Wendy Hornsby - Telling Lies

Because of his wicked smile, I let him sign for breakfast with-out putting up even a token argument.

“How long are you staying in town?” I asked as we walked out to find Casey.

“I planned to fly up to the Bay Area today, but I need to deal with the insurance company. I’ll be home for Christmas.”

I took his arm and leaned against him as we walked into the lobby. “Max, I am so sorry about your car. I shouldn’t have left it at the academy overnight.”

“None of it was your fault, Maggot. Don’t give it another thought. Anyway, it was better the bomb went off at the academy than in the middle of town. Have you seen the crater it made?”

We met Casey coming out of a gift shop carrying a paper bag. She was finally smiling again.

“All set?” I asked her.

“In a minute.” She walked up to Max, grinning, and handed him the bag. “I know how much you liked your car, Uncle Max. So I want to replace it.”

It was a very small bag. Max hesitated, a bit nonplussed, but very flattered by this attention, whatever its payoff. Slowly, he opened the bag. Then he erupted in laughter and hugged Casey again.

“Thanks, you little creep,” he said. He pulled out a two-inch-long cast metal replica of a black BMW, just like his late car.

“Low maintenance,” I said. “Quite an improvement.”

“Quite.” He held Casey close to him as he walked us out. “To hell with the insurance people. If it’s okay with you two, maybe I can get all of us on a flight together tonight. What do you think?”

I think it’s a great idea. We’ll be at Emily’s. Call us.”

We said our good-byes on the sidewalk and he waited for us to catch the Dash. He waved to us as the bus pulled into traffic.

“Giving him that little car was a sweet thing to do, Casey.”

“I saw it when we were walking in,” she said. “Poor Uncle Max. Things always happen to him.”

“Poor Max,” I chuckled. I should have his problems. “So, we have a whole day in L.A. What do you want to do?”

“Nothing.”

“Good idea.”

I had seen a large stationer at the bottom of Broadway. We got off near there and bought a dozen large, collapsed cartons with lids. As long as we were doing nothing, I thought, we might as well begin packing Emily’s personal things. After the break-in, I was nervous about leaving her apartment unattended over the holidays.

The cartons were awkward to carry. Between us, we were managing all right until Caesar came up behind me and startled me. I spilled the lids.

“Hey, pretty lady,” he said. The sweats I had given him last night were caked with filth and torn on one knee. He reeked of wine and alley hovel. “You got you a pretty young friend.”

“Caesar, this is my daughter, Casey.”

“How you doin’ little lady?” He tipped his grubby cap.

“I’m okay,” she said, moving closer to me.

“I seen the man with the skinny nose,” he told her, his step faltering. “Skinny as your own nose.”

Casey seemed nervous about Caesar. I would have put my arm around her, but my hands were full. I just smiled and said, “He also saw the woman who walked the walk.”

“Yes ma’am I did. I ain’t got me no watch, but I say it wasn’ so long ago.”

“Mom,” Casey breathed. “You know him?”

“Friend of Aunt Emily’s”

“Oh,” she said flatly, understanding all too well.

I set down the rest of the cartons and fished a five out of my pocket. “Merry Christmas, Caesar.”

The bill disappeared into the folds of his coat. “Merry Christmas to you, pretty ladies.” He quick-stepped down the block. “What was he talking about?”

“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later.”

We re-balanced the boxes and made it back to Emily’s without further adventure. I stopped at Mrs. Lim’s apartment and knocked on the door. I could hear her talking to us in rapid Chinese as she hustled to answer. A few days earlier, I would have thought she was scolding and been put off. But she wasn’t, so I wasn’t. She had grown on me.

Mrs. Lim opened her eyes wide when she saw Casey. “Mrs. Lim, my daughter, Casey.”

There was a lot of bowing. Casey bowed back and laughed a little, shyly.

“We’re going to start packing Emily’s things. I may go home tonight. In January, I’ll come back and finish. You should start looking for a new tenant.”

She shook her head and waved her arms, giving a strong negative to the suggestion. “No rent,” she said. “No rent.”

“Mrs. Lim, Emily won’t be coming back here to live. She’s up north with our parents. So you might as well find someone else to live there. It’s a nice apartment.”

“No rent,” she said again, and tears ran down her lined face. “Emily has long lease. All paid.”

“Suit yourself, then,” I said. Casey and I picked up the boxes again. “It’s your building. But you know what Emily would say about leaving the apartment vacant when someone might need it. Even if the rent is paid, I think it would be all right to find a new tenant.”

She seemed to cave in upon herself. “Not now,” she said firmly, and shut the door on us.

Casey and I walked upstairs, hassling the boxes and the slippery lids. Everything seemed normal and quiet around Emily’s door. I unlocked both bolts and we went in.

“Let’s put the boxes in the study,” I said. “Anything of importance is there. There are a few things in the closet that we should pack for Grandma. Later, I think I’ll call one of Aunt Emily’s friends, Sister Agnes Peter, to come for the clothes. She’ll know what to do with them.”

Casey chose to work in the study because she could move in the TV to watch. She was busily sorting through Emily’s books when I went into the closet.

It was difficult for me to handle Emily’s material remains because of the finality of it. It was acknowledgment that Emily no longer needed anything, was not coming back, ever.

As I went through the drawers, I tried to think as she would, trying to be more practical than sentimental. Emily would not approve of storing away good, warm clothes that could be used. She would not mind if they became soiled and torn like Caesar’s new sweats. A few really nice things gave me pause, but I let Em persuade me to leave them for Agnes Peter’s multitude.

Emily had a box with some nice jewelry, some of it gifts from our parents, perhaps some of it gifts from Jaime or lovers who followed him. Mother would have to decide what should be done with it. My job was simply to pack it.

The closet was quick work. Emily was not a saver. I had less than a boxful of things to carry home when I finished. I put the box in the hall, intending to take it into the study after I washed off some shoe polish I had gotten into.

As I passed the front door, I heard what sounded like metal scraping against metal outside. Old buildings make all sorts of noises all the time. I didn’t pay it any attention. Until I heard it a second time.

Casey was still in the study. She slammed a drawer shut and opened another.

I listened at the door for a moment; then, very quietly, I slipped the bolts.

At first, I saw nothing. Then I spotted a small figure huddled in the little alcove at the very end of the hall.

“Mrs. Lim?” I said, thinking maybe she was scrubbing the corners of the alcove floor.

The person there froze, and I knew it wasn’t Mrs. Lim. Slowly, back toward me, the figure began to rise.

“Celeste?” I said, puzzled. “What are you doing out here?”

She had a small screwdriver in her hand. On the floor beside her I saw a coffee can, a small length of copper wire, electrical tape, crimpers, a wind-up alarm clock, and a big Gucci handbag.

“Casey,” I called. “Come here please.”