Telling Fortunes in Phoenix

Maureen

Maureen Sturgis had gotten the children settled when a knock came on the door. Detective Blake stood on the threshold while behind her four sets of black eyes peered over the back of the chintz covered couch, ignoring the television speaking in cultured Spanish tones. Blake glanced at the children and raised his eyebrows. Maureen did not answer his eyebrow question.

“What can I do for you, detective?” Maureen ushered him in.

She sat Blake at the counter separating the kitchen and living room and turned away to make coffee. The children trailed over to stare at the detective. He pulled at his collar.

“We should speak in privacy, Ms. Sturgis,” Blake said.

“They don’t understand English.” Maureen pressed the remote to silence the TV.

Blake sighed and pulled out a notebook and pen. “You gave me a phone number of someone you thought was selling drugs.”

“Yes.”

“We found the home where the man lived and didn’t find anything.”

“Did you arrest him?”

“For what?” Blake said. He looked at his notes. “The apartment is occupied by a Nikolai Stepan—“

“What was the name?” Maureen said.

“Nikolai Stepan. Have you heard it?”

Maureen suddenly felt light-headed. That was the name of the man who dropped these children here, Cody’s co-worker. Had the pusher just been at her home?

“No,” she lied. She needed time to think. “It sounds Russian.”

“Yeah. What is it that made you think that there were drugs there?”

Maureen shuffled through a kitchen drawer and pulled out a pamphlet.

“My son’s behavior changed.” She pushed the little booklet across the counter. ‘Signs that your Child may be Taking Drugs.’

Blake leafed through it.

“Were his eyes red?” Blake said, referring to the warning signs in the little book.

“No.”

“Was he missing work?”

“No.”

“Was there a change in his appetite?

“No! His moods changed.” She pointed to one of the signs. “His routine changed.” She pointed at another.

“Did you find drugs or paraphernalia in his room?”

“I haven’t searched his room.”

Blake raised an eyebrow. “How did you find Stepan’s phone number?”

“Well, I may have looked around a bit…”

The four children were now relocated under the counter. The littlest girl seated herself firmly on Blake’s foot. Maureen cut up some apples and handed them to the children who fell on them with sudden appetite.

“We’ve found other information at this man’s house,” he continued, “and we’re trying to fit it all together. I’ve spoken to your son, as well, and he says that he spends a lot of time with this man. They’re friends. But he swears the man despises drugs.”

Maureen poured coffee for Detective Blake then warmed the burritos Nik had left. She checked them for temperature then handed them to the children. The oldest girl took a burrito and bit the top off, then offered the baby the open end. The baby docilely took a bite, smearing eggs and refried beans around her mouth while making umm umm sounds. The burrito shrank; somehow food was being ingested. Blake looked pointedly away. The bigger boys made quick work of their food and looked for more. Maureen handed carrots around.

“I need to question your son again and Mr. Stepan,” Blake said. “Could you call your son?”

Maureen went to the wall phone in the kitchen and dialed from memory. She handed the phone to the detective.