“Yes, Ashley. And you know what?”
“What?”
“I always keep my word.”
Ceepak actually raises his right hand, like he's making some kind of sacred vow, which, I guess, he is.
CHAPTER TEN
Ashley takes a deep breath.
“I woke up around six ’cause I heard Miss Stone giggling in the kitchen. I went in and Daddy said, ‘Today's our day.’ Usually, once every summer, we like to sneak into Playland before it's open.”
“Can I ask why?” Ceepak is curious. So am I.
“I dunno. It's just kind of fun.”
“But the rides aren't running, the arcade's closed….”
“I know. It's sort of stupid, but it's just something we like to do.”
“If someone else writes the rules,” Betty explains, “Reggie likes to break them.”
I figure that means wedding vows, too.
“We liked to be there while it's still quiet,” Ashley continues, “before the beach fills up and gets all crowded.”
“What do you two talk about when you're together, like this morning?”
“I dunno. Stuff. Like how he thinks I'm too young to have a boyfriend … even though I do….”
“But why the Tilt-A-Whirl?”
“He bought her a turtle once,” mom offers.
“Excuse me?”
“When I was like four or five? Daddy bought me this little turtle. I called him Stinky because he pooped all the time.”
“You should see her room in the city. Stuffed turtles everywhere. Turtle wallpaper … custom-made in Milan….”
“I see,” Ceepak says. “I think that's kind of neat. But, tell me-how exactly did you sneak in?”
You gotta admire how Ceepak can push a runaway train of thought back on track.
“There's this tunnel under the fence,” Ashley says.
“Under the board?” I say, remembering the square of plywood that looked like it was used for a lid to cover the hole under the fence.
Ceepak turns to look at me.
I never did tell him what I saw. Never told him about the trapdoor.
Oops.
Ashley nods. “Yeah. Other people can get in that way, too, I guess.”
Her mother grips Ashley's hand tight now.
Ceepak waits patiently.
“We were sitting there talking and stuff and this man … he came out of the bushes.”
“Which bushes?” Ceepak asks.
“Behind this big picture of, you know, the sun-faced guy? Clyde, I think they call him. The cartoon surfer?”
“Unh-hunh.”
“We weren't looking that way because, well, it kind of blocks the view so we were looking the other way … out to the ocean and all.”
“Right.”
“He looked crazy and then he started waving this gun at us. A pistol. He looked all dirty and I could smell him … even when he was, like, ten feet away. I think he was on drugs, like the homeless people on TV. He told my father to hand over his wallet and my father told the man to ‘calm down and not do anything stupid….’”
“Then what?”
“Dad gave the guy his wallet. The crazy man opened it and pulled out all the money. Then he looked at the credit cards and stuff like he was going to steal them but he didn't, he just, you know, read them. ‘You're Reginald Hart?’ the guy said ‘The Reginald Hart?’ My father said, ‘Yes, let's talk about this….’”
“Typical Reggie,” Betty interjects. “Trying to work a deal.”
“What'd the man say, Ashley? When your father said they should talk?”
“Nothing. He just laughed and looked at me. Then, he raised his gun up and pointed it at Daddy's chest and started squeezing the trigger and shooting. He squeezed and fired and squeezed and fired … over and over … until all the bullets were gone. The gun started clicking and I started screaming ’cause I thought he was going to start shooting at me next, but he didn't. Like I said-I think he ran out of bullets because he fired so many at my father … there was so much blood….”
I figure she's seeing it all again on the instant replay of her mind. Poor kid, billionaire's daughter or not.
Ceepak waits. Then he speaks, real soft-a gentle nudge.
“And then?”
“He just sort of smiled this freaky smile at me and told me to count to like a thousand or whatever, like we were playing hide and seek. I tried to count but I couldn't because I was crying and I knew he didn't really care how high I counted ’cause he just ran back to the hole and crawled under the fence and ran away.”
“Which way did he go?”
“I'm not sure. I ran behind the turtle to hide. I'm sorry….”
“That's okay. You were smart to hide.”
“I was scared.”
“Did you see him drop the gun?”
“No. Before he crawled back under the fence, he tucked it back into his pants. Those dirty blue jeans I told you about?”
“Right.”
“He put it in, like, the waistband. He didn't have on a belt. He had a string. Twine? Like you wrap up boxes and stuff with? He had twine for a belt, I forgot that part until just now….”
Ceepak makes a note.
“Did he say or do anything else?”
“No. I don't think so. No. Wait….”
Ashley looks at her mother.
“He used the F-word,” Ashley says.
“How so?” Ceepak asks.
“Go on, sweetie.” Her mother gives her permission to swear. “Tell them what he said.”
“He said to me, he said, ‘You should know-your father was a fucking slumlord.’”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Ifigure Ceepak is totally pissed at me.
We're sitting in the car in the driveway with the engine shut off, so that means the AC is off too and the temperature is 110 inside the Explorer thanks to the sun everybody comes down here to worship.
Ceepak's not saying anything. Not telling me where to drive next. He's just sitting there, staring out the windshield at those ugly pompon poodle bushes.
“Tell me what you saw,” he says after what feels like four hours of slow roasting in the Ford E-Z Bake Oven.
“Inside? With them?”
“At the fence.”
“You mean the hole?”
“This lid. This plywood lid you say you saw.”
“Oh. Okay. Sure. It was, you know, a square. Probably two feet by two feet. It was covered with sand, from where the sweeper raked over it….”
“What was the condition of said tunnel?”
“It was only like three feet long. Enough to scoot under the fence.”
“How deep?”
“Foot or two.”
“And the bottom?”
“What do you mean?”
“Was it loose? Packed down?”
“Packed down.”
“Like people had been crawling in and out every day?”
“Yeah.”
Ceepak nods.
“You see why this should be considered important?”
“Yes, sir. Sorry.”
Ceepak nods again. I don't think he ever loses his temper. I wish he would. This quiet routine gives me too much time to realize just how royally I screwed up.
“Notice anything else that might be important?”
“At the beach?”
“Or anywhere. Take your time.”
Okay. Now I'm actually kind of pissed at him for staying so calm, cool and collected. At least when my dad's mad he screams at me and I get a pretty colorful and complete description of what I did wrong. Not with Ceepak. Maybe he wants me to stew in my own juices, go to my room and think about it, all that kind of crap. Well, screw him.
Did I notice anything else that might be important?
I suddenly recall the rust marks I saw on the wall in the men's room at The Pancake Palace, maybe because Ashley said the crazy guy with the gun smelled like pee-pee and maybe my astute observation could also be considered urine-related.
Then I remember the perfume.
“The lawyer? Cynthia Stone?”
“Yes?”
“She smelled like that perfume. The Victoria's Secret stuff.”
“Interesting.”
“You think she was there? At the Tilt-A-Whirl?”
“It's a possibility.”
I do the head-bob nod this time, like I've figured something out.