2 Sisters Detective Agency(61)

“She kissed a teacher,” Summerly said. He was looking at a photograph on the dresser near the window of Baby as a kindergartener. “She got confused, I guess. She was thirteen. She might have thought the guy was flirting with her or something, wanted to be her boyfriend. You know how teenage girls dream up these things sometimes. Man, I’ve dragged enough runaways out of dangerous situations they got themselves into based on dreams and fantasies. I couldn’t tell you.”

“Same.” I nodded. “How did it happen?”

“Story is, she was the teacher’s pet. He’d kept her back on her own after class that day to compliment her on her work, and she just launched herself at him and kissed him.”

“Whoa,” I said. “Are you guys sure that’s how it played out?”

“Yeah.” Summerly nodded. “We looked into it. He did not, as it turned out, want to be her boyfriend. Not at all.”

“Oh, God. And he didn’t know it was coming?”

“No,” Summerly said. “The whole thing took him completely by surprise. And she was so upset and embarrassed about having done it and been rejected that this male teacher thought, Oh, dear. I better let the school authorities know. Because he’s thinking, next thing you know Baby’ll be saying he kissed her.”

“That’s the way it usually goes.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Summerly said. “So he made damned sure his boss heard his version of events first.”

“I see,” I said.

“So the school authorities brought the police in just to make sure everything was dealt with correctly. They didn’t want a lawsuit on their hands. My superior officer handled it. I assisted. We questioned Baby and the teacher. They both said the same thing. She got confused. Tried to plant one on him in the classroom.”

“Oh, Baby.” I covered my eyes. I could feel my sister’s hurt and humiliation burning up my throat from deep in my chest. “How did our dad handle it?”

“He was…” Summerly paused to remember. “You could tell he didn’t know what to do. He sort of brushed it off, told her it was no big deal, didn’t answer any of our follow-up calls. He wasn’t one of those very experienced dads.”

Funny, I thought. It wasn’t his first time, being responsible for a troubled thirteen-year-old girl.

“How the hell did the other kids find out?” I asked. “When we were at the school, another girl there seemed to know about it.”

“You know how it is.” Summerly shrugged. “People talk. Kids overhear them. How is she? Is she okay?”

“How does she seem?” I asked. As if on cue, the sound of glass smashing came from downstairs followed by more cursing from Baby. “It’s a weird time with her dad gone and me being in her face, as old and lame and completely intrusive as I am.”

With the room around us still trashed from the party, and Baby’s activities downstairs becoming louder and louder, it seemed impossible to stay in bed. I got up and pulled on a T-shirt and boxers and threw Officer Summerly’s shirt at him.

“I’ll distract her while you sneak out the back,” I told him.

“Who are the teenagers now?” He smirked. His phone bleeped, and he took it from the nightstand, checked the screen. “Will I meet you later for…”

“For what?” I asked. But he had become consumed by what he was reading. I threw his hat at him.

“I was going to say coffee, but I’ve got to go.” He pulled his shirt on. “I’ve got a call out past Upper Canyonback.”

“Where?”

“It’s…” He waved vaguely north.

“What is your beat, exactly?” I asked. “First you turn up at Stanford-West Academy, then you’re here in Manhattan Beach. Now you’re getting called to a canyon?”

“I cover for a lot of guys,” he said, slipping his shoes on quickly. “I’ve got to go.”

He wouldn’t meet my eyes as he headed for the stairs. I was left with the distinct sensation that I had just been lied to.





Chapter 81



When I found Baby, she was trying to sweep up the broken pieces of a beer bottle on the kitchen floor, standing barefoot, surrounded by shards. I walked over piles of crumpled party detritus and shooed her away.

“Let me handle this,” I said.

“Was that the guy?” she said.

I looked up. Summerly was just disappearing up the Strand, as visible as any mountain-size man would be slipping between the beautiful people outside.

“What guy?”

“Oh, come on.” Baby slapped me playfully. “You just had that cop in your room, didn’t you? The one with the ass!”

“Baby.” I sighed.

“This is so romantic!” she squealed.

“Is it?”

“Yeah.” Her eyes were dazzling with excitement. “You two are perfect for each other! Oh, wow. And if you’re spending all your time with him, you won’t be messing with my life.”

“Who says I’m going to spend a minute more with that guy?” I asked, sweeping the glass into a dustpan, pouring it into the trash can.

“What, don’t you like him?”

I was beginning to see the Baby who, at thirteen, had gotten herself all tied up in knots about a teacher having a romantic interest in her. This was yet another unfamiliar side to the girl who had proved to be the most unpredictable teenager of my life, the one I was responsible for. This sudden gushing fascination with my love life defied her usual surly, sarcastic, apparently wizened outlook.