by Audrey Haynes

 

            Laney first saw him the Sunday after her tenth birthday. He had been walking along the sidewalk across from Stoneface Park. She could see his greasy black pants, and shadowed face in the infinity shape of the binoculars her grandfather had given her. He walked by slowly, sauntering. Although Laney was sure he couldn’t see her perched high in one of the oak trees littering the park, she held her breath as he passed, his stubbled chin tilting up to glance at the trees. He soon disappeared down Alameda Path, never looking back. He was a shady-type character, Laney could tell.

            Laney relaxed slightly in the oak tree she had climbed earlier that day after finishing her Cinnamon Toast Crunch and telling her mother she had studied for her Arithmetic quiz. Musing on where to head for the day, she had wandered out of her house, finally deciding on Stoneface Park since her favorite oak tree was there. The tree grew in between two boulders, towering over the first but barely beating the other, the last sprigs of prickled leaves and acorns reaching just higher to the sun. From the first boulder Laney could hop on to the lower branches, and then shimmy up the rest to reach a perch high off the ground, where she could observe everyone below but people didn’t notice her. She could perform her detective work properly from there.

Huddled in the meeting of two branches Laney reviewed her day’s work. Earlier, she had observed the middle-aged man who lived in the gray shingled house taking his white miniature poodle for a walk through the park. Laney called the man Mr. Gardenia since his wife grew gardenias in their backyard and Laney clearly had to use codenames in order to protect the identities of her suspects and witnesses. Ms. Gardenia’s husband usually walked the dog but Laney deduced from Mr. Gardenia’s somewhat ruffled expression and the shouting in the house earlier that day that there had been a fight and Ms. Gardenia was in no mood to walk the poodle.     

            Laney had also seen two teenage girls sunbathing on the grass for hours, giggling and melting in their own beauty. But that wasn’t interesting; the girls simply gossiped and there was nothing to solve, although Laney had noticed through her binoculars that they both wore the same label of pants. They most likely went shopping together.

            Mr. Feet had run through the park at 2:30, as usual. Ms. Daisy had strolled by with a man Laney didn’t recognize. Probably a new boyfriend, Ms. Daisy had a lot of those. Laney recognized most of the people that came to the park by now. She had been watching then for almost a year now and knew details about their lives they probably didn’t even know. She kept it all in her little red notebook, her neat penmanship recording the details of all encounters within her neighborhood. Under the heading April 8, Laney penned in her latest entry: 4:30- Mr. Grease crossed Stoneface park from Northwest corner to Southwest corner.

            Just as she finished writing, a small movement caught her eye. A figure was moving through the small woods behind her. Scrambling as quietly and quickly as she could for her binoculars, Laney pulled them up to her eyes. It was Mr. Grease coming up the path. He strode purposefully, slowly towards her, his face impassive, sunglasses blocking his eyes. Laney followed his shape with her binoculars through the park and up San Fernando, where Mr. and Ms. Gardenia lived.

            Excited, Laney deftly pulled out her notebook and added to her first entry. Mr. Grease recrossed at 4:34 from Southeast corner to Northwest corner. So far, two exciting things had happened that day: the argument between the Gardenia’s and the unexplained appearance of Mr. Grease. Satisfied and curious, Laney tucked her notebook and binoculars into her torn-up backpack. Laney checked the park for people, looking around furtively, as if she herself were the perpetrator instead of the detective. She nimbly lowered herself down the branches and back to the cool earth and walked the few blocks home, thinking about Mr. Grease and Ms. Gardenia. What could the Gardenias have been fighting about? And where did Mr. Grease come from?

 

۝

 

            The tulips were just starting to bloom, spilling over the edge of the path Laney trod along. Spring flowers covered the drab soil with mounds of perfumed petals and fresh leaves, contrasting with Laney’s beat-up converse as she hurried down San Antonio Street. It was a crisp Saturday morning and Laney was preoccupied with her investigations. She wanted to check back in on the Longnoses. Their son had left for college across the country and Ms. Longnose had been lonely with her son gone and her husband at work. She often whittled away her time by wandering through the paths of their neighborhood. Lately, however, Laney hadn’t run into Ms. Longnose as much.

