If Anything Should Happen

by Bonnie Hearn Hill

  ‘She doesn’t seem that bad.’

  ‘If you’re so eager to make sure she gets some attention,’ I said, ‘why don’t you go with me, Farley?’

  ‘Good idea.’ He took my arm, and we crossed the room.

  ‘So good to see you.’ Poor Bette did look starved for company, in spite of the crowd that surrounded her. ‘Kit, you are doing such an excellent job for our non-profit. And …’

  ‘Farley,’ he replied, and put out his hand.

  She shook it eagerly. ‘Good to see you,’ she said, although as far as I knew, she had never before laid eyes on him. ‘It’s an honor to have you two young people join us.’

  ‘Same here,’ I said.

  ‘May I get you a drink?’ She asked it as if this soulless room were her home and the bartenders her houseboys.

  Farley made too-obvious eye contact with me, and I shook my head as politely as possible. ‘No, thanks. We just wanted to say hello.’ I glanced back at Farley as if to say so much for his great ideas.

  ‘Alex had the highest regard for Kit,’ she told Farley. ‘He always remarked on how smart you were, how you taught him to never give up.’ Her eyes got glassy, and I knew tears weren’t far behind.

  ‘He was a good guy,’ I told her. ‘A good man. We should probably go now.’

  ‘Of course.’ She became the pastel lady again. ‘So happy you came out tonight. We must catch up.’ She held out her nearly empty glass to a passing server. ‘Oh, waiter. Over here, please.’

  ‘You might be right, Farley,’ I said as we drifted away.

  ‘About her seeming lost?’ he asked.

  ‘About her being tipsy.’ I sighed and wished I hadn’t had to witness Alex’s mother’s pain at such a close distance. Not that I was a coward about pain. I had some of my own, especially lately. But I hated being exposed to a problem I had no way of solving.

  ‘You think she is?’ Farley nodded back toward her as she took one more clear class from the server’s tray.

  ‘I’m not sure. Let’s discuss it later.’

  We continued to move around the room. At every conversation cluster, we heard the same word packages, the same praise for this mayor, who had made it clear by what she didn’t do that her goal of higher office was her only priority. That, and seeing her brother’s killer incarcerated for the rest of his life.

  A half-hour or so into the mindlessness of it all, Farley grinned and nudged me. ‘I guess getting drunk is out of the question.’

  ‘You do whatever you like,’ I told him. ‘I’m getting high on the fumes in here.’

  ‘High?’ Carla’s tall, handsome secretary asked from behind us. ‘Fumes?’ His white tux and matching hair looked more suited for the Oscars than this paint-by-number ballroom. ‘Is everything all right?’

  ‘Just a little talk-radio humor,’ I said. ‘How are you, Ray?’

  ‘Managing pretty well considering how crazy it is in here tonight. Can you believe this crowd? Carla’s going to free herself up for a few minutes, though. She’d like a photo with you two.’

  Farley frowned, but I linked my arm in his and flashed Ray the most obedient expression I could conjure. ‘We’d be happy to.’

  ‘This had better be good,’ Farley said as we followed the white tuxedo across the room.

  ‘Just be quiet.’ I squeezed his arm. ‘I’m still not quite sure how I’m going to do this.’

  As we approached, Carla extracted herself from the embrace of a short elderly gentleman whose dye job was as subtle as hers. Highlights. Lowlights. I couldn’t keep them straight. But the braid over Carla’s left shoulder, resting on the beaded bodice of her turquoise gown, looked expensive enough to be real and almost made me forget how much shorter her hair had appeared the day we met at the museum.

  ‘So good to see you.’ She brushed her cheek against mine and shook Farley’s hand.

  ‘Thank you for inviting us,’ I said.

  ‘We’d like just one quick photo.’ She emphasized the quick, and Farley rolled his eyes.

  I knew I had to move fast if I were to move at all.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Ray, hurry it up, would you?’ Her voice was as charming as always, but her expression could have been carved out of ice.

