“Let’s just say we were in possession of certain information that could be turned over to the FBI if they made a few concessions regarding the boat and Manning’s kids.”
Devereux burst out laughing. “I see D.I. still has a moving line where the law is concerned.”
“We like to think of it as discretionary.”
He shrugged, his face gaining a more solemn look. “A nationwide child pornography ring has been closed down, with all guilty parties being held accountable. That’s a rare accomplishment. Fortunately, Delphine Robochaux has been cooperating --”
“Sung with the lungs of a canary, eh?”
“In an effort to lessen her caged time, she couldn’t sing names fast enough.”
We gazed at each other in mutual understanding. Here was the real reason for a truce; the bad guys were going down. Devereux went on.
“She even handed over Rodrigo Santiago, the number one man, and all his bank accounts.”
“Glad to hear it. All’s well that ends well.”
“Yes.”
“Well, good.”
I fidgeted. So did he. I cleared my throat. So did he. I was puzzled. We’d said just about everything that needed to be said and yet he was still hanging around. What’s up with that?
“Then that about wraps things up?”
“Yes. No. Not really. There is one more thing…” Devereux brought the package he’d been holding at his side up and grasped it with both hands, almost as if it was a peace offering.
“You were right, Miss Alvarez. When I lost my brother I was loaded with guilt. Did I somehow cause my own brother’s death? So I blamed your father for everything. It was the only way I could live with myself, I suppose. But I was wrong to blame anybody, other than the shooters. My wife’s been telling me that for years, and I finally decided to listen to her.”
“I think I like your wife.”
“You’re a lot like her in some ways, stubborn, opinionated, and not afraid to say what’s on your mind.”
“Now I know I like her.”
“Anyway, this is for you.” He pushed the paper wrapped parcel to me.
I took it from him with my good hand. It was heavier than it looked and felt like whatever was inside had been wrapped in something cushiony, like bubble wrap or a towel.
“What is it?”
“After my brother’s death, all the weapons were confiscated from the crime scene. That included your father’s gun. There it is. The chamber’s empty. The bullets were removed by forensics.” He nodded toward the package.
“But that was years ago. After Dad was cleared, why wasn’t it returned to him?”
“They could never find it. It wasn’t the department; it was me. I kept moving it around in the evidence room, misplacing it. Once we even sent him back the wrong weapon, mismarked. I did that, too. Roberto returned it and asked again for his own gun back. I knew he wanted it. I knew it was special to him. Something about your mother having given it to him.”
I started to speak but he held up his hand and went on.
“I’m not proud of what I did, but it’s done. You return the gun to your mother, with my apologies. If you or your mother want to file a complaint with the department then so be it. I’ve already told my boss, and I’ve been given a reprimand. If your family wants to add to it, try to have me suspended or demoted, I’ve got it coming.”
I felt a burst of anger at Devereux for being so petty, so mean-spirited. Keeping something that should have been rightfully returned to my father, just to screw with his head, made me see red. Then my emotions did a flip-flop. Maybe I was tired of a war I didn’t have anything to do with, a war that seemed out of place and unworthy of us all.
“I don’t think we need to carry this any further, but I’ll check with Mom. She’ll probably feel the same way I do. Let’s try to make the past the past; move forward.”
He studied me for a moment. “You have a touch of the Pollyanna in you, you know that?”
“Ah, the old Devereux resurfaces. And by the way, up yours.”
The detective threw his head back and gave out a hoot of laughter before he said, “Old habits die hard.” Then he sobered and looked at me. “Tell your uncle I’ll be waiting for him at the house this afternoon. That dog will never have a better home. That much I can promise you.”
He strode away without a backward glance, even though my eyes were boring into his back. Devereux got half way down the hallway, and just when I thought we would never speak to each other again in of our lifetimes, he turned around to me. A smile streaked across his face but was gone in an instant.
