Chapter Six
February 13th. 2009© 2005 Kimberly J. Fish
An Emerald Marks the Spot
Chapter Six
Kali huddled behind an overgrown oleander bush and regretted ever agreeing to Brad’s insane idea. That her empty stomach growled only added to the frustration. She never thought well when she was hungry. Well, truthfully, she never thought well when she was forced to make snap decisions and drop a perfectly good schedule. But, as she tried to remind herself, this wasn’t about her. It was about Brad’s mother. A woman who categorically hated her and probably never wanted to hear her name mentioned again.
The only thing making her sympathetic to Mrs. Williams was the fact that she was dying and that they’d both been stamped with ‘unlikely to succeed’ labels when they got close to Williams men. In Kali’s case, the stamp proved true.
Glancing up at the second story of pale blue siding lining John and Annalise’s Alamo Heights home, she looked for a familiar shadow. “I think you should come down. We’re bound to get caught. The neighbors have a Rottwieler. I hear him breathing.”
Brad Williams held onto the downspout as he climbed over the roof tiles. “Give me five minutes. If I can’t get the window open we’ll do this the legitimate way.”
“Tell me again why we couldn’t just wait for Olivia to return from her art class?”
“Kali, you are naïve when it comes to high stake poker matches. And you can’t lie worth anything. Your cousin would know we were up to something after taking one look at you.”
“Well, she’s not going to think too fondly of me if we’re found sneaking around the attic either.” Kali twisted her leather watch band and prayed for an exit from potential disaster.
“We’ve got an hour. We can take a look around if you don’t find the box then dear cousin O never has to know about our engagement. And from what Lacy said, that secret is worth the price of admission.”
Kali paced beside the carport. “Well a fat lot Lacy knows about navigating complex family dynamics. I’m the only one Marguerite and Olivia will even speak to after Christmas of ’98.”
Brad pushed against a small window. “I don’t want to know.”
Despite his claims to the contrary, he’d probably laugh at the stories from the year Lacy chose to give gifts that started with their initials. The mop wasn’t bad because it was one of those new self-squeezing models, but apparently olive oil, even if it is a rare Spanish variety, is underappreciated. “Are you inside the attic yet?” Kali stood on her toes to see the slanted rooftop.
“I’m in,” Brad flipped on his flashlight. “Now the question is can you get up here and find that box?”
She saw an amber glow swish through the window’s darkness. Even though she’d protested ignorance as a means to keep from climbing the vine, Kali had scaled the carport, roof and downspouts a few times in her curious teenage years. If she squished her conscience into a back pocket, she might be able to sneak in behind him and find the ring. The up side was that would mean Brad was out of her life by midnight. That had to be worth a few moral demerits, right? “I bet I can manage. Just be on the lookout for a big box .”
Climbing in through the opened window, Kali surveyed the dusty boxes, faded flower arrangements, and Annalise’s collection of Beatles nostalgia. The life-sized poster board of Ringo Starr always freaked her. Shimmying past the man and his drumsticks, she stood next to Brad as he shifted boxes from stack to stack.
“Do you have any idea what part of the attic you put your college keepsakes? All I see is something labeled baby clothes.”
Kali tried to think, but she was distracted by familiar tire squeals earmarking Olivia’s haphazard driving style. “She’s back,” Kali gasped, “It’s too early. She’ll find us. What are we going to do?’
Brad shut off the flashlight. “I’d say pray, but I don’t imagine God’s too interested in helping us break the law. So, let’s go with. . run?”
“Wait!” Kali grabbed Brad’s shirt hem. “That’s it, that’s the box.”
“Are you sure?”
“No, but it could be the one.” Kali yanked the lid open. “This one looks familiar.”
”Okay,” Brad grabbed the small box marked with a grocery store label from her hands. Shoving it onto his shoulder, he nodded to the window. “You go down first and try to keep Olivia distracted.”
“What if she sees your truck out front? She’s been claiming her ex-husband is stalking her so she might call the police.”
“Please tell me you’re joking.”
“If only.” Kali climbed out the narrow window and placed her Converses squarely on a patchy roof tile. She saw yellow headlights coming down the lane. “Stay here. She’s going to be in the driveway before I can get down.”
“Not if you hurry.”
Kali glanced over her shoulder. She couldn’t tell if Brad would push her over the edge, so squatting on her bottom she scooted to the drain pipe and jumped onto the carport roof. As Olivia’s car turned into the drive, Kali leaped into the boxwoods lining the back yard. She caught the box as it sailed off the carport roof. Stashing it in the bushes beside her sneakers, Kali ducked down to stay hidden from Olivia’s approach.
The car door slammed shut as Kali motioned to Brad to lie down on the angled roof. Holding her breath, she listened as Olivia’s size eleven heels clicked across the brick patio connecting Annalise’s carport to the back entrance of the house. With the security lamp highlighting Olivia’s lime green pantsuit, it wasn’t difficult to see Olivia reach into her bulging tote bag and withdraw a small handgun.
Kali sucked in her breath.
“Roger, if you’re in my house I swear I’ll kill you!” Olivia pushed against the back door and when it didn’t budge, she jammed her key into the lock. “I’m warning you, one false step and I shoot.”
Kali’s nerves drew into tight rubber bands. A strange scratching sound disturbed the excruciating tension. Kali couldn’t tell if Brad was slipping from his perch or Olivia’s tabby cat launched an offensive on the screen door closing behind Olivia.
Kali heard a man’s oath and the slow screech of boot heels tearing broken roof squares in a peeling shower of tar and dirt. Looking up, she saw Brad’s legs slide over the slanted car port, then his white polo shirt before he landed mere inches from her hiding place in the boxwoods.
Brad wiped his hands across his face. “Sorry,” he whispered, “I couldn’t hold on any longer.”
Kali nodded as she brushed leaves from Brad’s shoulder. When the screen door flew open, her hands froze.
“Roger Kenneth Hale! If you so much as move, you’re a dead man.”
To be continued. . .