Cold Moon Dead (12 page)

The MINI Cooper zipped over the back roads as I drove toward home . . . and some fresh clothes. I’d left Marcus at his apartment and, though I’d considered a quick stop to visit my mother, I decided to freshen up instead.

The house was the same as I’d left it. Laundry sat piled on the floor in front of the washer. I tossed it back into the hamper and headed for the bathroom and a shower. About fifteen minutes later, I stepped from the stream of hot water, dried off, and got dressed in clean clothes.

There was no sign of Aaron. I felt fortunate. The last thing I wanted was another blowout with him. While he was a good person, a friend, above all, he was an FBI agent with an allegiance to law and order. Cops often bend the rules, but FBI agents are taken to task big time for any indiscretions. I knew he would do what he could to protect me, but his influence would only go so far. My penchant for trouble could lead to an impossible situation for him. It occurred to me that I needed to be a tad more careful where Aaron’s job was concerned. The last thing I wanted or needed was for him to be reprimanded due to my problems with the mob.

The phone rang. Lola’s voice sounded far away. Surprised to hear from her, I asked where she was.

“We landed in New Orleans this morning. I’ve just had lunch in the French Quarter and thought I should call to check on the house.”

“I’ve been there every day—sometimes twice a day. The furnace is fine and the house is snug and warm. Don’t worry about a thing.”

“Good, I’m glad to hear it. I’ll be back in a few days, but won’t be able to call again. See you then.”

“Have fun,” I said, and ended the call.

With my jacket slung over my shoulders, I took the car and headed for Lola’s house to make sure I hadn’t lied about the furnace. It would be just my luck to say that all was well and then have the house burn down or something equally tragic happen.

I swung the car around the curve and into the driveway and pulled up to the bottom of the stairs. The house looked quiet and peaceful as I hiked up the steps. I unlocked the door, stepped inside, and heard loud thumps, like feet on stairs. I tossed my handbag onto the counter as I headed toward the noise.

As there was no attic, the only stairs inside the house led down to the basement.

I took the steps two at a time, jumped off the last three and hit the floor running as the bulkhead door banged open. It swung inward fast. I shoved it hard and leapt through the opening. The backyard sloped downward and had a steep pitch. Ahead of me, the intruder slipped on dry leaves in his effort to flee.

It took less than a minute for me to catch up to him. I grabbed the tail of his jacket. When I yanked hard, he stopped short and then slipped his arms from the sleeves. I stood with the jacket in my hands for a second before I flung it on the ground and ran after him once again.

“Hey, come back here, you little shit,” I yelled as I scrambled through the brush along the side of the road.

He kept on moving. I pushed myself to cover the distance between us. It wasn’t long before I was on his heels again. I reached out and grasped his shirt, ran into him when he hesitated and tumbled with him to the ground.

Breathless, we both landed hard. I still had his shirt curled in my fist.

“Kid, what the hell are you doing?” I asked between breaths.

He turned toward me and I stared, speechless. It was Eric Strom, a kid that I had met before—a good kid whose life without parents had led him into trouble. He had a tough life. Why he had broken into Lola’s house was a mystery about to be solved.

Eric stared at me a second, and said, “Miss Esposito, I didn’t know that was you.”

“Answer the question,” I demanded. We both stood up and brushed the dirt off our clothes.

Wide-eyed, he asked, “Was it you that kept coming to the house the past couple of days?”

“Yeah. Let’s go inside and talk about this. I’m freezing.”

A car rolled to a stop behind us and a cop stepped out.

“Is everything all right here?” he asked.

I turned around to stare at the local Scituate police officer eye-balling both of us. I glanced at Eric and then back at the cop.

“We’re fine, sir. I slipped and fell and this young man helped me to my feet.”

The cop was clearly not sure about accepting my explanation. I could see it in his face. He finally nodded and told me to take care. He climbed back into his car and drove away.

A sigh escaped Eric as he turned his frightened eyes toward me. I pointed toward the house and motioned him forward. We went in the way we’d come out. I bolted the bulkhead door from the inside after we entered the basement. I checked the furnace, looked around the cellar and then went up the stairs behind Eric.

