“I don’t know, Jay.”
Jay rubbed his temples as if they hurt. “And why would the person who killed Gambrini drive away in his car in the first place?”
“Duffy’s Dad said he was being set up. He suspected Gambrini’s killer stole the car and planted it in that barn to make him appear guilty.”
“Tell me, Lilah, after reading the diary, do you think Tom Duffy was murdered?”
“Dan obviously thought so, and I think he believed Rubio killed his father. And it appears Dan was coming to New Orleans for a confrontation.”
Jay frowned, looking exhausted. “I know I’m not thinking straight right now, but why would Duff come here to find his dad’s murderer? Does this man live in New Orleans?”
“I met a man named Rubio recently. He was in Lotta Love’s club and again at the Vice President’s party wearing a mask.”
“Are you saying, Gable knows this man?” Jay asked.
“Obviously, they have some connection.”
Jay massaged his chin as if trying to digest what we’d talked about. “I still don’t understand why Duff carried all that money with him to New Orleans?”
“I don’t either. Maybe it was a payoff or the only way he knew to trap his father’s murderer, if in fact he was murdered.
“Duff was so obsessed with his Dad’s death,” Jay said. “He was like I am now, he couldn’t think straight. He just wanted to settle a score.”
“And it cost him his life, Jay. The medical examiner’s report indicates Dan was murdered.”
Jay squinted, looking doubtful. “Are you sure?”
“That’s what Billy Joe said.”
Jay slammed his hands on the kitchen bar. “Do they know who did it?”
“Billy Joe thinks someone dressed as a doctor entered Dan’s room and injected him with potassium chloride, but they don’t know who. The man was obviously well disguised and left no clues that they’ve been able to find.”
“Damn. Duff and I caused a hell of a lot of trouble when we took that safe, and you know something, Lilah, that money is blood money. Drug and blood money.”
“You’re probably right, Jay, but I don’t know the best way to handle it.” I grabbed my tote bag and dumped the cash contents on the table in front of him. “There’s probably one million in that safe deposit box and here’s the rest of it.”
He stared at the money, but said nothing.
“What do we do now?” I asked. “Personally, I think we should put it in a safe deposit box in the same bank with the other, until we decide.”
He grimaced. “Holy cow, Lilah, if the IRS finds out, they’ll claim the money in back taxes.”
“Who knows, I might even be held liable for concealing it,” I said.
“Father McDade would say, give it to charity.”
I smiled, thinking of what his mother told me about his Catholic schooling. “Who’s Father McDade?”
“A Notre Dame professor and priest. Years ago, he told me a story about a millionaire who made his fortune transporting Mexicans for slave labor. The rich man was miserable. His wife died of cancer and his only daughter was killed in an automobile accident. He asked Father McDade for help. The good Father told him his wealth was not only illegal but immoral.”
“And he repented of his sins?” I asked.
“Father Mack told the sinner to give away his millions to the Mexicans he’d victimized.”
“Did he?”
“That’s what Father Mack claimed.”
“Let me guess. Now he’s poor but happy.”
“Father Mack said the ex-millionaire slave trader was working for the Salvation Army. He’d remarried and had a couple of kids,” Jay paused, then nodded. “Yes, if Father Mack were here, he’d tell us the money found in that safe is evil. The only way to change the aura is to give it away.”
I wrapped my arms around him. He held me so close I could feel his body becoming erect. “I wonder what Father Mack would say about this,” I said, stroking him.
“He’d say you need to marry that woman.”
Chapter Sixty
Tuesday, February 14
It was eight-forty-five when I finally made it to the Harris’ driveway. An overturned tractor trailer rig on Interstate 10 coupled with the Mardi Gras traffic put me behind schedule. Billy Joe and Angela ran out to meet me as if they were fleeing a burning house.
“It’s about time,” Angela said.
“You look lovely,” I said, hugging her and noticing the unfamiliar outfit. “Where did that come from, and where’s Melissa? Isn’t she going with us?”
Billy Joe shook his head. “She doesn’t want to.”
“Melissa’s Republican,” Angela explained.
