Molly was sobbing. “He’s dead. And I thought they were going to blame you. And I don’t know what to do.”
“Sshhh, baby,” Eva said.
“I don’t want to go home.”
Eva didn’t hesitate. “You come stay with me in my suite. The couch folds out to a bed. You don’t need to be alone.”
Back in the hotel, Eva and Jonathan waited until Molly was asleep in the bedroom before they settled in on the couches with glasses of wine. The poor girl had been up all night, waiting to see if Eva would be released. She hadn’t slept for more than twenty-four hours.
When they’d first returned, Eva had taken a quick shower while they waited for room service to deliver some comfort food—pasta and fresh bread and wine.
Once Molly had eaten, Eva ordered her to bed.
Despite her best instincts, Eva flipped on the TV news. For a second, she panicked when she saw the TV crews staked out in the circle drive of her hotel. They were interviewing the valet with the man bun. Tanner?
“She didn’t have nothing to do with that freak. Honestly. She was here doing her own thing. I never saw them talk, and I don’t care what the police say, she saved those people. That’s why the police let her go. If you want to talk about my coworker, all I have to say is he was a dick.”
At the curse word, the reporters dropped the microphones and moved away. Eva laughed.
The sweet kid was defending her. She’d tip him extra well next time she saw him.
Turning off the TV, she reached for another glass of wine.
She and Jonathan sat with the lights dimmed and the sliding glass doors of the suite open to the ocean. A light breeze brought the scent of salt, and the crashing of waves was a soothing rhythm in the background.
“What now?” Jonathan spoke first.
Eva shook her head. “I guess I go home.”
Her lawyer said he wanted to meet again in the morning but that all the charges had been dropped, and she was free to go.
“You know Dolan would love to see you.”
Dolan was Jonathan’s son and how the two had met. When Eva had moved down the road from them in LA, Dolan had turned to her for help. His father was ill and possibly dying, he thought, and his abusive mother was threatening to seek full custody. Eva found enough dirt on the mother to make sure she dropped any claims for custody. Permanently.
Jonathan had then asked Eva to help other friends trying to save their children from dangerous or abusive custody arrangements, and her little side gig had been born.
“I would love to see that kid too,” Eva said. “Why don’t you guys come stay with me in Italy. I’ll pay the airfare. Once you’re there, it won’t cost a dime. Bring Tim, too, of course.”
Tim was Jonathan’s husband.
“I wish,” he said. “Business is booming. I don’t think I could even be gone a few days without all hell breaking loose.”
“And yet you dropped everything to come here,” Eva said lightly.
He smiled. “That’s what friends do.”
She smiled and raised her glass to him.
Her life had been wrought with violence and tragedy and yet, at the same time, she had been extraordinarily blessed with friends who would die for her. Some had. The thought struck her full force, and she bowed her head.
Conrad might not have died for her in particular, but he had died for others. And he most certainly had died for Molly.
She raised her glass again, “I propose a toast to Conrad. He gave his life so others might live.”
Jonathan was somber as he raised his glass.
Eva took a drink and then stared out at the black night beyond the open balcony doors.
47
Eva pulled out the hideaway bed in the living room, saying it was big enough for both of them. They laughed and giggled and huddled under the covers for a few minutes before growing quiet in their own thoughts.
Before turning out the light, Eva reached over and kissed Jonathan on the forehead. But he was already sound asleep.
She was unable to sleep for an hour before deciding to get up so she wouldn’t wake Jonathan with her tossing and turning.
It was time for her to go home to Italy, but she had a few loose ends to tie up first.
She first hopped on the Queen of Spades fan site.
Her fans had been the ones to make sure her side of the story was told. It was because of them that she was now free. Well, them and Jonathan. But the pressure their outrage exerted on the police meant she was free now instead of months from now.
But there was a crucial part of the story they weren’t talking about.
Touched by the messages and posts about her, Eva decided that instead of lurking on the site under Jonathan’s credentials, she would register and post from her own account and tell the real story.
She signed up with the username TheQueenofSpades and then, before she could change her mind, created a post. Now they would know.
He was the true hero. Not her.
Once she’d done this, she felt a peace settle over her.
That’s what had been bothering her. She was being given credit for something she didn’t do. She’d helped stop the shooter, but without Conrad, none of it would’ve been possible. Not one single thing. He could have been a coward and sat back and let it all happen, but instead he had reached out to her for help and had died to save others.
She crawled back into bed, finally at peace enough to fall asleep.
48
The next day, over a breakfast of croissants and fruit and bacon and sausage and eggs, the three of them discussed her post.
“I think that was a good move,” Jonathan said.
Molly was busy typing on her own laptop.
“There!” she said and took a big swig of her coffee. “I’m registered too. I’ve told my own story about it.”
“That’s wonderful,” Eva said.
“Is there anything else we can do?” Molly asked. “I don’t know. I just feel like he deserves at least this much.”
“Agreed,” Eva said.
