Not One Clue_ A Mystery - Lois Greiman [87]
“You will get my sister nothing,” Ramla said, and hustling to Aalia, pulled her toward the house. Taabish had drawn the bat back behind his body, and though I didn’t think they had a plethora of budding softball leagues in Yemen, he looked as if he had the general idea of how to hit a ball into the outfield. “She is a good follower of Allah.”
“I’m sorry—” Skip began again, but his apology was interrupted by the sound of sirens.
The police arrived moments later yelling for everyone to remain where we were.
We did. Me, still huddled inside the car; Al-Sadr with his bat still drawn back; the sisters frozen on the front lawn. And Skip, looking lost and ridiculously young, gazing at Aalia blindly, with his hands raised well above his head.
In the end, the officer first on the scene handcuffed Skip and eased him toward his squad car.
Once there, they stood for an instant as pertinent information was jotted down. I had a few minutes to speak to him before they hauled him off.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I thought—”
“No.” He shook his head, glanced longingly toward the Al-Sadrs’ house, even though Aalia had long since been shooed inside, and turned bravely back to me. “Don’t be sorry. I’m just glad to know she has a friend like you to look after her.”
“He really said that?” Laney had awakened at the first sound of the siren and hustled the police toward the backyard. We were sitting on the couch, pondering the intricacies of life. Well, she was pondering. I was eating the remainder of the Crazy Chrissy’s Caramel straight out of the jar. I have a strong conviction that calories consumed after a major trauma are not accounted for in the metabolic process. This theory has yet to be proven by the scientific community, research groups being what they are.
“Yup,” I said.
“While he was handcuffed?”
I peeled off another spoonful of midnight delight.
“Yup.”
She glanced at Solberg. He was sitting close enough to be a pimple on her ass. If a pimple would dare grow on her ass.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
She smiled and touched his hand. “Don’t worry about it.”
I glanced from one to the other and licked the spoon. “Sorry for what?” For being a cowardly dweeb who wasn’t good enough to spit shine Laney’s Manolos?
“Jeen didn’t want me to leave the house,” she said.
“Sorry,” he said again, and managed to tear his gaze from her face long enough to give me a guilty glance. “I didn’t know you were out there.”
“You didn’t hear the commotion?”
“Well …” He swallowed. “I didn’t know you were involved. And I thought … you know, someone was after Laney.”
“The letters have made us all jumpy,” she said.
“I’m usually more stoic in a crisis,” he said.
“Yeah,” I said, “he hardly ever cries like a baby just because you’re trying to leave the house.”
They both shifted their gazes to me, making me almost choke on my next spoonful. “You didn’t!” I said.
“I wasn’t crying!” he said. “I was just … faking it. Trying to convince Laney to remain inside … where she’s safe.”
“You cried?” I couldn’t believe it. I could hardly wait to tell Rivera, I realized, and wondered with a grin when that had started. “Like … real tears?”
“I was faking it!” he insisted, but his face was red.
I considered needling him some more, but the truth is, if Laney insisted on putting herself in harm’s way, I’d probably tear up a little myself.
“Well …” I ate more ice cream. “I’m happy you kept her inside.”
“I didn’t know who was out there,” he repeated.
I shook my head, amazed at the whimsical ways of the world. “Turns out it was just some lovesick boy mooning over Aalia.”
“How can you be sure he wasn’t sent by her husband?” Solberg asked.
“He was bearing a coffee tree.”
“Maybe it’s a ploy,” he said.
Leave it to Solberg to see boogeymen in gift trees. “The police searched his car, all he had was a college textbook and a Snickers bar, and that’s only dangerous to his glycogen level.”
We talked a little longer. Finally Solberg nodded off, slumped against the corner of the couch. He looked a little like an overgrown