I laughed and glanced at Billy Joe who was frowning.
He opened my door. “Listen, Honey, the traffic’s a madhouse.”
“You don’t have to tell me. I’ve been sitting in it.”
“Why don’t I drive you two downtown and drop you off at the Cathedral?”
“Thanks for the offer, Billy Joe, but I don’t like to be stranded without my car.”
“Tell you what. I’ll drive your van, drop you off, park at the station and walk over.”
I considered his proposal.
Angela jumped in the back seat. “Mama, we don’t have all day. If we don’t hurry we’re gonna miss the President’s speech.”
Deciding Angela was right, I moved over to the passenger side.
On the way over to Jackson Square and Saint Louis Cathedral, I told Billy Joe about Tom Duffy’s diary and the enigmatic Rubio. At the same time, I was cautious not to alarm Angela who seemed to be listening to our conversation.
“And you suspect this Rubio is up to no good?” Billy Joe asked.
“Rubio means ‘the blonde’ in Spanish,” Angela said.
“She’s right, Billy Joe. Rubio is probably not the man’s real name but a nickname.”
“We need to ask the Vice President who he is,” Billy Joe said as we approached the corner of Decatur and St. Ann.
“I’ll try one more time to call Ms. McLewie,” I said. “By now, I’ve memorized the number.”
“Do I know her?” Billy Joe asked, confused.
“Didn’t I tell you?” I punched in McLewie’s number. “She was Tom Duffy’s secretary and I’ll bet she can tell us who Rubio is.” I heard a busy signal. “Well, that’s encouraging. If the line’s busy, she’s probably talking on the phone and she must’ve checked her messages. Maybe she’ll find it in her heart to call me back.”
Billy Joe waved to the policeman on horseback who was trying to maneuver in the bumper-to-bumper traffic on Decatur Street. “This is as close as I can get.”
I kissed Billy Joe on his cheek. “Thanks. See you soon.”
He stared at us as if he wanted to say something, then decided not to.
Angela and I waved to him before we hurried up St. Ann Street toward the Cathedral.
Chapter Sixty-one
The Vice President had a limo waiting for Dr. Nathan Huxley upon his arrival at the New Orleans Airport. The driver grabbed Huxley’s carry-on luggage and mentioned the two-hour time difference, which was unnecessary because Huxley’s watch registered all of the different time zones with the press of a button.
Anxious to speak with Gable, Huxley phoned him and listened to several rings before Annie Turner, Gable’s cook and housekeeper answered.
“Hello. May I speak to Vice President Gable, please. This is Nathan Huxley, Dr. Nathan Huxley.” He was doubtful she would recognize his name. Gable kept their association a secret.
“The Vice President can’t come to the phone right now,” Annie said, abruptly. “Would you like to leave a message?”
“He’s expecting my call. At his request, I have flown in from California.” Huxley tried to sound calm but his voice quivered. He assumed Gable would pick up the phone when he overheard the housekeeper announce his name.
“This is Secret Service Agent Jame
s Vanchek. Who’d you say this is?” The man had a fog-horn voice.
“Dr. Nathan Huxley. The Vice President is expecting me.”
“I’m sorry Dr. Huxley, the Vice President is unavailable. He left orders not to be disturbed,” Vanchek said.
“Tell him I’m at the New Orleans’ airport and should be arriving at his townhouse shortly.”
“I’ll tell him when I speak with him.”
Huxley heard the impatience in the agent’s voice.
“In other words, you didn’t actually tell him I’m on the phone.” Huxley hoped to convey his anger.
“No. But I’ll leave word that you called and that you’re on your way.”
Huxley decided to take a different tack. “If the Vice President can not come to the telephone, I’d like to speak with Rubio.”
“I’m afraid you’re striking out today, Doc. Rubio left with Kern McIntoch thirty minutes ago.”
“Where were they going? Can you tell me that?” The psychiatrist couldn’t disguise his apprehension.
“If you must know, the St. Louis Cathedral.”
As Vanchek hung up, Huxley told the limousine driver, “To the Cathedral and step on it.”
