by Steve Gannon
Bordering the sand, white-linened tables with floating candles, table runners, and floral centerpieces ringed our deck, with paper lanterns, balloons, and strings of LED lights hung above, adding a further festive accent. It was low tide, and more tables had been set up on the sand, along with a parquet dance floor near the seawall. To the right, a clutch of bistro tables had been strategically positioned beside a bar serving wine, Champagne, and cocktails. On the left, a DJ was setting up sound equipment, with a jazz guitarist nearby adding his mellow accompaniment to the gathering. Topping things off, appetizer trays of bacon-wrapped scallops, caprese skewers, and mini-crab cakes had started making the rounds, served by smiling young men and women wearing crisp white shirts and black bowties.
Everything looked perfect.
Here and there, clusters of guests had already assembled, each group isolated from the next. Nevertheless, friends from the beach were beginning to flow throughout, their growing presence gradually cementing the entire party into a single, conglomerate mass of celebrants. Even that early, the reception was showing signs of taking on a life of its own.
Keeping the bartenders busy, Lieutenant Long, my commanding officer from the West L.A. division, my ex-partner Arnie, and my current partner, Paul Deluca, had joined Detective John Banowski and several other friends from the force, staking out their territory on the far side of the deck. Fresh drink in hand, Deluca had just stepped from the bar when he spotted me. “Hey, Dan!” he called, heading my way. “Sorry I missed the ceremony,” he apologized when he arrived. “Work.”
“I heard. Arnie mentioned a multiple homicide.”
Deluca’s smile faded. He hesitated, seeming at a loss for words. “Yeah,” he said, passing a hand across a dark chin-stubble that usually made its appearance on his face by noon, no matter how closely he shaved. “Banowski and I caught the case this morning. At least it was our case at first.”
“At first?”
“Snead and his Robbery-Homicide crew showed up about an hour into it, after which they took over. Then the feds thundered in quoting national security issues, and the investigation turned into a Chinese fire drill. Banowski managed to take off, but I had to stick around.”
“Well, at least you made it to the party,” I said. I knew from Deluca’s manner that there was something he wasn’t telling me. Being the sensitive person I am, I decided to take the subtle approach. “What aren’t you telling me?” I demanded.
Deluca looked away, his face hardening. “I’ve been working homicide now for, what—twelve years? I thought I’d seen it all, but Jesus, this one . . .” He seemed about to say something more, but stopped, glancing around the party. “This isn’t the place to talk about it. C’mon over and have one with the guys. What are you drinking these days—Shirley Temples or Virgin Marys?”
Although curious, I let it go. “Neither. I’m sticking to Coke. And by the way, screw you, pal,” I chuckled. I briefly considered heading over to the police enclave, then decided against it. A few years back I’d quit drinking, which in law-enforcement circles naturally became a source of endless ribbing. Not that I minded; I just didn’t feel like it at the moment. As for the drinking, sometimes I missed it, mostly I didn’t.
“You sure?” said Deluca.
“Yeah. I’ll catch up with you and the guys later.”
“Okay.” Deluca took a long pull on his cocktail. “By the way, is there any chance you’ll be coming back to work soon?” he asked, lowering his voice. “We could use some assistance on this Bel Air thing. I mean, if you’re ready.”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do about returning to work yet, Paul.”
Deluca sighed. “I understand. Well, anyway . . . see you in a bit.”
I watched as Deluca navigated his way back to the cop crowd, then continued scanning the party, making certain everything was proceeding a planned. As I did, I noted a group of Allison’s associates from Channel 2 News gathered near the seawall. A few years back Ali had graduated from college with a degree in journalism, and she was now pursuing a career in broadcast news. Recently she had rocketed up the CBS Channel 2 corporate ladder, and I was proud of her. Nevertheless, my daughter’s choice of profession had proved a bitter source of conflict between us. The relationship between police officers and reporters usually turned into a no-win situation for the police, and Ali and I were no exception. With mixed feelings, I also noted that the CBS bureau chief, Lauren Van Owen, was present in the group. I had some bad history with Lauren, news reporting and otherwise.
