Betrayed (Rosato & DiNunzio, #2)(22)
“You know, the church mission, they give out clothes and toys for free.”
Her aunt asked, “Do you know why she didn’t go to work today? When she left my house this afternoon, that’s where she said she was going.”
Maria Elena shook her head, blinking away her new tears. “No, I don’t know. I work the morning shift today and she’s gone when I got home.”
Aunt Barb asked, “Do you work at Mike’s, too?”
“Not anymore. I work in a restaurant and I clean houses.” Maria Elena wrinkled her pretty nose. “I don’t want to do the mushrooms anymore, even though they pay good. That smell, I can’t take it. It gets on your clothes and your hair.” Maria Elena turned to Judy. “You know what I’m saying, you can’t get the stink out. It’s like on you, like, all the time. I won’t have no boyfriends if I smell like that. That’s why Iris use the perfume, so much.”
Her aunt asked, “Maria Elena, was Iris sick lately? Did she mention anything about her chest hurting or not feeling well?”
“No.”
“Do you know who Iris uses for a doctor? Does she have a doctor?”
“I guess she goes to LCD, but I don’t know.”
“Do you know any reason why she’d be on Brandywine Way? Do you know where that is?”
“I know where it is. I don’t know, like, why she was there.” Maria Elena tossed her head, and her curls bounced.
“Did you text her today?”
“No.”
“Do you mind if I go in her room? I just want to look around and see if there’s anything to explain why she missed work today.” Aunt Barb emitted a small sigh. “I should get some clothes to bury her in.”
“Oh right.” Maria Elena rose. “Come on.”
“Thanks,” Aunt Barb said, and they crossed the living room to the kitchen side, where Maria Elena opened the door onto a room that was barely big enough for a single bed, neatly made with a blue comforter, and a beat-up, fake-wood chest of drawers. A pair of old pink flip-flops sat beside the bed on the floor, ready and waiting for a woman who would never come home.
“She has the smallest room, that’s why she doesn’t share.” Maria Elena tried to press the door open all the way, but it banged into the wall. “We share. Also it works out better because she doesn’t stay out late, like us.”
They entered the tiny room, barely able to fit the three of them, with Judy feeling strange, having just come from seeing Iris’s lifeless body on the stretcher. A large crucifix hung on white walls, and the dresser held an old-fashioned runner of white cotton, on which rested a few bottles of nail polish, perfume, a ceramic statue of the Virgin Mary, a plastic white crucifix, a multicolored clay plate that held gold-toned hoops and necklaces, and a yellow shaker of athlete’s foot powder.
“Where’s the closet?” Aunt Barb asked, turning on her heel, but Maria Elena shook her head.
“She don’t have one.”
“Where does she put her dresses?”
“In the drawers. She only has two dresses, that she wears to church.”
“But that can’t be. I gave her dresses, and sweaters and shirts, too. Jewelry.” Aunt Barb frowned, puzzled, looking around. “I don’t see any of the stuff I gave her here. There were shoes and rain boots, too.”
Maria Elena shook her head. “I don’t know, maybe she give them to the mission. She’s always after me to give my things to the mission, too. When I meet her at the mission, the first day, she isn’t there to get, she is there to give. She always says, ‘Maria Elena, God wants you to take care of people,’ but I tell her, ‘Iris, it’s not like I have so much.’ She wants us to give our money to the mission, too!” Maria Elena’s eyes flared open, incredulous. “I tell her, ‘mami, you can give your money away, but me, no. God don’t want me broke.’”
“Oh my, what a wonderful spirit she had.” Aunt Barb rested a hand on the dresser, seeming to steady herself. “Judy, can you look through these drawers and find a nice dress for her?”
“Sure.” Judy went to the dresser and opened the top drawer, which contained folded underwear, bras, and a Bible. “Do we need underwear?”
“No, funeral homes usually have that.”
“Good.” Judy opened the second drawer, of neatly folded T-shirts that looked as if they had been ironed, which for some reason caught her in the throat. “I don’t think there’s anything useful in here.”
“I help.” Maria Elena squeezed past Judy, went to the dresser, and opened the third drawer. “I know the dress she like the most.”
“Thanks.” Judy looked into the third drawer, which held pressed jeans, sweatpants, and two folded shift-type dresses, both a flowered pattern, with a light blue sweater, also carefully folded.
“This one.” Maria Elena picked up a dress with pink flowers, her eyes glistening anew.
“Thank you.” Judy accepted the clothes and took a look at her aunt’s heartbroken expression, which told her it was time to go home.
And that their questions about Iris’s death would have to be answered another day.
Chapter Eleven
They hit the road in silence, with Judy following GPS directions home, and her aunt turned away, to the window. They wound through the dark outskirts of Kennett Square, passing check-cashing agencies, a tacqueria, and a Mexican restaurant until they reached the town proper, with its charming brick houses, mullioned windows, and gas streetlights. A quiet sniffle came from the passenger seat, and Judy patted her aunt’s arm.