The woman straightened her skirt. “I’m fine, but he took my purse. It has all my tips.” She sounded desperate.
Sabre reached out and placed her hand on the woman’s arm. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes.”
Sabre dashed over to Mama T and the waitress followed her. Sabre checked Mama T’s pulse. She could feel a beat but she was completely knocked out. “Watch her,” Sabre said to the waitress, as she jumped up and scurried back to her car where she retrieved her cell phone and called 9-1-1. Then she went back to Mama T and the waitress. “You should call someone to come pick you up.”
“I don’t have a phone.”
Sabre handed her cell phone to her. The woman dialed someone and explained what happened, then handed the phone back to Sabre. “My son will be here in about thirty minutes. He’s coming from El Cajon.”
“You should probably go into the hospital and be checked.”
“No. I’ll be fine. I’m really not hurt.”
Sabre held Mama T’s hand and talked to her, hoping she could keep her from slipping away. It frustrated her that she didn’t really know what to do for her. She wished she was better trained for emergencies.
Sabre checked her phone for the time, wondering when the ambulance and the police would arrive. Several people had walked over and asked what happened. Most of them just hung around, waiting like vultures over a dead carcass. Sabre wondered why people did that. Why were people drawn to accidents and bad events? One woman came up close and then backed away when she saw, or rather smelled, Mama T. She wrinkled her nose and then covered her mouth as if she were going to vomit.
Sabre knew Mama T smelled bad. It wasn’t the first time she had a close encounter with her, but today she hadn’t noticed. She was too concerned about Mama T to worry about the stench.
Finally, Sabre heard the sirens. A large, red fire truck pulled up in front of her car. Four firemen exited the truck and approached them. One of them introduced himself and started asking questions about the incident. Sabre stepped back and let them work. Before she finished explaining what happened, she heard the sirens and saw the lights flashing from the paramedics. They were followed by two police cars with more sirens and more flashing red lights. Two of the men pulled the stretcher out of the ambulance and rolled it over as close as they could to Mama T. Sabre couldn’t see what they were doing but she noticed someone had placed a cervical collar on her.
A policeman approached Sabre and asked her to explain what happened. Another one was talking to the waitress. The scene suddenly seemed very surreal with the lights, the sirens, and all the men in uniform buzzing around. She could feel her heart beating in her chest and realized it hadn’t all really hit her until now. She had been operating on auto pilot. She took a deep breath and then answered the policeman’s questions to the best of her ability.
“Can you tell me what happened?” he asked.
“I was driving slowly alongside the sidewalk and just as the waitress approached my car, the man on the bicycle came up from behind, grabbed her purse, and knocked her down. As he drove away, Mama T, that’s the homeless woman, pushed her cart out onto the sidewalk toward him. It looked like she was trying to stop him, but he swerved and hit her instead, slamming her to the ground. She hit her head against the tree as she went down.”
“You called the woman Mama T. Do you know her?”
“I’ve encountered her before here in the park on several occasions. I’m a child advocate and I have an eight-year-old child who is missing from this area. I’ve spoken to Mama T a couple of times while looking for the child.”
“Did you see what the man on the bicycle looked like?” the officer asked.
“Unfortunately, no. I didn’t see his face. He wore a black sweatshirt with a hood and black sweatpants. The hood was pulled up over his head. I didn’t see him at all until he was by the side of my car and then I couldn’t see his head through my window. I could only see his upper body. The car and the waitress blocked the rest of my view. I saw what he was wearing after he passed the car, and I saw the purse tucked under his arm.”
Sabre watched as they loaded the stretcher into the ambulance. She reached into her pants pocket and took out her business card and handed it to the officer. “My office number and my cell are on there. If you don’t mind, I’d like to go to the hospital and check on Mama T. I’m sure she has no one else.”
“Sure.”
Sabre looked over at the waitress. She had started to cry as she gave her story to the police officer. “That woman’s son is on his way, but he may be a while. Will someone stay with her?” Sabre asked.
“You go ahead. We’ll take care of her.”
Sabre followed the ambulance to County Hospital. Her hands shook as she dialed JP.
36
“Hey, kid,” JP said as he placed his hand on Sabre’s shoulder.
Sabre stood up and wrapped her arms around him. They stood there in an embrace until Sabre finally let go. “You didn’t have to come here,” she said.
“Yes, I did.” He smiled down at her. “How’s Mama T?”
“I don’t know much yet. The doctor should be out soon.” Sabre took a seat and JP sat next to her. “I don’t even know her name. I don’t know who to call. I feel so helpless.”
“You’ve already been a big help to her. You called the ambulance. If you hadn’t been there she might still be lying in the park.”
Sabre tipped her head to the side and gave him a half-smile. “So now you think it was a good idea that I was there? You told me not to go, remember?”
“You shouldn’t have gone, but we’ll have that discussion later. I’ve known mules that were less stubborn than you. But you were there and you helped her.”
“Did I tell you she tried to stop the thief with her shopping cart? Mama T is quite the caretaker. She shares her food. She runs down thieves who attack strangers. I don’t know why I’m so invested in this homeless person.”
“Because you have a big heart, just like Mama T.”
“I just wish I knew who she is. Why she’s living on the streets. Who to call for her. If she has family. There may be someone looking for her that doesn’t know she’s even alive.”
“Maybe the hospital will find out who she is.”
“They told me they’re sending a social worker in the morning, but I’m not sure what good that’ll do. She’s not coherent. So unless they run her prints … and that might not prove anything either.”
A tall, grey-haired man entered the waiting room. “Is someone here for Jane Doe… er, Mama T?” he asked.
Sabre and JP stood up. Sabre raised her hand. “I am,” she said.
