Tracking Daddy Down Read online

  My heart pattered in my chest. Was Daddy Joe telling the truth, or had he been following us all along? One thing I knew for sure: if he told Mama about finding me in a fight with Goble Watson, she’d never let me leave the house again.

  We dropped Tommy off at home with his new pet. “I’m calling her Tiger, because she’s so tough,” he said after Daddy Joe told him it was a girl. He waved good-night to us, then slipped inside his trailer and closed the door, cooing softly at the kitten.

  That left me with Daddy Joe. Alone. I dreaded it. I didn’t want to answer any questions, so I hurried across the street ahead of him.

  “Billie.”

  I sped up.

  “Billie, come here.”

  I knew I had to face him. I turned around, and for the first time ever, I begged him for something. “Please, please don’t tell Mama I snuck out.”

  “Never mind about that now. Did that Watson kid hurt you?”

  “Just my leg. He kicked me.”

  “If you and Tommy wanted that bike back, why didn’t you ask me?”

  I shrugged. Even though he was standing right next to me, it seemed like the whole Pacific Ocean separated us. I couldn’t say anything to him, because I didn’t know the answer.

  He knelt beside me, so we were eye to eye. “I won’t tell your mother, Billie. This time. But don’t try anything like that again. Ever. Understand? This is your last warning. And you come to me the next time you need help, okay?”

  “Okay,” I said, then hurried inside. What did he mean, come to him if I needed help? Did he really think I’d let him nose into my business?

  I had a hard time falling asleep that night. My mind raced in every direction. I worried Daddy Joe wouldn’t keep his word about not telling Mama I’d snuck out. And of course, I thought about Daddy. Would he really be at the cabin on Sunday, like Uncle Russell had said?

  I had another thought, too, just as I drifted off to sleep. About what’d happened three years ago on the Fourth of July, with Daddy and the sparklers. Had he ever gone back and paid the Lions Club for them?

  The next morning I avoided Mama and Daddy Joe as much as possible. When I met up with Tommy, I quizzed him about whether Aunt Charlene had heard him come in. “Naw,” he said. “She was sound asleep snoring.”

  We worked like maniacs cleaning the church kitchen. I wanted to be sure to get out of there by noon to meet Ernestine, so I scrubbed everything until it shone. I couldn’t believe it when Mirabelle inspected the sink and said what a good job I’d done.

  “You’re finally getting the knack of this. I’m going to talk to your moms about keeping you after your punishment ends. I could use a couple of helpers around here.” She tore open a sack of cookies and gave each of us two.

  After she left the kitchen, Tommy pulled Tiger out of a box he’d hidden in the closet. He’d been sneaking milk to her every ten minutes or so.

  “You’re going to make her sick,” I said when he opened the icebox for the hundredth time.

  “Nuh-uh. This is just what she needs. Milk’s the best thing for her.” He sounded like he was all of a sudden an expert on cats or something. “Besides, she’s nearly starved to death. Just look at how skinny she is.” He held her up for me to see.

  When we got home, Tommy’s bike was leaning against our front porch with both tires pumped up. He hid Tiger back in his bedroom—he still hadn’t asked Aunt Charlene if he could keep her—and we took off downtown to meet Ernestine.

  It wasn’t noon yet, so we decided to kill some time and look around Clarksons’.

  “Maybe they have a bigger box I can use for Tiger,” Tommy said.

  We were walking toward the back of the store to ask Mr. Clarkson about the box when I heard Mrs. Clarkson in the next aisle. “Just where do you think you’re going with that doll, young lady?” she said.

  “She was going to leave with it. I saw her take it out of the box, Mrs. Clarkson.” That was Ada Jane talking. I could’ve recognized her whiny voice from a mile away.

  “Is that right?” Mrs. Clarkson said. “I suspected as much. You say she was leaving with it?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I saw her, too,” Lou Ann said.

  “Give that doll to me right now,” Mrs. Clarkson snapped. “We’ll go have a word with your mother.”

  “No, I ain’t giving it back! I’m buying it.”

  Carla!

  Chapter 24

  Tommy and I raced to the end of the aisle and turned down the next one. Carla was standing in the toy section with her back against the wall and a giant Kimmy doll clutched tight to her chest. Ada Jane, Rhonda, and Lou Ann were standing around her, giggling.