Chapter Sixty-two
In the grid locked traffic, it took Billy Joe forty-five minutes to drive six blocks to the French Quarter Police Station. He scribbled a note to place in Lilah’s van window explaining her vehicle’s presence in the police lot. As soon as he attached his card to the make-shift sign, Lilah’s cell-phone rang.
She’d obviously forgotten to take it, but Billy Joe wasn’t exactly sure how the darn thing worked. He studied the keys on the tiny phone before answering.
“May I speak to Lilah Sanderford?” a quivering, elderly woman’s voice asked. “This is Patricia McLewie.”
“Hello Ms. McLewie, Lilah told me she hoped you’d call.” Billy Joe identified himself as a police officer and personal friend of Lilah’s.
“I was away visiting my daughter in Sedona, Arizona. It was late when I came home last night, and I found her messages. She said she was writing an article on the Vice President.”
“She is and it will be a good one.” Billy Joe smiled. He was pleased to be intercepting the call for Lilah. “I’ll be seeing her shortly. When would be a convenient time for her to call you back, Ms. McLewie?”
“Anytime. I have no plans today.”
As he spoke with McLewie, Billy Joe recalled what Lilah said about Rubio.
“Ms. McLewie, I happen to remember one of Lilah’s questions. Does the name Rubio mean anything to you?”
“Why, I haven’t heard that name in many, many years,” she said as if in a daze.
Billy Joe walked to the Cathedral with Lilah’s phone pressed to his ear, struggling to hear over the traffic noise as he listened in disbelief to Patricia McLewie.
Chapter Sixty-three
While Angela thumbed through a history booklet on the Cathedral, I checked my camera, then placed a tape recorder on the altar next to the podium. An expressionless Secret Service agent carrying a walky-talky examined it. I told him I planned to turn the recorder on when the organist began Hail to The Chief. He seemed satisfied with my answer.
There was not much to do at that point, but to sit and observe the crowd and the beautiful Cathedral. Angela and I were sitting in a front pew roped off for the press. To my left, was a New York Times reporter wearing a laminated press pass around his neck.
Secret Service agents were everywhere, along the pews and up in the balconies. I tried to envision President Katherine Georgia Wilson’s grand entrance and wondered if the Vice President would be following behind. Maybe Kern McIntoch knew. I spotted him in the right balcony. He was standing beside a costumed man wearing a black mask.
I nudged Angela and pointed to McIntoch. She gave him a sweeping wave. He returned her greeting. A few minutes later, he walked downstairs and joined us, though he was clearly nervous. His eyes darted around the church as if he were unable to settle on any one thing for more than a second.
“Has the President arrived?” I asked.
McIntoch looked at his watch. “She’s on her way from the airport. Should be here in about ten minutes.”
“Is she with the Vice President?”
“No. He’s communicating with several foreign leaders via internet conferencing this morning.”
I flipped over my reporter’s pad to begin writing. “What are they discussing? Could you give me any details?”
He leaned close as if studying my notebook. “This is off the record, but the real truth is, the Vice President doesn’t want to upstage President Wilson.”
As McIntoch spoke a scholarly-looking gentleman wearing round glasses walked up and introduced himself as Dr. Nathan Huxley.
~ * ~
“There’s an interesting story behind that name,” Patricia McLewie said. “You may not know this but Johnny Gambrini is a twin.”
Billy Joe was confused. “Johnny Gambrini?”
McLewie laughed. “I’m sorry. I should have said the Vice President.
“And you say he’s a twin?”
“That’s what Rose told me.”
“Rose?”
“Rose and her husband, Stan Gambrini. They adopted Johnny.”
“Yes, now I seem to remember that, but I never heard anything about John Gable having a twin brother,” Billy Joe said. “Are you absolutely sure?”
“Rose used to call Johnny’s brother Rubio because of his white-blonde hair. The name helped her distinguish between them. I believe she said his real name was Robert. Rubio is a Spanish name. Rose was Spanish, from Argentina.”
Billy Joe jostled with the crowd outside the Cathedral. “Ms. McLewie, I hope you can hear me in spite of the interference. It’s a madhouse here, people pushing and shoving.”
