by Susan Crosby
“We’ll flip for it.”
She grinned. “A gentleman would give up his seat to a lady.”
“What’s your point?”
She doodled on a piece of paper. “Maybe I’ll get us two aisle seats.”
“Suit yourself. By the way, we’re going to the movies tonight.”
“We are? Why?”
“Because we’ve been cooped up for too long.”
“You mean you’ve been cooped up,” she said, but with real sympathy.
“I can’t say the rooster has minded being stuck with the chick, but there’s more to life than this investigation. Consider this an intervention.”
“It’s for my own good?”
“And mine.”
“Okay.”
“Want to know what we’ll be seeing?” he asked.
“Surprise me.”
“Remember you said that.”
After she hung up she looked at what she’d doodled. A heart. A great big heart with an arrow shot through it and the initials A.A. and J.V. She snatched up the sheet and put it down the shredder in the open cabinet behind her, her heart pounding.
It was because he was taking her out on a date, a real date, like in high school, that she’d drawn what she had. A momentary return to adolescence, that was all.
That was all, she repeated to herself, then looked at her watch. How long should she wait to contact Doc? She decided to try him at a more decent hour. She certainly had plenty to keep her busy in the meantime.
The problem was, for the first time since they’d started ARC, she didn’t want to be at work. She ignored the stack of paperwork in her in-basket and logged onto the Internet, then she did some research on Alzheimer’s disease until the staff began arriving and she had questions to answer and calls to field.
Finally she called Doc. She wondered how old he was and what he looked like. She needed to remember to ask Sam.
“Good morning. This is Arianna Alvarado from ARC Security & Investigations,” she said when he answered.
“Morning.”
“Sam says you might be interested in joining our company.”
“I might.”
“Yes, he stressed that. I find I have to be in San Francisco tomorrow, and I’d like for us to meet, if you’ve got the time.”
“I’ll make time.”
“Good. I also have a job I could use your help with, if you’re interested.”
She told him she needed to know if Fred Zamora was at home now, and then again tomorrow morning, so that she and Joe wouldn’t waste their trip.
He was silent for several seconds. “You want to pay what I charge for a surveillance assignment that any kid with the ink still fresh on his license could do?”
“That’s right.”
“It’s your money.”
She could almost hear his shrug. “You’ll do it?”
“Sure. What time is your flight?”
“Eight-thirty.”
“Give me your cell number. I’ll call you in time to cancel your flight if he’s not home. If he’s home, do you want me to stay there until you arrive? Follow him if he leaves?”
“Yes. Can we meet in the afternoon to talk business?”
“You’ve got my number.”
After Arianna hung up she went to see Sam, who was packing his briefcase, ready to leave for the airport. “Are you sure we should be pursuing this guy, Doc?”
“Yeah, why?”
“You know how important communication skills are with our clients. We’ve got to be part psychologist. Doc is…brusque.”
“I didn’t notice that. Maybe he doesn’t like women bosses.” He grinned.
“Then we definitely don’t want him.”
“Give him a chance, Ar. Maybe you woke him up or something.”
“Okay.” She started to leave but turned back. “What’s he look like, anyway?”
“Our age, my height and build. Black hair. Looks like he’s won a fight or two in his life.” He locked his desk drawer. “I’m out of here. I’ll be on the red-eye Sunday night. See you Monday morning.”
Arianna headed back to her office. She didn’t envy him his commuter marriage. But at least he had someone to go home to, even if only on weekends for now.
She stopped just inside her door. Someone to go home to? When had she started envying that?
“Mija?”
Arianna was proud of the fact that she didn’t jump at the sound of her mother’s voice. She turned around slowly.
“I’m not ready to talk to you yet,” Arianna said, crossing her arms.
“I am your mother and you will listen.”
Paloma pushed past Arianna and took a seat on the sofa. Not willing to make a scene in front of her staff, Arianna shut the door then leaned against it.
“I am sorry for causing you pain,” Paloma said. “It was what I’d been trying to prevent all these years. You must believe me.”
“I do—for when I was a child. You could have told me as an adult. And you certainly could’ve told me two weeks ago when I came to you and said I was going to investigate on my own. Think of all the trouble you could have prevented.”
“I wanted you to keep your faith about your father. No matter what happened between him and me, he was a good father. And a good police officer. It was important to me that you remember him that way.”
“He wasn’t what he seemed.”
“That had nothing to do with you or your relationship with him. There were things that happened between us that you don’t know about. Things—”
“No!” Arianna came toward her mother. “I don’t want to know, okay? Your marriage is private. I really don’t want to talk about any of this.”
“There is one thing you should know.” Paloma put her shoulders back. “Mike Vicente was in love with me.”
A hammer against her skull would’ve had less impact, Arianna thought, staggered. “I don’t believe it.”
“I am not bragging. I am ashamed, in fact. But Estebán convinced me that I needed to tell you the final truth. Now you know it all.”
“I do not believe it.” In her head Arianna heard Joe talk about his parents, about their friendship and love and respect for each other.
