eye shadow than I’d seen her wear, and her fingernails were purple. She had also tried to put streaks of red in the back of her long black hair, but hadn’t done it very evenly.
Yep, Megan’s going to have her hands full.

I sat on the step below and studied her for a second.
It looked as if she had added a second piercing, at least in the ear I could see, and she had on a tighter fitting tank top than I’d seen her wear.

“Who are they?” I asked, sitting next to her.

She shook her head.

“I’m not calling the cops,” I said.
I studied her profile. “What do you guys do in these houses, anyway?”

She shrugged.
“It’s just a place to go where no one tries to tell us what to do.”

“Just you three?” I asked.

She gave me a sideways look. One other time I had told her I wouldn’t tell Megan something, but it wasn’t something that involved Alicia, just something I thought Alicia had seen. I hoped she’d remember I kept her confidence.

She sighed.
“There’s a bunch of us. We try different houses.” She glanced at me directly. “Half of them have open windows on the first floor.”

“I don’t need to tell you how dangerous that is,” I said.
Which was dumb, because probably half the fun of whatever they were up to was probably knowing they could get caught.

“So, what are you gonna do?” she asked.
“Turn me in or something?”

She was trying to be tough, but I could tell she was nervous.
She might be fourteen and acting tough, but she was likely still afraid I’d tell her mother.

“I’m going to do you a favor.
Scoobie wants to talk to you.”

Another shrug.

“He knows a couple things about screwing up in high school and just after. You could talk to him about his time in the county jail, or just get thrown in there yourself.”

“Scoobie was in jail?”
She was wide-eyed.

“He sold some pot.
Stupid.”

“It should be legal,” she said.

I struggled not to smile. She said it so perfunctorily I knew she was parroting someone else. “Maybe. But you have to ask yourself if you’re willing to get an arrest record for that, or for breaking and entering.”

She stared ahead.

“Scoobie said the food at the jail sucks.”
Her lips almost twitched, but she still wouldn’t look at me. I took my cell phone out of my purse. “I’m calling him.”

She gave me a sideways look.
“He doesn’t have a phone at the rooming house, and he doesn’t have a cell.”

The things kids notice.
“I got him one of those pay-by-the-minute phones, just for emergencies.” I didn’t add that we got it when he was keeping lookout for me when I broke into a building with Lester. The phone rang and Scoobie picked up.

“I thought I told you my wife would get mad if you called me here,” came Scoobie’s voice, very loudly.

Alicia laughed, but quickly replaced her smile with a scowl.

“Scoobie.
Alicia and I want to meet you at Burger King. I’ll pick you up.”

WE DIDN’T TALK MUCH on the short drive to Burger King from where I picked up Scoobie at the community college. By the time we ordered it was almost five. I had Alicia call Megan to tell her she was having supper with Scoobie and me, but I needed to be done with her and back at the B&B by six to have dinner with Aunt Madge and Lance. And if I didn’t drop the apples at Harvest for All before that my car would smell like rotten garbage.

“We won’t rat you out,” Scoobie said.
“Yet.”

“You don’t have to be so encouraging,” I said.

“You want to wait in the car?” he asked, amiably.

Alicia stared from one of us to the other, and he shrugged at her.
“She’s kind of bossy,” he said, taking a huge bite from his Whopper.

I could see Alicia start to relax.
“Are you all better?” she asked, referring to Scoobie’s pretty serious back injury last May.

“Sometimes my back hurts a little, but they gave me a lot of exercises and pretty soon it probably won’t hurt at all.”

“That’s good,” Alicia said.

“Thanks.”
Scoobie paused for a minute. “I don’t know what all you read in the papers, but my so-called fall down those steps goes directly back to some bullshit stuff I did right after high school.”

“Oh.
I guess I forgot that part,” Alicia said.

“I’d like to, but screw-ups kind of follow you around.”