The Tiger in the House Read online

  Delia walked back to the parking lot, her shoes tucked under one arm and her heels sinking with each step into the sand. She turned and looked back. Tyler and J Bird were already walking side by side along the water’s edge.

  An old twinge rose up her throat. Could old lovers return in anything but storybook romances? They weren’t kids anymore.

  Her chin itched as if an ant were crawling along her jawbone. Just one more indication that this case would be harder than she imagined.

  CHAPTER 17

  Hayley

  After seven days living in the blue room at Tom and Erica’s house, something tingled beneath her ribs, and it was dank and gray and wanted to devour her. What would become of her if the thing erupted from her belly, blasting its way out? Hayley saw what happened to a squirrel that Uncle Ray shot. The center of the squirrel exploded. Is this what would happen to her? Had the squirrel lost her family too, like she had back at the house?

  Erica said they were going to sign her up for kindergarten, and they visited the classroom. What exactly did that mean? Were kids in kindergarten like her, with no family? Would she have to live at kindergarten?

  “Delia is here already,” said Erica, when the doorbell rang. How could Erica know so quickly? Hayley was sure that Erica was extra smart, like Emma was. “Remember I said your caseworker is going to come for a visit this morning?”

  No, she didn’t remember. Sometimes Hayley slipped away by thinking of other things, like Louie. The huge cat helped her to slip away. Sometimes she liked to think of nothing, just colors, or better yet, songs. She liked to hum songs in her head.

  Was this the same lady who drove Hayley to this house from the hospital? Or was it the lady who liked cucumbers? It was hard to remember all their names. The lady who drove her from the hospital told Hayley that she must sit in a booster seat. Uncle Ray said booster seats were for babies and seat belts were stupid. When Uncle Ray wasn’t looking, Emma would quietly slip the seatbelt over Hayley. She was glad that Uncle Ray wasn’t there to see her in a booster seat and strapped in with a seat belt.

  She had told the lady, “I’m not a baby.”

  Maybe she didn’t know as much as Uncle Ray or she didn’t have kids. Hayley was a big girl.

  The lady said, “This is how big girls ride in my car. This is the big kid booster seat. Try it and let me know how you like it.”

  That was how she came to stay with Tom and Erica, riding in her big kid booster seat. Erica taught her how to buckle herself in, which felt better because she didn’t like Erica hanging over her to buckle in the seat belt.

  Erica opened the door and one lady came in. This lady was different. She was the one from the garden who liked Louie and the cucumbers. She was going to tell this lady to take her home.

  “Hi, Hayley. Where’s our friend Louie?” The lady put down her bag and squatted in front of Hayley.

  Where was Louie? He knew when she was afraid.

  “Hold on, everyone. I’ll go get the Lord of the Manor. He’s outside stalking bumblebees,” said Erica. She had so many names for Louie. Lord of the Manor. The President. The Big Kahuna. The Boss.

  “You and Louie have names that sound the same at the end, Hayley and Louie,” said the lady.

  Grown-ups looked different close up. Mostly she saw grown-ups from below, looking up at them as their voices sailed over her. The Delia lady came down to Hayley and she looked into her face.

  “I brought you some books and a lonely bear who needs a home. I’d love to read these books with you. My favorite is How Do Dinosaurs Say Good Night?”

  “I’m ready to go home now,” she said.

  The Delia lady’s face changed from good and happy to worried or mad.

  “I know you are,” she said. Delia glanced up at Erica, who followed Louie from the kitchen. They both looked sad. Or mad, as if Hayley said the wrong thing. This place was not for Hayley.

  Louie wedged his body between Hayley and the lady. There, that was a little better.

  CHAPTER 18

  Delia was on the way to Erica’s house in response to Ira’s urgent call. As she pulled out of the parking lot, she turned down Plymouth Street past the J Bird Café, which was on the way to Erica’s house. She slowed to ten miles per hour and put the wipers on slow mode to wipe off the mist. Brown paper covered the large windows in front, but the front door was open, giving her a view of a circular saw set up on a metal table. The carpenters had arrived early. She saw Greg’s truck parked along the street. Good, if he was on the job, they didn’t have to worry. She didn’t stop; talking to Hayley was more important.