“I’m not saying he acted on his feelings for me. He didn’t. And in retrospect I understand that he was drawn to me—and you, in a way—as strong men are drawn to helpless women. He wanted to take care of us.”
“And what did you do?”
“I used that love, or most likely infatuation, to get what I wanted.”
“To get my father’s case declared unsolved so that I wouldn’t know he’d been having an affair.”
“Yes. And I would do it again.”
“How did you end things with Mr. Vicente?”
“Gently. Will you tell his son?”
“I don’t see how I can’t. What’s one more disappointment? Might as well get them all over with.”
Paloma closed her eyes for a few seconds. “We’re all human, mija. It was a horrible time in my life. I am not proud of how I dealt with your father, nor of how I tempted Mike with promises of more. I have tried to make amends by living a charitable life since then. I made a mistake, a big one, but I learned from it. Everyone deserves a second chance.”
Maybe. In time, Arianna thought. In time. “I can’t talk to you any more, Mom.”
Her mother stood. She gripped Arianna’s shoulders. “Te amo, mija.”
“I love you, too. I just need to figure out what I’m feeling now.”
“All right.” She left the room, her scent lingering.
Arianna couldn’t stand to be there a moment longer. Joe. She wanted to see Joe. She had to tell him. God. What else were they going to learn? How many more earth-shattering revelations were ahead? Would Fred Zamora have a few?
She grabbed her purse and headed for the front door, then detoured to Nate’s office.
“Hey,” she said from his doorway.
He looked up, star
ted to speak but rose instead and came to her. He tugged on her arm until she was inside the door, which he shut behind her.
He held her by her shoulders. “What’s going on, Ar?” he asked.
“Too much to explain right now. I just wanted to let you know that I’m taking the day off. Can you field the calls?”
“Sure.” He released her. “I don’t think I’ve seen that look on your face since we thought we were going to die.”
“I haven’t felt this way since then.” Hollow and scared.
“Is it Vicente? Is he giving you grief?”
“No. I’m about to give him some, and I hate the thought of doing it.” She drew a deep breath. “I’ll see you later.”
“I’ll be around all weekend if you need me.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
Arianna rolled all the windows down in the car before she headed out of the parking lot. Her hair blew wildly, her skin chilled. She tried to let her mind go blank. Soon she was passing the house where Joe’s father lived. She saw Joe’s car out front and pulled up behind it. Almost blindly she walked up to the front door and knocked. A middle-aged woman answered. Her eyes were kind.
“Hi,” Arianna said. “I’m here to see Mike Vicente. I see Joe’s car out front. Would you let him know Arianna is here, please.”
“You can just go back. Do you know where his room is?”
“Yes. Are you sure?” she asked, worried about surprising them.
“I’m sure.” She smiled. “Mike loves company.”
Arianna almost tiptoed down the hall. The door to Mike’s room was open. She could hear Joe talking.
“I’ll only be gone one day, Dad. I’ll bring you a loaf of sourdough. Would you like that?”
She didn’t hear an answer.
“You took me to San Francisco when I was sixteen. We went to watch the Dodgers play the Giants the final game of the season. I’ve never forgotten that. The Dodgers won in the twelfth inning.”
Arianna stepped into the doorway. Joe was massaging lotion into his father’s feet. His tender touch broke her heart. His gentle smile for his father made her eyes sting.
How could she tell him his father had been in love with another woman? How could she?
She couldn’t, she realized. Did he really need to know? What would it accomplish? Nothing except cause unnecessary pain to a man already burdened with enough.
Chief spotted her. His tail thumped in greeting.
“There you are,” Mike said.
Joe turned his head. His eyes lit up.
Don’t look at me like that, Joe, she thought.
Do look at me like that.
Her stomach swirled then settled. Her heart calmed. She smiled and stepped into the room. “Yes, here I am.”
Fourteen
Joe scouted a parking spot while Arianna used her cell phone to call Doc when they got to their destination. Their flight to San Francisco was uneventful. She’d even taken the window seat, with no fuss about it—which worried him. He would have given up the aisle seat after he’d teased her about it a little.
“It’s Arianna,” he heard her say into the phone. “We’re in Zamora’s neighborhood. Driving a blue Taurus. Do you see us?… Good. Is he still at home?… Great. What?…Okay, thanks. I’ll call you when we’re done here.”
Arianna pointed to an almost unnoticeable gray sedan pulling out. “We can take his parking spot.”
She’d been unusually quiet since she’d surprised him at his dad’s facility yesterday. Even the movie, a Western he thought would completely distract her, hadn’t roused any discussion. He questioned her about it but she shrugged it off. Still reeling from everything they’d learned, she told him. Then she made love to him with a passion that felt almost desperate.
She amazed him. Fascinated him. Even when she tried to put a barrier between them, like not kissing him goodbye or hello, she intrigued him, because he wondered what her reasoning was. So many layers. Such a complicated woman. Tender and tough. Sweet and strong. She would never bore.
