Penny Legend Page 3

  After round four the nice app lady voice gave me encouragement that I was halfway through. It didn’t feel encouraging but I tried to keep my chin up. She told me I could turn around and head back home. I was determined not to fail at this very first step along the journey to becoming at least a slow, short distance runner.

  I made it home exhausted but whole. The mental chatter had died down a little toward the end, maybe because I ran out of ways to insult myself, maybe because all my energy was going to my heart, lungs, and legs. In any case, when I collapsed on the armchair in the living room I had a moment where I felt pretty good. I was proud of surviving and my body relaxed more fully than usual. I tried to take that as encouragement that I would someday feel the great runner’s highs you hear about. It seemed like a long shot, but I was going to hang in for the six weeks and see.

  Maggie asked me to take Legend to the doctor. His asthma was acting up and she also wanted the doctor to check the wound on his leg. I had to ask Vivian for permission and adjust my schedule, but I worked it out. Official requests for my involvement, whether DCF-related or police, seemed to have tempered Vivian’s objections to my investment of time into a single client.

  Doctor Kane worked in a community clinic, a storefront in one of the long three-story brick buildings just off Broadway. He was a stout man with a broad, bald head and wide-set eyes. He checked the bullet wound and said it was healing well. Then he listened to Legend’s lungs, asked him to cough, listened more. He asked Legend if he carried his inhaler. Legend didn’t give a nod or a shake.

  “I’ve never seen him with it,” I said.

  “His asthma was mild in the past,” he said. “Perhaps stress or this wretched humidity has worsened it.” He turned to Legend. “You need to carry your inhaler. I’ll talk with Miss Wade here while you go out and see Christine and choose a sticker.”

  Legend followed orders and the doctor turned to me.

  “How did he get a bullet wound?”

  I explained.

  “James is dead?” He blinked a few times and wrinkled his huge forehead.

  “Yes, I’m sorry to share the news. Did you know him well?”

  “Oh, well, not terribly well.” His tone was dismissive. His eyes darted to the door and I thought he was ready to be rid of me.

  “Please tell me about Legend’s asthma. I need to make sure his foster mother has the information she needs. Desiree didn’t mention it, which I can understand given the stress she’s under, especially if it’s never been a real problem.”

  He mumbled through an explanation about airborne allergens and dust mites and stress. He handed me a pamphlet and walked out.

  At the desk, a nurse—presumably Christine—gave me a script for inhalers and a sample packet of antihistamines.

  When we got outside I suddenly realized how stuffy it had been in the clinic and I breathed deeply in the fresh air. Legend looked up at the sky, then started walking fast. I wondered whether it was to get away from the clinic, or to get to the ice cream I’d promised him, or because he thought the nearly cloudless sky would turn to rain.

  Some stuff is tricky with a kid who doesn’t talk, and getting ice cream turned out to be one of them. I used yes/no to establish that he wanted a waffle cone, then I named the flavors as he pointed, trying to describe the ones that weren’t obvious. We finally seemed to be narrowing it down when a woman walked into the shop and recognized Legend.

  “Who are you?” she demanded of me, hands on ample hips. Her red lipsticked mouth was pursed. It was a dramatic contrast to her pale white face and clashed with her dyed-orange hair. She was dressed in pink scrubs with a Mickey Mouse print.

  I introduced myself and turned back to Legend because we were holding up the line. After a few tries I figured out that he wanted peanut butter cup and I ordered for us both. He glanced at the woman a few times, but I couldn’t tell if he was just distracted by her color scheme.

  As I paid, she spoke to him.

  “Do you remember me, Legend? I’m Tasha. I was a friend of James.”

  Legend focused on his ice cream and edged toward the tables.

  “What’s the matter with him?” Her voice was almost as loud as her neon eye makeup.

  “He doesn’t feel like talking right now,” I said, and followed Legend to a table.

  Tasha got her ice cream and came over to our table.

  “Why aren’t you talking, Legend? Are you scared of somethin’ or somethin’?” Her voice was demanding. Legend scooted across the booth toward the wall.

  “He’s been through a lot. He’s just feeling a little shy.” I tried to sound cool because I had the feeling things could escalate easily with this woman.

  She swung into the booth next to Legend. “Look, I’m sure Desiree will be home in no time and you’ll see everything will be fine. I know you must miss James. I miss him too.”

  I tried to focus on her words and not her tone because what she was saying wasn’t unkind. Legend, however, was clearly reacting to her harsh, commanding tone and he pressed himself to the wall. He’d stopped eating his ice cream.

  “Well, it’s almost five and I promised to have you back, Legend.” It sounded fake but I didn’t care. “We can eat our ice cream while we walk.” I stood. “It was nice to meet you, Tasha.”

  Legend was looking at me with big eyes, wondering if she would get out of his way. After a few beats she did and we made a hasty escape.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Conner was sitting in my office when I got there the next morning. I’d have to talk to Lynnie about that.

  “You’re like a bad check,” I said. I noticed the faint fresh-forest smell of him.

  “So I’ve been told.” He gave me his charming smile.

  “I’d invite you to sit but I’m too late.”

