Spare Change (Wyattsville #1)(60)

“You most certainly will not!” Olivia defiantly perched her hands on her hips. “He’s my guest and he’s staying until he’s good and ready to leave! If the Rules Committee has decided to evict me because I have a guest, then so be it! But, I’ll not allow you to harangue the boy. Have you no shame? Have you—”

Ethan, who by now had come to see what was causing the commotion, popped his head out from behind Olivia. “Hi,” he said.

All of a sudden the word “Surprise!” rang out with such force, Olivia jumped back clutching at her heart, landed on Ethan’s foot and almost tumbled to the floor. The group of people standing at the door split apart like an eggshell and in the center, where a person would expect to see the yoke, was a brand new blue bicycle. “This here’s for Ethan,” the crowd said in unison and the boy broke into a grin that stretched the full width of his face.

Everyone started to talk at the same time. “I know you had your heart set on red,” Clara said, “but, this one’s got a horn!”

“And a basket,” Fred added, “…so you can fetch groceries for your grandma.”

“We took a collection…” someone said.

“A boy needs a bicycle.”

“Remember the school’s ten blocks away!”

“But, I don’t understand,” Olivia stammered, tears of relief rolling down her face.

“It’s simple,” Clara answered, “we decided if Ethan’s to live here, he ought to have a bicycle for errands and travelling to school.”

“Live here? But, the Rules Committee…”

“We met with them yesterday and they’ve agreed to make an exception for Ethan and his dog. Seems,” Clara said sheepishly, “they’ve known he was here all along.”

“Do I get to have the bike now?” Ethan asked apprehensively, “Even if my birthday ain’t ‘til next month?”

“Next month?” Olivia repeated. “Your birthday is next month?”

He nodded. “But, they said I could have the bike now.”

“You mean,” Olivia qualified, “that next month you’ll be turning twelve?”

He nodded again, “…on the fifteenth!”

“Well now,” Olivia said with a smile, wider even than Ethan’s, “I suppose being twelve years old is cause for a party.” Yes indeed, she thought, a very big party!





Detective Jack Mahoney

I pride myself in understanding people, but Sam, he’s beyond understanding. I know he’s looking to make detective, but damn, he jams his foot in his mouth every time he opens it. He might have a valid point in thinking the runaway kid’s not worth chasing after, but the way he says it sure as hell rankles me.

Besides, I saw something in that boy’s face, it could be he’s just registering the shock of finding his parents in such a state, but my gut tells me different.





Working the Lead

Mahoney didn’t speak for the first twenty minutes of their drive home, neither did Sam Cobb. There seemed to be little to say. The two of them, although they’d worked together twice before, were used to having disagreements. Most times those disagreements were about procedural things—how something should or should not be handled. True, Sam was generally short-tempered, but never before had he been so openly antagonistic. “What’s the problem?” Mahoney finally asked. “It seems like you’re deliberately trying to sabotage any chance we’ve got of finding this kid?”

“It ain’t that,” Sam grumbled. “But, how am I ever to make detective if you hold me down every time we’re working together?”

“Hold you down? Telling you not to insult people is holding you down?”

“Not letting me handle the questioning—that’s what you do. I’m ready to take the lead on this case; and I’m plenty capable.”

“I’m sure you are,” Mahoney, who was known for his patience, answered. “But, when it comes to seeing the boy’s involvement in this case, you’ve got a blind spot.

“I can see the truth of things just as well as you can! But, I know for a fact that we’re just wasting our time trying to find a kid who wouldn’t tell the truth if you held a red hot poker to his tongue.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yeah, I do. Pop told me the kid’s a born liar; lies even when the truth’s in his favor. Pop said—”

“Oh, and your father’s an expert?”

“No expert, maybe; but he’s had a lot of experience with this kid!”

Mahoney gave Cobb a look of doubt and shook his head.

“It’s the truth! One time the kid even made up a story about his mama carrying on with Pop. The kid said he’d spread it all over town if Pop didn’t give him free pie.”

Mahoney began chuckling, “That’s a new one—a blackmailer demanding pie!”

“So laugh,” Cobb sneered, “but, I’m telling—”

“Was he?”

“Was who what?”

“Was your pop having a thing with Susanna Doyle?”

“Shit, no!”

“Face it Sam; such a thing ain’t beyond believing.”