Hot water boiled on the stove as I prepared hot chocolate for the two of us. I noticed the sink was clear of dishes and the house remained neat as a pin. Apparently, Eric had taken the hint when I had straightened things up.

As we sipped the steaming beverage, I asked Eric to explain why he was holed up at Lola’s.

“My father is in jail for drunk driving, and I didn’t have any place to go. When I went to the deli to get warm one day, I heard Miss Trapezi tell the woman who works there about the cruise. I figured I could stay here and try to solve my homeless problem, at least until she came home.”

“When your father went to jail, weren’t you assigned to stay with someone?”

“No, and I won’t go to one of those foster homes. I lied and said that I had an aunt in the village and told them it was Miss Trapezi. They believed me, so I didn’t have to go live with people I didn’t know. It took a while to find the house key, but Miss Trapezi keeps it under the loose shingle near the door.”

Call me foolish, but my heart went out to this scrawny kid with hand-me-down clothes and a bleak outlook. Scared, and nervous as a cat, Eric had a hungry look to him.

“When was the last time you had a decent meal?”

“I ate the last of the bread this morning. Miss Trapezi didn’t leave any extra food in the refrigerator. I couldn’t cook anything since you’d already cleaned the pan once. I was afraid I’d get caught.”

Again, my heart went out to him. It was unlikely that he had a decent home life if his father was an alcoholic. Where was his mother? I wondered and then asked.

“She died of cancer about three years ago. My dad started to drink real heavy after that. Things haven’t been too great at our house since she’s been gone.”

The hot chocolate had grown cold so I put it in the microwave to reheat it. I checked the fridge and then the freezer. Nothing ready-made and frozen, so I turned back to Eric with a smile.

“Wash your hands and comb your hair. We’re going shopping for groceries.”

“Why are we doing that?”

“I don’t have any food at my house and can use a hand at the market. That’s why.”

“Okay.” A small grin curled the corners of his mouth and he did as I asked. It didn’t take long before he was ready to go.

We’d filled the grocery cart and gone through the store’s checkout. While we shopped, Eric explained that he liked to cook. I smiled. I don’t know why, but he’d taken up residence in my heart. He seemed like a lost stray.

We arrived at my house with bundles and bags of food. More food than I’d actually bought in the past six months. It took a couple of trips to the car to unload it all and a while to sort and put it all away. By then we were both hungry, so we opted to go to the deli for something to eat. I knew it didn’t make any sense, but I figured everyone went grocery shopping and then out to eat. That’s what I usually do, anyway.

We ordered soup and sandwiches at the deli and settled at a table near the window to watch the traffic. It didn’t take Millie long to bring our food. I watched Eric dig in. He was a hungry kid, and like most teenagers he could eat more than his fair share. I smiled and munched my own meal.

Millie watched us from behind the counter, ready to take our dishes away and bring more food if necessary. I could see her curiosity as she glanced at Eric more than once. That was when the idea came to me.

“Eric, how old are you?”

“I just turned sixteen, why?” he asked, as he gazed around the shop.

The interest in his eyes and the expression on his face told me I was on the right track. “Do you have a job?”

“No, I don’t have a car, so I can’t get a job.”

“Since you like to cook so much, would you consider giving Millie a hand here in the deli?”

Eric stared at me, his eyes round with surprise. “Really? I could work here in the deli?”

“I can ask if you might help out after school and on the weekends—if you’re interested.”

“Gosh, that would be great, but I still don’t have a place to live. I can’t go back to the apartment where my father and I were. The landlord threw us out.”

“Did he?” I was familiar with the people who owned the house and thought I could have a word with them.

“Yeah, my dad couldn’t pay the rent while he was in jail. The landlord said he couldn’t hold the apartment for a year.”

This teenager was on his own for a year? Anger rose like bile in my throat. How had Eric expected to survive for a whole year? What was his father thinking?

“You’ll be on your own that long? How did you expect to manage?” I murmured.

“I didn’t think that far ahead. I was staying at a friend’s house and then on the street after my dad left. That was before I broke into Miss Trapezi’s house. I wasn’t sure what I would do when she came back,” he whispered across the table.

