When Did We Lose Harriet? Read online

  “What do you mean, scary?”

  “He was in juvenile detention once for robbery and a couple of times for selling drugs. You don’t really want to go out there. You could get shot.”

  Eight

  Counsel and sound judgment

  are mine; I have understanding

  and power. Proverbs 8:14

  That left me in a perfectly marvelous frame of mind to drive back to the hospital.

  I was so upset I made a wrong turn and wound up on Highfield Drive, wherever that is. The name reminded me of one fall when Joe Riddley and I drove around the Scottish Highlands. Their fields were so high, we kept expecting a sheep to roll down and crush us.

  From sheep it was a natural progression to that parable about a shepherd with a hundred sheep who lost one. How did it go? Something about leaving ninety-nine to go looking for the one that was lost. I should have known my subconscious was thinking about Harriet all along.

  What would happen to that particular sheep, I wondered, if nobody went seeking her? At least ninety-nine dreadful things could happen to a fifteen-year-old on the streets.

  “Look,” I reminded myself firmly, “you are here to help Glenna. Until Jake’s on the mend, you can’t spend your time running around looking for other people’s lost children.”

  I was right, of course, but something inside me squirmed. “Okay,” I relented, “if I get time tomorrow, I’ll run out to Ricky’s to see if she’s there. How long could that take?”

  Not being Glenna, I spent fifteen minutes finding a parking place at the hospital, then had to walk quite a distance in the heat. That, coupled with getting lost, nearly running into Julie, and her cheerful news, made me mad as spit by the time I reached the waiting room. “People ought to have to have licenses to raise children!” I greeted poor Glenna, who was placidly reading an old Reader’s Digest and munching a candy bar.

  She handed me the last half of her candy. “You didn’t find Harriet?”

  I told her the whole story, grateful she’s known me long enough not to believe half the nasty things I say about other people when I’m mad. “I’m glad it’s Nora Sykes who’s your friend, and not Dee,” I finally told her. “She seems like the only one with her head on straight. Dee not remembering when Harriet left really gets my goat. Furthermore,” I jerked the damp, wilted envelope from my blouse, “this thing is driving me crazy.”

  “Why don’t you pop in to see Jake again, then go deposit the money in my bank account until you find the child?”

  That was so utterly Glenna: simple, practical, and exactly what most people would never offer because they’d worry somebody might sue. Glenna never worries about getting sued. She worries about how she can help.

  I didn’t stay more than a minute with Jake. He was sleeping, his face a horrid gray that made me sick, and his skin warm and too dry. At least by this time tomorrow it would all be over.

  One way or another.

  I could not bear to think of that, so I touched him lightly, whispered a prayer, and tiptoed out.

  Glenna had filled out a deposit slip while I was gone. I went down the hall and stuck it in with the money, which by now was shaped to my body like papier mache.

  “I’ve got another suggestion,” Glenna said when I got back. “I think you ought to call Mr. Henly at the teen center and explain the whole situation. If somebody has to visit this Ricky, it should be him, not you. We’ve got enough on our plate with Jake.”

  Why hadn’t I thought of that? Joe Riddley claims I’m such a good delegator that he spends a good bit of his life pointing me in other people’s direction. It would be wonderful if Lewis found Harriet while I was at the hospital. Besides, I had one more thing on my plate than Glenna did. Once Jake got his surgery, he’d start pestering his doctor about coming home. I needed time to prod the police to find his car.

  Lewis Henly started apologizing as soon as he heard who I was. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to see you before you left this morning, ma’am. My board treasurer came by unexpectedly and wanted me to go over some figures.” I remembered which figure he’d been going over. “I want to thank you for organizing the girls, though,” he added. “The room looks great.”

  “Relatively speaking,” I amended.

  He chuckled. “Point well taken. Say, how’s Jake?”

  “Not good, but he’s supposed to have surgery in the morning. I didn’t actually call about Jake. I called about one of your girls. Harriet Lawson.”

