The Entirely Fabricated Story of Lizzie Nickerson

Chapter 56

Indigo lifted the yellow crime scene tape and ducked under. Before she could reach the apartment building, Mitch Tarpick blocked her path. "Where do you think you're going, young lady?"

"Up there." She pointed to the third-floor window.

"Oh, no, you're not."

"C'mon, man. My daughter lives up there with my sister." As Indigo darted toward the porch, the detective seized her forearm.

"Get your hands offa me! I got rights." She yanked free.

"Stop that hippie!" Mitch shouted. "She's attempting to breach an active crime scene!"

A uniformed officer extended his arm and turned her away.

"So what's all this razzmatazz about your sister and your daughter living in this building?" Tarpick asked.

"Sonya Finch is my sister. Maribeth is my daughter. Dig? She calls herself Lizzie."

Perhaps it was due to the sound of the double-z's in 'Lizzie.' Mitch Tarpick felt as though he had been unzipped from his chin down to his groin, exposing his innards, his organs on the verge of spilling out onto the street in a soupy sludge.

Mitch's mental motor sputtered and faltered. Few would have been surprised if Tarpick's eyes rolled around in their sockets independently, like a cartoon character, in fact, it was almost expected.

This couldn't be pure coincidence. It was all too neat and intertwined and smacked of a conspiracy of the highest order. Considering the convergence of all the seemingly unrelated elements, some unnamed universal force had to be at play here. There was no other rational explanation. Due to the fact that hippies were involved most likely, this had something to do with karma but Mitch could not fathom what he had done to deserve this karmic payback.

Montego arrived on the scene, guitar case in hand, his chest heaving, a trickle of perspiration leaking from his bandana. "What's happenin', man?" he wheezed and then watched as the coroner's team flopped Tyson Russko's body into a rubber bag.

Noticing the gaudy tattoo on the victim's face, he began, "That's the dude that yelled hold the door." He turned his head when he felt his stomach lurch and sprayed his father's wingtip shoes with the contents of his gut.

........

An authoritative knock on the apartment door preceded Officer Ott's voice. "Got a lady out here. Claims to be the kid's mother."

"Let me in, Sonya," Indigo hollered.

When Sonya opened the door, Indigo barged into the apartment the fragrance of lilacs following her in. Her eyes shifted from her sister to Lizzie, and finally to the detective.

The detective had seen it dozens of times, the look of someone who'd been smoking premium bud all day now face-to-face with the police. Indigo's euphoric universe had been sullied. She was agitated and defensive.

She squeezed past Frazier and threw her arms around her daughter who stiffened as though she'd turned to ice.

"Oh, my god, Maribeth. Are you okay?"

"There's nobody here named Maribeth."

Frazier cleared his throat. "So, wait. You're the mother?"

"Of course, I'm her mother."

"So how is it you don't know her name?"

Indigo shot the detective a cutting red-eyed glare. "Don't play mind games with me, man. My sister's the one that let Maribeth change her name."

Sonya shook her head.

"Oh, geez. I changed it myself," said Lizzie.

"I'm not gonna waste my energy on this." Indigo extended her hand. "C'mon, Lizzie. Let's split."

"We need to wrap up a few loose ends here and they'll we'll get out of your hair," Stoudemire said.

"This kid doesn't need all the negativity. Why drag her down?"

"I'm trying to save Lizzie a trip to the precinct," he replied.

"Indigo," said Sonya. "That man lying out there on the sidewalk tried to break in here."

Frazier added, "And your daughter had something to do with that."

"That's like your opinion, man. Your reality and my reality may not be the same even though we're existing at the same time in the same space, you dig?"

"We don't need to get philosophical about this, Ms. Finch. I'm just trying to understand what happened here. I have the best interests of your daughter at heart. Trust me."

"Trust you? You're the man."

Frazier had run out of patience. "Ms. Finch. You're interfering with a police investigation."

"Yeah," said Lizzie. "You are definitely interfering."

Indigo's pretty face flushed.

The detective's scowl tugged his whole face lower. "Unless you allow me to complete my witness report I'm going to have to ask Officer Ott to escort you off the premises."

She raised an index finger over her head. "This fascism will not stand, man."

Frazier opened the door and called down to the second floor. "Officer Ott, come up here, will you?"