Secrets in the Attic

  Never having been inside a police station before, I did not know what to expect. From watching old movies and television, I thought I would see prisoners in cells, but it looked more like a

  government office, with secretaries and office machinery. Even the woman who I learned later served as a police dispatcher wasn't in a uniform.

  There were two detectives waiting with the chief of police when we arrived. My father explained that they came out from state law enforcement agency called the

  Bureau of Criminal Investigations and were the ones usually called upon when there was a capital crime.

  Chairs had been set up for my father and me. One of the detectives, a tall, thin man with light brown hair and unusually dark brown eyes that reminded me of shoe polish, sat across from us. His long, lanky legs were crossed, which made his upper torso look lower in the seat. He introduced himself as Lieutenant Cooper and the other detective as Detective Simon. Simon was considerably shorter, stouter, and less good-looking because of his oversized facial features and somewhat balding head of thin black hair. His forehead looked as if someone had drawn permanent crease lines in it with a thin stick of charcoal, too.

  The chief was a kindly looking fifty-some-yearold man with what I called grandfather eyes and a pleasant, soft smile. His face was angular, with a firm mouth and a strong, taut jaw. He was about my father's size but broader in the shoulders. His name tag read "Chief Keiser." He rose after the detectives were introduced and offered my father his hand.

  "Thanks for bringing her down so fast, Mr. Stein." "No problem. She's obviously very upset, and I think it's best we do this now and quickly."

  "Oh, I couldn't agree more," Chief Keiser said. "Just a terrible thing. Terrible." He smiled at me again and indicated we should sit.

  It didn't come as any surprise that the police would have found out so quickly how close Karen and I were. In our small school, everyone knew everyone else's relationships, friends, and family. Besides, Karen and I were together every opportunity we had during the school day. As Karen had said many times, we were birds of a feather. Of course, now I had to wonder just how close my feathers really were to hers.

  "When something like this happens," Lieutenant Cooper began, turning his attention directly to me, "we like to find out why as quickly as we can. It helps us understand more about it all. We've been speaking with a number of people about it, and we have some ideas, but from what we've been told . . . Zipporah, is it?"

  "Yes, sir," I said. "Zipporah. From what we've been told, no one would have a better idea, perhaps, than you." "Her mother would," I said quickly.

  The two detectives exchanged a quick look, and

  Lieutenant Cooper turned back to me.

  "Why do you say that, Zipporah?"

  "Because she's her mother," I replied. The

  answer was so obvious it brought a smile to my father's face and even the chief of police's face, but the two detectives didn't even move their lips.

  "Okay," Lieutenant Cooper said. "If you were Karen's mother, what would you know?"

  "I don't know what her mother knew and didn't

  know, sir. I was just her friend. I didn't live in the

  same house. I never even had dinner with them." "Boy, you can tell this is the daughter of an

  attorney," Lieutenant Cooper remarked.

  I could feel Daddy bristle beside me.

  "I don't think that's called for," he said. "She's

  trying to be as accurate as she can be. Maybe you

  should phrase your questions better, be more specific,

  Lieutenant."

  "Right, sorry. Do you know where Karen

  Stoker is right now?" he asked sharply.

  "No," I said. I told myself it wasn't a lie. I knew

  where she was before we left the house, but I didn't

  know where she was at that moment. Maybe she had left the attic. Maybe she was outside. Maybe she was

  in my room.

  "Did she tell you she was thinking of doing this

  terrible thing?"

  "Oh, no." Again, that was no lie. She hadn't

  ever said anything about killing her stepfather. "We've heard she was upset about her mother

  marrying Mr. Pearson, and we know she never wanted

  him to adopt her, but did you ever witness anything in

  their home that would upset her enough to do this?"

  Detective Simon asked.

  "I didn't witness anything that would give me

  such an idea, no."

  "You never saw them argue?"

  "I never saw Karen and Mr. Pearson argue

  when I was in the house."

  "Did you see them argue anywhere else?"

  Lieutenant Cooper asked with a deep sigh of

  annoyance.

  I shrugged. "They didn't argue so much, but

  Karen was upset with things he said when she was at

  the drugstore sometimes."

  "According to her mother," Detective Simon

  said, some frustration in his voice, "you were with her

  more than she was."

  "I don't know how that could be true. We rode

  the school bus together back and forth. We were

  together when we could be in school. I went to her

  house occasionally, and she came to mine to study

  and stuff. A few times, my father took us to the

  movies and out to eat. We went to some school

  ballgames together. I never slept over at her house," I

  said. "She has slept over at mine, but she's been with

  her mother all her life."

  "I didn't mean that literally," Detective Simon

  said, closing and opening his eyes. "I meant, and I'm

  sure her mother meant, that you were with her more

  than any other person, friend."

