by Dara Girard
“Yes. I have a stakeout. I’d like to close this case if I can and tonight is a good time.”
“Okay. I understand. Another time. Maybe tomorrow.”
“I’ll call you.”
“Which means no.”
“No, it means I’ll call you.” He hesitated. “I like black.”
“Black? Black is not a color. It’s the absence of color.”
“I like black.”
“Fine, I’ll see what I have for next time. Bye.”
“Bye.” He set the phone down and twirled his pen. Milton would pay big for this.
***
Jackie stared at the stacks of papers on her desk, annoyed with how disappointed she was. It was silly. She’d seen him yesterday, she shouldn’t miss him already. She looked at her watch—it was lunchtime, that’s all. Jackie grabbed her handbag and stood to go out for lunch; she needed to do something. She decided to visit her eldest brother, Drake, at the Blue Mango, one of the two restaurants he owned in D.C. When she entered the restaurant, she saw that the lunch crowd was in full form. Waiters expertly darted to and fro while the heady scent of gourmet cuisine filled the air. She went to the back office, pleased to see that Eric was there also. As a financial planner, he helped Drake with the books.
Eric saw her first. He usually saw more than people thought, though his gold-rimmed glasses and studious face made him look myopic. Slighter in build and lighter in shade than Drake, they barely looked like brothers.
“Where’s the disinfectant?” Eric teased. “A little bug just entered.”
Jackie made a face. “Amazing how some things don’t improve with age.”
Drake glanced up, his intense amber eyes briefly meeting hers. The expression, in contrast to his pepper-gray hair, usually intimidated those that didn’t know him well. “Is this a social visit or do you want something?”
“Social,” she said.
He gestured to a seat. “Sit down.”
She slid into a chair. “I have to write another grant.”
“Why?”
“Mr. Hamlick died.”
“I’m sorry.”
“How?” Eric asked.
“Natural causes.” She crossed her legs and swung-her foot. “So we need money.”
Drake straightened. “I could—”
Jackie shook her head. “Your donation is fine, but I can’t have you carrying the entire project. We need someone with lots of money.”
“There’s K—” Eric stopped then glanced at Drake. He shook his head. “Never mind.”
Drake said, “Don’t worry, we’ll figure something out.”
“You don’t need to,” Jackie said, wishing men didn’t always feel they had to fix things. “I just wanted to share.”
“Nevertheless, families help each other.”
She looked at the framed photos of his wife, Cassie, and their two kids: four-year-old Marcus, who had his father’s eyes, and Ericka, nearly two. In a few months he’d add another picture. Family meant everything to Drake.
“Have you eaten?” he asked.
“I’m not hungry. Really,” she said when he looked unconvinced. “I—”
He held up his hand at the sound of hurried footsteps racing past. “Cedric?” After a few moment, Cedric Diaz peeked his head inside the room. Though a young man of nearly twenty-one; with black hair pulled back in a ponytail, he flashed a sheepish grin that made him look younger. Drake frowned. “You’re late.”
Cedric’s olive skin developed a red tinge. “I’m sorry. I was getting things ready. Pamela’s--”
Drake folded his arms. “I have this bored expression on my face for a reason. It means I don’t care.”
“Sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”
“Good.” He nodded, giving silent dismissal.
Cedric waved to Jackie and Eric, then left.
Eric wiped his glasses. “Give the kid a break.”
Drake shook his head. “He’s not a kid anymore. And he’s become distracted these past few weeks.”
“His girlfriend is coming to visit for Spring Break.”
“I think it’s something else.” He rubbed his chin. “He’s improved a lot and I don’t want that to stop. He’s going places with or without Pamela.” Pamela had formerly worked at the Blue Mango before going on to college. Cedric had decided to forgo college for real life experience. It had put a strain on the relationship. “You’ve been against that relationship from the start.”
“I’m not against it. I realize that they’re young and will soon have to make a decision about their future.”
