Annie's Neighborhood

“Brother! Talk about arrogance.” Annie settled both fists on her hips.

“What would you have done if I’d been a thug? A thug with backup. I’m talking about gangs, lady. You were a sitting duck!”

Annie pointed a thumb at herself. “For your information, I’ve spent eight years doing social work on some pretty mean streets in L.A. Not to brag, but I hold a one-stripe red belt in tae kwon do. I figure I can take care of myself.”

“Big deal,” Sky snapped, snatching self-righteousness from the air that sizzled between them. “Martial arts moves aren’t an effective defense against a group of hoodlums packing heat.”

“You’re right,” Annie said. Backing down at once, she bent to retrieve her fallen sander. “I’m sure you didn’t intend to scare me half to death, and I’m just as sure you didn’t drop by to get involved in a shouting match. To what do I owe this visit, Chief?”

Needing to buy time for his reeling nerves to settle, Sky bent and scooped up his sunglasses out of a patch of weeds, where they’d flown during his somersault. Her sudden graceful capitulation surprised him—and provoked him at the same time. He studied her obliquely through the dark lenses, and found himself liking the fact that she was a woman of contradictions as well as the fact that she could admit to being wrong. That reaction immediately flip-flopped and her apologetic demeanor suddenly annoyed him. Because seeing her contrite left him wanting to untuck all that gorgeous black hair under the Dodgers baseball cap.

“I came by to see your neighbors,” he said gruffly. “This morning I managed to run down their stolen televisions. The other items they lost I doubt we’ll ever recover. It’s fortunate that George and Mike had paperwork on their TVs, which gave me serial numbers. Other run-of-the-mill household articles rarely provide cops with a workable trail.”

Annie nodded. “I’m so glad you got their TVs back. Neither family can afford to replace them. George is on disability, and Mike works on commission. He and Missy are still paying off their wedding. I asked if either family has theft insurance. Both carry basic fire coverage, and that’s all.”

“What about you?” Sky asked abruptly. “To my knowledge you never gave us any information on what you lost.”

“Gran’s TV was old. She was a lifelong reader, so she didn’t have any other electronics. The intruders did dump everything on her bookshelves. Gran also pieced and sewed quilts her church group passed on to a family crisis center. She was passionate about making a new kid-sized quilt for every child who ended up with their mom in an abuse shelter. But from what I could tell, her sewing supplies are intact. One thing that might be missing is her good silver. Truthfully I can’t say. I hadn’t seen it since I got here. But knowing Gran, she might have given it away. Although it meant a lot to her since it belonged to her mother.”

“Huh, you may be in luck,” Sky said, moved by the way her whole demeanor softened when she spoke of her grandmother. “The same guy who pawned the TVs left a chest of silverware. I have it in the car. I picked it up on the off chance it belonged to one of you three. If you can identify the set, the pawnbroker is out a bundle of cash.” He shook his head. “Who would’ve thought old silverware would be worth so much?”

“Wow, getting it back when I wasn’t even sure it had been stolen would be lucky.” Annie set her sander on the porch and prepared to follow him. “Solid sterling is costly in today’s market. Gran had a full service for twelve people. The pattern is La Perle. Some pieces are stamped with the maker’s name. If I recall, it’s Reed and Barton. Gran Ida didn’t own a lot of nice things. But in keeping with her Southern heritage, she always set a formal table for holidays.”

“Hmm. My mom’s not Southern. She’s a born and bred New Yorker, and she whipped us into shape for big family gatherings, too. I hope the silver is yours. If not, I’ll have to drive back to the pawn shop across the border.”

“Is that what the gang does? Shuffle what they pilfer out of state?” Annie matched his longer stride, seeming interested in hearing his answers.

“Unfortunately, they run an efficient underground,” Sky said as they reached his cruiser. He faced her home as he popped open the trunk of his car. “So I guess you’re doing a facelift, hoping to sell the house for a higher price,” he said, jerking a thumb toward the Victorian. “Not that you asked for my advice. However, it’s free. Renovating isn’t worth your time and money. Our housing market stinks. It wasn’t great when I moved here a little over a year ago. I shouldn’t have bought, and wish I’d rented instead. Only I needed to prove to... Oh, never mind,” he muttered, drawing her attention to the contents in the trunk.