  "Yes. We were les oiseaux d'une plume," I said,

  smiling.

  "What?"

  "I think that means 'birds of a feather' in

  French," my father said. "No one denies they were

  inseparable, Detective, as girlfriends. That's why you

  asked to see her right away, isn't it?"

  "Okay," he said. He looked at me again. "Was

  her father too strict with her?"

  "Her father died about four years ago," I said. "Her stepfather, he means," Lieutenant Cooper

  said, and glared at my father.

  "She told me he wouldn't let her talk on the

  phone for more than two minutes, and he wouldn't put

  a phone in her room."

  "Oh, how cruel. So she killed him," Detective

  Simon muttered.

  "Easy," Chief Keiser said. He flashed a smile at

  Daddy and then at me.

  "Did she talk about that and about other things

  he wouldn't let her do?" Lieutenant Cooper asked me.

  "Sometimes, but not that much," I said.

  "What else, then?"

  "She told me he wouldn't let her serve him any

  food, meals."

  "How come?" Detective Simon asked. "I don't know."

  "Did she act strange, stranger than ever, this

  past week or so? Was anything in particular bothering

  her?" Lieutenant Cooper followed before I could

  respond to the first question.

  "She had some headaches."

  "Headaches?" They looked at each other. "What kind of headaches?"

  "She went to the nurse at school. You could ask

  her what kind they were. I don't know much about

  headaches," I said, and I heard my father grunt a

  chuckle.

  "Did you ever see a knife in her room?"

  Detective Simon asked me, so suddenly I couldn't

  respond for a moment.

  "Yes, I saw a knife "

  "Did you ask her why she had it there?" "No." I hadn't asked. "I ha
ve a knife in my

  room," I recalled. "My brother gave it to me as a

  present. It's a real Boy Scout knife, I think. It has . . ." "All right. You have a knife," Lieutenant

  Cooper said.

  He sat back. Everyone was quiet, and they were

  all looking at me.

  "You know it's against the law to hold back any

  information that relates to this case," Lieutenant

  Cooper finally said. "You could get into big trouble." "You have no reason to threaten her," my father

  said. "She came down here, and she's answering your

  questions. She's just trying to be as accurate as possible."

  He looked at my father, nodded, and turned

  back to me.

  "Did she ever talk about a place she would go,

  somewhere she wanted to go?"

  "The city," I said.

  "The city?" He looked at Detective Simon as

  though I had given them a brilliant lead.

  "New York City?" Simon asked.

  "That's the only city people up here mean when

  they say 'the city,' " Chief Keiser said.

  "All right. If you think of anything that might

  help us understand this situation more, you call the

  police station here, and ask for Chief Keiser. He'll get

  to us right away, especially if Karen Stoker calls you,

  understand?" Lieutenant Cooper asked me.

  "If she calls me, call you right away," I

  promised. She would never call me in my own house.

  "Thank you, Mr. Stein," the chief said, standing and

  offering his hand.

  Daddy rose to shake it, and I stood.

  "No problem," Daddy said. "Good luck with the

  investigation," he told the detectives, and then he led

  me out of the police station. He didn't speak until we

  were in the car. He inserted the ignition key and

  started the engine first. Then he turned to me. "You

  did real well, honey. Don't let the detectives upset

  you."

  "I'm not upset," I said.

  I was actually a little proud of myself.

  Somehow, I felt I had escaped telling an out-and-out terrible lie. As silly as it might sound to someone else, I felt Karen would be proud of me, and I was happy

  about it.

  "Good. Let's go get some pizza," he declared,

  and we were off.

  I felt guilty about having a good time with my

  father at dinner while Karen sat upstairs in the

  darkness trying to keep as quiet as she could. Of

  course, she didn't have to worry until my mother or

  we were home, but still, she had to eat leftovers and

  had to eat by herself. I wondered how I could get to

  see her. Since my mother would be on duty into the

  evening and then sleep late in the morning, I would

  have to leave the house for school before I could get

  up to the attic. My first opportunity wouldn't be until

  after school.

  Daddy decided that at dinner, we would not talk

  about Karen and what was going on, but he did talk

  about what he now thought was my need to get myself

  more involved with traditional school activities. "You need to make more friends. You could

  join the chorus. You sing so well, Zipporah. I'm sure

  they'll want you. And what about drama club? I was

  in drama club, you know," he said, and told me about

  the plays he had been in and the parts he had acted. I

  had never known that.