  Would there ever be a time when she wasn’t juggling so many things? Had there ever been? Now it included Hayley, leaving her job, opening the café, and suddenly, Tyler, who was presently back on the beach with J Bird. Multitasking was the curse of the human race in the twenty-first century. Her head felt like it was going to erupt.

  Fifteen minutes later she pulled into Erica’s driveway. Ira said he would call ahead to let her know that Delia was on her way. She slowed her breathing; longer exhales than inhales. Kids didn’t respond well to anxiety in grown-ups. They recoiled from it the way horses and dogs did. Could young children smell the mixed chemicals of fear? Maybe they couldn’t smell it, but it registered in their survival instincts, and they retreated to the backs of their caves. Long exhale. Again.

  Delia kept a plastic box in her car with kid supplies: stuffed animals, books, and fish crackers. She pulled out a book about a dinosaur, which was really a book about kids learning self-soothing techniques so they weren’t afraid to go to bed, nicely camouflaged as a dinosaur book.

  Erica opened the door, and Hayley stood beside her, one hand lightly placed on Erica’s leg. Before Delia left the foster care system, she was going to give this woman an award for being the best emergency placement site in history. Erica was a safe port in Hayley’s long storm.

  Once they were settled on the couch with Louie draped over both of them, Delia read the dinosaur book, and then two more at Hayley’s request. Louie kept his hindquarters pointed in Delia’s direction and his head pressed tenderly into Hayley’s ribs. Delia understood the message from the cat; she was not the important one in the equation. If Louie helped this child feel safe, then Delia was his biggest fan.

  She closed the cover on the third book, one of the many Berenstain Bears books that focused on family. On mothers and fathers.

  “I’m trying to find your mommy. Can you tell me where she is?” asked Delia.

  Hayley stroked Louie. “He likes to be petted from head to toe, not the other way, toe to head,” said the girl. “Do you want to pet him?”

  “Oh, yes. There’s plenty of him to go around. I think Louie is big enough that four people could pet him at once.”

  Hayley smiled. Not so much a smile, but a softening of her face.

  “Emma said my mommy is waiting for me to come home, but it is very far away. And I will have to be a good girl.”

  Delia inhaled and exhaled slowly. She stroked Louie from head to toe.

  “What is mommy’s other name?”

  “Just Mommy. But Daddy calls her Sweetie. Her other name is Sweetie.”

  Oh dear God, there is a daddy. Why did Delia assume there was no father? Somewhere there was a father and a mother for Hayley. This was where Delia must be careful; the focus must stay on the child and not her old fantasy that slithered out when she least expected it. There would never be a magic moment for Delia when suddenly her parents appeared. And yet she could smell her mother’s body lotion, something with lavender, and she could smell her father’s medication pulsing hot from his skin.

  “Let’s play magic. Pretend there is a magic wand and it has a star on the end, and if I point it at something, I can make it be whatever I want,” said Delia. She pointed the imaginary wand at a wingback with cat-scratched sides. “Razzmatazz, that chair is now a throne for a princess. And razzmatazz, your shoes are silver slippers. Do you want a turn?”
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br />   Hayley accepted the imaginary wand and sat up tall. “I turn the house into pink candy. We can eat the whole house. I turn Louie into a dragon who breathes fire.” The girl shrank back into her seat and handed the wand back to Delia. “I have to be good. Emma said if I am a good girl, my mommy will come and get me.”

  “Did Emma talk to mommy on Skype? Did you talk to Mommy on Skype?”

  Louie was getting restless. He stood up and stretched. Delia reached over and rubbed him behind his ears, hoping to lure him back down again.

  “I heard that you talked to Mommy on Skype? Did she say where she was?”

  This was too much; she shouldn’t have asked so many questions.