Annie’s brain skipped from his question to his comment about the house and on to his abruptly cut-off revelation that might have revealed something personal. “Oh, that is Gran’s silver,” she exclaimed, letting his comment go. “I recognize the chest. But maybe we should check inside to be sure.”

Sky raised the lid and the broker’s guarantee lay on top of the first tray. It verified that the contents were sterling, the maker Reed and Barton and the pattern La Perle. “You nailed it,” Sky said, handing the guarantee to Annie. “Pawn shop owners have to know a lot about all kinds of merchandise, or they’d lose their shirts lending money to people they hope will come back to reclaim their goods, but rarely do.”

“I hadn’t thought about that. Isn’t it against the law to deal in stolen property?”

“If they have reason to suspect it’s stolen. Certain pawnbrokers have a backroom fencing operation, so to speak. This guy volunteered information about the silver, which I didn’t have on my list, so I figure he’s on the up-and-up.”

“Oh, then I’m sorry he got taken.” Annie lifted the chest out of the deep trunk of the aging Ford Crown Vic.

“Here, let me get that for you,” Sky said. “I’ll carry it to the house.”

“That’s okay. It isn’t that heavy and you have two TVs to deliver. George Gilroy has a bad back, and Mike Spurlock’s at work. I’m not sure if Missy is pregnant. Something she said the other evening made me think she might be. She broke down after the vandalism debacle and cried about the thought of raising children in this neighborhood.”

“Huh,” Sky snorted. “I’m an authority when it comes to that concern. My ex-wife’s attorney drives it home every time they haul me into court hoping to derail my bid for joint custody.”

“You have children?” Annie asked as he hefted the larger of the two TVs and slammed the trunk lid shut with more force than necessary.

“One,” Sky answered. “Zachary’s five.”

Annie saw his jaw tense. She recognized his not-quite-checked anger. She’d seen similar reactions on numerous occasions during her work with broken families. She didn’t know this cop well enough to sympathize, however. Besides, she was trained to remain neutral. “Just before you showed up, I was thinking of taking a break to have a glass of cold lemonade,” she said lightly. “If you can spare a few minutes to join me on the porch after you deliver those TVs, there’s something I’d like to run by you—in your official capacity.”

For a split second Skylar felt uneasy. But then, after glancing at his watch, he gave a brief nod.

Annie left to climb her porch steps. At the door she turned and called out, “Hey, thanks for getting back as much stuff as you did. I doubted you’d make the effort. My apologies for misjudging you, Cordova.”

Sky nodded again, this time looking away. He hoped her apology was sincere. But if he went by past experience, it was entirely possible that she was trying to butter him up for some other reason. Not exactly an unfamiliar experience for him, since manipulation was a habit of his ex-wife’s, he thought irritably as he rapped on the Gilroys’ front door.

It took Sky twenty minutes or more to return the TVs and break away from the Gilroys’ and Missy Spurlock’s vociferous thanks. Almost wishing he’d turned down Annie Emerson’s invitation for a cold drink, he checked in with Koot, hoping for a minor crisis that would give him an excuse to leave. As bad luck would have it, the lieutenant said all was quiet in the precinct.

Returning his cell phone to its holder on a leather work belt weighed down with a nightstick, a stun gun, handcuffs and a Glock, Sky trudged up Annie’s steps. He saw several changes on the porch since his last visit. An old glider swing sported new cushions, as did four wicker chairs clustered around a glass-topped table. A pitcher filled with frosty lemonade sat there, along with two glasses. A shiny silver laptop rested on a sheet of paper Sky recognized as a plat map of Briar Run.

“How did the hoodlums miss stealing your laptop?” he asked, gesturing at it as Annie passed him a glass of lemonade.

