Meadowlarks by Thomas Holladay (novels to improve english TXT) 📗

in her hands and leaned her shoulder into the wall. She couldn’t bear to look at him. This was his fault, the way he kept her late, looking her up and down with his wide set, beady eyes.

“Sir,” Latanzio still sounded so polite. “You’ll have to step back. We’re conducting a criminal investigation.”

“Who’s we?” Mr. Kirby sounded angry. “Who the hell are you?”

“Detective Lieutenant Arturo Latanzio, L.A.P.D.”

“You have identification?”

“Yes, sir.” Latanzio pulled and flipped open his identification, shoving it under Mr. Kirby’s nose, not so polite anymore. “Are you this woman’s husband?”

“No.” Mr. Kirby poked his chin over the top of Latanzio’s clipboard, ready to pounce.

“Then, sir . . .” Detective Lataznio lowered and slapped the flap down over his identification. “You’ll have to step back. I have more questions for Mrs. Potter.”

“You think so?” Mr. Kirby put his hands on his hips and leaned close to Detective Latanzio’s face. “I heard what you just told her, and I saw her reaction. You really think she had anything to do with what happened?”

Not looking so cocky, so sure of himself, Detective Latanzio took a step back. “That’s what we’re here to find out, isn’t it?”

“Who the hell is we?” Kirby looked around the corridor, over Detective Latanzio’s shoulder, down at Latanzio’s clipboard, waiting for an answer.

“Are you her attorney?”

“No, but I can make a phone call and have my attorneys all over your ass.” Mr. Kirby pulled out his cell phone, opened it and scrolled his directory.

Chapter Five

The ceiling in Jimmy’s church was very high and painted with pictures of God, Jesus, a woman holding a baby with halos, probably Jesus and his mom, and a bunch of clouds with baby angels. Jason wasn’t a Catholic and he’d never been inside a Catholic  church before but he figured that’s what all this artwork was, stuff about God and Jesus and angels and stuff.

He sat between Mom and Mr. Kirby near the center of the church. Lots of other people sat in front of them. The benches behind were mostly empty.

Mr. Kirby never looked directly at Jason. He always looked sideways instead. His eyes were so far apart, he didn’t even need to turn his head. Jason couldn’t even guess what he was thinking.

Who cares?

He always knew what his mom was thinking. Her eyes said everything. Right now, she wasn’t feeling very good.

At the front of the church, Jason couldn’t see him, a man said, “At times like this, we all tend to ask ourselves why. Why was Jimmy O’Connell taken at such an early age? Why have they not found those responsible for this hateful act? Why, Holy Mother, has another child been taken from us? Why, in this city of angels, has one of your own been so brutally destroyed before his time? Why have his . . .” The words droned into a meaningless murmur.

Jason had retreated into memories of Jimmy, their days together, like that time Jimmy had brought a roofing nail to school and they'd put it under Ms. Martinez’s back tire in the school parking lot. Neither of them liked their home room teacher.

They'd hidden behind a van and watched her get into her car. When the backup lights had come on, Jimmy'd said the back tire would explode. It hadn’t. The car had backed over the nail and nothing had happened. After she'd left, they'd gone to look and the nail had disappeared. Jimmy had thought her tires must be solid rubber.

Wish he was here. 

Ms. Martinez and a lot of other teachers had come to Jimmy’s funeral, mostly sitting near the front because they were more important. A lot of other kids were there too, mostly with their parents.

Jimmy had lots of friends.

None of the teachers told Jason hello. None of the other kids did either. Jason expected that. After all, this was his fault. It was his mom who’d been late picking them up.

Jason scratched his head, itching like crazy. Mom pulled his hand down and softly slapped it, reminding him not to scratch his stitches. He sat on his hands and watched his feet swinging back and forth above the floor, not quite long enough to reach.

Not yet.

Mr. Kirby was looking sideways at him. He could feel it. Jason looked but Mr. Kirby had already turned back to the front.

It had been Mr. Kirby’s yelling outside his hospital room that had wakened Jason. Waking up with Grandma sitting there hadn’t been much fun but Jason got to go home the next day, only two days ago.

His mom and others stood and knelt on the padded rail in front of them. Jason followed them down. Voices all around him softly said, “Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with Thee. Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.”

Not knowing the words, Jason stayed quiet. Mom and Mr. Kirby stayed quiet too.

The choir started singing another song he’d never heard before and everybody stood. It was a pretty song, blending into his memories, thinking about Jimmy again.

That night Mom had been late was supposed to have been Jason’s birthday party. Jimmy had been the only one invited, him and Barnabas. Grandma didn’t like having a bunch of kids in her house.

Wish Jimmy was here now.

People started stepping sideways between the benches, moving to the center aisle. He followed Mom with Mr. Kirby to the end of a long line, people moving slowly toward the front of the church.

Mr. Kirby stood aside and pushed Jason in front of him, holding his shoulders, pushing him close behind Mom.

People in front took turns looking into a fancy white coffin with polished brass handles and trim. Behind the coffin was a big statue that looked like a giant version of Jimmy’s necklace of Jesus on the cross. Jesus looked sad.

Jason followed his mom up two steps. She looked inside the open coffin and moaned softly. She looked at Jimmy’s parents and lowered her head. She wasn’t feeling very