It was one in the morning when I jimmied open the window as I usually did
when I forgot my key. I was looking for a way to thrust my body through
the opening without aggravating my bruises when my mom opened the door for
me. I felt a rush of relief and happiness followed it. I didn’t mind
the lecture or the scolding. I could tell she was worried.
“
It’s gonna be okay,” I told her. “I’m done with those
guys.”
She smiled faintly. “Go to bed now!” she ordered, patting my arm. “You
may turn out all right after all,” she added as an afterthought. I climbed
the stairs to my room.
I expected to fall asleep quickly because I was completely exhausted. But
my stomach was still queasy and my heart kept racing. I didn’t want
to kill anyone.
It was almost dawn by the time I finally fell asleep. When my insistent
alarm clock woke me, it was already seven. I stumbled downstairs to find a
note from my mother telling me to call Miss Carswell.
Miss Carswell picked up after one ring. I gave her a quick run-down on
my evening with the Razors. She was silent, as if contemplating several options.
Finally she said, “I’ll pick you up after school, Buzz. I think
we need to enlist some help.”
I wanted to argue, but I didn’t. It felt good to have her talk as if
the Razors were her problem as well as mine. I had no idea what sort of help
she had in mind, but I was willing to take my chances. I found myself thinking
that if I couldn’t trust her I had no one I could trust. Oh, of course
my mother cared about me, but she acted so helpless. She’d let my father
run the show for so long that she’d mostly forgotten she had a mind
of her own.
When Miss Carswell picked me up after school, she headed out of town towards
her house. “I thought it would be safer to meet out here,” she
said, as she pulled up to her front door.
“
That’s fine,” I agreed. “As long as I get back in time for
the meeting at eight.”
I walked around to the back where the clumsily mended window reminded me
of what had first brought me and Miss Carswell into contact. I felt stupid
and embarrassed and all together as if I really wasn’t the same person
I’d been when I’d lifted that tire iron.
“
Come in and have a seat, Buzz.” She opened the door that led into the
kitchen. “Can I get you something to drink?”
I shook my head.
“
Well, then I’ll just put on water for tea. Andy drinks tea, I think.”
“
Who’s Andy?” I asked.
“
He’s a police officer who works with juvenile offenders,” she
replied. “I think you need to tell him about the Razors and get some
advice. I’m not at all sure you should attend tonight’s meeting.
Young men with guns tend to act irresponsibly.”
“
It’s not guns,” I corrected her. “They’ve only got
one gun.”
She shrugged. “Regardless. If they get into an argument, it could turn
into a struggle for the gun. Any of you could get shot. And furthermore, even
if you aren’t hurt, you could be implicated if you’re present
at the time.”
“
But then how will we find out what they’re going to do?” I demanded.
“That’s why I asked Andy for help,” she replied.
I looked around the kitchen. The pens and other stuff that had been lying all
over the place were nowhere to be seen. Miss Carswell seemed to understand my
curiosity.
“
When I know I’m having company I try to clean up,” she said, with
a slight smirk. “Last time you arrived unannounced.”
“
Does he, uh, Andy know about what happened?”
“
You mean your attempt to enter without an invitation?” she asked.
I nodded.
She shook her head. “No, I didn’t tell him that. Just that you’re
involved in a dangerous situation with some unsavory characters.”
I smiled weakly. “Well, thanks for not telling. I felt really bad when
I saw the window today. What a jerk I was!”
She laughed. “You’ve changed a lot in an incredibly short time.”
The kettle whistled just as Andy knocked. Miss Carswell let in a tall, young
guy with bright blue eyes. He was wearing blue jeans and a sweatshirt. He didn’t
look like a cop. He was easygoing, likable, and a good listener. When I finished
my account of what had happened the night before, he asked me lots of questions
about the Razors and how they interacted with each other and with outsiders.
He even took notes on what I said.
When I’d answered his questions as well as I could, he said it sounded
like there was a power struggle in the gang. That was the first time I thought
of the Razors as a gang.
“
It’s probably too late to try to drive an even bigger wedge in between
Fogger and Sean,” he explained, “but that’s what I would have
done if I’d infiltrated the gang.”
“
But you didn’t,” Miss Carswell said briskly, “So the question
is what you can do now.”
Andy scratched his head. “Well, if Sean really did return the gun to his
father’s desk, we can contact his father and ask him to lock it up so Sean
can’t get at it.” He glance Miss Carswell, then turned to face me. “If
this is Sean McCabe we are talking about, his father will threaten to call a
lawyer and have me charged with harassment.”
Andy continued. “If we can’t persuade his father to put the gun out
of reach, we’ll have to try to stop the gang before they reach their target.
Ideally we’ll pick up Sean when he leaves the house with the gun. Of course,
we need probable cause to search him. I’m not sure that your word is enough
basis for a judge to grant a warrant. If not, we’ll establish a police
presence where the crime is to be committed and stop it before it happens. At
least we have an idea of where the crime will occur—unlike the rash of
housebreaks.”