“What about that reporter I mentioned?” Jonathan said. “The one I promised an exclusive interview?”
Eva didn’t hesitate. “Call her. Tell her to be here in twenty minutes. My flight leaves in five hours. And tell her that our faces will be obscured.”
Jonathan was already dialing.
Eva looked at Molly.
“I’m going to do any interviews that are requested of me,” Molly said. “I’m going to make sure the world knows he was a hero. I owe him that.”
Eva took her by the forearms and looked her square in the eyes. “That’s sweet, but listen. The most important thing is that you take care of yourself, okay?”
Molly nodded.
When the reporter arrived, she was trailed by a camera guy. She was brisk and efficient and immediately drew the black-out curtains and ordered the cameraman to set up a series of lights that a hotel valet had brought up on a luggage cart.
Once everything was set up, Eva and Molly were only silhouettes as they were questioned about their involvement in the shooting and the events that led up to it. The segment was being taped, Raquel Mendoza told her. Normally she‘d run such a segment live, but in this case, she offered to send the edited footage to Eva for approval first. On the screen under Eva’s head, it would simply say “The Queen of Spades” for her name.
Eva trusted the woman and walked her to the door to thank her.
“Be sure that the part about Conrad isn’t edited out,” she said.
Raquel laughed. “No way I would cut it. You both made it perfectly clear that he was the main reason you spoke to me.”
Eva smiled and handed her a card. “I don’t give these out to just anybody, but I trust you for some reason.”
Shortly after, Molly and Jonathan headed to the lobby while Eva finished packing. With her suitcase standing by the door, she gave the suite one last glance to make sure she wasn’t forgetting anything.
/>
As she looked around, she saw the message light blinking on the hotel phone. She logged on and discovered that Alex had left half a dozen messages for her. So had that Los Angeles Detective Jay Collins—the one who suspected she’d murdered her family. She glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Shit. He’d just left the last message a few minutes before. Good thing she was leaving immediately. He’d said, “I’m in Miami. Can we meet? I won’t bring the handcuffs. I promise.” He left a number and asked her to call him.
Alex’s messages had come in over the past two days. In them, he’d said he’d drop everything if she could spare a few minutes for coffee or a drink. The more recent ones had been left while she was in jail. He'd offered his lawyers, money, anything she needed. He said he knew she was innocent, and he’d do everything in his power to help fight. He left three different phone numbers where she could reach him.
She hung up the phone and left the hotel room without writing down either man’s number.
49
Eva had only been home two days when her cell phone rang.
It was Molly.
Eva had just swum laps in her outdoor pool and was drying off in the sun.
“Ciao, Molly.”
“I hope it’s okay I called. I don’t want to bug you, but I was hoping to go to Conrad’s funeral. I’ve been looking for notices about it, and there hasn’t been anything. I was able to find out which coroner’s office picked up…picked him up, but they said they won’t tell me anything unless I’m family.”
“Give me the name. I’ll handle it and get back to you.”
After hanging up, Eva settled on a lounge chair and sipped from her water bottle before she dialed the number, squinting in the bright sun to see the buttons on her phone screen. Droplets of water dripping down her neck from her wet hair evaporated before they made it to her chest. The sun was blazing and warmed her skin.
The coroner’s office answered on the third ring.
“I was the Italian woman in the news about the mass shooting. I’m calling about Conrad Reynold’s body. We are trying to find out which funeral home his body was released to.”
The guy who answered the phone let out a long sigh that sounded weary and annoyed. “I’ll let you talk to my supervisor.”
Eva took another gulp of her water.
Francesca stood in the doorway of the villa with a plate of fruit. When she saw Eva was on the phone, she set the tray down on a table near the door and retreated back inside.
After a few seconds, a woman came on the line.
“This is Sarah North.”
“My name is Eva. I was the Italian woman who was with Conrad Reynolds when he stopped the mass shooter.”
The woman was silent for a second before answering. “Yes? What can I help you with this morning?”
“I’m trying to find the name of the funeral home where Conrad’s body was released. I’d like to attend the funeral, but unfortunately, I’ve not seen anything posted publicly. If the funeral home tells me the family wants the service to remain private, I will respect that, but I would still like to know so I can privately pay my respects at his grave.”
Again, the woman didn’t answer right away.
“Stand by, please. I can release the name of the funeral home to you.”
“Thank you.”
A few minutes later, the woman returned to the line.
“I’m sorry, I should have been told this. His body has not been claimed by any relatives.”
Eva closed her eyes for a second and said, “Okay. Thank you for your time.”
As she hung up, Francesca came back out with two small cups of espresso. She handed one to Eva and sat down on the adjacent lounge. “You look perplexed.”
Eva explained the situation.
“Guess you're going to have to bury him yourself.”
Eva nodded. “That’s what I was thinking.” She stood. “I’ll go pack.”
“Bring black,” Francesca said dryly. They both knew that was the only color Eva ever wore.
