“Casey isn’t here,” she said.
“Oh? Where is she?”
“Skiing.”
“At this hour?”
“No.” Another long pause. That’s when I began to panic. “Scotty went to pick her up. They probably stopped for something to eat. Maybe they went to a movie.”
“Is Casey all right?” I demanded.
“Well of course,” she snapped back. “She’s with her father. You think we aren’t capable of caring for her?”
“No matter how late it is, would you please have her call me the minute she gets in? I’m still at Emily’s.”
“Certainly. Merry Christmas.” And she hung up.
Mike was coming in from the kitchen with a beer. “Everything okay?”
I nodded, but I had a horrible feeling. The morgue had been bad. Nearly getting shot down had been terrifying. This was worse. Borderline hysteria. I tried to shake the feeling off as maternal paranoia tempered by shock hangover. While my day had been a nightmare, Casey was a long way away from everything that had happened. Safe with her father. At the same time, too far away from me.
I looked at the clock. I would give her until midnight L.A. time; then I would call her back.
I looked up at Mike. “So?”
“So you should go to bed. I’d like to stay to tuck you in, but I have some ends to tie up. Mrs. Lim is on patrol. There are two new locks on the door. Think you’ll be okay?”
“I’m fine. Call me.”
As nice as Mike was to have around, I was glad to have a little time alone. To take a really long shower. To think. To wait for Casey’s call.
We embraced at the door. It was more familial than anything.
I was too distracted to give much thought to passion. He lingered over the kiss on my cheek.
“Call me,” I said again.
“Lock up and stay inside,” he said. I closed the door after him and didn’t hear his footsteps down the hall until I had turned the second bolt.
I was exhausted. I showered, skipped the painkiller, and slid into bed with Em’s extension phone half an arm’s reach away. I closed my eyes knowing I wouldn’t sleep until I had spoken to Casey.
In my mind, the blur of events began to clear, like the Sambo story in reverse, individual tigers taking form out of the yellow mass of butter. A lot of butter, and a lot of tigers.
I had been thinking all along that the catalyst was Lester Rowland, because he would not let events from the past silently slide into oblivion. He had wanted a show trial. That’s why he helped Aleda come in out of hiding on her own terms. But I was wrong. From the beginning, the party belonged to Aleda and Emily. He was left out like the fat kid at the park who gets the merry-go-round spinning, but no one will give him a hand up.
It should have been a good party. Emily had gathered in Max, Lucas, me, and Rod, and warned my parents. There were three no-shows: Jaime, Celeste, and the four o’clock appointment at the wishing well by Hop Louie’s. Still, it would have been interesting.
I may have drifted off. When the telephone rang I jolted up-right and knocked the instrument to the floor. I managed to find it in the dark.
“Casey?” I said.
“This is the GTE operator. I have a collect call for Mom from Casey. Will you accept the charges?”
“Yes.”
“Go ahead please,” I heard the operator say. There was a lot of background noise.
“Casey? Where are you?”
“Mom, promise you won’t be mad.”
“Just tell me.”
“I heard Linda yelling at Daddy this morning about how I was messing up their first Christmas together.”
“I’m sorry you heard. She was probably just blowing off steam.”
“Mom, I’m at the airport.”
“Is Dad there?”
“He doesn’t know.”
“Jesus, Casey, he must be worried sick. Tell me where you are and I’ll call Dad and have him pick you up right now.”
“I’m outside the Delta terminal. But Mom?”
“What?”
“I’m in Los Angeles.
I was awake then. “Listen to me. You go inside and wait for me by Delta check-in. You talk to no one, and you don’t move. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“You’re really mad, aren’t you?”
“Yes, baby, but not at you. I’ll be right there.”
I hung up, found my clothes, and put them on while I dialed Denver.
“Linda,” I said, “Casey flew herself to L.A. I’m going to pick her up at the airport right now.
“The little brat.”
“You just better hope that Scotty’s next wife is more generous to your little bambino when she goes to visit Dad for the holidays.”
I didn’t wait for a response. I went out on the street and managed to flag down a cab outside one of the big Chinese restaurants.
“LAX, please,” I said. “Delta terminal. I’m in a hurry.”
“Everyone’s always in a hurry,” he said, but he stepped on it.
As we sped toward the freeway, I pulled out what was left of my cash. I had just about thirty-five dollars. I leaned forward in the seat.
“What’s the fare?” I asked.
The cabbie half-turned to talk. “Airport’s a flat rate, run you twenty-four dollars.”
I could get there okay, even manage a tip. Coming back was beginning to look like a problem. There were people I could call, but it would be a whole lot easier on everyone if I could make a quick turnaround. The driver seemed like a nice enough sort, a family man. I hoped we could work something out. I got his name off his permit.
“So, Kareem,” I said, “are you licensed to pick up fares at the airport?”
“Yes, ma’am, but I don’t like to do it. Too many taxis means I have to wait in line twenty, sometimes thirty minutes before they give me my fare. Most the time, I just come straight back downtown. Time is money in this business.”
“Then maybe we can help each other here. I’ll offer you thirty-five dollars for a round trip.”
“I’m not supposed to do that. It’s a flat rate, twenty-four dollars each way.”
“My daughter just called from the airport. She’s only twelve. I didn’t know she was coming in, so I’m caught a bit short of cash. Anyway, if you don’t wait to pick up a fare at the airport, you just deadhead all the way home, right? I’m asking you, who’s to know my daughter and I are with you? And you go in tonight with an extra eleven dollars for Christmas.”
He turned and grinned at me. “You sure are a hard talker, lady. You got yourself a deal.”
“You’re a prince.”
“I’m a daddy. You could have quit your speech as soon as you said it was your little girl.”
He talked almost nonstop all the way to the airport, most of it about kids and the dumb stuff they do. He was a hard talker himself. And he knew how to drive. We were in front of Delta in just under twenty minutes.
“There she is.” I pointed out Casey’s worried little face pressed against the glass inside the terminal, by the check-in stations just as I had instructed her. She was still wearing ski clothes. Kareem pulled to the white curb and I made a dash for the door.
Casey started crying as soon as she saw me. Sobbing, she gathered together her things, jet-packed skis and boots and a backpack, and ran out to meet me.
“Oh, Mom.” She had to stoop a little to wail against my shoulder because she is already taller than I am. I hugged her, skis and all, and tried to move her into the cab before a taxi dispatcher came along and busted Kareem. He got the skis wedged in catty-corner from front window to back, and Casey and I slid in next to them.
“All set?” he asked.
“Let’s go.”
I pushed Casey’s face up and wiped it with one of the leather mittens still attached to her jacket.
“How did you pull this off, Case?” I asked.
“Dad dropped me off at the slopes this morning.” She looked into my face and started to cry again. “I’m so sick of skiing. I hate it. But there was nothing else to do when Dad went to work. Linda didn’t want me hanging around the house all day.”