She Talks to Angels
She Talks to Angels
The sun was just rising over the Wasatch as Porter’s spiritual daughter assumed her role of school crossing guard, helping children across the four-lane highway between their neighborhood and the school. Dutifully raising her stop sign and ensuring the safety of the hapless urchins as they excitedly rushed to join their friends for another exciting day in Caldern Hale, Utah!
Down the sidewalk Detective Plano came leading his first-grade grandson to the crosswalk where Karly was in charge. She took the little boy’s hand and waited for the nearby red light to change to inhibit traffic, adding another level of safety. Plano was a two-hundred pound man with dreadlocks extending to his shoulders and his grandson was a mini him, dreads and all!
Detective Plano wasn’t from Utah, but he got there as fast as he could. A Los Angeles native, he did his time in the LAPD, eventually working his way up to detective, and finally homicide. He would have put in his time and retired except for a car wreck interrupting his life’s plan. On that day on Wilshire Boulevard a man with one too many T-Boned the car containing his daughter, son in law, Plano’s wife,and newborn grandson! The parents and the grandmother were killed instantly, and Plano spent two weeks at the baby’s side on a death watch. During that time two Mormon missionaries came to pray with him, eventually bringing their bishop, who gave the child a blessing. The little boy lived!
After that he brought the baby home. The only light in a life where no light existed. The Mormons continued to come, lending assistance in any way they could, and eventually he was baptized into the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. He had lost all interest in California and was drawn to Utah more and more. He retired, but the lure of Utah continued to pull him until eventually he moved to Carldern Hale, intending to settle down and finish his days raising his grandson among the saints who did not drink and drive. But God had other plans. A slot became available on the police department, such as it was. In a town where the last homicide was perpetrated by Orin Porter Rockwell, George Plano filled two slots. The only homicide detective in the county and the complexion to satisfy the racial disparity obvious in the town.
Detective Plano was black! The Church had received a revelation in 1978 that black people were human after all and could even participate in all Temple functions. Plano never wanted to be “Temple.” He was forever grateful for the life of his grandson and never questioned the God of the mountain. And, since there was no such thing as homicide in Caldern Hale, he was happy to serve as the Chief of Detectives in charge of sitting by the door. And George was ok with that.
When the rumor spread that a little girl had been accosted in City Park it sparked his interest and after a little investigation, he discovered the back story. But no police report had ever been filed. When he finally managed a visit he found her sitting alone in the apple orchard behind her house. He was taken by her size but more by her calm nature. He had brought cheesecake, and she rushed into her house to retrieve two plates and forks to enjoy it with him. No sign of the effects of the attack that all of the “in” of the town seemed to know but did nothing about. This question was answered when she gathered the plates to return to the house and he saw the flaming sword on her neck and one glance from her sky-blue eyes told him why there was no police report and why this was not a topic open for discussion!
“You look tired this morning. Rough night?” Plano said as he waited with her.
Karley gave him a sideways glance, “I’m not a morning person,” she returned. Pointing to the earlier batch of kids across the street, heading for school, “but they are.” The flash of fire truck lights lit up the street and the children were being directed to go around another way. The lights didn’t seem to affect Karly in any way and did not distract her from her appointed rounds.
Rocking back and forth on his heals, Plano said, “When is the last time you cut your hair?” He referred to her long pigtails extending down the middle of her back.
Karly squinted her eyes in thought. “You know I haven’t cut my hair since my daddy passed.”
“Nice memorial for your father.”
“Well, gotta go to work, Plano said.
“Fire up there?“ she looked toward the distant trucks.
“Yeah. Bad one. Two killed but gonna take an autopsy to tell what gender they are.”
“Two people killed?” This told Karly that only the two she killed had been found dead. But only two! This left a nervous feeling in her stomach.
“Yeah. They had a guest and apparently, he got the other three out. And the baby.”
“Should have went ahead and killed him,” Karly thought to herself.
“Oh, that’s good. What house was it?”
“585 South 770 West. Friend of yours?”
“I know them.”
“Didn’t you go to school with the girl that lived there? I’m sure she’s one of the bodies.”
“You know I’m home schooled. Even before the pandemic.”
“Oh, that’s right.”
“Well, I gotta let the fire marshal do his thing. I’ll just amend his report.”
The light changed, and she raised her sign to lead more children across the road. He stood watching and said just before she was out of earshot, “Never cut thy hair and neither bullet nor blade shall ever pierce thy skin.” It was the only acknowledgment he’d ever made to the tattoo that he’d seen that day in the orchard.
Karley raised her sign to stop traffic and glared at Detective Plano as the children reached the other side.
As Plano crossed the street she called, “Let me know.”
He just waved his hand over his head in a goodbye and called back, “Don’t cut that hair.”
Karly, framed by the smoke rising behind her replied, “I Won’t.”
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