Knight In Black Leather by Gail Dayton (people reading books .txt) 📗

Marilyn opened her mouth, like she was going to ask if it was true, then she glanced at the detective and shut it again.

Jackson eyed him, speculation in his face. "I'm not going to ask if you did," he said, surprising Eli. "I remember how it was. I know what Fat Fred always did when his kids started growing, started to lose your cute. Started thinking about leaving. I saw how he beat the hell out of you.

"And I saw how you looked after the new kids. I knew he wouldn't run you off the way he did the ones before you who lived long enough to grow up. I know, if it was you, which I don't know it was, but if it was, it was pure self-defense. That's why I'm not asking. And I don't want you telling me nothing either."

Eli had to stare at his boots a minute before he could answer. "I appreciate your attitude."

"Just watch your back and look after that kid of yours." Jackson paused before walking away. "And try not to kill Flash, huh?"

"You got it." Eli took Marilyn's hand and hurried her back to the car.

Before he opened the door for her, she stopped him. "I'm glad he's dead," she said. "And I'm not asking either."

"That sounds like you think I did it."

"I don't care who did it. I'm glad he's dead and I know you're not a murderer. What else is there to know?"

Eli grabbed the back of her neck and kissed her. He couldn't help it. He'd never known someone like her could exist, could believe in him--Eli Court, street punk--that way.

Pete rapped on the window, so bundled up in the quilt only his eyes and nose showed. He uncovered his mouth long enough to shout through the glass. "Stop kissing and come on! I'm cold."

"All right, all right, hold your water." Marilyn laughed, sharing her amusement with Eli.

Damn, he was in deep trouble here.

The phone was ringing when Eli let Pete into the house. Marilyn had dropped them off and gone on to pick up supper at the designated Pete's-choice fast food joint. The kid had pushed for eating out, but that would get them home too late on a school night when he still had homework to do.

Pete dropped his coat on the floor and dashed through the kitchen to snatch up the phone before the answering machine kicked in. Eli followed more slowly, locking the door again, picking up Pete's coat, wiping up the snowmelt. He intended to give Marilyn the fewest possible reasons to want them to leave.

With one ear, he listened in to Pete's conversation, ready to step in if it sounded necessary. Everyone with a reason to call Marilyn's house knew about Pete, and the kid knew how to handle himself on the phone, what to say, what not to say.

Right now he was saying, "Yeah, we just got back from my mom's funeral, but Marilyn went to get supper from Tio Burrito. That means Uncle Burrito, you know. I don't know why they didn't call it Uncle Burrito." He paused for breath and apparently gave the other person a chance to squeeze in a quick sentence.

"O'course I know who you are. Your bedroom is really pink. Why'd you paint it pink? That's a girly color." Another brief pause. "Well, yeah, you're a girl, but geez, do you have to be such a girly girl? You want to talk to Eli?" Pete looked up from his conversation with Marilyn's daughter. "He's right here. I gotta go do my homework before he'll let me play video games, so bye."

And he tossed the phone to Eli and pounded up the stairs. Eli fumbled the catch--he still had a bit of trouble remembering he had two good hands. Finally he turned the cordless phone right side up and put it to his ear. "This is Court."

"I thought your name was Eli."

"It is. Eli Court. Sorry about Pete. He thinks the whole world should be interested in the same things he is."

"He's--" Julie paused. "Um--Mom's letting him stay in Kevin's old room?"

"Yeah. He claims all the pink was making him sick to his stomach and I wouldn't let him paint it. It's your room."

"I...that's nice of you."

The silence stretched. Eli tried to think what he ought to say to her. "Marilyn will be sorry she missed your call." That couldn't hurt. Remind the kid that her mother wasn't the one who stopped talking. "Can I have her call you back?"

"Uh--yeah. Thanks. Pete--your son?--his mother died?"

"That's right."

"You're divorced or something? I mean, you weren't still married to her..."

"We were never married. I was sixteen when Pete was born, not old enough to get married. Teresa--his mother--was, but not me. And after that...just didn't happen." He figured telling Julie as much of the truth as possible couldn't hurt either.

"Oh." This time her pause was shorter. "So my mom's letting you stay there so she can have a son and Pete can have a mother."

"I hope not."

"Why?"

"Because Pete isn't Kevin. And Marilyn isn't Teresa. Nobody's going to take those places. Just like I can't take your dad's place. But I hope like hell you let us make our own places. I don't like coming between you and your mom. It upsets her."

"So, why don't you leave?" She sounded like she honestly wanted to know the answer, wasn't just trying to push him out the door.

"Marilyn asked me to stay. I like being with her."

"Why? She's so much older than you are."

"I'm older than I am too. Maybe I've only had twenty-five birthdays, but I'm a hell of a lot older than that inside. I have a nine-year-old son. Believe me, Julie, there's not that much age difference."

He hesitated, but briefly, to be sure he spoke first. "I gotta ask, and I hope you answer. Why did you call? Maybe to talk things over with your mom?"

"Um--well...Uncle Joey called."

"Yeah?" Eli prompted when she didn't go on.

"And, well, he kind of said