“I had it in my rental car. I shouldn’t admit this to an officer of the law, but I caught up on work email at stoplights between here and the funeral home.” She gave him a wry smile.

Sky couldn’t help laughing as he took a seat. She was a contradiction—a warm, everyday homebody mixed with a sometimes tough, cool professional. It unsettled him that he might not be so anxious to see her leave town. “I guess you’re trying to calculate the worth of this house,” he said after a long swallow. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and pointed to the map. “Since you probably want to get back to L.A. quickly, my recommendation, as I said earlier, is to sell all the contents in one giant estate sale, and put the empty house in the hands of a reputable Realtor.”

“I, uh, phoned my supervisor in L.A. and tendered my resignation. I sublet my condo to a coworker who’s going to ship my clothing and personal items like photo albums, CDs, books...and a special quilt Gran made... Oh, you don’t care about that.”

Sky straightened. “Pardon me for calling you a bit foolish, but the job market here is one of the most depressed in the nation. Plus, I would’ve thought a break-in might have convinced you about the sorry state of this town’s general safety.”

Annie tapped the map with a forefinger. “Don’t you think it can be safe again? Do you know Briar Run was built before urban planning became a viable field? But it’s laid out beautifully in a series of spokes around the town center. It was probably designed as a bedroom community for Louisville to accommodate the growth that was expected because of the Kentucky Derby.”

“A bad calculation, since it was based on a once-a-year horse race,” Sky muttered. “Thoroughbred horse owners, the folks with money, live on high-value real estate situated well outside the city. Not only is horse racing a sport that relies on transient labor, anyplace with big-dollar betting attracts criminals.”

“You are cynical,” Annie said. “I wish you’d seen this neighborhood the way I remember it, the way it was when I was growing up here. People took pride in their homes and yards, and they derived joy from socializing with neighbors.” She moved the pitcher of lemonade and traced an area on the map. “There used to be manufacturing along our section of the Ohio River. Gran Ida worked for most of her life at one of the major lingerie-makers in the South. The owners sold the plant to a glove factory, which retooled and produced cotton and leather work gloves for export.”

“And now they’re gone,” Sky said quietly.

“I know, but the building isn’t. And a good-sized city park is a buffer between it and a residential area. South of the park are elementary, middle and high schools. When I was a kid, we all walked to school with friends. Briar Run was a great family town.”

“Manufacturing here is defunct.” Sky shrugged. “The park you remember so fondly has become a haven for drug pushers prowling for kids whose parents can’t afford to drive them to school. I recommend you take another look at it—but in daylight. My force is too small to patrol everywhere 24/7. I figured your neighbors might’ve told you that lots of good people who used to live here have moved away. Take my lieutenant. You met Koot Talmage earlier. Koot and his wife, Sadie, moved to a safer town when their third kid was still in elementary. Sadie used to teach at the local high school. Now there’s a forty percent dropout rate between middle grade and high school. Half the kids who do go on never graduate.”

“Well, shame on them. And shame on all of you. People in positions of authority who shirk responsibility for whatever reason feed problems like the ones that exist here. If no one fights back, soon it won’t be safe to live anywhere.”

“Oh, right,” he said, springing up. “I guess you’ve swept in from California and diagnosed all our problems.”

“I don’t know what you have against California or Californians, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see that one major problem here is apathy. On the part of residents, business owners and public servants like you and your lieutenant. You’re like rats jumping off a sinking ship—you’ve written off this town. So has your city manager, who gave me the same song and dance the other day when I stopped in to ask if it was okay to hold a public meeting.”

Sky set his now-empty glass down on the section of map that outlined the park. “Those of us who work in the trenches aren’t apathetic, we’re realistic. That’s what we are.”

“You’re insinuating I’m not?”

“Look, all I know is that I’m doing my best to keep ahead of crime with a force that’s been slashed twice this past year.”

Annie got up, too, moved his glass and folded the map. “Fair enough. I understand that much of the bad stuff happening here is directed by criminals living outside Briar Run.”

“At least we agree on that.”