But instead of packing, Eva headed straight to her office.
Once she was on her laptop, she hacked into the state’s driving records database and tracked down the phone number of Conrad’s only living relative. His uncle, George. He was sixty years old and lived in a swampy area of Florida. She pulled up a satellite image of the home. It was a small rambler with faded blue boards in need of a paint job. The front porch sagged, and the entire house listed to one side as if the muck around it was trying to swallow it.
It was basically a shack in the middle of nowhere. Seeing the ramshackle building, Eva suddenly wondered if perhaps the uncle didn’t have the money to bury his nephew. She could take care of that easily.
Hoping to avoid another international trip so quickly, Eva thought she’d try calling first.
“Yeah?” The man sounded older than his sixty years.
“Mr. Reynolds? I’m sorry to bother you. I knew your nephew. I was hoping to find out about funeral arrangements for him. I’d like to pay my respects.”
She held her breath waiting for an answer.
“Your respects?” His voice sounded incredulous. To her surprise, the man burst out laughing. The raucous laughter erupted into a coughing fit. When he finally caught his breath, his voice was brittle.
“They can keep him.”
“Excuse me?” Eva tried to hide her shock.
“You heard me.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”
“I don’t want nothing to do with that boy, alive or dead.”
“If it’s a matter of money…I can help.”
“That’s got nothing to do with it,” he said. “My sister-in-law, his ma, already paid for a plot for him. But he’s not going in it.”
“Can you tell me why?”
“Listen lady, with all due respect, mind your own goddamn business.”
He hung up.
Eva called Molly back. “Looks like I’m coming back to Florida. Can we meet up?”
“Yes,” Molly said. “I moved back in with my mom for the rest of the month until I can find a new place. I just can’t go back…there, you know.”
“I get it.”
“I’ll call you once I’m settled in,” Eva said.
Francesca walked into her office.
“You’re on the next flight to Rome in two hours.”
“Thanks, baby,” Eva said. “Guess I’ll go shower and dress.”
As soon as her car dropped her off at the small Reggio Calabria airport, Eva thought of Alex for the first time since she’d heard his voicemails at the Florida hotel. They’d first seen each other in this small airport. The voicemail messages had been so sweet. It wouldn’t have hurt her to write down his number and at least call to thank him. She felt slightly guilty. She made a note to ask Francesca to send a huge bouquet of flowers to his villa.
She quickly forgot about him as she bustled to make it through security and board her flight to Rome.
Once she made her connecting flight from Rome to Miami, Eva finally relaxed. She settled into her seat, pulled down her eye mask, put in her ear pods, and zoned out to the soothing tones of Miles Davis.
When the flight attendant brought her a shrimp salad for lunch, Eva once again thought of Alex and his “picnic” lunch of cheese and nuts. It made her smile. And when she thought of their night together in his hotel room, it made her blush.
Her eyes flew open, and she pulled the eye mask up, blinking at the brightness of the cabin. She was startled to realize that when she thought of their lovemaking she didn’t feel crushed by guilt. And then that made her feel guilty.
The grief rose in her throat like a lump she couldn’t swallow. She closed her eyes again tightly, but one tear squeezed out. Later, Santella. Not here. Not now. Later. When you are alone.
She wondered if she’d ever be able to go even a week without breaking down when she told herself “later.” She couldn’t imagine making it a month.
&n
bsp; But for now, she’d bottle it all up until she was checked into her hotel room in Miami.
She pulled her eye mask back down and turned up the volume of her music. For now, she would concentrate on her breath and blocking out anything but the way sensation of the air moving in and out of her body.
50
When Eva pulled the rental car into the circle drive of the hotel, it was still dark—not yet dawn. The driveway and the lobby beyond the glass doors were empty.
A valet ran over. “Good to see you again, Miss…”
It was the valet with the man bun—the one who had spoken up on the news saying that there was no connection between the Queen of Spades and Sebastian Carlson.
She appreciated that he didn’t call her the Queen of Spades, but didn’t help him out by supplying the name he was fishing for. She did, however, palm him a $50 as he held open her car door. “Thank you.”
“Would you like your car parked in the usual way, near the drive.”
“That would be wonderful, Tanner.”
He blushed. Maybe because she’d remembered his name.
Inside the hotel, she checked in under the assumed name she’d used before: E. Spade.
Once inside her suite, she flung open the doors to the balcony and inhaled deeply. The ocean air was always healing. If she had her way, she’d never live away from the sea again. It made her feel alive. She stood on the balcony and watched the sun rise to the east, coating the sky in sherbet oranges and pinks.
Once the sun crept up over the horizon, she went inside and changed into an ivory silk nightgown. She drew the blackout curtains in the bedroom and opened the sliding doors so she could fall asleep to the sound of waves crashing onto the shore below. She burrowed under the covers and was asleep within seconds.
It was only when she woke that afternoon that she realized she’d forgotten to have the “episode” she’d promised herself.
One-Eyed Jack Page 13