  “Was she around this morning? I didn’t see her.”

  “No, but you do remember her?”

  He must have been doing something else, because he paused for a couple of seconds before he answered. “Harriet? Of course I remember her. She comes in the center all the time—or did until her grandmother died last spring. After that she moved in with an auntie, and slacked off some. She hasn’t been here much this summer at all. What about her?”

  I explained about finding Harriet’s things, why I’d taken them with me, and what I’d learned at Dee’s.

  “She’s run away again?” Lewis Henly didn’t sound the least bit concerned. “How long has she been gone this time?”

  “Her aunt doesn’t remember, but it’s been about since school was out.”

  “That’s longer than usual, but I wouldn’t worry. Harriet’s got a history of running away when things don’t go her way. Is that what happened?”

  “Apparently so. She had a row with her uncle and stormed out, but she came back a few times in the next week to pick up some things. However, they can’t remember exactly when she stopped coming. Have you seen her this past month?”

  “No—” He spun the word out like it was searching his memory, then repeated it firmly. “No, I don’t think I have. What did you find of Harriet’s?”

  I was tired of hiding it. “Three thousand dollars, in hundred dollar bills.”

  He whistled. “Where on earth did you find that kind of money around here? Even nickels and dimes have a habit of walking.”

  “I found it while we were cleaning, tucked in a library book behind the hideabed. When I returned the book, it was Harriet’s, so I assume the money must be hers, too.”

  His voice rose in disbelief. “Where would she get three thousand dollars?”

  “I don’t know, but there it was. At first I thought the book might have slipped down accidentally while she was sitting on the couch, but I did a little experiment before I left, and I don’t think that’s possible. The sofa’s pretty tight at the back, and the cushions are so sprung that a book would slide forward, not back. Harriet must have deliberately shoved it down there for safekeeping. I just can’t imagine why she hasn’t come back for it.”

  He laughed. “Ma’am, if you figure out why these kids do half the things they do, you let me know. If it was as hard to get to as you say, maybe Harriet’s decided our sofa is safer than a bank. I’m not half as worried about why she hasn’t come back for it as I am about where she got it.”

  “It is a lot of money for a teenager.”

  “You got that right. It’s a lot of money for some grownups, even. This one, for instance. And Harriet—Harriet has nothing. Where would she ever get three thousand dollars?”

  “I hoped you might have some idea.”

  He laughed without humor. “Believe me, if I knew one of my kids was bringing big bucks into this club, we’d first have a long talk to be sure it never happened again, then I’d watch like a hawk for any sign he or she was dealing drugs. But Harriet?” He laughed at the very idea. “No way. What did you do with the money?”

  “I put it in the bank until I can find her.” I told myself it wasn’t really a lie, just a little story—a time warp, like on Star Trek. I was fixing to take the money to the bank as soon as we hung up, and I didn’t really know Lewis Henly. I didn’t want him robbing me to help finance his center. Like I said before, I have a very good imagination. I should have known, though, that telling even a little story can get you in big trouble.<
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  “The real reason I called,” I went on, “is that Harriet’s aunt suggested she might be staying out near the airport with a boy named Ricky Dodd. Do you know him?”

  “Met him once when he came to pick up Harriet. Know of him from both Harriet and the police. Harriet thinks he’s a poor boy nobody understands, while the police assure me he’s one tough dude. Harriet’s stayed with him and his girlfriend a couple of times. It’s a good guess she’s out there now.”

  “You wouldn’t happen to be going out that way anytime soon, would you? I have his address, but I’m not familiar with the area—” I trailed off, hoping he’d get the hint.

  He only got half of it. “Why don’t we go together right now?” he said promptly. “I’m almost through here for today.”

  Actually, that was better than I had hoped for. After Julie’s description, I really wanted to see Ricky Dodd for myself—with a big, strong man. Besides, I couldn’t see Jake again until after supper, and sitting in that waiting room would drive me straight up a wall. “You’ll have to drive, though.” I told him about Jake’s car.