“They have a tight bond. I think it will work.”
“I doubt it. What happens when she leaves college?”
“They’ll get married.”
“No, they’ll realize they’ve grown apart.”
Eric flashed a grin. “Want to place a bet?”
“I thought you didn’t like losing money.”
His grin widened. “I don’t plan to lose.”
“Three hundred.”
“You’re on.”
Drake turned to Jackie. “I can get something put together for you.”
She resisted rolling her eyes. Would her brother ever get out of the habit of trying to feed people? “I’m fine, honestly.”
Eric said, “Since you’re both here, I might as well tell you my news.”
They turned to him.
He adjusted his glasses. “My doctor’s a little worried about me and wants to conduct some tests.”
Jackie stared, his words knocking the air out of her like a punch in the chest. Their parents had died of cancer. She couldn’t take seeing Eric weaken and then die as they had.
“What is he worried about?” Drake asked.
“My lungs. He wants to do some tests to see what is going on. I’ve done X-rays before—there was a shadow and it turned up to be nothing. I’m sure this is nothing.”
“Why are you so sure? Why is he concerned?”
“It’s a doctor’s job,” he said “It’s just tests.”
Drake glanced out the window, his voice barely audible. “Cancer?”
He shrugged.
Jackie uncrossed her legs and sat forward, trying to combat the rising anxiety. He couldn’t be really sick. It was all a mistake. “Do you feel okay? You didn’t tell us anything was wrong.”
“Does he ever?” Drake said, annoyed.
Eric shot him a glance. “I’m telling you now.”
Drake began cracking his knuckles, a bad habit he’d picked up after he’d quit smoking a year ago. “I suppose we should be grateful you told us before you were admitted into surgery.”
Jackie sighed. “It’s amazing that you’d end up with lung cancer.” She regretted her words when a look of pain and guilt briefly crossed Drake’s face.
Eric scolded her with a glance. “It’s not cancer. A little chest pain, that’s all. It’s just tests.”
“Right. Of course,” she said quickly.
“And if it is cancer, it’s nobody’s fault.” He glanced at his brother, who’d grown quiet. “Hey, remember, I’m the guy who could get sick in a test tube.”
Jackie took a deep breath, wishing she could take it all in stride as he did. But the thought of Eric being sick terrified her. “Does Adriana know?”
His light humor disappeared. “No, and I’m not going to tell her. It would only worry her.”
Drake said, “She’s your wife, she has the right to worry.”
“We’ve only been married a year and--”
Drake drummed his fingers. “And you don’t want the honeymoon to end? Wake up. The honeymoon’s over, you’re married now. Your battles become hers, she has a right to know. She’s going to be upset if this turns out to be serious.”
Eric shrugged. “I’m sure it’s not.” He took off his glasses, then shoved them back on. “I told you because I thought you should know, not so that you would worry.”
“You don’t want us to worry,” Drake
said in an ironic tone. He clasped his hands together and rested his chin on top. “Anymore instructions, professor?”
“Just one. You can’t tell Cassie.”
Drake straightened. “Why not?”
“Because then she’ll tell Adriana. They’re best friends.”
“You want me to keep the fact that my brother may have cancer or some other disease a secret from my wife?”
“Just for a few weeks.”
Drake shook his head. “I’ll tell her not to say anything, but I can’t keep this from her. Cassie and I talk about everything.”
Eric’s voice was firm. “Well, you won’t be talking about this.” He looked at Jackie. “And neither will you.”
Jackie began to protest. “Eric—”
“I don’t want their sympathies. I don’t want them feeling sorry for me.”
“They love you.”
“I know that. That’s why I can’t put them through what we went through with our parents. Cassie will tell Adriana. Adriana will tell Nina,” he said, referring to his eight-year-old stepdaughter. “What will I say to her? I can’t promise her anything. Jackie, you know how it feels to be a kid and have a father that’s not there for you.”