  Mrs. Clarkson’s hand whipped out like a lizard’s tongue, snatching the doll by its leg. She gave it a good yank. Carla kept hold of its hair and tugged back furiously, but then she saw me. She let go of the doll and ran to me, crying, “Tell her, Billie! Tell her I’m buying it.”

  “Golly day, Mrs. Clarkson,” Ada Jane said, her voice sweet like persimmon pudding, “it sure didn’t look like she was buying that doll to us. Did it, Rhonda?”

  “Nuh-uh. She just ripped it right out of its box,” Rhonda said. “I thought she was going to leave with it.”

  “Me too,” Lou Ann said. “Besides, she doesn’t even have money.”

  “Yes, I do!” Carla wailed, pulling a crumpled bill from her pocket. “See? I’ve got five dollars right here. It’s mine; I found it.” I clenched my teeth when she waved Abraham Lincoln in front of our faces. That was my money! She’d taken it from the drawer. I wanted to snatch it out of her hand, but I couldn’t make myself do it in front of Mrs. Clarkson.

  “Just where did you find that money, young lady?” Mrs. Clarkson said.

  “Under Billie’s socks,” Carla said, her voice cracking. “But it’s finders keepers, so it’s mine now. Ain’t that right, Billie?”

  I swallowed my anger and put my arm around her. “She’s telling the truth,” I said to Mrs. Clarkson, staring her straight in the eye. “That’s my birthday money, but I’m giving it to Carla. She can buy the doll if she wants.”

  I’d scold her later for taking my money. But for now I just wanted to get us out of the store. After we’d finally paid for the Kimmy doll and left, I took the change and sent Carla across the street to the diner.

  “Jeez,” Tommy said. “I didn’t know you got five whole dollars for your birthday. Man, that’s a lot of money.”

  Ada Jane and her friends were standing a few feet down the sidewalk, snickering. “Ha! Betcha anything that’s not birthday money. Betcha it’s church money,” Rhonda said.

  “Unless it’s from her daddy,” Lou Ann said. “And we know where he got it, don’t we?”

  Ada Jane squealed. “Eew! That means it was touched by a real live crook.”

  “Well, it takes one to know one, doesn’t it, turd?” I said to Ada Jane. I picked my bike up from the sidewalk and pushed it out to the street.

  “Yeah,” Tommy said. “It takes one to know one.”

  “You’d better quit cussing at me, Billie Wisher, or I’m telling your mother,” Ada Jane yelled as we sped away.

  We found Ernestine in the alley behind the Polar Meat Locker, standing next to a truckload of hogs. My insides felt queasy when I realized it was Saturday, the day farmers hauled their livestock to the locker to have them slaughtered and butchered. I turned my head when I walked by the back entrance, but not before I saw a fat pink pig swinging from a rope.

  “How come you wanted to meet back here?” I asked Ernestine, trying to ignore the pig’s squeals.

  “Because I didn’t want you know who to see me.” Ernestine reached in her pocket and pulled out some gum, handing me and Tommy a piece. She nodded her head toward the hog truck. “Miss Prissy would never come back here looking for me.” She pinched her nose and crinkled her eyes, imitating Ada Jane. “Ooh…piggies! They’re so…ooh…icky!”

  Tommy and I cracked up, and all of a sudden it seemed like old times again. W
e walked our bikes down the alley where Ernestine could tell us her news.

  “Guess what?” she said. Her eyes sparkled with excitement. “I was right. Ada Jane’s the one who took the money. I found it.”

  “Holy cow! You mean you really found the church money?” Tommy said.

  Ernestine grinned. “Yep.”

  “Was it in her closet?” I asked.

  “Yep.”

  “How’d you know she took it?” Tommy said.

  “I suspected her all along,” Ernestine said. “Especially when she kept on buying things and hiding them so her mom wouldn’t see. She acted like her grandma Mirabelle had given her money, but I knew she was making it up.”

  “How’d you find it?” Tommy said.

  “I snooped in her closet while she was in the bathroom. I saw an envelope sticking out of a shoe. It looked just like the one her grandpa gave her to put in the church office, like the one you guys had.” Ernestine looked over her shoulder, then leaned closer to Tommy and me, her hands cupped around her mouth. “There was gobs of money in it.”

