Quilting Mystery: Knot In My Backyard Part 15

I dragged my feet several times over a clump of dry gra.s.s in a futile effort to clean my shoe.

Sonia pulled out her cell phone. "Where are you? Well, hurry up. You have to get over here now. There's going to be a confrontation with the police."

Sirens pierced the silence.

Oh, G.o.d, please don't let it be Kaplan. Worse. Don't let it be Beavers. My shoes stink to high heaven.

CHAPTER 25.

At the first sound of sirens, all the homeless people hurried to scoop up their meager belongings and scattered over the wildlife reserve, heading for the trees and sprawling parkland beyond. Lucy and Birdie lost the color in their faces and stood close together, holding hands. Hilda had vanished.

Sonia clasped her hands together and bounced nervously up and down on the b.a.l.l.s of her feet. "Oh, my G.o.d. Are we going to be arrested?"

Crusher took a step toward her. "Listen, everyone. We did nothing wrong. Don't argue, be polite, and, if they do arrest us, just be cool."

A dozen policemen in riot gear appeared on the path above us, shields raised and batons in hand. They looked like giant beetles with the visors of their shiny helmets pulled down over their faces and their bodies encased in protective padding. A couple of stripes adorned the sleeve of the leader, who I guessed was a sergeant. None of us dared move as they advanced in a wide phalanx toward where we stood.

Sonia smiled. "Oh, my G.o.d. Let's do a sit-in like the old days!"

Lucy looked at the ground. "I'm not going to sit on that!"

Crusher frowned at Sonia. "Were you even old enough to've sat in?"

"Well, I was a school kid during Vietnam, but I wanted to. Now we have the chance. We could protest the conditions down here."

Lucy frowned at her. "That's pointless. Who would know?"

Just then another helicopter appeared above. The second copter had EYEWITNESS NEWS and a big 7 painted on the side.

Sonia pointed to the sky and grinned. "A lot of people would know. I called a friend."

Of course she did. She was the yenta.

The army jeep previously parked on the service road had vanished. I was certain Price was the one who called the police. She didn't want us to be in the reserve, and I was pretty sure I knew why.

Price probably hadn't counted on the news cameras also showing up. When they did, she must have left the area to avoid being implicated in this fiasco. After all, calling in the police to enforce law and order was one thing. Calling in the riot squad to hara.s.s a small group of volunteers distributing free supplies to the homeless was quite another.

Whatever intimidation Lawanda Price hoped to accomplish un.o.bserved, Sonia thwarted by that call to the news media.

A voice shouted out a command: "Stand where you are and put your hands on your head."

"Do as you're told," Crusher urged quietly.

Everyone complied, but Birdie. Her arthritic shoulders made bending a problem.

When the police got close enough, the sergeant told Birdie, "You too, lady."

Birdie's newly adopted grandson Carl-all six feet of him dressed in black-stepped between Birdie and the cops.

Birdie twisted the end of her white braid and peered at the cop from behind Carl. "I'm sorry, dear. I'd like to comply with the police. I'm a big fan of Law and Order, but I can't. My arthritis, you know."

The cop pointed to a spot of ground away from the rest of us. "Okay, Granny. Step over here."

Carl looked ready to pounce on someone. Birdie lightly patted his side and stepped out from behind him. She walked over to the cop, craned her neck to look in his face, and pointed an arthritic finger at him.

"Shame on you, young man. There's absolutely no reason for you to be rude and disrespectful to me or anyone else. Absolutely no one addresses me as 'Granny.' My friends call me 'Birdie,' but you may call me 'Mrs. Watson'!"

Carl snorted. Lucy's mouth hung open. I looked around. All the bikers were grinning. Even some of the cops smiled. Sonia thrust a power fist in the air.

Really?

The cop in charge looked up at the news chopper and over his shoulder at his troops. One of them urged, "Go on, Sarge. I'll stay with her."

The trooper slowly led Birdie over to the side and nodded once. "Ma'am."

She hung on to his arm for balance. "Thank you, dear."

At the sergeant's command, several officers stepped forward and searched the men for weapons. When none were found, he glanced again at the news choppers. "Okay. You can lower your arms."

Crusher crossed his arms across his barrel chest. "Why are we being detained, Officer?"

"Trespa.s.sing."

"This is public parkland. We have a right to be here."

"Your truck doesn't," the sergeant growled.

Crusher maintained his cool. "That hardly warrants a riot squad and a search. A ticket, maybe."

"Suspicious activity gives me a right to stop and frisk."

"Nothing suspicious going on. We were just distributing blankets and gear to the homeless. We needed to transport the items in, so we brought a truck. We stayed on the path so as not to disturb the wildlife habitat."

The sergeant squared his shoulders. "There's wildlife here, all right. Drugs, prost.i.tution, and thieves. This-here's their habitat. We got a report of gang activity."

"Do we look like a gang?"

The sergeant glanced from the bikers to Birdie and me and back to Crusher. "Yes and no."