“This is different. Things can be done. Dad wasn’t you, you can’t think you’ll end up the same.”
“I don’t plan to, so don’t worry. If the news is bad, I’ll tell her. Otherwise it’s just between us. Okay?” When neither replied he looked at Drake. “Okay?” he asked again, more firmly this time.
Drake nodded reluctantly.
“Jackie?”
She sent Drake a look of resignation, he gave a slight shrug. Then she said the word she knew she’d regret. “Okay.”
***
“Get the camera off her ass,” Clay growled as Mack focused the lens. They sat in the parking lot of the Hillside Motel under a flickering street lamp, hearing the booming dance beat from a nearby club.
Mack grinned. “She’s got a great one.”
Clay agreed. Milton’s wife, Roberta, was a well-made woman, but he wasn’t in the mood to comment. He reached for the camera. “Give me that and you take notes.”
Mack moved it away. “All right, all right. No need to get violent.”
Clay sat back and sighed. He was bored, but this was part of the job. Roberta hadn’t been hard to follow. For a woman involved in an affair, she was very predictable. Hillside was one place she frequented. The kind of place where one key could open four rooms. It was a peach and green two-level building with a rusted railing and crumbling stairs. People rarely went there for the atmosphere. A neon sign from the club across the street reflected in the windows. Clay tapped his pen against the notepad as Mack videotaped the lover parking his car and meeting her.
“There’s our Romeo going into the motel,” Mack said, watching Roberta’s lover.
Clay scribbled down some notes, then glanced up. He saw a man walking toward the pair. He was of medium height with black hair and a long coat. Something about the man’s gait put him on alert. It was too fast, too determined. He picked up his binoculars, then swore.
Mack glanced at him. “What?”
“That’s Milton.”
“What is he doing here?”
“I guess he’s finally going to approach her. I wish he’d come to his senses sooner.”
“About time.” Mack shook his head. “I’m going to miss this case, though.”
Clay paused when he saw Milton reach inside his coat. He could feel the hairs bristle on the back of his neck. Something wasn’t right. “I don’t like this.”
Mack agreed. “Don’t know why he asked us to come, if he was coming himself.”
“What’s that in his hand?”
Mack snorted. “Funny, it looks like a gun.”
They stopped, stared at each other, then jumped out of the car.
Chapter Ten
Clay asked a bystander to call 911 while Mack raced across the lot. “Drop your weapon,” he ordered, holding out his own.
Milton kept his gun on his wife and her lover. “Stay away.”
“Milton, you don’t want to do this.”
The middle-aged man ignored him and stepped closer to the pair. “Roberta, are you happy?”
Under the fading light she looked like a wilting vine with her coiffured bun coming undone. She clasped her hands together. “Milton, please.”
“I’ve loved you all these years. I’ve given you chances, haven’t I?” His tone harshened. “Haven’t I?”
“Yes. Yes, you did.”
“But you still lied to me. Do you think I deserved that?”
“No, you deserved better. Don’t do this, please.” Her voice trembled. “Please.”
“It’s too late to beg.”
“Put the gun down,” Mack urged. “We can talk this over.”
“No! I’m sick of talking. Sick of it! We talked, didn’t we? But they were just words. They didn’t mean anything.” His voice cracked as tears built in his eyes. “I tried to be everything you wanted and I failed. . . I failed us both. I love you and I’ll show you how much. I want you all to see what she made me do.” He placed the gun against his head.
“Wait!” Clay said. “I need to get your mother on the phone.”
“What?”
“I can get her on the phone right now.” He held up his mobile phone. “I think she has the right to say goodbye to you since she’ll never see you again. I know you want to hurt Roberta, but do you also want to hurt your mom, too? Leave her alone without anybody?”
A series of emotions crossed his face. He glanced at Roberta and spoke with venom in his tone. “But I want her to suffer.”