“I can hear you just fine, Mr. Harris.”
Billy Joe wished he could sit down somewhere in a quiet spot and concentrate on what Mrs. McLewie had to say. “Now, getting back to the connection between Rose Gambrini, John and his brother. Can you explain?”
“Rose was Stan’s wife. Stan was John’s uncle, John’s mother’s brother. Rose and Stan Gambrini adopted Johnny after his mother died.”
“When and how did John lose his mother.”
“I’m not exactly sure when, but I do know that Rose told me the mother died not long after the boys were born.”
Billy Joe heard a click. It was McLewie’s call waiting.
“Will you excuse me a moment, I have another call,” she said.
Billy Joe waited, thinking of the many questions he wanted to ask her, but when McLewie came back on the line, she said, “It’s my daughter from Sedona. I can’t keep her holding. May I call you back?”
Billy Joe thanked her for calling and said Lilah would be in touch later, but, as he hung up, he regretted not finding out more about Gable’s twin.
~ * ~
Lack of information always bothered him, and now was no different. He walked into the Cathedral totally befuddled. Why had he never read or heard anything about the Vice President having a twin brother? Was he supposed to be a secret? Was this guy Rubio a nut that Gable had hidden away someplace to avoid embarrassment?
Billy Joe couldn’t figure it out. The information he had didn’t add up. He’d never known of an elected officials who could hide anything without the press finding out.
Billy Joe was still trying to decipher what McLewie told him as he tried to make his way through the crowd. He paused to admire two angel statues inside the Cathedral until a familiar voice distracted him. “Hello again.” Billy Joe turned to see Kern McIntoch smiling at him.
A preppy-suited man in round wire-frames stepped in between them. “Mr. McIntoch, how do you expect me to find him?” the man asked. He reminded Billy Joe of a weasel with intense eyes, like a nerdy intellectual. One of those guys who never gains weight, perpetually thin, salt and pepper hair, five-feet-ten. “There are several people here wearing a dis
guise,” the man said.
McIntoch pointed to a costumed character, standing near the right balcony. “There’s Rubio, Dr. Huxley.”
Huxley rushed down the center aisle toward the back stairs.
McIntoch called after him. “Don’t think they’re going to let you on the balcony, Dr. Huxley.”
So that’s Rubio, Billy Joe thought. He studied him for a moment wondering if he’d ever met the man. In disguise it was hard to tell, but Billy Joe figured he might as well talk to the guy and find out more about the Vice President’s twin, but then he saw Lilah waving. “I saved you a place, Billy Joe. Come sit with us.”
He handed her the cell-phone she’d forgotten. She promptly threw it into her oversized purse. “You’re always looking after me.”
“Remember that woman you were trying to reach, Patricia McLewie? She called and I talked to her.”
Lilah huffed. “Just my luck.”
He leaned close and whispered. “She said you could call her anytime today. I hope you don’t mind but I asked her about Rubio.”
“Did you find out anything?”
Billy Joe repeated what little he knew about the Vice President’s mysterious twin.
“My God, Billy Joe, you mean that crazy Rubio guy is Gable’s twin brother.”
“That’s what she said, and, according to McIntoch, he’s in the Cathedral today.” Billy Joe pointed up to the balcony at the man dressed in the purple, green and gold, hooded costume with the black, grim reaper mask.
Lilah grabbed her opera glasses to look at Rubio.
Gable’s twin was standing next to a giant grandfather clock.
“Billy Joe, I’ve seen that clock before at Gable’s house,” Lilah said. “Gable, himself, showed it to me. I wonder what it’s doing in the Cathedral.”
Billy Joe lost sight of Rubio. Lilah stared up at the clock. “Either it’s moving or my eyes are deceiving me.”
Billy Joe laughed. “All clocks move, girl, that’s how they keep time.”
Lilah handed him the binoculars. “Not like that.”
Billy Joe focused on the clock. He barely heard the organist’s jazz rendition of Hail To The Chief, but he automatically stood, as everyone who wasn’t already standing did. He turned to see the president who smiled and waved behind a line of secret service agents.
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