Free Taking the Fall by Laney Monday Page A

Sanders, a slim, sleepy-looking elderly man with a neatly trimmed silver mustache. There seemed to be no one with the title detective or even deputy . I couldn’t figure out how many officers they employed. Based on what happened last night, the same officers who patrolled the quiet streets must handle investigations. They called in the Chief for the big stuff, like murder.

    All too soon, we were carrying more boxes, then our kitchen table and chairs into the studio and up the narrow staircase to our apartment. The couch was next. Blythe climbed the ramp into the truck and grabbed one end. I took the other, walking it backwards down the ramp. Good grief, my knee did not like lifting heavy objects, especially while walking backwards. Blythe caught the strained look on my face.
    “Put it down!” she insisted.
    I shook my head. “Let’s get it out of the truck first. Then we can turn around.”
    “Maybe we need some help.”
    “I’ve got it. I just need to—”
    “Hello-o!” I glanced over one shoulder, then the other, searching for the source of the friendly greeting.
    Blythe lowered her end, and I dropped mine with a bang on the metal ramp. A slender young woman jogged across the parking lot, dark shoulder-length hair bouncing. A young guy trailed behind her. He looked about eighteen, but strong and stocky.
    The woman smiled shyly. “I’m Lourdes Vargas. I promised Mama Ruth I’d keep an eye on you, and here you are, breaking your backs! Mama Ruth wouldn’t stand for it.” Her deep, slightly raspy voice contrasted with her slight, feminine frame and her reserved politeness. “Here. Here is my brother, Carlos.”
    Carlos removed his cap and shook our hands.
    Blythe scrambled out of the truck and around the couch. “You’re related to Ruth?” she asked.
    Lourdes laughed, a light, scratchy laugh. “No, not really. Mama Ruth is my best friend, Sandra’s mother. We were like sisters, until Sandra moved to North Carolina to go to school. Carlos is my baby brother. Ten years younger than me. When our mother died, I got Carlos, and Mama Ruth sort of adopted us both. I don’t know what we would’ve done without her.”
    “How old were you?” I said.
    Carlos answered for his sister. “Lourdes was twenty-one. Poor Lulu. I was a handful. Mama Ruth didn’t make me a ballerina, but I had fun chasing them around and tying their slippers together.”
    Lourdes gave him a gentle elbow. “He was an absolute terror.”
    Carlos tried to scowl, but it looked more like a smile. His dark eyes twinkled with a mischievous affection for his older sister. “So,” he said, “let us help you. For Mama Ruth, yes?”
    My pride wanted to say no, but the pain in my knee told me to say, “That would be great. Thanks.” I actually stood off to the side while Carlos took the walking-backwards end of the couch and Lourdes and Blythe teamed up on the other end. I gave my knee a rest while I opened doors for them and guided them around corners and up the stairs.
    Blythe and I showed Lourdes and Carlos how to carry the big rolls of judo mats. They were made of vinyl-covered, high-tech open-cell foam, designed to absorb the high impact of judo throws. Though they resembled rolled-up wrestling mats, all the air in those foam cells made them lightweight. Secured with seatbelt-like straps, they were easy to carry, though because of their size, it took two people per roll. We set the rolls on end on the former dance floor. I couldn’t wait to get them rolled out and set up, but our helpers were sweaty and out of breath—visibly thirsty.
    “Why don’t you two come up for a minute? We don’t have much yet, but we do have cold orange juice.”
    “Yes, please, come on up,” Blythe said.
    “Okay,” Lourdes agreed in her quiet, raspy way.
    Upstairs, Blythe went to find some more cups in one of the kitchen boxes, and I grabbed a couple of the chairs to position near the couch. Carlos came alongside me to help.
    As he dragged a chair