“Craftsmanship is often superior to subject matter. Do not forget that the melody is the idea, the outline; as much as it is the form and the subject matter of a work. The harmony is an illumination, an exhibition of the object, it’s reflection.”
Satie The Composer by Robert Orledge
There is an other worldly knowing. Miguel felt it when he played music that transcended space and time. Maybe he could show his brother Pablo another way to see the world. At times it seemed impossible that he could be Pablo’s brother. How could they share the same blood and be so different?
George Wessott sat waiting on a park bench. Even this early in the morning it was already seventy five degrees. He watched a homeless man crawl out of a torn sleeping bag across the ravine. The man’s hair was matted to his head with perspiration. It made George’s skin crawl to see him light up a joint while still sitting in the sleeping bag. He watched while the man reached for a plastic grocery bag, pulled out a can of beer, and chugged the whole thing down in one gulp. Didn’t these people have any common sense at all? This park was once a place for kids to play but now parents felt unsafe bringing their children and letting them run around the swings and climbing equipment. At the next city council meeting he would remind the council that this park needed an overhaul. It could start with the store cleaning up their dumpsters next to the park. A train of broken grocery carts surrounded metal garbage containers streaked with oily grime. Boxes and smashed cans lay on their side, some rolling under the carts.
George caught sight of Jorge and Juan coming through the trees. It was before 7 o’clock in the morning. He hoped to avoid anyone witnessing their meeting. At first he thought one of the boys was Miguel but then remembered that it couldn’t be. Both boys shuffled through the dry leaves on the ground. Juan, taller and leaner, was just ahead of Jorge, who had hands pushed deep into his jean pockets. Jorge was round shouldered and looked mostly at his feet. This was not the boy who he coached on the rings and balance beam. Nor could he now imagine him up on a wire, balancing with his upper torso straight and tall. Miguel and Jorge should have listened to him when they came up with the crazy idea to walk between the bell towers. They obviously were not ready to make such a risky walk.
The boys approached and nodded their heads in greeting. They sat down on the opposite end of the bench.
“I was glad to hear that you were released from the juvenile detention center. How are you doing?” George said moving a little closer and lowering his voice.
The boys both shrugged their shoulders. Jorge looked down at the ground and moved some dirt around with his foot.
“I’m not supposed to be out of my house.” Jorge mumbled, his head still looking down.
Juan looked George in the eyes. “What do you want?”
“Well, I’m checking on you and seeing if you guys are alright after the fire.”
“What fire are you talking about?” Juan said squinting as the sun streamed upon his face.
“Come on! I know the Cervantes gang torched your house and burned up the stash of drugs you were hiding overnight.” George wanted to ignite a desire inside of these two boys to retaliate. “When you strike back make sure you do it on their turf. Don’t do anything east of 32nd street.”
Their eyes did not light up as George had hoped. Where was the hate in these boys?
Juan stood up and pulled at Jorge’s jacket.
“You can go to hell, Wessott. We ain’t doing what you want.”
The boys moved away from the bench leaving George frustrated. He watched them walk out of the park and disappear. Well, if they didn’t act maybe he could motivate them with direct action from an unknown party. He had learned that much while training them in wire walking. When they didn’t want to try something more difficult he dangled a little surprise in front of them. It really didn’t matter who moved against the Cervantes gang as long as the Gonzales gang got blamed. That’s what people wanted; someone to blame.
Stevie put the electric kettle on and opened the cupboard to get her favorite mug. It was handmade by a local artisan who used bright color stripes and small black dots on all her pottery. She owned a set of matching plates and cups which she stored in her mother’s cabinet. It made her feel part ownership in the a kitchen. Living with her widowed mother wasn’t a permanent situation but Stevie felt little motivation to move out on her own. There was no tension between them, just some anxiety on her mother’s part about her job as a police detective. Grabbing a herbal mint teabag she dropped it into her cup and filled it with boiling water.
Reggie was picking her up at 7:00 and she still needed to get dressed. She hoped to talk to her mother before leaving this morning. She didn’t have time to answer the text she received about Rosa’s fears. When she returned home her mother was out and Stevie was too tired to wait for her return. While her bagel was toasting she climbed the stairs to her room and listened at her mother’s door. It was quiet.