“Uh huh. Well, let me see what I can do to help you out. I can’t make any promises, but until we can come up with a plan, you can stay at my house.”

“That’s real nice of you. I can’t do that, though.” He shrugged, stared at the table and then said, “I just can’t.”

“Nonsense, I need someone to cook all that food I just bought, right? You’ll have to sleep on a cot in the office.”

Eric hesitated for a moment, stared at me, and then said, “I can do that.” He gave me a lopsided grin. “I’m sorry about breaking into the house. I was kinda desperate, you know?”

“I know. The next time you have a problem—if there is a next time—please come talk to me about it before you do anything that can get you in trouble. Maybe I can help. Okay?”

“Sure, Miss Esposito. I will, thanks.”

“Call me Vinnie.”

“Uh, okay, Vinnie.”

Millie set apple crumble topped with whipped cream down in front of us as we sipped our drinks. I had hot coffee and Eric had a soda. He told me about his life, his mother, and how happy they were before she got sick. I made a mental note to check his story and then chided myself for not believing him.

His life was a sad state of affairs, and in my heart I knew he told the truth.

While he finished dessert, I went into the kitchen with Millie and Bob. I asked if they could use some help. Bob hesitated before saying Lola had told him to hire someone, but that he hadn’t gotten around to it. I motioned to the kid at the table and asked if Bob would talk to him.

Before committing himself, Bob asked how well I knew Eric. I mentioned he’d done some work for me during the summer. Not a complete lie, but I bent the truth a bit. Eric had accidentally caused a fire at the back of my garage. When I had cornered him about it, he had admitted the truth and agreed to assist the builder with repairs. Bob accepted what I said and walked toward our table. I left them to it. I waited at the counter while Bob asked him a few questions, and explained what would be expected of him if they hired him.

When he finished, Eric seemed excited and Bob appeared pleased with Eric’s answers. Millie came by and gave me the thumbs up sign. I breathed a sigh of relief. Now for the landlord.

After Eric was settled at the house, I left him in front of the flat screen television with the remote control and drove to Edwin Makepeace’s house. Edwin owned several properties in the village. Though I didn’t know him personally, I’d heard he was a fair man.

How this whole affair had gotten so far out of hand was a mystery. Within minutes, I parked Lola’s car behind Edwin’s red Volkswagen Beetle.

When I raised my hand to knock on the door, it swung open, and Edwin greeted me with a smile.

“Hey, Miss Esposito, how are you?” he asked as his wife joined him in the doorway.

Rita Makepeace was a small-boned, delicate woman with a steel trap for a mind. She ran the house and her husband’s rental business as though it were a multi-billion dollar empire. She was a shrewd woman, but kindhearted. Lola had dealt with her in the past and said she was a good soul.

“Come in. Come in.” She ushered me into the warm, homey living room.

“What can we do for you?” Rita asked with a smile. “How about some tea?”

I nodded and made pleasantries until Rita brought the tea and settled on the sofa across from me.

“I have a young man at my house that lived in one of your apartments. His name is Eric Strom and his father is a resident of the state prison system at the moment. He told me that you evicted them after his father was incarcerated. Is that true?”

Rita sucked in a quick breath. She stared at me then glanced at Edwin and back to me again.

“We had no idea where the boy went. One day he was there and the next he was gone.” Rita looked upset and turned to her husband. “Eric is a nice young man, isn’t he, Edwin?”

“Why, yes, he is. We wouldn’t have thrown him out. We thought he had gone to relatives after his father was arrested. You’ve got him, you say?” Edwin’s bushy eyebrows gathered together.

“He was staying at someone’s house, but can’t remain there any longer. I wondered if there was any way he could return to the apartment until his father is released from jail. Eric has a part time job at the Salt & Pepper Deli and needs to finish his high school education.”

Rita shook her head. “I’m sorry to say that we have already rented the apartment to a new tenant.” Clearly distressed, Rita stared at me. “We had no idea. I am so sorry.”

“I just thought I’d ask, that’s all.” I sipped my tea and tried to think of another solution to Eric’s problem. He couldn’t stay at my place forever. It wasn’t a great plan even though it seemed like the only one at the moment.