Sassafras, Part 81

Joan

I stood there for a minute looking at the phone. I about jumped out of my skin when I heard a car on the street, but when I looked out the window it was just driving by.

"Billy," I said, "get your coat! We've got to leave."

He looked up at the clock. "You said we don’t have to be there until noon."

"We have to leave right now, Billy. Get your coat, quick."

"But Aunt Jo," he started.

"Don't argue, just get your coat. I'll explain later but right now we have to go."

Billy grumbled a little, but turned off the TV and got up. He put his coat on and started heading for the front door.

"No, this way," I said and headed for the back door.

"What's going on, Aunt Jo?" he asked.

"Just come on, Billy," I said and looked out the window before opening the back door. It was still snowing, big fat flakes. Shit, I was wearing a dress and high heels. "Let's go."

We cut through the alley in back of the house, the wind blowing snow in my face and making my coat flap open while I struggled to button it and hold onto my purse at the same time. I tripped on something under the snow and heard something snap when I landed. I pulled my cell phone out of my coat pocket saw a big crack across the cover. When I tried to flip it open the entire top half snapped off in my hand.

“Damn it,” I muttered as I tried to make the pieces fit back together before giving up in frustration and stuffing the remains back in my pocket.

“What happened?”

“I broke my cellphone.”

"Who was that you were talking to?"

"Rick. He said Stapleton is the one who killed Jenny." We crossed the street and headed south. I was glad there had been enough cars driving by to disturb the snow enough for us to walk without leaving an obvious trail. The wind would also help, drifting snow over the footprints we did leave.

"Stapleton? That guy we’re supposed to meet? Why did he say that?”

“He said Stapleton and Sneider were working together.”

“How does he know?”

“I don’t know. I think maybe he’s working with them, too.” It really hurt to admit that, but it was the only thing that made sense. Except how did he know about the picture?

Billy thought that over. "Well, where are we going?" he asked.

"Your mom and I had a hideout. I think we can still get in."

"Mom had a hideout? Where?"

"It's close. Just around the corner and the end of the street." I remembered all the times Jenny and I would skip school and sit around smoking and drinking wine coolers, or all the time we hung out there during the summer.

I had Billy wait for me behind a van while I snuck through the back yard. The back door was locked, but the basement window was still loose. I kicked the sill a couple of times and the lock popped open. Just like the good old days, I thought. When I had the window open I waved Billy over. We climbed in the window and shut it back up.

I couldn’t help looking at the house from a business standpoint. It would be a good investment. It looked better than it did when I was growing up, inside and out. The back yard was cleaned up, and there was a child’s swing set in the back yard, bright red and yellow striped poles with tiny plastic swings and an equally tiny plastic slide. There were new windows in the living room, and the kitchen had been redone. Someone must have bought it and fixed the place up, but it looked like it had been empty for a while. There was still some furniture, a beat up old couch and some kitchen chairs, a stained mattress in one of the bedrooms.

Then I remembered the secret stash. I dug around in the kitchen until I found a knife, and then went upstairs into the back bedroom. I sat down in front of an air vent and pried the cover off with the knife. Bingo. Inside was some change, a couple of dried up Twinkies, a melted candle, a half of a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, and a baggie with two joints in it.

"Aunt Jo!" Billy marveled. "Is that yours?"

"Mine and your mom's. I can't believe it's still here." I pulled one of the joints out and sniffed it, but it smelled like dust.

"Are you going to smoke that?" he asked.

"No, I'm not that desperate yet. Maybe after these cigarettes are gone. You want to try one of those Twinkies?"

"Thanks, Aunt Jo. Maybe later." He smiled at me and picked up the lighter, but the spring snapped when he tried to light it.

"What are we going to do now?" he asked.

"I don't know. Wait for Rick."