“She’ll suffer.” Clay kept talking as Mack moved slowly out of view. “When you divorce her and leave her with nothing, she’ll suffer. But what will your mother have with you gone? No one visits her but you. You’re the only bright spot in her life. Pulling the trigger now is like shooting your mother in the heart.”
The gun wavered. Milton looked at him, helpless. “I don’t know. Life means nothing.”
“At least say good-bye.” He held the mobile toward him. “Here. Call her.”
The moment Milton reached for the phone, Mack jumped on him and seized the gun. Soon the police arrived and had him in handcuffs.
After giving their report to the police, Mack and Clay headed back to their car. Clay glanced at Milton in the police cruiser. Tears streamed down his face while Roberta flirted with an officer and her lover looked grim. “Poor, crazy bastard,” Clay said.
Mack patted him on the back. “Good job, buddy. How did you know his mother would work?”
“I didn’t. I Just kept talking until you could make your move.”
“Quick thinking.”
“Great instincts.”
“Perhaps I’ll listen to you next time.”
“Hmm. How do you plan to get paid for this job?”
“He paid in advance.”
Clay stopped and grabbed Mack’s shoulder, forcing him to stop. “You didn’t think that was strange?”
He shrugged. “I knew the guy was odd. I didn’t think he’d try to blow his brains out.”
Clay released him. “At least it’s over.”
“Yeah.”
Mack sat behind the wheel and started the ignition. “That little speech would have worked on me. If I decided to put a hole in my head, my mother would grab me from the grave, condemn me for my sin, then weep and tell me how much I’d broken her heart.”
Clay put on his seatbelt as Mack merged into traffic. “Mine wouldn’t even remember my name. Then she’d say, ‘I thought you’d died years ago. ’” His stepmother would be annoyed he hadn’t chosen a cleaner way to go. He didn’t care. He’d given up caring when his biological mother abandoned him at five and his stepmother hated him on sight.
“She would care,” Mack said. “You just don’t know it.”
The last time he’d seen his biological mother was
at his sister’s funeral. Five years had passed since she’d thrown him out of her house after he’d run away. Despite their shared grief, he didn’t speak to her and she didn’t try to speak to him. “Yeah, I do know.”
***
Funerals are generally thought to be solemn occasions. Mr. Hamlick’s proved to be anything but. Jackie couldn’t determine whether it was the ceremony or the garish decorations that ruined the appearance of bereavement. She saw his two daughters sitting in the front pew, their names were inconsequential since they rarely used them in public. They preferred the distinction of their husbands’ names—Mrs. Daniel Becker and Mrs. Jerome Trent. They were attractive women who had made the mistake of thinking they were still young by wearing low-cut blouses to emphasize their long necks. They had probably been swanlike in youth, but resembled goosenecks now. Their tinted gray hair matched their silver-gray clothes as though fashion rather than decorum had been a priority. Mr. Hamlick had one son who was unable to attend the affair because he was conducting one of his own in Italy with a dancer. Everyone knew his mistress would have waited and correctly assumed he just didn’t want to be there.
When Faye and Jackie introduced themselves to the two daughters, they were greeted with cool smiles and minimal interest. Faye and Jackie hadn’t expected more.
“Your father was a wonderful man,” Jackie said.
“Yes, I know,” Mrs. Daniel Becker said. “Will you both be at the burial?”
“Yes.”
She managed a tight grin. Not because she couldn’t smile wider—she just didn’t want to exert the effort.
“Good. I want as many people as possible for the film footage.”
A Hollywood director couldn’t have staged a better event. Requisite tears and sniffles. No wailers. People crowded together to get into the camera shot. Jackie stood to the side and listened to the drone of the minister. At the most solemn moment, a trio of birds decided to chirp loudly. At last it was over. The crowd slowly dispersed, offering condolences and then asking when the Beckers’ banquet would be held.
“You would think they would have more respect for their father,” Faye said. “My parents died when I was young.”
