Page 45 of Inherited Light
“Must be Miss Catalina, if I’m not mistaken.”
I chuckled. “You’re not mistaken. She needed someone to replace a few bulbs at her house.”
He rubbed his chin with his forefinger. “I guess changing light bulbs from a wheelchair might be a real difficult thing to do.” He held his finger up. “You know, I have a light bulb changer pole. Ever seen one of those fandangled things?” he asked, motioning for me to follow him. He strolled down a few more aisles and stopped at the last one which held a myriad of gadgets ‘As Seen on TV’. He picked up a pole and held it out. “It extends to four feet long and it can hold all different kinds of bulbs. All she has to do is put the bulb upside down in the top and twist it in with the pole. If she has to change one she slips the top over the bulb and unscrews it. The fingers at the top grip the bulb and hold it once she gets it loosened.”
I inspected the rubber tipped fingers and steel cable which held the bulb in. “You know, I think this would work great, at least for most of the fixtures. I’ll take this, too. Thanks for thinking of it. She doesn’t like having to ask others to help her all the time.”
He nodded as he sauntered up to the register with me. “I can understand wanting independence. She’s a young woman; you can’t blame her for wanting the little things to be easier in life.”
I set the items up on the counter and shook my head. “She deserves everything in life,” I said, pausing so I didn’t say more. “Hey, do you have a mini toolbox set up around here? Someone stole mine. I only need a hammer and couple screwdrivers. Nothing major, but I want to replace it.”
“I have a six in one hammer. The handle has several screwdrivers in it. Probably all you need in the car for small jobs.”
“Perfect, I’ll take one,” I agreed and he held up his finger as he left the counter. While he searched for a hammer, I checked my phone for a text message from her, but there were none. I opened the phone and typed out a message to my sister.
“I’m at the hardware store and then I’ll stop at the cop shop before I come home. I’ll be home in an hour.”
I sent the message and then slipped the phone in my pocket, and dug out my wallet. He rang everything up and I handed him two fifties. Eighty bucks for light bulbs, a light bulb changer and a hammer was exorbitant, but the light bulb changer would offer her independence which made it worth any price I had to pay.
I took my purchases and held the door open with my back. “Thanks for the help!” I called out and he waved just as the door started to close. One more stop and I could go back to be with her. Unfortunately, stopping at the police station was not a stop I wanted to make. Last year my sister landed herself on the wrong side of the law and now the police station gives me hives. Tabitha has worked hard to turn her life around, but I didn’t know if my last name alone would give them a preconceived notion about the story I had to tell. Up until last night, I’ve kept my nose clean and worked hard for everything I have. I didn’t want some unknown person with a grudge to ruin it for me.
I parked the van and hung my chin to my chest trying to stretch out the muscles which had knotted up in my neck after the attack. I probably needed an icepack and some Advil, but it would have to wait until after I talked to the cops.
I grabbed the box and locked the van then held open the door for a woman leaving the station. The Little Ivywood Police Department boasted an open concept space, with a beat cop at the front desk, and the detectives scattered around behind the main desk. I had already spent more time than I wanted in this place. Behind the detective’s desks sat interrogation rooms and the jail beyond those. The complex was much bigger than it appeared from the front.
I set the box on the counter and waited for the police officer to address me. When he didn’t, I cleared my throat. “Excuse me, I have some possible evidence about a crime reported last night.”
My words did the trick and he eyed me. “Who did you talk to about this crime?” he asked, his fingers posed on the computer.
“Ted Johnson, I believe,” I said, and waited while he typed the name into the computer.
“You believe, or you know?” he asked, his fingers posed over the computer.
“I believe. I had a head injury and things are a little fuzzy.”
He rolled his eyes and typed the guy’s name in anyway, waiting for the file to come up. “While we wait, what kind of evidence do you have?”
“I would rather explain it only once, if that’s okay,” I said and he shrugged as if to say, ‘Whatever, man’.
He pointed at the bench on the opposite wall. “I’ll send him an alert to come up front. He’s here, but I don’t know where in the complex. Sit down and once he arrives you can show him what you’ve got.”
I picked up the box. “Yes, sir,” I said, wishing my nervousness would stop showing in my voice. I didn’t like admitting to myself cops made me nervous. Why they make me nervous, I don’t know. I hate the crawling feeling in my gut the second I step in the door. Maybe it has to do with unresolved feelings about Tabitha’s brush with the law.
I sat, but I swear the bench was made to be uncomfortable, and the longer I sat on it, the more I had to fight against squirming. My mind drifted back to when I sat on a bench this uncomfortable waiting to see my sister who had been arrested for a shopping bag full of crimes. The detective working her case, Noah Jonas, asked the whole family to come to the station and hear her confession. She then explained she had been blackmailed into doing them, and didn’t know where to turn. I could tell Noah didn’t want to deal with the sobbing, broken woman in his interrogation room, but he did it with fairness and kindness. He was integral in making sure Tabitha stayed safe until her blackmailer could be caught and tried, then afterward in making sure all the conditions of her sentencing were met. Noah plays on intermural softball team for the police and I’ve had to play him on a few occasions. He’s a tough detective and a tougher pitcher, but he earned my respect in the way he dealt with my sister when she was under the gun.
“Lorenzo, is that you?”
I looked up and right into the face of the man himself. I stood. “Hey, Noah, I’m here to see another detective about an incident last night.”
He nodded and without saying a word motioned me back to the interrogation room I sat in with Tabitha. Only it felt like this time I would be the one interrogated. I picked up the box and carried it under one arm as I followed him through the maze of desks and into the room. He closed the door and shut out the sound of the busy station, then motioned at a chair. I set the box down and lowered myself to the seat.
“Where’s Officer Johnson?” I asked to break the tension in the room.
“He just got back from speaking with Miss Chávez, but you weren’t there.”
I held my arms out. “Nope, I’m here, to talk to Officer Johnson.”
He nodded and tapped his fingers on the table. “What’s in the box?”