He stopped talking to take a breath. Miss Carswell and I exchanged looks and
then I said, “I don’t know for sure where the crime is going to be
committed. I only know that Sam Clark and Nora at the deli and Yusuf, the clerk
at the convenience store, are the targets. I’m not sure the Razors want
to shoot all of them, but…” I stopped and shrugged my shoulders,
feeling like I wanted to cry. How did I get into this mess?
Andy riffled the pages of his notebook. “It would be really good to know
for sure who the target or targets were,” he mumbled.
Miss Carswell snapped, “Absolutely not!”
He smiled at her. “How else are we going to know? We don’t have enough
officers to track Sean, Nora, Yusuf, and Sam Clark.”
“
It’s dangerous,” she objected.
“
Life is dangerous,” Andy replied. “But if Buzz helps us out, we can
make a good case to the prosecutor that his involvement with the gang was limited.”
“
His involvement with the gang was limited,” Miss Carswell snapped, then
sighed. “You’re sure there’s no other choice?” she asked,
sounding sad.
Andy shook his head. “If you have a suggestion, I’d be glad to hear
it and present it to the chief. But getting information through Buzz is the best
idea I can come up with.”
I was a little nervous about the whole idea of being a snitch, but I couldn’t
come up with anything better either. Andy drank a couple of cups of tea and told
Miss Carswell all about his wedding plans. I barely listened while Andy shared
the details about the music and the menu. Miss Carswell’s big, black tomcat
jumped up on my lap, and I petted him while they talked.
As Andy got up to leave, he handed me a card. “Here’s a number you
can call as soon as you know anything, Buzz,” he said in a friendly tone. “I’ll
be out with my fiancée this evening, but I’ll leave my cell phone
on.”
Once he was gone, Miss Carswell got up to wash the teacups. She was standing
at the sink when she said, “Andy isn’t usually as distracted as he
seemed today, Buzz. His engagement has turned him temporarily silly.” She
scrubbed the cups thoroughly. “At least I hope it’s temporary.”
I didn’t have anything to say to that. I stared at the number on the card
and tried to memorize it.
“
If you can’t reach him, phone me, Buzz!” she said.
That seemed like a ridiculous idea. What was she going to do if I needed help?
Arrive with calculator in hand and force the Razors to do math problems?
“
I think,” Miss Carswell said, wiping her hands, “that I better take
you home. You don’t want to be late for your meeting with those gun-toting
delinquents.”
I stood up and followed her out to her car.
My mother was standing on the step when I got home. She scowled at Miss Carswell
as I approached. “Almost time for dinner,” she grumbled at me. “Your
father will be home in a few minutes.”
I looked at the clock on the kitchen wall while I washed my hands at the sink.
It was only half past five. My father usually got home at six-thirty or seven.
I wondered what was up. I knew that he spent Friday night and all day Saturday
writing his Sunday sermon. He wasn’t a good writer, so it took him a
long time. The sermon was usually long, repetitious, and all together not very
interesting. I listened to it as hard as I could because he’d sometimes
take it into his head to quiz me on it after church. The more I said about
it that suggested I was convinced God had inspired him, the happier he was.
“
Your father needs to see a doctor,” my mom announced suddenly, “He’s
been having headaches and is convinced the cause is a brain tumor.” She
looked very serious and a little frightened.
I turned away from the sink. “Mom,” I began quietly, “do
you remember the headaches he used to get last summer?”
She nodded. “You mean when Dr. Linder said your father needed eyeglasses
and told him to make an appointment with the optometrist.”
“
He didn’t though, did he?” I continued.
She shook her head. “No, but he says these headaches are different. Besides,
that optometrist is a godless man.”
“
What makes you say that?” I asked and was immediately sorry.
“
Your father says so,” she replied, exactly as I knew she would.
“
What about a different optometrist?” I asked.
“Your father is suspicious of the whole idea of eyeglasses. He says that
he sees as well as the Lord wants him to see. It’s inner vision that’s
really important anyway.”
I shrugged. “Maybe so, but I bet the headaches would go away if he got
glasses.”
She didn’t argue. “Well, I just wanted you to know why your father’s
coming home early,” she said. “It’s nothing you’ve
done.”
We were waiting quietly in the kitchen when my father came in. He looked worried. “Let’s
pray a bit before we eat,” he said. He led us in a longer prayer than
usual.
“
I’m going upstairs to rest,” he told my mother as soon as we’d
finished eating. “Don’t disturb me no matter what happens.”
I expected him to give me a hard time after the meal as he often did on Friday.
But I guess he was too scared about his health to summon up much energy to
torment me.
He disappeared, and I helped Mom with the dishes. After I wiped down the stove,
Mom and I watched TV. By a quarter to eight she was dozing. I covered her with
a blanket and headed out.
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