  “Perhaps I should invite you?” He laughed a little at his own wit.

  I sat in my desk chair and turned to him.

  “Should I bring coffee next time? I want you to be happy to see me because, well, you might be seeing me a lot.”

  “Clearly, although I’m not sure it’s worth your time, Detective.”

  “Have you had a chance to ask Legend about Martel and Tasha?”

  “No. But we ran into Tasha when we were getting ice cream yesterday. She was abrasive and Legend reacted appropriately.”

  “Tell me the story.”

  I did. He quizzed me about her demeanor, Legend’s reactions, and my take on her. I wondered what it would be like to be the subject of a real interrogation by the man.

  “Fair is fair,” I said when I could shift the conversation. “Now you tell me what’s going on. You said you trusted me, so fill me in. I don’t know how to look for your subtleties if I don’t know what you’re after. Who are Tasha and Martel?”

  “They’re of interest.”

  I rolled my eyes and reached for a wand full of water and glitter to fidget with. Maybe it was magic. Or maybe I could whack him with it.

  He continued, “I told you Martel is a drug dealer. He was close with James. We don’t know a lot more yet. Tasha was James’s girlfriend.”

  “Desiree was James’s girlfriend.”

  “Yes. So was Tasha. You can imagine why that’s important, and it’s also possibly relevant that she works at a psychiatric hospital. We’re looking for people with access to the kinds of pharmaceuticals that James sold. She’s in a good position to have access to patients’ meds.”

  “Do you really think she’d be able to steal that much without being caught?”

  “Probably not, but she might also have access to script pads. And most dealers like James have multiple sources for their merchandise. They may buy meds off of junkies in exchange for heroin, they may get access to scripts, they may fake back pain to get meds or hire people to fake back pain and get prescriptions for them. Sometimes pharmacists or doctors are in on it, supplying dealers in exchange for some kickback to support their own drug habits. They’re too carefully monitored to b
e able to steal or prescribe for themselves, but they find workarounds by cooperating with dealers and abusers.”

  I was glad to leave this to the police. I didn’t want to see the ugly underbelly of drug abuse, stealing, and cheating the system. I wanted to focus on helping Legend, who, God willing, wouldn’t be exposed to any more drug dealing.

  “If you don’t have any indication that Desiree was one of the sources, or that she was dealing, can’t you let her go? Legend needs stability, and keeping an innocent woman locked up isn’t helping anyone.”

  “Why are you so sure she’s innocent?”

  “I believe people are innocent until proven guilty. Do you, Detective?” I heard my voice rising.

  “We confiscated drugs from her home. She’s been proven guilty there.”

  “Do you think she was either dealing or supplying James?”

  “We don’t know.”

  “Then you’re holding her for his crimes.”

  “We don’t know that.”

  “Are you trying to force her to tell you who shot James? Because I don’t get the sense it’s gonna work.”

  “Look, I don’t need you second-guessing the justice system. If you want to help Legend, you’ll help us find the shooter. It’s that simple.”

  “You don’t care about Legend or Desiree, do you? You only want your drug bust.”

  Conner stood. I stood.

  “Think about what I said about helping Legend.”

  He left.

  I straightened the apartment as I waited for Will to arrive. When I’d visited him in Madison it had been a nice escape from work and city life. His house was on the outskirts of town, a cozy farmhouse with a huge garden. It was the kind of place you’d raise a family. I’d enjoyed playing house with him while I was there, but having him in Boston was different—it was real. The last time he’d visited I’d been consumed with trying to help a client in trouble, but this time I planned to spend more time with him. He knew my work was important to me, but I needed to be sure he really understood my commitment if we were going to be able to make something work together. He was trying to sell me on a quiet life in Madison, and while that was appealing in ways, not the least of which was the presence of a clear path, I wasn’t sure if I could see that life for myself—at least not quite yet. The problem was that I didn’t have any clarity on what I might choose instead. Aimlessness?

  I startled when the intercom buzzed. Will came in looking as if he hadn’t just traveled for half the day. His brown curls were less messy than usual and he had a bright smile, a big hug, and a long kiss for me.

  I felt my equilibrium starting to sway, but not in a bad way.

  Most mornings on my walk to work I passed a woman runner who, while perhaps crazy, was part of my inspiration to take up running. She sang as she ran. I didn’t want to sing as I ran, but she often looked so happy and she was really fit and I was sort of fascinated by her. I would try to catch song lyrics as I passed. She didn’t sing every day though. Sometimes she looked like she was hitting musical notes in the air as she ran. Other times she just ran. I didn’t like those days. I considered there to be something morose, something depressed in the air on the days when the singing runner wasn’t singing. Wednesday was one of those days.

  Wednesday was also the second time Legend came to my office for a session. He walked past the couch and sat in the corner of my office on the floor between the far end of the couch and the outside wall.

  “Hey, good to see you, Legend.”

  He sat with his knees pulled up to his chin.

  “You know, I never noticed what a great spot that is. Do you want to pull this chair over for a fourth wall? It’ll have a window.”

  I moved my straight chair close enough that he could reach it and pull it closer if he wanted to. He did.

