The Quarry Girls(42)

I attempted a smile, but my lip snagged on a tooth. Both my hands were drumming on my thighs, the opening beats to Cream’s “Toad.” “I have a question about an ID bracelet.”

The idea had come to me when I couldn’t fall asleep last night after Dad arrived home, even though I was exhausted. I’d taken him aside after I’d made sure Junie was safely in bed. I told him how close we’d been to another vacation for Mom. He’d been furious.

I felt terrible for tattling. I didn’t think Mom could help it when it got bad. My heart hurt for Dad, too. It couldn’t be fun to come home to so much fuss. Their voices had started out angry but urgent, that fight-buzz that hummed in the floorboards beneath my bare feet. Then it escalated, Dad yelling about her scaring me, Mom screaming about how he should be the one we were all scared of. I finally put my good ear into the mattress and covered my bad one with a pillow, squeezing my eyes shut.

That’s when this new plan dropped in.

I’d need to wait to dip into the tunnels, but I could visit the Zayre jewelry counter and ask them about the copper ID bracelet. It was a long shot, but maybe they’d recently sold one and could tell me who’d bought it. It was a unique-enough piece of jewelry that I figured I didn’t have anything to lose.

I hadn’t counted on how much I would feel like a big, stupid farm animal towering over the petite woman behind the counter, her crisp white blouse draping her body just right, its neck bow-tied at a flirty angle, her peach-frost lipstick bright and juicy.

“We don’t carry ID bracelets anymore,” she said, her warm smile appearing genuine. I relaxed a notch. “They were popular about ten years ago. Before my time.”

I peered through the glass counter. “Did Zayre ever sell copper ones that you know of?”

“Hmmm,” she said. “Most of our men’s jewelry is gold or silver. We do have some beautiful copper pendants, though.” She tapped on the glass above a heart the size of a quarter, its penny color so pure it was almost pink.

“That’s pretty,” I said.

“Isn’t it?” She indicated my green work shirt. “You’re the second deli employee here this week.”

My scalp tingled. “Who was the first?”

She made a zipping motion in front of her mouth. “Discretion is a must in the jewelry business. We never know who’s buying gifts for whom, you know?”

Dead end. “Thanks anyways.”

I was turning to leave when a pair of dangling gold ball earrings under the glass caught my eye. Maureen had been wearing identical ones the night we’d played at the fair. The last time I’d seen her. “How much are those?”

She looked where I was pointing. “Oh, $49.99. They’re twenty-four-karat gold. We used to display them on the counter, but someone kept using their five-finger discount. Lost three pairs in a single day.”

It was possible Maureen had shoplifted all of them.

The salesclerk moved to slide open the case. “Would you like to see them? This is our last pair.”

“No, thanks,” I said. “Maybe another time.”



Mondays were slow, so it was just Ricky and me at the deli counter. We didn’t talk much, but that wasn’t unusual. I was surprised when he offered me a ride home at closing time.

“I biked,” I said.

“I can stick your ride in my trunk.” He was a few days past a shave, his greasy hair holding the shape of the hairnet he’d been wearing. His eyes kept darting past me, like he was expecting someone to show up. I even looked that way once but only saw people hurrying to get their shopping in.

“No, thanks.” I flicked off the lights to signal that the deli was closed. I hoped to also give Ricky the message that our conversation was over. I walked to the back and punched out, but he followed.

“You sure I can’t give you a ride?”

“Yep.”

He’d never offered to drive me home before, and now he was pushing it. I didn’t like anything about this. I had my hand on the door when he grabbed the knob so I couldn’t leave. I spun. He had me blocked in.

“I’m worried about Maureen,” he whispered urgently, glancing behind him again. I couldn’t believe I’d ever thought he was cute. His body was all right, lean and muscular and a couple inches taller than my five eight, but up close, I could see his clogged pores, smell the unwashed hair. “You know where she is?”

I shook my head.

“You haven’t heard anything?”

“Ricky!” a deep voice yelled from the front. “You back there?”

Ricky clenched his jaw. “Yeah, Ed, coming.” He swung his face back at me, his gaze intense. “She never made it to the party that night, the night after the show,” he said. I couldn’t tell if he was trying to convince me or himself. “Anyone tells you different, they’re lying.”

I nodded.

“You hear anything about Maureen, you come to me first. Understand?”

He took off toward the front, leaving me with my tumbling thoughts.



“Maureen loved horses,” Mrs. Hansen said, setting a clean glass of water in front of me, a glass frosted with galloping palominos. At least I hoped it was a clean glass. Somehow, the Hansen house had accumulated even more stuff since I’d last visited, and the smell of garbage had joined the rotting-carcass scent. It made my hands itch.