Reunited By The Badge. Deborah Fletcher Mello
of biscuits ’bout to come out the oven. I got some fatback and bacon, too, but Liza don’t eat no meat. You ain’t one of them vegans, too, are you?” she asked, her words laced with a Southern drawl and coming in what sounded like one long, drawn-out sentence before she took another breath.
Paul smiled. “No, thank you, ma’am. I’m good.”
She sized him up a second time. “You know you hungry,” she said with an air of finality. “I’m gon’ make you a plate.” She pointed down a flight of stairs. “Liza’s down in the basement. She’s expecting you.”
Paul nodded as she continued toward the back of the home and the kitchen. The stately greystone, an architectural staple in Chicago since the 1890s, was built from Bedford limestone and named for its color. It was oversize, the craftsmanship evident in the exterior detail. The interior of the duplex featured wide-plank oak flooring, high ceilings and an abundance of natural light. Moving down the steps Paul discovered the lower-level bonus room with walls of computer screens and a young woman who looked like a bag of Skittles candy had exploded over her.
Liza was very young. Much younger than he’d expected, and he hadn’t known what he might have been walking into. Her royal blue hair had a streak of white in the front that was swept across her brow and was pulled into a high ponytail adorned with a barrette of yellow flowers. She wore an orange, yellow and pink tie-dyed sweat suit with red Converse sneakers. She was the Rainbow Brite character on steroids, and she made Paul smile.
“Hey! Mingus didn’t come with you?” she said, her hands coming to an abrupt halt atop the keyboard she was typing on.
Paul shook his head. He couldn’t help but wonder what she did for Mingus and how they knew each other. “No,” he answered, “but I think he’s coming.”
She shrugged and resumed her typing. “Mama Hill’s going to be pissed. She’s up there cooking bacon for him right now and she knows how much I hate the smell of pig cooking in the kitchen. He better come.”
“He…well…it’s…”
“No worries. We’ll see him when we see him. Until then though, you’ll have to eat the bacon.”
Paul took two steps forward. “Is Mama Hill your grandmother?”
Liza shot him a look. “She’s everyone’s grandmother. So, what do you need?”
“I just have messages on my phone that I need to print out.”
Liza gestured for him to take a seat beside her. “What’s your email address?” she asked.
Paul reached for his phone, stopping when she asked him again.
“I just need your email address, not your phone.” She pushed a pad of paper and an ink pen toward him.
After writing down his personal email address, Paul pushed the pad back to her. “I just need any messages that might have come in the last three days,” he said softly.
A few short minutes later paper was spewing from a Xerox multifunction printer in the corner of the room. Liza gestured with her head, pointing him toward the ream of documents filling the output tray.
“So, you’re a hacker,” Paul said as he began sorting through the papers for those he needed and the ones he didn’t.
“I prefer ‘skilled computer expert.’”
“You just look so young.”
Her brows raised but she didn’t look in his direction, studying the screen before her instead. “I’m older than you think,” she muttered.
“Can you get into anyone’s computer system?”
“What do you need?”
“Everything you can get on a company called Lender Pharmaceuticals and what they have on a drug called Halphedrone-B. Not sure where you’d look, but maybe start in their research and development department? Maybe any communications about the drug between their management team?”
Liza typed, her head shifting from side to side as data filled the two screens on the desktop and then more information began to cover the larger screens on the walls. Liza stopped typing and stared from one screen to another, deciphering code that looked like a foreign language to Paul.
He was impressed with Liza’s expertise as he watched pages of emails and reports begin to fill the computer screens and he wasn’t sure why because what they were doing was highly illegal. If he didn’t already have enough problems, this might top his list and send him straight to prison. But curiosity had gotten the better of him. And Simone wasn’t there to play devil’s advocate and make him change his mind about asking for the information. He knew Simone would not be pleased, and he was sure she’d have his head when she found out. He took a deep breath as he imagined the choice words she would spew.
“This may take a minute,” Liza said finally, pulling at his attention. “They have some serious firewalls up to keep people like me out.”
“But you can get in without them knowing?”
She gave him a look, her expression twisted with evident annoyance at his question. “Go eat some bacon. I’ll call you if I need you.” She reached for a remote that rested on the table and music suddenly filled the room. It was something classical, a poetic blend of flutes, violins and a piano. She threw him one last glance as she turned the volume up high, then she resumed typing, her blue hair swaying with the music.
Upstairs, Mama Hill had set the kitchen table with five places. A feast for twenty sat table center. There was a platter of hot biscuits, crispy bacon, buttered grits, blueberry muffins, scrambled eggs, a bowl of sliced fruit and a pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice.
The old woman winked an eye at him as he entered the room and pointed him to the chair. She stood at the stove, stirring something in a large cast-iron pot. The aroma wafting around the room was mouthwatering and a hunger pang rippled through his midsection. Paul stole a quick glance toward his wristwatch, noting the time he was quickly running out of. Wondering if Simone was on her way, or if perhaps she’d changed her mind.
“Sit!” Mama Hill snapped, seeming to read his mind. Her dark eyes narrowed slightly. “You need to eat!” She stopped stirring the pot she was standing over. “Answer the door first, though. Make yourself useful.”
Paul hesitated for a moment, then turned on his heel. He hadn’t heard the doorbell, but the look the old woman threw in his direction had him thinking there might be a problem if he protested. He made his way back to the front of the home and pulled open the door. Simone and Mingus stood on the front porch. As Mingus brushed past him, entering the living space, he rolled his eyes skyward. Paul instinctively knew Simone was not a happy camper. He didn’t know if he should be scared or not, but the sight of her instantly calmed his nerves.
“Hey,” he said, greeting her softly.
When Simone didn’t respond, instead giving him a dirty look before she followed her brother, Paul figured it probably wasn’t a good time to tell her about the two strangers being at the hospital. Laughter suddenly rang loudly from the kitchen, the matriarch in high spirits as she greeted Mingus. Paul blew a soft sigh. He closed and locked the door and moved back toward the kitchen.
Mingus was making introductions. “Mama Hill, this is my baby sister Simone. Simone, this is Mrs. Pearl Hill, but everyone calls her Mama. Mama has helped me out with a few cases in the past.”
Mama Hill pulled Simone into a warm hug. “Any family of Mingus’s is family here. Y’all sit down. We was just ’bout to have us some breakfast.” She pointed them toward the table.
“It smells good, Mama. And you made your special candied bacon!” Mingus chimed as he pulled out a chair at the head of the table and sat down.
The older woman grinned, her toothy smile gleaming under the morning light. “Made it just for you. I know how much you like my bacon.”
Simone