“You’re a good investigator, Miss Alvarez. I’ll say that for you. Like your father. I don’t think he was totally blameless in what happened, just like I think you asked for what you got on the high seas. But you’re a person who needs to right a wrong. I can appreciate that.”
He turned around and left, striding tall and purposeful down the hallway.
Wow. He’d used the same phrase Mama Biggs did, about me needing to right a wrong. I guess I’m more transparent than I think. I looked down at what was in my hand and fought the urge to unwrap the gun and take a gander at it.
But I knew Mom was the one who should see it for the first time in nearly two decades. I covered the package with my beautiful shawl, feeling sad and unsettled, but with some kind of ending in sight.
Chapter Thirty-two
Honor Comes Home
The door from the dining room swung open and Mom entered the hallway.
“Liana, there you are. Dessert is on the table. We’ve been waiting for you. The festivities are awaiting you. It’s not good to keep our guests waiting.”
“Mom, I’m glad you’re here.” I clutched at the package, unmoved by her urgency, even though the word ‘waiting’ had been used three times. “Just the person I wanted to see.”
“Oh?”
Her Dresden blue eyes focused in on me. She knew something important was going down. I told her briefly of Devereux’s confession, explanation, and, of course, what he had given me to give to her.
“According to Devereux, this is the gun you gave to Dad years ago.”
I removed my shawl to reveal the package. Before I gave it to her, I swept a loving hand over the top of the outside paper, thin, dry, and stained by years of its own waiting.
There was no response from my mother, other than a deep intake of breath. I passed it over to her like it was the Holy Grail. She took it in the same manner and wordless, unwrapped the thin outer shell of paper, revealing a batting material used before bubble-wrap became so popular.
Inside a glittering, steel gun lay, looking much the same as it probably had twenty years before. Moments went by and I said nothing, giving her time. She stared at the gun, before running the shaky tips of her fingers over a section of its handle.
“The words are still there, just as I had them inscribed.”
Her voice was emotionless and all the more powerful because of it. I held my breath and was quiet, letting her go on at her own pace. I saw her slip back in time, focusing on things long gone.
“I was so happy when your father left the police department. Before that, every day when he went to work, I was afraid he might never come home again. When he started Discretionary Investigations, doing more benign work, I was thrilled. Nobody, I thought, would ever be in danger dealing with computer software and hardware, intellectual property, and so forth. We could be almost normal. Our children would grow up and go off to live their own lives. He and I would grow old together. Then he had the aneurism. He was dead before he hit the ground. All that worry about him being killed on the job and meanwhile, a ticking time bomb inside of him….”
Her voice trailed off. She came back to the present, seeing me, as if for the first time.
“You are so like him, you know, your energy, verve, way of looking at things. The light I see in your eyes, I saw in his eyes. That’s why I’m short with you sometimes. It’s not fair,
but it’s the truth. I never forgave him for leaving us like that. So sometimes, I take it out on you.”
A solitary tear ran down her cheek.
“It’s all right, Mom. I never take it personally.”
Which was a bald-faced lie, but then we Alvarez women seem to make those kinds of lying statements all the time. I don’t think she even heard me; she was so lost within herself.
“I gave him this gun the day we opened the doors of Discretionary Inquires. I wanted it be the beginning of a new era for us.” She caressed it again. “At the bottom of the grip I had the words, ‘Honor Above All’ inscribed. See? Because that’s how he lived his life. Honor came before everything.”
“I know.”
“I miss him so much.”
“I know.”
“I will never love another man the way I loved Roberto Alvarez.”
“I know, Mom.”
I’m not sure when the child becomes the parent or the parent the child, but at that moment I knew it happened. I reached out to a still grieving, lonely woman and enclosed her in a hug, even with my one game arm. Her suffering was my suffering, and was even paramount to anything I could feel or ever had felt. She and I clung to each other for a moment, eternity, not long, forever. Real time is not a part of this sort of thing.
Lila Hamilton Alvarez was the first to break free. She dabbed under each eye with a delicate fingertip, careful not to spoil her makeup or stain her finger. When she finished, she thrust Dad’s gun at me.