"Well, just ask the people who live here what we were doing."

"Yeah? What people?"

I looked around. Every soul had disappeared. Who could blame them?

A reporter spoke into a microphone with a television camera aimed at us from the Sepulveda Dam service road, where the army jeep used to be. I raised my hand to speak.

The sergeant looked over at me. "Yeah?"

"Who called in the complaint?" I already knew the answer, but I wanted to hear the officer admit the army had called.

"We don't give out that information."

"It was someone from the Army Corps of Engineers, wasn't it?"

"Like I said before, lady, I can't tell you."

"It's Mrs. Rose. Martha Rose."

"Whatever."

"I thought I heard a familiar name."

I looked up. Detective Arlo Beavers frowned at me as he walked down the trail into the reserve.

As soon as I saw Beavers, my heart started racing and my mouth went dry. G.o.d, how I had missed him. G.o.d, how I wished my shoes didn't smell.

I suspected the department sent over a detective to handle this incident because of the news media. The mayor and the LAPD were very sensitive about public perception. Since Sunday is a slow news day, we were probably being broadcast live as "breaking news."

Beavers would be skillful with the press: cool, professional, and soft-spoken. As always, he wore a suit and tie, with a crisp white shirt. Tall and fit, with white hair and a mustache, he looked so good, my teeth ached.

Sonia whispered, "Martha, your boyfriend's here."

"My ex-boyfriend," I mumbled. Like I didn't notice him all on my own?

Beavers scanned the crowd. He spotted Crusher and then looked back at me. "Why am I not surprised?"

He turned his back to us and spoke to the sergeant. "What do we have here, Mike?"

I couldn't hear what they were saying, but a couple of times Beavers looked over his shoulder at me.

Finally he turned around and walked over, his face a mask. "Talk."

CHAPTER 26.

I worked my hands together and licked my lips. My voice cracked with nerves. Beavers and I were now face-to-face for the first time since the morning he threw his key to my house on the hall table.

"We brought over fifty blankets and fifty packages of hygiene items to distribute to the homeless who live here. We drove all those supplies down into the reserve with Yossi's truck. We didn't do anything illegal. We were just helping people."

The leaves of a nearby bush rustled and a familiar voice said, "Don't shoot. Don't shoot." Hilda emerged slowly from hiding, along with the smelly old vet with the wild beard and an African-American youth too young for facial hair. The vet clutched a bag of toiletries, which he desperately needed, and the boy hugged the green Windmill quilt to his chest.

Hilda looked at Beavers. "She's telling the truth. See for yourself." The two homeless males held up their packages for the cops to see.

Beavers twitched his nose. "What's that smell?" He looked down at my shoes, which were covered in an oily brown substance. The corner of his mouth turned up for a nanosecond. "No good deed goes unpunished."

Birdie walked up to us. "h.e.l.lo, Arlo dear."

Lucy followed.

Beavers maintained his professional demeanor in front of the other cops. "Mrs. Watson, Mrs. Mondello. Nice to see you again."

Oh, sure. He can be nice to my best friends. After all, they haven't done anything to p.i.s.s him off.

Birdie lowered her voice and leaned toward him, forcing Beavers to bend down. "Confidentially, this is ridiculous. Much ado about nothing. Now my knees are really hurting and I have to sit down. I'd like to go home, if you don't mind, dear."

Beavers straightened up and spoke briefly to the sergeant. Then he announced to the rest of us, "You're free to leave. Next time you plan something like this, let the authorities know beforehand. You'll save everyone a lot of trouble." He turned abruptly to walk away.

I cleared my throat. "Arlo." He turned back, face sober, hands on his hips. Cops and bikers streamed past us toward the road above. Birdie and Lucy sat in the truck with Sonia, waiting for Crusher to drive them up the hill.

Crusher came over and stood next to me. "You okay, babe?"

Beavers glared at him.

"I'm fine, Yossi. I need a word with Arlo. I'll be up soon."

When we were alone, I asked, "How's Arthur?"

"Still recovering at the hospital." He turned to leave.

"Someone from the Army Corps of Engineers called the police on us, didn't they?"

He turned and faced me again. "You know I can't answer."

I wanted to tell him everything I suspected about Beaumont School and the corps, even though Ed's attorney wanted to sit on the information for a while longer. I hoped to steer the police away from Ed and to prevent his arrest. I also hoped Beavers would see we were on the same side and soften his att.i.tude toward me. How could I get him to take a closer look?

"Well, you might want to ask yourself why the Army Corps of Engineers-specifically Lawanda Price-would call for police intervention in an obviously peaceful activity."

"Why would I bother?"

He didn't deny the caller was Price.

"The homeless problem has been a part of the basin for years. Why did the corps choose today to call for a police invasion into the reserve? Is there someone they're trying to scare out of the area?"

"Who, for instance?"

"Oh, I don't know. Like maybe a couple of witnesses to a murder they'd like the police not to solve?"