  “You didn’t tell anyone yet, did you?” I said, my mouth starting to feel dry.

  Ernestine’s face fell. “No. Because now it’s gone again.”

  “What do you mean, it’s gone again?” Tommy said. “Why didn’t you take the money out of the closet? You could’ve proved we didn’t swipe it.”

  “I wanted to but then Ada Jane came back in her room looking for me. The next time I had a chance to get it, it was gone.”

  “Aw, man,” Tommy said. “We’ll never be able to prove anything now.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I said, trying to make Ernestine feel better. “We couldn’t have told on her yet anyway. We have to wait until after we see our dads on Sunday.” My heart pounded just saying those words.

  Ernestine’s eyes grew three times their size. “You’re seeing your dads on Sunday? You mean you’re going back out to crazy Old Man Hinshaw’s again. For real?” She pulled her gum into a long strand and wrapped it around her pinkie finger, staring at us the whole time. “How come you want to do that?”

  “I ain’t the one who said I wanted to go,” Tommy said. He looked at the ground, making grooves in the gravel with his bare toes.

  I knew Tommy didn’t want to go out to the cabin again. He’d made that clear. But I did, more than anything. I had lots of reasons to find Daddy. I’d been thinking about it ever since I’d first heard about the robbery. For one thing, I wanted him to tell me why he’d done it: was it really like I’d heard, that Uncle Warren had to pay money back to gangsters? I wanted to know where Daddy was going, too, or if I’d ever see him again. I wanted him to come back to Myron and turn himself in, then tell Bud Castor the truth about the money I’d found. I wanted to hear him say to everyone, “My girl didn’t steal this money. I did.”

  I tried to explain all this to Ernestine and Tommy. Nothing came out right, though. I sputtered and stumbled over my words, making everything sound all jumbled up. I could tell they didn’t understand what I was talking about. I felt like shouting, “How come you don’t get it?”

  I slid down the side of the building, feeling more helpless than the poor, squealing pig. “I have to find him. I just have to.” I buried my face in my hands.

  Ernestine sat beside me. “Don’t cry, Billie.”

  “I ain’t crying,” I said, swallowing my sniffles.

  “Hey,” she said, taking my hand, “I’ll go with you. I’ll help you find your dad.”

  “You will? Really?”

  “Cross my heart.”

  Tommy slid down next to us. “Aw, heck. I’ll go, too. I ain’t scared of Old Man Hinshaw.”

  We planned it all out then. Once we got over the bridge, Ernestine would hide by the wooded lane and be our lookout. That way she could come running to warn us if she saw Old Man Hinshaw or anyone else prowling around. Tommy and I would go on to the cabin to find our dads. I’d do all of the talking because Tommy said he didn’t want to. I agreed to that and thought we had it all settled, except right when we went to shake on it, Tommy chickened out about going with me inside the cabin.

  “Maybe I should stay outside,” he said. “We’ll probably need two lookouts, just in case Old Man Hinshaw comes at us from another direction.”

  I didn’t argue with him this time; I was just happy they both were going with me. We decided to head out the first thing after church on Sunday. That was only two days away.

  There wasn’t a doubt in my mind I’d find Daddy. I should’ve felt excited, especially since he could finally tell Bud Castor the truth. But a chill swept over me when I hopped on my bike. Would Daddy really do what I wanted him to?

  Chapter 25

  I woke up Sunday morning to the snip, snip, snip of scissors. A pile of freshly cut doll’s hair sat next to my pillow.

  “Lookee here.” Carla’s voice bubbled with excitement as she shoved the Kimmy doll in my face. “I’m giving her a pixie cut. Ain’t it cute?”

  I had to hold back my laughter. She’d chopped the doll’s hair into a bunch of uneven layers, until all it had left for bangs were some short stubs that stuck straight up.

  “You know her hair won’t grow back, don’t you?”

  “Of course I know that. I ain’t stupid.” Carla tilted her head and scrunched her eyes, concentrating on the doll like she was getting ready to pull its tonsils out. She took a quick snip over its ear, leaving a big bald spot. “It don’t matter if it’s short anyways, ’cause I have a special hat she’s going to wear to church this morning.”