“I want you to have it, Liana.”
Stunned, I pushed it back to her. “No, Mom. The one Dad gave me is gone, but I want you to keep the one you gave him. Besides, you love it.”
“I don’t ‘love’ it, Liana. It’s just a weapon. And I insist you take it, even though you managed to lose two perfectly good weapons in a single day.”
The last part of her sentence was a throwaway, but I heard it quite clearly. She tried to force the gun on me again. I took a step back, still not taking it from her. And I was pissed.
“Wait a minute. I didn’t ‘lose’ them. I know right where those guns are. The bottom of the Gulf.”
Mom grabbed my hand, pulling me toward her.
“This is not a criticism of you, my dear, merely an observation.” Mom spoke in a strong, critical tone. “What I’m saying is to have lost two revolvers in one day might show a certain amount of recklessness.”
“Recklessness?”
“Or lack of concentration.”
“Lack of concentration?”
“Possibly? You should think about it, Liana.”
“Hmmm.” I faltered. “How about if I say…” I paused, not sure of the right words to end this discussion. “How about if I say I will give it some thought?”
“In that case, I don’t think we need continue this conversation.”
“Thank you, Jesus.”
“Please do not use the Lord’s name in vain, Liana.”
“I use it as a prayer of thanks.”
“Regardless. Now, I want you to have your father’s gun. I know he would have wanted you to have it. With the proviso, of course, you will try to be more careful in the future, dear.”
“Excuse me,” said a male voice from a distance, after a slight cough.
“You know, Mom,” I said, ignoring the male and his stupid cough, “You can be so tough. You weren’t there. You have no idea --”
The cough sounded again, a little louder this time and with more authority. “Ladies, I don’t mean to interrupt but --”
“What do you want?” We asked in unison, turning in the direction of the cough.
I looked over to see Gurn standing nearby, suppressing laughter.
“Ladies, things are winding up inside, the soufflé is getting cold, and Vicki needs to leave soon and get back to the shop. How about you settle this, whatever it is, later and we get back in there?”
“Devereux returned Dad’s gun and Mom wants me to have it. It’s the one she gave him twenty years ago, but I’m not taking it.” I pushed it back toward her, hard. “And that’s final, Mom.”
“Liana, you are being petulant.” She pushed it even harder toward me.
“Ladies, ladies. May I see the gun in question?”
Gurn’s smile never ceased, but our conversation earlier clicked in the back of my mind. I shrugged, relaxed, and backed off, seemingly giving in.
Mom handed the gun to Gurn as she arched an eyebrow at me. She, too, backed off and crossed her arms. I could see a little toe tapping done on her part out of the corner of my eye. She thought he was going to weigh in on her side. Gurn took the Detective Special and examined it from every side, deep in thought.
“Honor Above All,” he read. “I’m sure this means a lot to you, Lila. A Detective Special was a nice weapon twenty, thirty years ago, but firearms have improved so much, I don’t think this is quite up to the task nowadays.” He smiled at her, pearly whites glinting in the sun streaming in from the windows behind me. Gurn went on. “And you want Liana to have the very best and latest, don’t you? So I’ve got a suggestion. Why don’t you frame Roberto’s gun and put it on a wall in your office or your desk for everyone to see? The gun that started it all.”
“That could work,” I put in, as my mother would say, with verve.
“I don’t know.” Mom was hesitant, surprised she was losing the battle.
“Possibly?” I used the same tone she’d used on me. “You should think about it.” I was ignored.
Gurn went on as if I hadn’t spoken. “Another suggestion would be to put the motto, Honor Above All, over the doors of D.I. -- ah, Discretionary Inquiries.”
My man continued with his award winning, yet sincere smile. The corners of Mom’s mouth turned upward. I could feel her waiver. Gurn went on to seal the deal.
“I’d do business with a company that promoted a quality like that, ma’am.”