  I walked to my desk and jotted “blanket, pillows” on a Post-it note, then grabbed the two little throw pillows off the couch. I set them on the chair.

  “These might make it more comfy.”

  He took them into his fort.

  I went back to my desk and got some printer paper, crayons, and markers. I took them over and set them on the chair.

  “You can color if you want to.”

  Silence. The coloring stuff didn’t move. I glanced around my office. I felt poorly prepared. I picked up a doughy stress ball from my table and set it on the chair.

  “Sometimes I like to just play with this thing. See what you think.”

  He didn’t budge. I went back to my desk and sat.

  “I’m glad you’re here to keep me company, Legend. I have some busywork I have to do, so I’ll work on that a little and if you need something you can let me know. Okay?”

  About five minutes passed before I heard the crayon box rattle and the sound of paper. I kept pretending to work.

  After another ten minutes or so I looked over and saw that he had stood one of the pillows under the chair, giving him a low wall. I walked over and sat on the floor outside the fort. I was low enough that he was able to remain mostly blocked off from me as he colored pictures on the floor.

  “I can bring more stuff for a fort since you like forts.”

  He rustled his papers.

  “Can I see what you drew?”

  Nothing.

  I leaned against the opposite wall and waited while he kept drawing. It seemed like a long time for a little kid to keep drawing, so when I heard him rustle the papers and crayon box I scooted over to my bookshelf and grabbed a photography book off a bottom shelf. I scooted back and set it on the chair seat.

  Legend took the book and spent the remainder of the session flipping pages while I sat nearby thinking about loss and fear and the desire to hide in small spaces.

  Finally it was time for him to return to Maggie.

  “Legend, it’s time for you to go. I liked having you here. I’m going to see you again when we go visit your aunt on Friday.”

  The chair moved and Legend stood up. He was clutching his pictures. I stood too. He looked at me for a long moment, then down at his papers.

  “You can take them with you or we can make a special spot for them here. I have a big envelope they’ll fit in and you can seal it. I won’t look unless you decide you want to share them with me.”

  He nodded.

  I grabbed a manila envelope from my desk drawer and held it open while he slid the pictures in, face down.

  I showed him how the brad worked and he licked the glue, closed the envelope, and secured it with the brad.

  “Do you want me to put it in my file drawer or do you want to make your own file spot under the couch by your fort?”

  He took the envelope and stowed it under the couch.

  “That will be your super safe—like they have at the bank. Nobody can open it but you. Cast a protection spell!”

  Legend turned to the couch and circled his open hands in the air.

  “See you Friday,” I said as he left. I watched him walk down the hall to the waiting room.

  I headed straight home from work to help Gloria get ready for a cocktail party she was having that evening. Will was out sightseeing. I stood in the kitchen mashing avocados while Gloria buzzed in and out taking stuff to the table and setting up the breakfast bar with drinks.

  “It’s great having Will around,” she said.

  She was baiting me. “It is. I hope he’s having a good day.”

  “Are you guys pretty serious now?”

  “I don’t know.” I was actually glad to be talking to Gloria about things. She was so used to the gossip atmosphere of the spa she managed that she forgot she could just ask me questions outright. “I don’t know what that would mean.”

  “It would mean that you get married, have kids, have a normal life.”

  “A normal life.” I had visions of myself with a baby on my hip and a rag on my shoulder. I wanted a baby. I wanted a partner. “I don’t know.”

  “You’re thirty-five, you have a great guy, you w
ant kids. What’s not to know? If I were you I’d be packing right now. I want kids running around in the yard, a family to cook for, and people I know will take care of me when I’m old.”

  Will came in, sweating from his adventures. I grabbed a beer from the fridge and handed it to him with a kiss.

  “Where’d you go?”

  “I did a Fenway tour and walked around the Fens. I agree with you about the Victory Gardens. What a cool place.”

  I smiled thinking about him there. It was one of my favorite places and Will was an avid gardener. I wished I’d been there with him.

  “Some of those plots seriously crack me up,” I said. “People use them as backyards, with lawn chairs and grills and stuff.”

  “I know. The variety is amazing—what a reflection of the city.”

  We helped Gloria get ready until our friend Toryn arrived with his boyfriend. They were a great-looking pair. Toryn was tall and lanky with a big head of curly dark hair and dove grey eyes that were so animated they sometimes startled strangers. Brent was also tall but more solidly built. He had strong-looking squarish hands that made me feel like he would have a positive, grounding influence on Toryn.

  I hadn’t seen Toryn in a while because he and Brent had been off vacationing in the Keys. Whenever Toryn started a new relationship I didn’t see him for a while. When his relationships ended he tended to disappear for a while too. But then he would resurface and lament. I totally understood that.

  My gay friends put their lives and relationships together differently from my straight friends. I wondered if it was because they didn’t have as clear of a prescription for how they were supposed to live. I knew gay guys with twenty-year relationships, still connected, still happy, but not necessarily following the same relationship rules as most married straight people.

  Toryn and Will talked while I got to know Brent a little. I liked him. He was a UPS driver in the city and he was into sailing. For all his powerful build, he had a soft voice and a thoughtful way of speaking.