Pick Your Poison

A mistake. My purse met the little guy on the downside, right on the head, sending him sprawling onto the sidewalk.

“Will-iam!” the kid screeched.

But apparently William had already heard the commotion, because while I knelt next to the screaming child, William tore after the retreating James Franklin, calling the thief a nasty name, which included references to a maternal parent. The car thief-turned- purse snatcher was running like a bullet with feet, my bag clutched to his chest.

I turned my attention to the whimpering boy, unsure how to handle him. “What’s your name, kid?”

He didn’t seem to be bleeding anywhere. But his nose was running, his face was streaked with tears, and his lower lip trembled.

“Sho... mar... i,” he said, the syllables separated by sobs.

“I’m sorry, Shomari, I shouldn’t have ducked.” And then, since I didn’t know what else to do, I hugged him.

His thin but strong arms came up and around my neck and I picked him up. Snot and tears joined the sweat on my shoulder as I carried him over to the much cooler porch and sat down.

A minute later William returned. Perspiration dotted his shaved head and ran in rivers down his neck, joining the widening stains on his T-shirt front.

“Why you come around here making trouble, lady?” he said, tossing my purse toward me.

Even though I was already flushed and sunburned, I felt my face grow even hotter. “I don’t know how to thank you. I don’t have much cash, but I could—”

“You think you can throw your money at us and make this okay? Shomari could have been hurt bad.” He looked at the boy. “You all right, man?”

Shomari nodded, eyes down, fingers in his mouth.

Now I felt like I had taken the hit with the purse.

“So,” William continued, “why don’t you take your purse and your money and your crazy red hair and —”

“Now, wait a minute. I may be a self-serving white bitch, but my hair is not red; it’s auburn.”

His eyes widened, and by gosh if this intense black giant didn’t have a sense of humor. “Lady, you look like you combed that mess with my mama’s skillet.”

I laughed and so did William.

Then Shomari said, “Since you’re not mad no more, William, can she give me some money now?”

I quickly said, “I have gum—will that do?”

Shomari nodded eagerly.

I found two sticks in my purse and gave them to him.

While Shomari unwrapped them, William said, “I need water. Looks like you could use some, too.”

He went into the house and returned with two glasses. “It’s not cold. Momma says you shouldn’t have ice water when you’re overheated. Says it can shock you or something.”

“Wet is all I care about. Thanks.”

Shomari poked my arm and looked up at William. “She was playing hide-and-seek with the white lady who came and took Tannae’s baby.”

“So she gave the boy up.” William shook his head, appearing disgusted.

“I followed the woman over here,” I said. “The one who took the baby. I really parked here because I’m sort of investigating her.”

“Tannae’s brain could use some investigating, too,” said William. “She sold that baby. That’s not what she’ll say, but she sold him, all the same. Got herself a color TV and a private doctor so’s she wouldn’t have to wait down at the women’s clinic. Told everyone at school it was adoption, but everyone knows she sold him. Moma said she’d go straight to hell if she went through with it.”

“This girl goes to your school?” I asked, then finished my water.

“Dropped out when she started to show.”

“Ever hear her mention a man named Feldman?”

“I never heard her say nothing except Gerard Smith knocked her up and wouldn’t give her no money, so she had to go for this adoption thing.”

Shomari had the half-chewed gum in his hands and was trying to make a cat’s cradle with it.

William grunted in irritation. He lifted Shomari by the elbow and stood him up. “Let’s get that stuff off your fingers, man.”

“Sorry again,” I said. “And thanks for getting my purse back.”

He paused by the screen door. “Wasn’t me. Stupid James Franklin ran smack into some big black dude I never seen around here. Guy took back your bag and tossed it to me. Last I saw, he and James were, uh... talking.”

“Still, thanks anyway.” I left then, and as I went down the three rickety steps, I heard Shomari say, “Know something, William? She stinks as bad as you do.”

On the way to the Camry I lifted an arm and risked a whiff. Geez. He was right.

13

On the drive back to Houston, I thought about all I had learned in the last two days, trying to fit these new pieces into the puzzle. One thing linked Ben with Kate and me—adoption. Was that why Ben showed up at our house? Was our adoption and Cloris’s giving up her own baby somehow connected? And since these events happened around the same time, could Parental Advocates be that connection?

I always assumed Willis handled our case, but perhaps Ben sought out Daddy after learning they shared the same adoption broker. And maybe he was in Houston not to find his wife’s killer, but to find a child given up years ago. I had to get with Willis on this. He hadn’t reacted to the name Feldman when I told him all I had learned, but maybe Parental Advocates would ring a bell.

I turned on the radio, pleased with how far I had come with such few clues, just in time to hear the weather report. It seemed our summer drought could end soon. A tropical depression was forming in the gulf, though the disturbance was currently stationary. Since only fools made light of Texas weather, I would have to keep an ear tuned to the news.

When I turned onto my street in Houston forty-five minutes later, I realized I’d forgotten all about Aunt Caroline’s planned visit today, but the U-Haul in the driveway reminded me. She and a muscular escort were just leaving, and I couldn’t help but focus on my aunt’s tiny white shorts and chartreuse halter top.

“Hello, Abby,” she said when I greeted them on the walkway. “Have you met my trainer, Hans? He’s been helping me load.” She gazed up at him with her surgically correct smile.

“Nice to meet you, Hans.” I looked at Aunt Caroline. “I forgot you were a woman on a mission today. Take everything on your list?” As if she’d miss a straight pin if it took her fancy.

Hans gazed down at me, or should I say at all my body parts, beginning at my feet and ending with my eyes.

“Caroline has told me so much about you,” he said, his voice deep and accented.

Where did she find this one? At the Arnold Schwarzenegger look-alike contest at Cyclone Willy’s Nightspot?

He massaged Aunt Caroline’s naked shoulder, but never took his eyes off my chest.

“Where’s Kate?” I stepped past them.

“She’s in the study with Willis,” said Aunt Caroline. “But where have you been, Abby? You smell like you’ve got goats under each arm.”

I faced her. “Thanks so much for embarrassing me in front of someone I’ve just met. You can be sure I wasn’t over plundering your house.”

“I think we’ll leave before this turns nasty.” She started down the walkway toward the U-Haul.

Hans called over his shoulder, “I like a woman who doesn’t mind getting dirty.” He winked and then followed