  It occurred to me that we get to know even the

  people we love in little ways over a long period of

  time. Just because someone is your father or your

  mother doesn't mean you know everything about him

  or her. Everyone reveals things about himself or

  herself carefully, slowly, sometimes because he or she

  didn't remember these things until something stirred

  up the remembrance. Maybe we go through our whole

  lives and never really get to know the people we love

  or think we love. Look at how much I had learned

  about Karen in just the last few months.

  My father mistook my deep thinking for

  sadness.

  "We'll try to do something this weekend," he

  promised after we left the restaurant. "Maybe we'll

  take a ride to the city and see a show. I think your

  mother gets this weekend off. That'll be fun, won't it?" "Yes," I said. I juggled my sadness about Karen

  missing all the fun with the realization that she would

  have the house to herself and wouldn't be so restricted

  in her movements. She could even watch television,

  play music, anything, if she was just careful about not

  leaving any traces. We'd have to go over that, I

  thought. We'd have to be sure that was followed

  strictly.

  There was so much preparation to do and so

  little time to do it. An idea occurred to me.

  "Daddy, I'd like to stay home from school

  tomorrow."

  "You would? Why?"

  "It's going to be terrible for me to go back right

  after all this. They'll gang up on me to tell them everything I know, and they won't leave me alone all day. I

  need a little time. Please," I pleaded.

  "Sure, I understand," he said. "I'll call your

  mother at the hospital and let her know. No problem,

  honey."

  "Good," I said. Good, I told myself. The

  moment my mother left for her shift, I'd be able to get

  upstairs and be with Karen.

  Pretty smart thinking, Zipporah, I heard myself

  think. It was as if Karen had just said it, too. The phone was ringing almost as soon as we

  entered the house, which gave support to my theory

  and reason to stay home. Suddenly, girls at school

  who would barely nod at me wanted to speak to me. I

  told my father to say I was unable to speak on the

  phone. I was asleep. They all understood, but I was

  sure all that did was make me more desirable. They were all hoping for the same thing: exclusive information that they could then spread through their

  gossip mill.

  My mother called to see how I was doing, and I

  went to the phone to speak with her.

  "Daddy told me about the police, Zipporah. I

  guess they weren't as nice to you as they should have

  been. Are you all right?"

  "I'm okay," I said, "but I want to stay home

  tomorrow."

  "Yes, he explained that, too. I agree you should.

  Get a good night's rest. We'll talk in the morning:' "Okay," I said, and went up to my room. My

  father was on the phone, so I shouted good night, and

  he shouted back, "Sleep tight!"

  I was tempted once again to go up to the attic.

  He would probably stay downstairs and watch

  television or read or do both, as he often did. The risk

  remained too great, so I opted to be patient. When I

  went into my bathroom to wash and brush my teeth,

  however, I found a note on the sink.

  Hey, I'm doing fine. Don't worry. I got

  something to read and I found a box of Cracker Jacks

  in the pantry. You know I love Cracker Jacks. I'll save

  the surprise for you. Have a good day in school. I can't wait to hear the gossip. Destroy this right away.

  K.

  I did just that, and then I brushed my teeth and

  went to bed.


  As I lay there in my bed and looked up at the

  ceiling, I tried listening hard to see if I could hear

  Karen's movements. Except for the usual creaks and

  moans in the old house, I heard nothing new. She's

  probably asleep herself I thought. She has to be

  totally exhausted. It would be a nice surprise for her

  tomorrow when she found out I didn't go to school.

  We'd have lots of time to spend together.

  I didn't think I could fall asleep after the events

  of this day, but I surprised myself. Minutes after I

  closed my eyes, I spun into a dark tunnel and fell into

  such a deep sleep I didn't hear my father get up in the

  morning or anything. Since I had turned off my alarm

  clock the night before, by the time I opened my eyes,

  it was nearly nine o'clock. I had slept through my

  normal breakfast and the school bus pickup. Now I

  wondered if Karen knew and was worried that

  something was going to happen any minute. My mother came to my room and saw I was

  awake. "Hey, how are you, honey?"

  "Okay," I said.

  "What do you want for breakfast?"

  "Scrambled eggs," I said. She made the best,

  with cheese. My appetite put a smile on her face, and

  she went down to make breakfast. I rose, washed, and

  dressed quickly, putting on a pair of old jeans and a

  short-sleeved blouse. Before I went downstairs, I

  looked up at the attic. I half expected she would be

  peering out.

  I started toward it, thinking I would just open

  the door and tell her quickly not to worry, but the

  moment my foot touched the first step, it creaked so

  loudly I was sure I had alerted my mother below. I

  froze, listened, then turned quickly and hurried down

  the stairs, thinking there was no sense in taking any

  risk when I would be free to move about in a short

  while.

  "I'm glad you wanted to stay home today," my

  mother told me when we both sat at the table. "I was

  worried about not having time to spend with you after