  “The Buick? Lady, when Jake gets up and around, you are going to be in one heck of a lot of trouble. But no problem, today. I can be there in fifteen minutes.”

  As I was about to leave Glenna handed me her house key. “Go on home when you’re done, sugar. I’m going to come back for supper, too. Whichever of us gets there first can find something to fix.”

  “You’ll need a key, if you get there before I do,” I objected.

  “I have one hidden in the toolshed.”

  I couldn’t believe how dumb I’d been. “No, you don’t. I used it at noon and left it sitting on the kitchen counter.”

  For just a moment a twinkle lit Glenna’s weary face. “Jake was a Boy Scout, remember? We keep two keys hidden. You take this one. I hope you find Harriet.”

  I did, too.

  Henry Ford would be proud of how well his product takes the years. Mr. Henly arrived in a Ford even more ancient and battered than Glenna’s. To my surprise and delight, Josheba Davidson jumped out of the front seat and insisted on climbing into the back.

  “How’d you get here?” I asked, fitting my feet in among old magazines and two pairs of gym shoes and hoping I’d soon get used to the smell of sweat, junk food, and old socks.

  “I got to thinking about how long it’s been since I last saw Harriet,” Josheba explained, “and I got so worried I decided to go down to the center to talk with some of her friends. The girls were already gone, but Lewis here was just finishing talking to you on the phone. When I told him about our adventures this morning, he invited me to ride along. Now, you all talk. I’m going to sit back and enjoy this heat.”

  I saw at once what she meant. Mr. Henly’s Ford had lost one facility Glenna’s still retained: air conditioning. Even though he drove faster than the law allowed, the breeze couldn’t help but be hot on such a day. Dogs lay panting on the sidewalk, looking like they wished they could just curl up and die. Sweat trickling down my bra was soaking Harriet’s money so badly that if the ink wasn’t waterproof, I’d have Ben Franklin underwear.

  Lewis turned left in front of an oncoming car in a way that made me wonder if the next time my name appeared in print, it would be carved in marble. Josheba called from the backseat, “Now you see why I wanted to sit here.”

  I checked to be sure my seat belt was tightly fastened. “Why don’t you distract me by telling me a little bit about Harriet. What she’s like, what she looks like, things like that.”

  “Well—what was your name again?” Lewis asked.

  “MacLaren,” Josheba told him. “Call her Mac.”

  “Okay, Mac. Call me Lewis. Now, about Harriet. In the first place, she is white. Most of our kids are black. Harriet wasn’t making friends with whites at school, so she teamed up with a couple of our kids and came to the center almost every day. Until she quit, that is.”

  “Is she pretty?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “No fair!” Josheba called indignantly. “She has pretty brown hair, if she’d brush it. And if she’d wash all that vampire makeup off her face—”

  “Well,” Lewis said dubiously, “maybe so. But right now? She’s a mess. Snarly hair, black fingernail polish, black clothes with lots of heavy silver jewelry, dead white powder, black lipstick, and she’s got the personality of…what, Josheba? An armadillo?”

  “Maybe, but I think that shell’s to keep people from getting close. You don’t read romance novels if you don’t want somebody to love you in a pretty soupy way.”

  “Maybe so,” Lewis still sounded dubious, “but my experience is, ask Harriet a personal question or to do you a favor and she’ll bite your head off. If you’re up to something she doesn’t like, she’ll climb up your back and stick like a burr. On the other hand, she’s a fighter. When she wants something, she goes for it with all she’s got. Coming to the club, for instance. Her granny didn’t like it, but she couldn’t stop her.”

  “Maybe she didn’t try—figured it kept Harriet out of trouble,” Josheba suggested.

  “She’d have been right about that. Our kids don’t do much, but they don’t do much wrong, either. But I think old Granny just didn’t want to hassle Harriet. She’s one tough cookie about having her own way.”

  “Unlike the rest of us?” Josheba asked pertly.