Today was a day for a loose dress and sandals. She was tired of her cotton jacket, blouse, and slacks as work clothes. The heat was miserable and her blouse was usually damp and sticky by mid-day. Slipping her sleeveless dress over her head, she searched for her shoes on the floor of her closet. While she shoved her feet into the red sandals she opened a drawer and pulled out a lacy, red knitted shawl. The shawl was far too feminine for work but it would be nice to have something to wrap around herself while working in the air-conditioned office. Was she thinking of her comfort or was she thinking about Reggie’s response? Pushing that idea aside she grabbed her backpack and listened again when she went past her mother’s door. It was still quiet.
Stevie heard a tapping downstairs on the back door and marveled how Reggie was always on time. If he erred it was that he came too early. She skipped down the last stairs and stopped to see him waiting outside, his forehead leaning on the leaded glass door.
The glass distorted his features but she could tell he was resting his head on the door, thinking. He looked up before she got there to open it. His smile was simply charming. Why hadn’t she noticed how the dimples in his cheeks curved up. She opened the door.
“Hey!” Reggie stopped and took a long look at Stevie from head to toe. “Wow!”
Stevie nervously pulled the shawl off the backpack and wrapped it around herself. Reggie held up a thermos bottle in front of her face and smiled.
“Can I sit at your table a few minutes?” He pulled out a chair and slipped into it. Opening his thermos and unscrewing the lid, he poured hot coffee into the cup at the top. “I didn’t sleep much last night.”
Stevie brought her bagel and tea over to the table and sat down across from Reggie. He watched her closely while she slathered cream cheese on the first side. Was he looking at her dress or was he lusting over her breakfast? Without a word she took her napkin and placed the half bagel with the cream cheese on it and pushed it over to Reggie. He grinned.
“So why couldn’t you sleep?” Stevie asked.
“This case is driving me nuts. We are here without any authority under the leadership of a man who clearly doesn’t value our input. Then we find that stuff on Jay’s computer. Aren’t you feeling frustrated, too?”
In three bites Reggie finished off the bagel. Without waiting for Stevie to answer he continued.
“So according to the report, Mullins was reprimanded for his actions in a gang related case several years ago. He spent two months on paid leave. Shall we ask more questions about this incident?”
Stevie looked down at her own half bagel and slowly passed it across to Reggie.
“I don’t think we should talk to anyone at the precinct.” Stevie said. “They are pretty closed off to us in general. I made some notes on one more important item I read on Jay’s computer.” Stevie stood to get another bagel. She dropped it into the toaster and turned to look at Reggie. “Mullin’s son was killed in drug bust.”
“What? Hmm…that explains a few things.”
Stevie took the bagel out of the toaster and brought it over to the kitchen table. “He was the dealer.”
Stevie waited for this tidbit of information to sink in. “That explains his hate for the drug activity in Highland Park and the closed mindedness he has about considering anyone else in Miguel’s death.” Stevie continued.
“Did the report mention which gangs were involved?” Reggie gently rubbed his hands together above the table to shake off the bagel crumbs.
“Most of those arrested were in the Cervantes gang. That’s why he wants Miguels death to be gang retribution. Mullins probably wants these two gangs wiped out of Highland Park.” Stevie tapped the screen of her phone to check the time. They needed to get to the precinct soon.
“After the meeting this morning are we going to pay a visit to George Wessott?” Stevie asked.
Just as Stevie asked the question both of their phones starting ringing. Reggie opened the back kitchen door and stepped onto the porch while Stevie answered her own phone.
The call came from the precinct. There was a reported shooting at the Cervantes house. An ambulance was taking someone away. She and Reggie were being asked to investigate.
Stevie looked out through the kitchen door and saw that Reggie was ending his phone call.
“What is happening Stevie?”
Stevie turned around to see Angelika Hanson standing at the bottom of the stairs looking at her daughter’s concerned face. Her robe wrapped tightly around her body.
“Mother….”
“It’s Rosa isn’t it?”
“Mother, I don’t know for sure what has happened. Reggie and I are going to investigate.” Stevie gathered her mother into her arms and held her close. Her mother murmured something in her ear.
“Have you figured out the connection between Miguel and Jorge? Did you look up their birth certificates?”
Stevie pulled away from her mother. She held her at arms length looking into her eyes and gently rubbing her hands over the soft robe.
“What are we going to find out?”
“Just do it, Stevie. I can’t say anymore.” Angelika brushed a loose curl from Stevie’e brow. “Aren’t you dressed pretty today?”
Stevie snarled and charged up the steps to her room to change her clothes.
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