  Church. I rolled my eyes with dread, remembering the price I had to pay for getting out of the Civil War weekend with Daddy Joe. It meant lighting candles with Miss Prissy, then one whole hour of sitting between her and Whitey in the front church pew. I couldn’t have dreaded anything worse, not even ten pages of arithmetic problems.

  Mama was frying bacon in the kitchen. I put on the baby blue dress she’d bought me in April and my only white shoes that weren’t scuffed up, then found my white gloves. Mirabelle made all of her acolytes wear gloves during the church service; she said it showed reverence to the Lord. I’d tried to tell her that wearing gloves made it too hard to turn the hymnal pages, but she’d snapped at me to hush, that some things just had to be endured.

  “My goodness,” Mama said when she saw me. She laid a piece of sizzling bacon on her platter, then took a step back and looked me over. “You look beautiful, honey, just like an angel. Doesn’t she, Joe?”

  Daddy Joe pulled his attention away from a newsmagazine and looked up at me. The way they both stared—all wide-eyed and admiring—you would’ve thought I’d just won first place at the National Spelling Bee.

  I squirmed in my tight shoes, wishing Mama hadn’t compared me to an angel; it made me itch with guilt to think how I was tricking her. The day before, I’d begged her and Aunt Charlene to let Tommy and me play dodgeball with some Sunday school kids after church, and they’d said okay. Except there wasn’t going to be any dodgeball game; I’d made it all up.

  I felt bad about the lie—real bad—but I wasn’t about to change my plans now. Nothing could stop me from finding Daddy.

  Carla called from the bedroom, wanting me to tie a hat over her Kimmy doll’s bald head.

  “That was mighty nice of you to buy your sister that doll with your birthday money,” Daddy Joe said.

  “It’s okay,” I muttered. “I didn’t mind.”

  When Carla and I left for Sunday school, Mama called out the door that she might be there for church services, so she could watch me light candles. I figured the only reason she’d show up was to make sure I didn’t set fire to Ada Jane. Mama hadn’t ever been much for going to church, and I’d yet to see Daddy Joe set a foot inside one. It didn’t seem fair they stayed home every week while I got stuck in Whitey Hudson’s boring Sunday school classroom.

  Carla made a big fuss of pulling the Kimmy doll in her wagon, the last thing in the world I wanted her to
do. Mama hadn’t made me go to church since Daddy robbed the bank, and I knew people were going to stare at me. That clunky doll was only going to attract more attention.

  “You sure you want to take her?” I glanced back at the Kimmy doll as we rattled across the street. Its hat had fallen off already, and to tell the truth, the new hairdo looked like something Mama had run through her meat grinder. “What if everybody wants to hold her? Then you’ll have to share.”

  I thought that would do the trick, but Carla just shook her head. “Nuh-uh. I ain’t going to let no one pick her up but you.”

  We found Tommy behind his trailer playing with Tiger. “I’m teaching her to use the bathroom out here. Mom says I can’t keep her if she doesn’t quit doing her business inside.” He took hold of the kitten’s paws and scratched a little hole in some loose dirt, then cooed to her like he was talking to a baby.

  “Be a good girl, Tiger. Wittle kitty go tinkle.”

  We waited for a while, but Tiger didn’t seem interested in anything except chasing twigs around the grass. Carla scooped the kitten up in her arms, begging to play with it.

  “You’re still oing-gay you know where with me and Ernestine, aren’t you?” I said, checking to make sure Carla hadn’t caught on to my pig Latin. She’d already jumped on Tommy’s tire swing and was spinning Tiger in circles.

  From the look on Tommy’s face, I could tell he’d rather spend the day with Mirabelle than go anywhere near that cabin. “We ook-shay on it, didn’t we?” he grumbled, then turned his attention to Carla and the kitten.

  I made a face at his back. He acted like he cared more about Tiger than he did our dads, or even me, for that matter. I paced around the yard, wondering why things had changed so much between us in the last couple of weeks. I remembered the day we’d first found out about the robbery, how he’d acted so full of himself, like our dads were movie stars. Now it seemed like he couldn’t care less about them.