  On the way to Ricky’s we passed three branches of Glenna’s bank. Each time, I wished I could ask Lewis to drive through to deposit that money, but since I didn’t want to tell him I’d lied, I had to endure hot damp money plastered to my chest.

  “Someone told me Harriet has a crush on you,” Josheba teased Lewis.

  He shrugged. “That’s one of the hazards of this racket—ditzy kids following you around. I give them jobs to do. They think they’re helping me, while really they’re staying out of my hair. Harriet answers the phone during hours we aren’t covered by volunteers. She can sit behind the desk reading books and feel real important.”

  “Is she responsible?” I asked.

  “Surprisingly, she is. Or was, until right about the time school let out. One day she came in late, acting very mysterious.” He deepened his voice and drew out the last two words. “A few days later I had a meeting and really needed her to take calls, and she didn’t come in at all. After that, I don’t think she’s ever come back. I figured her auntie finally got to her. Put her foot down, or something. Well, here’s Ricky’s trailer park.”

  The grass was cut, the roads were in good repair, and many of the mobile homes were landscaped as if the people planned to stay awhile. I especially admired a blaze of white impatiens surrounding a deep fuchsia crape myrtle.

  Ricky’s address, however, was a dilapidated green and white unit at the back with an old washer in the side yard and no flowers or bushes whatsoever. “You were wise not to come out here alone,” Lewis said, as he switched off the engine. “From what I hear, Rick’s a great believer in the state motto.”

  “Which is?”

  “We dare to defend our rights.”

  Nine

  Violence overwhelms the mouth of

  the wicked. Proverbs 10:6

  Ricky Dodd had about a hundred words in his total vocabulary, sixty of them vulgar. What they added up to was, “Anything’s happened to Harriet, it ain’t my business.”

  He folded his arms across his bare torso, arched his back, flicked back greasy white hair that fell almost to his shoulders, and dared anyone to disagree.

  Behind him, framed by a filthy doorjamb, stood a girl who looked like she might die from anemia before we finished talking.

  “How long has it been since you saw Harriet?” Lewis pressed mildly. I admired the way Lewis kept his temper, especially since Ricky’s vocabulary was also rich in racial slurs.

  Ricky turned to the girl for confirmation. “How long’s it been, Bev, six weeks?”

  “Two months, more like. School wasn’t out yet.”

&n
bsp; “Yeah. Harriet’s school,” he added, to let us know he had no part in it. None of us would have remotely imagined he had.

  “She said she had a letter from her mama back in May,” Bev contributed timidly.

  “Yeah,” Ricky interrupted. “Maybe Harriet split to join her.”

  “Her mother?” Lewis was skeptical. “I thought her mother was dead.”

  “Naanh, she just split.” Again Ricky flipped his hair. I suspected he practiced that in front of a mirror. My son Ridd went through a stage of practicing tossing his hair—back when Ridd still had hair.

  “Where was the letter from?” I asked.

  “I dunno. Never read it.” As if he could.

  It had taken him that long to think of the obvious question. “Why do you care what happened to Harriet, anyhow? She in trouble?”

  “Of course not.” Lewis acted like he was about to leave, then turned and asked casually, “She didn’t happen to mention getting a large sum of money, did she?”

  Unfortunately, at the very same time, I said, “I’ve found something of hers and wanted to return it.”

  Ricky could at least add two and two. He whipped around to me. “You found money? Where?”

  “At the teen center,” I admitted uncomfortably. “Hidden.”

  When he narrowed his eyes, he looked just like a weasel. “Harriet got a pile from her Granny, old Lady Lawson. Left Harriet everything she had.” He snickered. “Put her aunt’s nose out of joint, I can tell you that.”

  I’d presumed it was Dee who’d sold her mother’s house. Dee hadn’t corrected that impression, so I couldn’t help showing my surprise. Ricky preened like a peacock, knowing something I didn’t. Then he demanded, “What’d you do with that money? Harriet was gonna give some of it to me. If you got it—” He came a step forward. Without thinking, I backed up. He followed.