“I wonder what surprise we’re in for this time,” she said, grabbing the door handle.
“Let’s hope he answers the rest of our questions.”
“Careful what you wish for,” she said, then climbed out of the car.
Fred Zamora lived on the first floor of a two-story fourplex in an old San Francisco neighborhood, half a block away from his daughter and her family. The neighborhood teemed with Saturday morning activity. Walkers and joggers, with dogs and without. People shuffling home with grocery bags. Car exhaust got taken away in the same ocean breeze as the fog, the day promising to be clear and crisp. Autumn at its most beautiful, and so different from Southern California.
Joe noted Arianna’s tension, but he doubted it was any greater than his.
She rang the bell. A few seconds later the door was opened by a man in his early sixties, with gunmetal gray hair and wary eyes. His belly hung over his belt.
“Mr. Zamora?” Arianna said.
“Yeah.”
“I’m Arianna Alvarado.”
He clenched the door, but he schooled his face quickly. “Anyone tell you that you look a bit like your mother?”
“Sometimes. This is Joe Vicente.”
“Mike’s kid?”
Joe nodded as he extended his hand.
To Arianna, Fred said, “Been wondering when you would turn up. Heard you were a P.I. A good one. Figured you’d be asking questions one of these days. Come on in.”
The apartment was unremarkable. According to the file Sam put together, Fred had been divorced—his second—for many years, and the lack of a woman’s touch was evident. Functional furniture and few accessories. Joe wondered how he spent his time. Did he work? Hang out at a bar?
Fred sat in what was obviously his television chair, as it was aimed at the screen and held a deep indentation from his body.
“How’s your mother?” he asked Arianna.
“She’s well, thank you.”
“That was some second marriage she managed.”
Arianna didn’t respond. Joe heard resentment in his voice and wondered about it.
“I’d like to talk about my father,” she said.
“Shoot.”
“Would you tell me what happened that day?”
He crossed his arms. “We stopped for lunch. I went to get us sandwiches, and coffee for me. He was getting cigarettes and a soft drink. I heard shots. I put my head out the door but I didn’t see anyone.”
“Not even people on the street?” Joe asked. It still seemed incredible that at noon in that neighborhood no one was out walking.
“A few cars,” Fred said with a shrug. “I wasn’t sure where the shots came from, but Mateo didn’t come out of the liquor store, which didn’t seem right, so I headed there. I found him, already dead, and the clerk, shot up bad.”
“Was that your patrol area?” Joe asked.
Fred looked from Joe to Arianna, hesitance in his eyes.
“I already know my father was having an affair with the clerk,” she said.
He heaved a sigh. “The store was out of our zone, but we weren’t breaking any rules. You could leave the area when you were out of service, like for lunch.”
“Did you go there often?” Arianna asked.
“Yeah.”
“For how long?”
“Ten, maybe fifteen minutes.”
“I mean,” she said, “how long had my father been seeing her?”
“Oh. I don’t remember exactly. A few weeks.”
“You approved?” Joe asked.
“Hell, no. My first wife divorced me because I cheated. I kept telling him it wasn’t worth it. But he was my partner.”
Joe understood that. Partners stood up for each other. Covered each other. Sometimes lied for each other.
“What’d you do when you got on scene?” Joe asked.
“Determined that Mateo was beyond my help, then kept pressure on the woman’s wounds until the
medics could take over. A whole lot of patrol units got there in a hurry and combed the neighborhood. No one knew anything about the shooting or the possible shooters.”
He was too calm, Joe thought. He would’ve been panicking at Mateo’s condition. He made it sound like Mateo was any other victim, which wasn’t true. “Or they knew something but weren’t talking,” Joe said.
“I always figured as much. Except it was a cop who was shot. We could usually get someone to break down and tell, one way or another. Snitches in every neighborhood.”
“Except this one, apparently.”
Fred shrugged again. “Apparently.”
“My father’s service revolver was missing.”
“I noticed that right off.”
“Got any ideas about that?” Joe asked.
“I figured the shooters grabbed it.”
“Why would they take the time to do that?”
“Free gun. A better one than the Saturday Night Specials they were using.”
“I would think they’d want to get out of there in a hurry.”
“You asked. I’m speculating. What else could’ve happened?”
“You could’ve taken it,” Joe said.
Fred slouched in his chair and steepled his fingers in front of his face. “Why would I do that?”
“Good question.”
Arianna leaned forward. “Do you know how it happened to turn up in Joe’s father’s possession?”
Joe didn’t react to her lie. If she could get more information out of Zamora by fudging the truth about knowing who that weapon belonged to, Joe wasn’t going to split hairs over it.
“That would be a question for Mike,” Fred said, looking at Joe.
“My father has Alzheimer’s.”
“Oh, yeah. I’d heard that. I’m real sorry.” He sat a little taller. “Look, why are you pushing this? The guy who killed your father is dead. Justice was served. What more do you want?”
“I didn’t know until day before yesterday that justice had been served,” Arianna said. “I have a need to know what happened.”
