Page 39 of And Still Her Voice
“More runaways,” Mary said, inhaling deeply as she stood.
“Or the FBI,” Indigo added as Tony moved out of the doorway to let Mary pass on her way downstairs. “Everett’s paranoid that the house is being watched,” she said, tossing some pillows onto the bed.
“But, but why?” I asked.
“He’s been warned about contributing to the delinquency of minors by harboring runaways,” she said and the alarm clanged inside my chest. She then peered at Tony. “Also, it’s illegal to harbor anyone who’s gone AWOL.” Tony beat feet across the hall to hide.
Mary called for us to come down. “There are a couple of policemen here who’d like to ask some questions.” It was too late for me to run. Indigo, Willow, River, and I came downstairs. Two burly cops stood in the living room.
All at once I’m nine years old and the officers are in my living room trying to settle Dad down. I wished I could run to my room like my sisters and cower, but Grandma held me hostage again, hijacking my voice. She and Mom had ganged up on him for the millionth time about his drinking. Dad grew into such a rage again, punching holes in the wall, throwing furniture. The police did nothing to help except watch as Mom loaded my siblings and me into the car. We stayed in a hotel that night, three to twin beds lying sideways. Grandma sang a lullaby through me that night to calm us.
***
“This is Honey Moon,” Mary said, turning to the others. “River, Willow, and Indigo.”
“Anyone else live here?” the taller cop asked.
“People come and go,” Mary said, dismissively. And without turning to us, she added, “These officers are investigating the death of the man from Steinway’s.”
With sweaty hands, I clutched the sides of my dress.Instead of being frozen in fear, you must confront itin order to move past it.“Death? What happened?” I asked. “When?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out. So far, it looks like suicide.”
The shorter cop narrowed his eyes at me. “Or, maybe it was made to look like suicide.”
“So, you suspect foul play?” Mary asked.
“We’re just out canvassing the neighborhood.”
They weren’t volunteering much information. And neither would I.
“Anyone here ever frequent Steinway Café?”
River and I answered yes at the same time. So much for not volunteering. I wadded up the fabric at my side. Indigo and Willow were free to take a seat on the couch.
The tall cop peered at River. “Well, River, what’s your real name?”
“Levi. Levi Smith.”
“Where’d you get that black eye?”
“I was born with it.”
Willow and Indigo giggled. The cops weren’t having it.
“I walked into a door.”
“Do you happen to know any female Black singers?”
River looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or be serious. “In person?”
“Why?” Mary asked.
I wondered if everyone could hear my heart beating. Someone over at Steinway’s must have seen or heard something. Or maybe River hadn’t told me everything.
“Someone saw her arguing with the owner just before she walked out the night before the incident.” I remembered Dilbert going after her. “We just want to ask her some questions,” Tall cop said, turning to River. “I’ll need to see your ID.”
River didn’t hesitate, as if this was routine, and pulled out his wallet to hand over his identification. Taller cop jotted down his information.
