Jubilee's Journey (Wyattsville #2)(62)

After a week of searching, he was oddly intrigued by the thought of actually meeting the elusive Anita. She seemed to be a woman everyone remembered but no one knew. Hopefully she was a woman who loved kids, because she was about to get two of them.

Mahoney had thought of going there early this morning but waited because he was uncertain of what to say about Paul. Paint the wrong picture, and the boy would look like a low life or a criminal. In either case, it was a brand that would stay with him. Unfortunately human nature was such that when people whiffed the scent of scandal they closed their heart and snapped a padlock on it, lest they also be caught up in the horror.

Now that Connie had brushed away the last crumbs of suspicion, things could be seen in a more positive light. Now it was nothing more than an unfortunate accident. He could say Paul had been shot but was recovering nicely, making no mention of how the boy had been suspect in a robbery. It was much better that way. In a week, two at the most, he would be out of the hospital and he’d need a place to stay. After all he’d gone through, Paul certainly didn’t need a cloud of ugly suspicions hanging over his head.

Without knowing when it started, Mahoney found himself whistling when he pulled into the parking space a few doors down from Anita’s building.





The Alcove



Mahoney rang the doorbell labeled Walker and waited. Several minutes passed; then he rang it again. He’d been waiting almost ten minutes when a stooped woman hobbled into the vestibule.

“Most of them doorbells don’t work,” she said. “You gotta bang on the apartment door.” She slid a key into the locked entrance door and nodded for Mahoney to follow.

“Who you looking for?” she asked.

“Anita Walker.”

“Three-ten, two flights up. But she most likely ain’t there.”

“Oh? You know where she is?”

“Probably Ocean City,” the woman answered. “Anita and that man she claims to be her husband go there most every weekend.”

“Husband? A skinny man, short, narrow-faced?”

“Him, skinny? You got to be kidding. He’s wide as a trailer truck.”

“Oh?” Freddie Meyers had said nothing about Anita being remarried so Mahoney asked, “This fellow she’s married to—”

The woman cut in with a cynical guffaw. “I never said they was married. He moved in one day, and she started calling him her hubby-dubby. Does that sound married to you?”

After fifteen minutes of talking with the woman who lived in the next-door apartment, Mahoney learned Anita would most likely not be back until Monday. Nonetheless he trudged up the two flights of stairs and pounded on the apartment door.

“I told you she wasn’t there,” the woman repeated, then disappeared into her own apartment. Mahoney pulled a card from his wallet and wrote a note on the back, asking Anita to call when she returned home.

By then it was seven o’clock on Friday evening, and the probability was that Gomez was also gone for the day. Mahoney called Olivia and told her that it was unlikely anything more would happen until Monday. He didn’t mention finding Anita. Before saying anything he wanted to make certain the woman he’d been tracking was actually Jubilee’s aunt.

It was close to eight when Mahoney pulled his car onto the ferry destined for the Eastern Shore of Virginia. He planned to make a quick stop at the Northampton station house, then head home for the weekend. By now Christine was already more than a little bit peeved about the number of dinners he’d missed this week, but he’d make it up over the weekend. Hopefully.





Since Jim Turner had stepped back from dogging Olivia’s every move, she relaxed her restrictions on Ethan Allen and Jubilee.

“You can use the elevator to come and go,” she said, “but there is to be no running, shouting, or playing in the hallways. Is that understood?”

Ethan Allen, glad to have the curfew lifted, nodded agreeably. “If Jubie had a bike,” he wheedled, “we could ride across to the park and not be bothering anybody.”

“Well, she doesn’t have one,” Olivia replied and left it at that.

Shortly before noon on Saturday Seth Porter rang the doorbell, and when Olivia answered he was standing there with a green bicycle shined up and ready to go.

“Emily rode this when she was a teenager,” he explained. “It might be a bit big for Jubilee, but I was thinking that maybe she could use it while she’s here.”

“Did Ethan Allen ask you to—”

Seth shook his head no before Olivia could finish, but the sheepish grin on his face told another story.

As soon as they’d gobbled down a quick lunch, Ethan Allen and Jubilee left for the park. Olivia stood at the window and watched as they pedaled away, Ethan in the lead and Jubilee following behind like the tail of a kite. He was fond of Jubilee; it was obvious in the things Ethan said and did. Without Olivia knowing when it happened, he had somehow stepped into the role of being Jubilee’s big brother. This new position made him seem taller, more grown up, more responsible. He was wearing a look of pride that Olivia had never before seen on his face.

Aglow with the warmth of a new observation, she picked up the telephone and dialed Clara’s number. “I need help,” Olivia said and explained her plan. The second call was to Seth Porter; she also asked for his help and told him the same thing she’d told Clara.