Hoping to avoid the blond, perfectly coiffed Ms. Van Owen, I drifted out onto the crowded deck, on my way skirting a group of Mike’s friends from the film industry. I nodded at Mike’s best man, Don Sturgess, who was engaged in conversation with Roger Zemo, an award-winning director with whom Don had shot a number of films. A talented documentary filmmaker himself, Mike had served as the second-unit director of photography on one of Zemo’s recent films. Mike had subsequently been signed to work on Zemo’s upcoming project, a sci-fi thriller, and he was scheduled to start as soon as he and Ali returned from their honeymoon.
As I reached the far side of the deck, I also noticed a number of LA Phil musicians coming down the stairs. In their midst was Adele Washington, one of the musicians who had played at the wedding. Adele, who had brought her children, waved and started toward me, her two young boys in tow.
“How’re you doing, handsome?” Adele greeted me when she arrived, kissing me on the cheek.
“Better, now that you’re here,” I replied. “By the way, you’re looking great.” One of several black musicians in the Phil’s string sections, Adele’s maternity leave some years back had provided Catheryn’s initial inroad to perform with the Philharmonic, and after that the two had become fast friends.
“Bet you say that to all the women,” Adele replied with a grin.
“Only the gorgeous ones. Speaking of which, thanks again for playing at the ceremony. Please thank the rest of the quartet for me, too. The Borodin was lovely. Brought back memories.”
Next I turned to the two youngsters standing behind Adele. Both were looking slightly awed by the surroundings. “And who are these two?” I asked. “Are you kids party crashers?”
“No, sir, Detective Kane,” laughed the older one, who appeared to be about six. “We came with our mom.”
“Is that you, Josh?” I said, pretending to be surprised. “You’ve grown so much, I hardly recognize you.”
“And this is Josh’s younger brother William,” said Adele, gently pulling the younger boy forward. “I hope you don’t mind my bringing them. Pat was unexpectedly called in to work, and we couldn’t find a sitter.”
“Mind? No way. What’s a wedding without kids underfoot?” I bumped fists with Josh, then leaned down and offered my hand to Adele’s youngest. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, William.”
Shyly, William took my hand.
“Now, seeing as how you two are here, could you do me a favor?” I continued. “See that big kid down by the water? Playing with the dog?” I pointed to Nate, who was a hundred yards down the beach. He had just thrown a ball for our family dog, a yellow Labrador retriever named Callie, and was watching as she clawed her way through the surf to retrieve it. Standing with Nate was McKenzie’s younger sister and Nate’s sometime girlfriend, Nancy. As we watched, Nancy tugged at Nate’s sleeve, seeming to be trying to get him to return to the celebration. She finally gave up, yelled something, and began stomping toward us across the sand, not looking back.
“Yes, sir,” said Josh. “We see him.”
“Could you go tell him that his dad wants him to join us? His sister Allison will be arriving soon, and he should be here to welcome her.”
“Yes, sir,” said Josh. He started for the beach, his younger brother close behind.
“And try not to drown while you’re out there,” I called after them. “That kinda thing can ruin a party.”
“No, sir, we won’t,” Josh laughed. �
��No drowning.”
“Great kids,” I said to Adele, watching as her children headed out onto the sand. “You and Pat must be doing something right.”
“Thanks,” Adele replied. “We like them, too. Mostly.” Then, as she noticed Lauren Van Owen making her way toward us across the deck, Adele’s smile abruptly faded. “I’m going to mingle,” she said. “I’ll talk to you later, Dan. And congratulations.”
Lauren arrived seconds later, the eyes of every nearby male tracking her progress. “Hi,” she said, taking my hand. “I hope I didn’t chase away your friend.”
“Actually, you probably did. I don’t think Adele likes you.”
“Were she and Catheryn . . .”
“Yeah. Best friends.”
“So she knows.
“I would imagine,” I sighed.