Wow! He’d ma’am-ed Lila Hamilton Alvarez. She loves that sort of thing. My mother cast him one of her own award winning smiles. I felt like I was at the Oscars.
“You know, Gurn, you should consider selling real estate. You’re quite good.” Still smiling, Mom looked him squarely in the eyes.
“Thank you, ma’am, but no. I’m content with being a Certified Public Accountant.”
Mom scoffed Big Time. “Certified Public Accountant, indeed. I believe there’s more to you than meets the eye.”
It was the first time anyone besides me had challenged Gurn on his professed career of pushing around numbers. I stepped back and let the champs dance around the ring, so to speak. This was getting good.
“I’m afraid not, ma’am. What you see is what you get. It’s true I have a few interests on the side --”
“A-hah!” Mom and I interrupted in unison, me more of a backup than the lead singer.
“—Such as NROTC and supporting my D.C. affiliations, which I am not at liberty to discuss. But other than that, I am your plain, ordinary CPA.”
Mom and I studied him in silence. His face wore the mask of sincerity. There would be getting no more out of him on the subject, dagnabbit. Finally, Mom spoke up.
“You’re going to marry my daughter, aren’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am, if she’ll have me.”
Okay, the conversation had taken an unexpected turn. I decided not to faint as I was wearing my new silk three-piece pantsuit. Otherwise, look out floor. I did try to force speech from a mouth that felt like it was filled with the sands of the Sahara. Or the sands of Death Valley; I was homesick for California. I think I gurgled, not unlike the sound of a stopped up sink finally being freed of a clump of hair by a plumber. Meanwhile, Mom continued, center stage.
“You won’t treat her like her first husband.”
“No, ma’am.”
“If you do, you will have to answer to me for it. I didn’t interfere between her and Nick, but I feel now I should have.”
Wait just a ding-dong minute. I’m being talked about like I’m no
t in the room. What’s up with that? I decided to try speech again; let them know who was who around here.
“Hey!’
Okay, it’s not Shakespeare, but it should alert someone I’m still among the living.
“She was a different person then,” Gurn said, ignoring me and returning Mom’s cool, appraising stare. “And married to a different man.”
“Hey!”
Nothing like talking to a wall. Two walls, in fact. I took a deep breath to throw out another yell, but Gurn started talking again.
“I think Liana Margaret Alvarez is the most remarkable woman I’ve ever been privileged to know. She’s intelligent, beautiful, loving, funny, original, and very much her own person. I would never try to control her in any way; I only want to cherish the woman she is.”
Okay, so maybe I’ll just be quiet and let the man talk.
“I will honor and love her forever, ma’am, but that’s only, as I said before, if she’ll have me.”
Mom reached out, touching Gurn on the shoulder with slim fingers for a flash of a moment. “Of course, she’ll have you.”
Watch it, Mom. I’m the one who should be saying that. Potential bride and all that.
“Hey!” I finally yelled for the third time, only to have it continue to fall on deaf ears.
My mother went on. “But you are marrying the entire Alvarez Family, dear boy. Remember that.”
“Yes, ma’am. It gave me pause, but I still want to do it.”
Mom wasn’t sure she’d heard right. At best, she didn’t quite know what to make of his remark, so she remained silent and smiling.
I giggled. Life with a man who could throw my mother like that had a definite upside. Mom looked from Gurn to me. It was refreshing, someone conceding I was standing within earshot.
“In that case, I will return to my Creole Bread Pudding Soufflé and leave you both to discuss your future.”
“And take the gun with you, Mom.” It was my parting shot and I delivered it for all I was worth.
Without acknowledging I’d spoken, Mom did an about face and went back into the dining room. I watched her leave then turned to Gurn, pulling myself up to my full five foot eight inches. With an arched eyebrow, not unlike my mother’s, and a stern look upon my face, I challenged him.
DEAD....If Only (The Alvarez Family Murder Mysteries Book 4) Page 26
