Alex Kava Bundle - Alex Kava [16]
He checked his watch and ran his hand over his jaw. He wouldn’t need to shave today, his boyish face still smooth from yesterday’s shave. He had time to finish reading, though he refused to so much as look at the ridiculous articles about Ronald Jeffreys. Jeffreys had never deserved the attention he had garnered, and here he was, still in the limelight even after death.
He finished his breakfast and meticulously cleaned the table, no crumb escaping his quick swipes with the damp rag. From his small, brown-stained bathroom sink he removed the pair of Nikes, now scrubbed clean, not a hint of mud left. Still, he wished he had taken them off sooner. He patted them dry and set them aside to wash the one plate he called his own, a fragile, hand-painted Noritake he had borrowed long ago from the community china cabinet. His matching teacup and saucer, also borrowed, he filled to the brim with more scalding-hot water. Delicately, he dunked the once-used tea bag, waiting for the water to turn the appropriate amber color, then quickly removed and strangled the tea bag as if making it surrender every last drop.
His morning ritual complete, he got down on his hands and knees and pulled a wooden box from under the bed. He laid the box on the small table and ran his fingers over the lid’s intricate carving. Carefully, he cut out the newspaper articles, bypassing those on Ronald Jeffreys. He opened the box and put the folded articles inside on top of the other newspaper clippings, some of which were just beginning to yellow. He checked the other contents: a bright white linen cloth, two candles and a small container of oil. Then he licked the remnants of jelly off the fillet knife and returned it to the box, laying it gently on the soft cotton of a pair of boy’s underpants.
CHAPTER 9
Timmy Hamilton pushed his mom’s fingers away from his face as the two of them hesitated on the steps of St. Margaret’s. It was bad enough that he was late. He didn’t need his mom fussing over him in front of his friends.
“Come on, Mom. Everybody can see.”
“Is this a new bruise?” She held his chin and gently tilted his head.
“I ran into Chad at soccer practice. It’s no big deal.” He put his hand on his hip as if to conceal the even bigger bruise hidden there.
“You need to be more careful, Timmy. You bruise so easily. I must have been out of my mind when I agreed to let you play.”
She opened her handbag and began digging.
“I’m gonna be late. Church starts in fifteen minutes.”
“I thought I had your registration form and check for the camp out.”
“Mom, I’m late already.”
“Okay, okay.” She snapped the bag shut. “Just tell Father Keller I’ll put it in the mail tomorrow.”
“Can I go now?”
“Yes.”
“You sure you don’t want to check the tags on my underwear or something?”
“Smart-ass.” She laughed and swatted him on the butt.
He liked it when she laughed, something she didn’t do much of since his dad had left. When she laughed, the lines in her face softened, denting her cheeks with dimples. She became the most beautiful woman he knew, especially now with her new silky, blond hair. She was almost prettier than Miss Roberts, his fourth-grade teacher. But Miss Roberts was last year. This year was Mr. Stedman and, though it was only October, Timmy hated the fifth grade. He lived for soccer practice—soccer practice and serving mass with Father Keller.
In July, when his mom had interrupted his summer and sent him to church camp, he had been furious with her. But Father Keller had made camp fun. It ended up being a great summer, and he’d hardly missed his dad. Then, to top it off, Father Keller had asked him to be one of his altar boys. Though he and his mom had been members of St. Margaret’s since spring, Timmy knew Father