Lauren was silent for a long moment, then pushed on. “I didn’t get a chance to talk with you after Catheryn’s memorial,” she said. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Dan. And I’m sorry for . . . for what happened between us. I was being selfish, and for that I apologize. The funny thing is, I think that under different circumstances, Catheryn and I might have been friends.”
“I’m sorry, too,” I said. “And don’t go shouldering all the blame. Takes two to tango, as they say.”
“Truce?” said Lauren, extending her hand.
“Truce,” I agreed—not completely trusting her, but taking her hand anyway.
“Speaking of blame, please don’t hold me responsible for Ali’s changing her honeymoon plans. That was her decision, not mine.”
I had given Mike and Allison an all-expenses-paid vacation to Costa Rica as a wedding gift, and they were scheduled to leave the following morning. “What change in plans?”
Lauren looked flustered. “You didn’t know? Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. Ali should tell you herself.”
“Damn it, Lauren—”
Just then the DJ’s amplified voice boomed out over a bank of speakers ringing the dance floor. “May I have your attention, please?” he said. “Those of you on the beach, please join us on the upper deck to welcome the wedding party. They’ll be arriving shortly, and you don’t want to miss their entrance.”
As people began drifting up from the sand, Lauren slipped away, promising that we’d talk soon. Minutes later, members of the wedding party began making their way onto the deck—groomsmen and bridesmaids, ushers, flower girl, and the ring bearer—each being presented by the DJ in turn. As both of Mike’s folks had died some years back, I represented the only living parent, and I took my turn in the introduction ceremony as well. Mike and Allison appeared last, grinning at a raucous round of cheers as they were once more formally introduced as Mr. and Mrs. Michael Cortese.
After greeting a number of friends, Mike and Allison headed down to the beach. There, to a classic rendition of At Last by Etta James, they took their first turns as a married couple on the dance floor. They looked great together, and it was a lovely moment.
As I watched the newlyweds dance, I sensed a massive presence moving to stand beside me. Turning, I found I’d been joined by my boss, Lieutenant Nelson Long. An African-American whose ascent of LAPD ranks had been based on brains, guts, and solid police work, Lieutenant Long was one of the few members of the brass whom I trusted. I also considered him a friend.
“Congratulations, Dan,” he said with a smile. “I’m happy for Ali. She has a good man there.”
“Thanks, Lieutenant. I think so, too.”
“I know this isn’t the best time, but I need to talk with you,” Long continued, seeming embarrassed. “Later, in private. Okay?”
“Tonight?”
“Yeah, tonight. Sorry. Can you make that happen?”
“Yes, sir,” I said, suspecting from Long’s tone that our conversation would entail consequences for the future, and that it wasn’t going to be a conversation I liked.
“Good. I’ll see you after dinner. And again, congratulations.”
The music ended a few minutes later. Smiling, Allison crossed the dance floor toward me, Mike at her side. “Dad, I can’t believe how wonderful everything is,” she said when she arrived. She gave me a hug, then glanced around the party with obvious pleasure. “It’s way better than I ever imagined. I’m absolutely stunned.”
“Me, too,” I said.
“Me, three,” Mike joined in. “Really, Mr. Kane, thank you so much for all this.”
“You’re welcome, Mike. And make it Dan. We’re family now.”
“Which is something Mike may come to regret,” Allison laughed, taking his arm. “Speaking of regret, I love this gown, but I’m ready to slip into something more comfortable.” Then, giving Mike a kiss, “I’m going upstairs to change. I’ll see you both in a minute.”
“Hold on a sec, Ali,” I said. “I just had a puzzling conversation with your boss. Lauren mentioned something about your changing the honeymoon plans?”
“Just postponing, Dad. Something important came up at work.”
“What’s so important that you need to postpone your honeymoon?” I asked, glancing at Mike to see where he stood on the matter. Mike looked away, not meeting my gaze.
“The murders last night in Bel Air,” Allison explained. “The FBI took over the case because they think the killings are terrorist-related. Lauren says the story could go national, maybe international.”
“Couldn’t you and Mike just fly down to Costa Rica and have a good time?”
“I’m not skipping this story,” Allison replied, her eyes shining with enthusiasm. “We can take a vacation anytime. Right, Mike?”