  The cat leapt off the couch, using Delia’s legs as springboards, allowing the claws of his hind paws to pierce her pants.

  Hayley shrugged her bony shoulders. “I don’t know.”

  As clearly as a vault door closing with a thick thud, the child was done, and Delia knew it.

  This child had a mother and a father. Why wasn’t she reported missing?

  CHAPTER 19

  Delia waited until she was back in her car before she phoned Ira. It didn’t feel right calling from Erica’s driveway. Here was the balance between confidentiality with a child and protection for them. So many children had been instructed to keep secrets, and part of Delia’s job was to make kids feel safe enough that they would break the well-kept promises. She pulled into a grocery store near the bridge.

  “Ira. She wants to go home. That much is clear. I only wish we knew where home is. She confirmed that she speaks to her mother on Skype. And there’s a father. She said her mommy’s other name is Sweetie because that’s what her Daddy calls her. This kid has two parents.” Delia paused, considering the worst image. “Or she did have parents.”

  Delia turned off the engine. No use creating a cloud of carbon monoxide around the patrons as they pushed their carts from the store.

  “Nothing else?” he asked.

  “No. And we’re not likely to get a sense of time from her. She’s too young. She could have been with Emma Gilbert for two years or two weeks and it would all feel like an eternity to Hayley.”

  Ira knew all about the developmental stages of kids. Delia was thinking out loud.

  It was only nine thirty in the morning. Two men came out of the store wearing shorts and sandals. Tourists. As they passed by her, one of them beeped the car open. A silver Mercedes two-door sedan. A hint of cologne made its way into her car, something robust and dark, the way she imagined whiskey and spice smelled, followed by a hint of a tropical flower.

  “We have additional information. I called Detective Moretti at the PD this morning, just to see if anything new was forthcoming about the murders, something that we could use to help us find her parents.”

  Delia knew he was in his office with the door closed. He would already have put his brown bag lunch in the staff refrigerator.

  “They ran fingerprints on the two male victims. The police only just shared this with us. They must have assumed they’re the only ones looking for her family. They were able to identify one man. The other one didn’t have fingerprints in the system. The one with prints is from Tennessee. He had a brief criminal record: possession of a controlled substance with intent to sell. But he had a very good lawyer. He was on probation. Raymond Blanchard.”

  The two men in the Mercedes pulled out of the parking lot.

  “Won’t the police contact the victim’s family in Tennessee and then find out who the other guy is? This puts us one step closer to figuring out why Hayley was with them. Right?” she asked.

  “They’re contacting next of kin today.”

  Delia felt a stream of relief run through her. She hadn’t realized that she was so worried about Hayley’s placement. “That’s enough information to keep Hayley in the emergency placement with Erica. We’re not putting her into another foster home, are we?”

  “Technically we should find a longer placement for her. Erica is well trained as our emergency placement specialist. But I can make an exception. If we can locate the parents or other family members within the next two weeks, then there’s no need to move her.”

  Delia pictured Hayley back at the house, her small hands resting on Louie’s back. She would not be able to bear the sight of Hayley chipped away by multiple placements until she disappeared down a narrow tunnel. She had seen too many kids lost in the shuffle of placements.

  “Has anyone told you that you’re good at what you do?” said Delia, breathing a sigh.

  She pictured him smiling. “I’m trying hard not to say this every day, but I wish you weren’t leaving us,” he said. He wasn’t smiling after all.

  “The detective said one more thing. He said it is critical that we do not release Hayley’s location. To anyone.”

  “Why was he so adamant about it? He knows that we keep all the information about families confidential,” she said.

  “They’re taking extra precautions because of the scope of the heroin business. I liked Maine better when the worst thing that happened was the fishermen got mad at each other.”

  CHAPTER 20

  Delia brought Ira a latte from The Daily Grind. She knew it was his guilty pleasure. Ira and Delia spread a map on the conference table.

  “Maps help me think better,” said Ira. “I’m still stuck on the receipt to the hardware store. Remember? One of the few bits of evidence found on the victims?”