            Laney rounded the corner and came upon the Longnose house, a terra-cotta structure with ivy crawling up the sides. Laney slithered through the gate and padded across the stepping stones in their garden. As she hopped from stone to stone, she heard voices from inside the house. Laney paused, knowing that Mr. Longnose usually worked at the restaurant on Saturdays. Who could Ms. Longnose be talking to? Laney crept up to the windowsill and peered into the Longnoses' living room. Ms. Longnose was facing Laney, talking to a dark-haired man with his back to the window. The furniture and glass obscured their voices and figures. The man moved towards Ms. Longnose, placing his hands on her waist. Laney stared wide-eyed as Ms. Longnose slung her arms around the man’s neck and kissed him. Too embarrassed to watch anymore, Laney ducked below the window sill. She sat there, motionless, her mind racing. Was Ms. Longnose cheating on Mr. Longnose? And with whom?

            Laney decided to get out of there. She didn’t want Ms. Longnose to know what she had seen. She carefully brushed through the overflowing plants and crept through the gate. As soon as she was free, Laney bolted down the street, skinny legs flying past the houses. She stopped two blocks down the street and flopped onto the curb. Sitting hunched on the curb, she pulled out her notebook and started scribbling furiously.

            After about five minutes her thoughts began to slow down. The warm sun took her brain from overdrive to slow motion. She spread out languidly on the baking pavement and mused over the recent events. Relaxing on the cement, wishing for a Popsicle or something, Laney was distracted by a movement in the corner of her eye. She sat bolt upright. It was Mr. Grease. He was striding down San Antonio from the same direction Laney had sprinted from just twenty minutes ago, his dark hair and glasses looking out of place in the cheery neighborhood. Laney looked around nervously. He must have seen her sit up and stare at him. Would he stop and talk to her? Ask her what she’d seen? Laney shuffled for her notebook to give herself something to do. Just as his tall figure was striding by, a dog barked behind Laney. A woman was exiting her house with her Dalmatian on a leash. Relieved to have something to focus on, Laney watched the dog jump around the woman. Mr. Grease passed by and headed down towards San Fernando, never even glancing down at Laney.

 

۝

 

            Laney saw him again the next Saturday. She was just leaving her house, ready for a day of detective work, when he walked right by. Laney stared at his dark figure striding across the pavement, incredulous at her luck. She decided to follow him and find out exactly what he was up to. She walked a half block behind him, constantly guessing where he would take her. Did he have something to do with the Gardenia’s arguments or was he Ms. Longnose’s secret visitor? Maybe it was neither, but whatever it was, Laney was sure it was first rate material.

            Mr. Grease strode down the hard concrete, Laney tip-toeing behind. After winding for awhile through the seemingly endless streets, walking as if attached by a taut string, they arrived at a park Laney didn’t recognize. It was heavily wooded and tall juniper bushes formed a wall around the perimeter.  Mr. Grease walked right into the woods. Afraid of losing him in the maze of branches and underbrush, Laney quickened her step, drawing closer to Mr. Grease. Suddenly, she noticed a package in his hand. Who would he be sending a package to?

He paused in a slight clearing and bent down to tie his shoe. Laney took the moment to creep closer to him, squinting at the name written on the package. Was that an L? For Longnose? She wasn’t sure. Laney inched closer, eyes on the package. She stepped on a twig which snapped horribly loudly but he didn’t seem to notice. Mr. Grease straightened up and began to open the package. This was it. Laney could solve the mystery. Delicately, he pulled out a soft piece of fabric and the wrapping floated to the dusty ground.

            Mr. Grease paused, holding the fabric, then suddenly turned on his heels and faced Laney. She stumbled backwards as he stood gazing at her.

            “Laney.”

            “What, how do you...”

            He strode forward and grabbed her young body forcefully, pulling her close to him and shoving the fabric under Laney’s nose. A toxic scent invaded her brain and the world started to melt away. Laney slumped in Mr. Grease’s arms, her vision growing fuzzy and dim. Her eyes fell down to the wrapping Mr. Grease had dropped to the ground.

            Laney, it said.