“Right,” Mike agreed, still avoiding my gaze.
“Anyway, I’m going upstairs to change. I’ll be back shortly,” said Allison, starting again for the house. “Mike, don’t get into any trouble while I’m gone. For that, I want to be present.”
“No problem,” Mike laughed.
Once Allison had departed, I turned to Mike. “You okay with this?”
“The party? Absolutely. It’s wonderful, more than Ali and I could have ever hoped. Thanks again, Mr. Kane . . . uh, Dan.”
“I mean postponing your honeymoon.”
“Oh.” Again, Mike looked away. “It’s important to Ali, so I’m all for it. We can go to Costa Rica later. Anyway, it means I’ll be able to start work on schedule.”
I knew that Mike had gone to considerable trouble to delay starting his DP work on the Zemo film, so from that standpoint, a honeymoon postponement worked out well. Nevertheless, though he tried to hide it, I could tell he was disappointed. “Putting off the trip until later could mean waiting until after the baby comes,” I pointed out.
“Yeah, there is that, too,” Mike sighed. “What’s the old saying? ‘Man plans, God laughs.’”
Accompanied by bridesmaids Christy and McKenzie, Ali eventually returned to the reception, now wearing low-heeled shoes and attire better suited for dancing. Minutes later we were all called to dinner. As people found their seats and waiters began serving, Don and McKenzie delivered humorous toasts, each imaginatively skewering the newly married couple. To the delight of everyone, their clever speeches were answered in kind by both Mike and Ali, who had also prepared for the occasion.
Unlike the round of appetizers that had accompanied cocktail hour, I don’t remember much of the dinner, except that like most wedding-reception meals it involved a choice of fish or beef, along with rice and some sort of vegetable. Before dessert, the DJ announced that the microphone was now open for anyone who wanted to speak. At that, I noticed Allison’s eyes turn toward me.
I had put together a few words for the occasion, and I nodded at Ali and stood. But as I took my place at the microphone, I realized that something other than the speech I’d planned was called for. As the evening had progressed, I’d noticed that many of those present were uncomfortable acknowledging Catheryn’s absence, undoubtedly not knowing what to say. It had become the proverbial elephant in the room, and for the sake
of Ali and Mike’s celebration, it needed to be addressed.
“Good evening, everyone,” I began, not certain what I was going to say, but pushing ahead nevertheless. “Those of you who didn’t know my daughter Allison when she was younger might be surprised to learn that she was somewhat of a tomboy. And as that tomboy, she often voiced some serious objections to marriage. I’m happy to see those objections seem to have been forgotten.”
“Me, too,” Mike called from the wedding table.
I paused to let the round of laughter following Mike’s comment abate, and then continued. “When Allison joined our family, Catheryn had already given birth to two boys, and until then things had gone pretty smoothly for us as parents. It’s a scientific fact that boys are easier to raise. Give ’em a pack of matches to play with and they’re happy.”
I paused to let another round of laughter subside. “Girls, on the other hand, are a different story,” I went on, glancing at Allison. “At the hospital when I first held Allison in my arms, I wasn’t certain how things were going to work out. Boys I knew. Raising a girl was another matter. But as the years went by, I’m happy to report that having Ali as a daughter has proved more rewarding than I could have ever imagined. Not that there haven’t been a few potholes along the way. I’ve probably butted heads with Ali more than with all the other kids combined, and some of that head-butting is still going on. It’s no secret that Allison is competitive to a fault and as stubborn as they come. By the way, those are traits she definitely didn’t inherit from me.”
“Yeah, right,” Lieutenant Long called from the bar, where most of the LAPD officers had retired after dinner.
“That’s my boss weighing in on the subject,” I laughed, raising my voice to be heard over the catcalls. “Please consider the source.” Then, again turning to Allison, “Seriously, those of you who know my daughter also know that when push comes to shove, Ali is someone you can count on, no matter what. Allison, I’m proud to be your father. And despite our occasional differences, I’m proud of the strong young woman you’ve become.”