  “Isn’t West Hartford all chic and filled with outdoor cafés, bookstores, and baristas with black aprons?” asked Delia.

  She went to West Hartford with her father when she was in high school, accompanying him on a job during a good stretch of nondelusion. Between bites of pasta covered in a lemon and cream sauce and light-as-air fresh ricotta, her father said, “This kind of food will change the city.” He closed his eyes as the food spoke to him, igniting his palate with colors and music. “Sky blue and a Chopin tune.” He opened his eyes, satiated with pleasure.

  Back then, West Hartford wasn’t a hip city, but she had learned to accept her father’s ability to see the world through food, and even see the future of a city when it was still scarred with gang-related graffiti.

  The receipt from the hardware store came from West Hartford. The crumbled-up receipt was found in the pocket of one of the men found dead at the homicide scene.

  Ira squinted his eyes at the map and then took out his reading glasses. “The last time I was there, I realized that a level of hipness was happening that was beyond my comprehension. Why are all the women wearing black-framed glasses? And are skinny jeans in or are they out?”

  “Don’t try and keep up with glasses and jeans,” she said. What would life be like without Ira? The generational difference between them was reassuring to her, and the first pangs of missing him seized in her chest. She only had a few more weeks with him.

  “We could look at this on Google Earth,” she said. “I know you prefer maps, but let’s try the computer. I want to zoom in on the neighborhood.”

  Ira spread his hands along the paper map with a degree of reverence. Delia’s parents had been the same way. Their car was stuffed with maps, old AAA Trip Tik maps, dried, shredding maps of Boston, Montreal, Nova Scotia.

  “Look, we’ll use your map and I’ll open up Google Earth,” said Delia.

  Ira folded the map into a smaller section. “Was that your best effort at not sounding condescending? You wait, you’re going to need this map. For example, how far is the store from a major roadway like 84 or 91? Did they just hop off the highway, stop at the first hardware store they saw, buy their stuff, and back on their way? Or is this a neighborhood store, tucked into a residential area?”

  Delia didn’t have the heart to tell him that all of those questions could be answered on Google Earth. She opened her laptop. She was sure her resources could be more helpful.

  “Look. I’m going to zoom in on this address and we’ll check out the whole neighborhood.” />
  The scene was far from what Delia expected around a hardware store. No chain-link fences, no abandoned lots. Diagonally across the street were a library and a park.

  Ira squeezed in next to her. “Wait a minute, go back to the library. Stop. What does the name over the library say?”

  Delia zoomed in and angled over. “Lillian Tiger Library.”

  “What did Hayley say? Something about a tiger in the house? Emma Gilbert told her they had to stay away from the tiger in the house?”

  Delia’s chin began to itch the way it did when a case with a kid was hard, something that she had never shared with Ira. How could she, a child of a schizophrenic? She couldn’t say, “I get strange bodily sensations, specifically facial itches on the left jawline, when a case is going to be heartbreaking.”

  But it did itch and not like an insect bite or a rash, or dry skin. This was her body saying be careful here. Her itch sensor was close to her father’s musical interludes with Chopin when the pasta sauce was superior.

  “Is this where we call the police and put the two things together for them? Little Hayley’s admonition about tigers in the house and the name of the library across the street from the hardware store?” Delia asked.

  Ira was the director, no matter how sucked into the case he was, how much he identified with a child. He knew when to call in the police. Delia’s adrenaline trickled through her torso at first, like melting snow running down the street on the first warm day of spring.

  “If it’s about the heroin, then yes. If it’s about tracking down her family, then yes,” he said. He stood up straight, no longer leaning over Delia’s shoulder, staring at the Lillian Tiger Library. He rubbed the back of his neck.

  “It’s late, and it’s Friday afternoon. I don’t know if this is about heroin. But I’ll call and leave a message for Mike. He said to be sure to let him know if Hayley gave any additional information.”

  “You mean Moretti? How can we call him anything but Moretti? With a name like that he should be a chef, or an actor, or the mayor of Boston.”