Crunch Time

heavy kid nearby, and he looks familiar. Is he from Aspen Meadow? Is he new to the school?”

Arch leaned over the salad bowl. “I don’t need to look. It’s Otto Newgate, and he was a year behind me at Aspen Meadow Elementary. I tried to talk to him, you know, welcome him to CBHS, but he said he didn’t want to be here at all, that his grandmother insisted he come. And get this. His grandmother wants him to try out for the basketball team, so he’s getting his physical. This school won the state championship last year. One member of the team is thinking of skipping college and going straight to the pros. Even CBHS’s junior varsity beat other senior varsities. Otto has exactly no chance of making either basketball team.”

“Oh, no.”

Arch said, “I mean, I feel sorry for Otto. I do. But if he doesn’t want to be here, then he should just tell his grandmother, no dice. Can I go now?”

“Yes, buddy. Thanks.”

Charlene Newgate! It was ten minutes after noon, and I’d been so busy worrying about Arch’s sick teammate, and dealing with the buffet, I’d almost forgotten I was due to meet her. And I certainly hadn’t put much thought into what I was going to say when I saw her, beyond bluffing about invitations to a doctor’s catered event. I knew I needed to ask questions that wouldn’t scare her off or do anything else to upset Tom.

I asked Yolanda to take over, which she did. I scanned the gym bleachers for Charlene. Would I even recognize her? I wondered.

Finally I caught sight of her, up high, wearing a fur, yes, fur coat that she had wrapped tightly around her. It wasn’t particularly cold in the gym, either. What with all the animal lovers in the Denver area, Charlene was running a risk wearing real fur anywhere outside her house. Still, the CBHS kids were not, I thought, the paint-throwing types. At least, I hoped they weren’t.

To the best of my knowledge, Charlene hadn’t come through the line, so I made her a sandwich and put large servings of Caprese and potato salads next to it. Then I double-timed it to the top bleacher.

“Charlene!” I greeted her, gasping from the exertion of climbing. “Sorry I didn’t make it right at noon. Please have some lunch.” I handed her the plate.

“I was beginning to wonder if you’d remembered, Goldy.” She shrugged off the coat. Charlene looked older than someone in her fifties. No doubt, the stress of being both a single mother and a single grandmother had taken their toll. Like her grandson, she had thin, light brown hair that formed uneven tufts around her head. She was a bulky woman, but instead of the jeans and T-shirt I’d always seen her in, this day she was dressed stunningly, in charcoal wool slacks with a matching sweater. Her thick ankles were swathed in black leather boots.

“Charlene,” I said, “you look like you’ve won the lottery.”

She spooned a bite of salad into her mouth, taking care not to get any on her clothes. She chewed, nodded her approval, then said, “I have a new boyfriend.” Her whole face seemed to twinkle as she smiled at me. “He’s good to me.”

“How nice.” I meant it. “Is he here? Can I meet him?”

Distrust flared in her eyes. “No. He has lots of business projects. You wanted to talk to me about those invitations you need addressed?”

“Well, actually,” I said, improvising, “it was a Halloween party, for a dentist? Drew Parker? He called just as we were leaving the house to come here. He’s in Hawaii—it must have been the middle of the night there—anyway, his practice isn’t doing so well, so he’s not having me cater the party after all. In fact, he’s not even going to have a party.”

Charlene snorted and looked away. “All these years, I’ve been slaving away running a secretarial service. I’ve watched the doctors, dentists, lawyers, and businessmen I work for get richer and richer. Now I’m the one doing well, and I have no sympathy.”

I ignored her very palpable resentment, sat down next to her, and pretended to focus on the kids in the gym. “It’s so good your business is doing well. So, do you know Drew Parker? I mean, do you ever do work for him?”

She eyed me again, and I put on my most innocent-looking face. She trained her gaze on the gym floor. “I’ve already talked to the police, if that’s what you’re getting at—”

“Oh, no!” I lied. “The police? About what?”

Charlene looked away. “My service has worked for a lot of professionals in Aspen Meadow. Practically all of them, if you want to know the truth. I told the police, Drew Parker’s name doesn’t ring a bell.”

“I understand. I have a lot of clients, too. By the time I’ve finished serving dessert? I can’t remember half of their names.” I paused. “My business is suffering, though. I’m glad yours is doing well.”

She gave me a look that would have curdled cream. “You have enough money to send your son here,” she rejoined. “Now Otto can have all the advantages that other kids have.” She lifted her wobbly, stout chin. “He’s going to do real well.” She opened her light brown eyes wide at me, and I blinked. She leaned in toward me, and I got a whiff of her powdery scent. “Who says money can’t buy happiness? Not me!”

Tony Ramos interrupted us with his bullhorn. He announced that the athletes had to finish their lunches and get their physicals, if they had not already done so, because the doctors and nurses needed to leave.

“Goldy Schulz!” A harsh female voice interrupted my visit with Charlene.

“Oh, Christ,” said Charlene under her breath. She picked up her plate and handed it to me. “Keep me away from that crazy woman, will you?”

I said, “What crazy woman?”

“Go!” Charlene told me. “Get out of here!”

I held the plate carefully with both hands, turned around so as to face the gym, and scanned the bleachers.

“Goldy Schulz!” the abrasive voice called again. The parents who sat all around, instead of paying attention to Tony Ramos, turned to look at me. Even some of the kids out on the gym floor stared upward.

At length I saw the woman calling me. My heart plummeted. Hermie Mikulski, her prematurely gray hair crimped in sharp curlicues all around her head, her tall, commanding body encased in a tube of pale gray wool, stood at the bottom of the steps, her hands on her hips.

“Coming!” I called weakly. I hadn’t seen Hermie Mikulski since the annual meeting of our parish, the previous January. Whenever I’d greeted her at church, I’d received a cold nod in reply, which I figured was just her way. But now she was screaming at me? Why? Was she blaming me for her son’s bloody nose?

When I reached the gym floor, I clutched Charlene’s plate between me and Hermie, like a kind of shield. To forestall a verbal attack, I quickly said, “Is Brad your son? I’m sorry that he—”

Hermie tossed her head. “I’m not here about Brad.” The area between her gray eyebrows furrowed. “Why were you talking to that woman?” When Hermie pointed up at Charlene, I noticed something that made my mouth fall open. Where two of Hermie’s fingers on her left hand should have been, there were only stumps.

“Hermie?” I asked. “When did—” In my mind, I could hear Arch’s voice saying, Being nosy, Mom? I had the presence of mind to say, “What woman would that be?”

“That welfare cheat, Charlene Newgate! Look at her up there, wearing a fur coat. I pity the animal who died for that woman. Oh,” she trilled, squinting and nodding ominously in Charlene’s direction, “Charlene’s got herself a sugar daddy now. Never mind that he’s a criminal.”

“A criminal? Who is he?” I asked breathlessly.

When Hermie turned her angry, trembling chin at me, I felt something like wool at the back of my throat. Hermie said, “I heard on the news that Ernest McLeod was dead. I take it your husband is looking into it?”

“Well—”

Hermie drew herself and her massive bosom upward, and took a deep breath. “Ernest was working for me.”

I swallowed. Was I supposed to let on that I already knew this? I said, “Oh? Doing what?”

“How far along is your husband in the investigation?”

“I don’t know,” I said truthfully.

“Have him call me,” Hermie said. With that command, she turned on her squat heels and marched away.

“You could always call him,” I said to empty air.

I had wanted to ask Charlene Newgate more questions, and I now certainly wanted to ask Hermie Mikulski