The doctor walked over to them and sat down across from them. He started to speak. “Do you know this woman’s name?”
“I don’t really know her. I’ve spoken to her a few times in the park near where she lives. She … she lives under the bridge.” Sabre felt almost like she was defying a confidence but the doctor had so little information.
“I figured she was homeless. But you call her Mama T. Why?”
“That’s what they call her on the streets. She gathers food for some of the others and it’s a play on Mother Teresa.” The doctor had a concerned but not surprised look on his face. It was a look that said there wasn’t much he hadn’t seen. “Is she going to be okay?”
“The blow to the head caused some problems. She has a minor linear skull fracture, which isn’t serious unless there’s an additional injury to the brain. She has an intraparenchymal hemorrhage, a contusion. It’s bleeding into the brain tissue. Like a bruise to the brain tissue, if you will.”
“So what does that mean? What kind of treatment will she receive?”
“It’s a minor bleed so it may not cause any further problems. The bleeding often stops without any treatment. For now, we just want to keep her here and watch to make sure it doesn’t cause any brain swelling, which is rare. If it were a larger bleed we’d be looking at surgery, but this is minor.”
Sabre sighed. “That’s good then.”
“That is good. But we also found a mass on her brain. We’re running more tests to determine what it is. We have no medical history and we can’t obtain any from the patient. Is there anything you can tell me about her behavior that you may have observed in your contact with her?”
“She has a strange speech pattern. She often repeats a single word or phrase. She really doesn’t make sense most of the time. Yet, she seems to function like she knows what she’s doing.” Sabre shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. It’s hard to explain. Could the mass on her brain be causing that?”
“Maybe. We need to run more tests.” The doctor forced a little smile. “She’s awake, by the way.”
“May I see her?”
“Sure, for a minute. It might be good for her to see a familiar face. We haven’t been as busy tonight as usual so we already have her in a room. Come with me.”
JP stayed behind as Sabre followed the doctor to Mama T’s bed. She looked comfortable enough. Sabre wondered when the last time was that she had slept in a real bed. Her hands were strapped to the side of the bed, but they were clean and she was hooked up to an IV. The doctor stepped out.
“Hi, Mama T. How are you?”
Mama T looked at her with a blank stare for a few seconds and then recognition appeared in her eyes. “The boy. Help the boy.”
“Yes, Mama T. I’ll help the boy.” Sabre gently touched her left hand. “You were very brave tonight, knocking your cart into that thief.” Sabre smiled at her.
“Help the boy.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll help the boy.”
Sabre continued to talk to her for a few minutes. Mama T continued to repeat herself. That was the extent of their relationship. Their connection was Cole. They both wanted him protected. Yes, Mama T had a kind heart. Sabre wondered again if someone was missing their Mama … Mama T.
37
JP’s search for Thomas Anthony Martin, the Rialto quarterback, led him to an old bar in Bloomington called “The Ruins.” Apparently, the bar had been in the family for fifty years or more, previously owned by his father Thomas Anthony Martin, Jr. The quarterback was technically Thomas Anthony Martin III, but he went by Tony. Other than his birth certificate, JP couldn’t find any place where he used “the third.”
JP looked up the phone number and called it but reached voice mail. He left a message for Tony to return the call when he came in.
The search for Craig G. McGill, the other Rialto quarterback, took him to a nearby college where he had played football for a year. He had just started his second season when he met his death. McGill was driving drunk on the Ortega Highway on his way back from San Juan Capistrano when he crashed into the side of the mountain, flipped over, and landed part way down, stopped only by some very large pine trees. He and his date both died in the accident.
JP still didn’t know which one was #6, the dead quarterback or the bar owner.
He stood up from his desk; carefully stepped over Louie, his beagle puppy who lay asleep on the floor; and walked into his kitchen to get a cup of coffee. He stretched a few times before sitting back down to another round of phone calls. His next task was to find Maryanne Miconi. So far he hadn’t been too successful. He had spoken to nearly every Miconi in the Inland Empire. After numerous phone calls he finally reached a man who worked in a tire shop, Stefano Miconi.
“Hello, Stefano?”
“Please. It’s Steve. My grandfather was Stefano. Do you need some tires?”
“No, actually I’m trying to find someone. I’m on the alumni committee for Bucher High School and we’re planning a class reunion for the graduating class of 1976. We’re including the classes before and after, but it’s thirty-five years for the class of 1976. I’m responsible for tracking down the addresses. We want to get the invitations out and if they can’t come, maybe they could contribute a little background for the book we’re putting out on the classes.”
“So, who you looking for?”
“Maryanne Miconi. I thought she might be a relative. Do you know her?” The puppy started nipping at his hand.
“Yeah, that’s my cousin, but I don’t think she’ll be coming to the reunion.”
“Why’s that?” JP asked.
“Because she’s somewhere in South America in a convent.”
“She’s a nun?” JP didn’t hide the shock in his voice.
“Yeah, my cousin the nun. It surprised us all. Head cheerleader, social butterfly, even became a bit of a lush the last year or so of high school. Who’da thought? She joined the convent a few months after graduation. I’ve only seen her a few times since then.”
“How long has it been since you saw her?” Louie kept tugging at him in an effort to get JP to play. JP gently pushed him away, but the pup returned immediately.
“She came home for Christmas once after she’d been gone about ten years. Five or six years ago she returned for her father’s funeral.”
“Were you two close when you were young?”
“No. She was quite a bit older than me. I hardly saw her, just family weddings and things.”
“Thanks. You’ve been a big help.”
“If you really want to get a hold of her you might want to crash her little brother’s funeral. I expect she’ll be home for that. They were pretty close.”