As I walked down the hall, a vacuum cleaner roared into life. I jumped, but moved boldly forward. A furtive glance showed me a cleaning crew in action. Elsbetta stood with her back to me, barking orders in Polish. Excellent.
At the end of the hall, I came to Catherine’s room. The door was shut. I gave a perfunctory knock and went in. The bedroom was empty, but an open door on the near wall led to a bathroom. When I peered around the door, I saw Catherine in front of a dressing table trying to button a man’s shirt with one hand. Her dark hair fell unbraided down her back. She didn’t look around at my entrance, but kept stubbornly trying to manage the buttons.
“It’s easier if you don’t watch in the mirror,” I said.
She turned, startled. “Oh! It’s you. I thought it was Elsbetta. Why are you here? Is Benji okay?”
I pulled up a chair to face her. “I saw him yesterday. He seemed fine, he asked after you, but there are a couple of problems.”
Her eyes grew dark with dismay. “Like what?”
“Like the Chicago cops showed up late yesterday to look for him. Apparently, because I’d been there. So we need-“
“I thought you were a detective.” Her voice was scornful. “Don’t you know to watch for tails?”
“Check for tails! Now, you tell me. Gosh.” I slapped my forehead. “Listen, you little mutt, I drove in circles at six in the morning. The streets were empty. No one was behind me. One of two things happened: they put a tracer on my car so they can watch me on a screen instead of wasting gas. Or they have been tracking down every person I know and checking up on them. Father Lou had time to get Benji into a safe place inside the church, but the kid can’t stay there much longer. For obvious reasons, I can’t take him to any of my friends. I was hoping you could talk to your grandmother and get her to agree to let him stay at your New Solway house. She’s basically on the side-“
“No! She thinks I’m in love with Benji, or in love with Benji’s adventure. She wants him out of-the country. The only thing she and Daddy agree on is that Benji needs to go back to Egypt. If I tell her I know where he is, she’ll call the justice Department. But they won’t deport him, they’ll lock him up. You said I didn’t read any news, but I’ve been reading on this and reading on this and reading on this. It happens all the time, people are caught with their visas expired, and they can’t even go home. They get put in detention some place and held for months. I promised Benji, I won’t let him down.” She started to cry.
I patted her good hand. “It’s okay, babe: we’ll think of something else. You’re recovering from a bullet wound. Try to calm down: you need to save your strength for healing. I’m on your side in this, really, truly. If I wasn’t, I would have talked to your granny without consulting you, you know.”
She blew her nose. “I can’t even braid my own hair. I can’t play lacrosse or ride for months until this stupid arm heals. Everything takes forever, or I have to get people to do stuff for me. I hate it.”
“Speaking as one who’s been through the wars, I agree: it’s a pain. Want me to finish buttoning you? Just this once?”
She nodded, her eyes still tearing a bit. Judging by the size and the cut, the shirt must have been filched from her father’s closet. It covered her tasted right arm with room to spare.
“Your dad off getting your lesson plans?”
“Yeah. He’s meeting with Ms. Milford to see what I can do online. It’s only a few days, I keep telling him not to be so anal.”
“And he says, `Young lady, where did you pick up that kind of language?”’ I suggested.
She gave a shaky laugh. “Something like that. And that it’s a competitive world and I need to learn that losers are not strivers. Then he adds he’s going to take me to Washington, to a school with my natural peers where I’ll learn how to behave with proper respect. Like, learning how to totally trash the environment or something while I’m pretending to protect it, that’s his idea of respect. Where can Benji go i? he has to leave St. Remigio’s?”
“I’ve only had one not very bright idea. I could put him up in a motel for a few days, while I try to find an immigration lawyer who can help him. It’s not the best idea-I hate for him to have keep skulking around, not to mention for him to have to be by himself. It’s not good for his spirits, and, anyway, as he himself says, there’s no point in his staying here if he can’t work. And he ought to be with kids his age-your age-and feel able to relax.”
“But he can’t do that as long as those racists are looking for him.” She