Yet a Stranger (The First Quarto #2) - Gregory Ashe Page 0,31
steps and held it out.
“From Mighty Street,” Auggie said. “I know you like their food, and I figured you hadn’t eaten.”
Theo’s stomach gave an ominous rumble.
“And I wanted to apologize of course,” Auggie said.
“Of course.”
“So I’m apologizing. I apologize. I’m really, really sorry about what happened last night. You’re the bravest, smartest, strongest professor in the whole wide world, and you kick ass like Chuck Norris.”
“Try a soft open,” Theo said, snatching the bag from Orlando. “You do the same thing in your papers: you start off too strong.”
Carrying the sandwich, he headed to the kitchen.
“I got a 98.5% in your class,” Auggie shouted after him.
“98.5%. Not 100%,” Theo said without looking back.
“He’s just grumpy because he hasn’t eaten,” Auggie said. “Those meatballs are going to soften him right up.”
Theo had left the door open—by this point, he wasn’t sure anything less than an airtight concrete vault could keep Auggie out—and sure enough, Auggie and Orlando appeared in the kitchen while Theo was unwrapping the sandwich. The meatballs were still steaming, and the bread was soft, with a good crust—in other words, a perfect meatball sandwich. Theo opened a White Rascal, took a bite of sandwich, gulped beer, and sighed.
“Orlando’s fine with water,” Auggie said, reaching for the fridge door, “but a beer sounds pretty good to me.”
“I will stab the peanut-butter knife through your hand,” Theo informed him.
“You know what? Water sounds good too.”
The kids sat at the table with their water while Theo ate. Between sips of beer, he tried to figure out how bad it was going to be. Pretty bad, he guessed. Auggie normally would have stayed away for a while and then come back when he knew Theo had cooled off—or when an emergency made it impossible to avoid him any longer. The thought made the meatballs sink to the bottom of Theo’s stomach. Maybe that’s what this was. Another emergency driving Auggie to his door.
“Spit it out,” Theo said as he balled up the butcher paper.
Auggie winced and looked at Orlando.
“Um,” Orlando said, looking first at Auggie and then at Theo. “So, my parents.”
Auggie nodded encouragingly.
“They want to hire you.”
“No,” Theo said.
“You haven’t even heard him out,” Auggie said.
“Fine. What do they want to hire me to do?”
“Us,” Auggie said. “They want to hire us.”
“The police are saying Cal’s death is drug related. There’s no way.”
“Orlando,” Theo said, trying to gentle his voice, “we saw the drugs. You and Auggie found them in his apartment. You knew he was using when you asked Auggie to help you find him.”
“I know,” Orlando said. He shot out of his seat and began pacing the kitchen. “I know, ok? I know. But there’s no way someone killed him because of drugs. No way.”
“A lot of deals happen at that rest stop. That’s why we went to Maniacs. I asked around, and people I know, people who didn’t have any reason to lie to me, they told me Cal used to go there sometimes to buy.”
“Why? There are plenty of people who sell drugs in Wahredua. Why would Cal drive all the way out to that rest stop?”
“Better prices,” Theo said. “Or a personal connection.”
“Someone he trusted,” Auggie said. “Or the opposite, someone he thought he could take advantage of.”
Orlando shot a hurt look at Auggie.
“I’m just saying he could have had a reason,” Auggie said.
“And this is a police investigation now,” Theo said. “They’ll figure out what happened.”
“Like last year?” Orlando said.
“I think—”
“I don’t care what you think.” Orlando paused, as though shocked by his own words, but then he said, “All my family cares about is . . . is making this look better. I want you to find the truth. If it was drugs, fine. If that’s the truth, then fine. But the police are going to sweep this under the rug. They don’t care what happened because they think they already know. They think Cal was just some stupid user who got himself killed because he tried to steal from his dealer or because he couldn’t pay up. My parents will pay you a lot more than two thousand dollars to come up with something better. I want the truth; you get paid. Everybody wins.”
“What you’re talking about, sweeping Cal’s death under the rug, that’s not how the police work.”
“Don’t do that!” Orlando’s voice broke. “Don’t pretend that last year didn’t happen!”
Theo scratched his beard and looked at Auggie.
“Orlando, will you give us a minute?” Auggie said.