  ‘Sure thing, Carla.’ He got in position with his camera. ‘Move closer to the mayor, you two, please.’

  I didn’t budge.

  ‘Come closer.’ Carla put out her right arm, as if I were falling and she must catch me.

  ‘I met someone recently,’ I said, ‘and I really need to talk to you about it.’

  She motioned to me to move closer. ‘We don’t have time for anything tonight but this photo.’

  ‘The man I met insisted that Frank Vera didn’t kill Alex.’

  ‘What man?’ She seemed to freeze in place. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘The one I told you we call Bert the Troll,’ I said.

  ‘Dark hair?’ she asked in a clipped voice. ‘Wavy black hair?’

  ‘Yes, but that could describe a lot of people.’

  I could feel Farley’s gaze boring into me but didn’t dare make eye contact with him. I had to go for this while I still had the nerve.

  ‘Was his name Luis Vang?’

  ‘He wouldn’t give me his name and said he didn’t want to bother with making up a fake one.’

  ‘Sounds like him,’ she said. ‘The man you met with is no doubt Frank Vera’s friend Luis. He’s a teacher who doesn’t belong anywhere close to young people.’

  I hoped the man I met wasn’t this Luis, because if he were, he would be in trouble come Monday.

  ‘I’m not sure who the man was, and I’m not trying to involve anyone.’ I stared into Carla’s glassy contact lenses. She didn’t even blink. ‘I only wanted to share with you what this man told me. I believe he’s sincere. He said he hates Frank, but knows he’s innocent.’

  ‘Get out.’ Her voice dropped so low that I almost didn’t hear her.

  ‘Did you say …?’

  ‘Get out of here now before you expose my parents to your lies.’

  I stepped close, so that only she could hear me. ‘The angrier you get, Carla, the more I tend to believe they’re not lies.’

  Ray frowned and tried to focus his camera, clearly unsure about how to proceed. ‘Still need you a little closer, you guys,’ he said.

  ‘Forget it.’ Carla turned and started to walk back into the crowd, where the old man with the good dye job hovered. Then she walked back to me. ‘You were my brother’s friend,’ she said. ‘How could you try to hurt us more than we already have been?’

  ‘Because your mother and father both told me they wanted the truth,’ I said. ‘What if this man, Luis Vang, knows something we don’t?’

  ‘He doesn’t. And, Kit, as unsettling as it might be finding out that you are illegitimate, you should focus on that, and on finding your biological mother, as we have allowed you to. Now get out of here before I call security.’ She drifted toward the older man, her posture straight, her arms outstretched.

  ‘Could I at least get a photo of you and Farley together?’ Ray asked.

  Farley put his arm around me and shrugged. I clung to him, still trying to make sense of what had just happened.

  ‘Is that a no?’ Ray asked.

  Without a word, Farley and I headed for the door.

  THIRTEEN

  As a rule, weird behavior didn’t shock me. After fending off blog trolls and the relatively sane people with out-of-the-ordinary problems who called our radio show, I was accustomed to any kind of behavior, however bizarre. But so convinced was I that Carla Brantingham would do anything to find her brother’s killer that her nastiness regarding Luis left me stunned. For the first time, I wondered if the Brantingham Crime Fund was really designated for unsolved crimes … or for Carla’s re-election. And I resolved to find Luis Vang.

  That Friday, Scott waited for me in the parking lot right across from that white brick building painted
with the ‘Amazing Grace’ sheet music. He had dressed for the occasion in one of his gray KWEL T-shirts and black pants, gelled hair pinched to a minimum height. Talk-radio program directors don’t spend their time hanging out in station parking lots. I could think of only one reason why Scott was.

  I got out of my car and said, ‘Carla Brantingham got to you, didn’t she?’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Yet his expression remained guarded, as if he had no idea what to say next. ‘But you’ve been under a lot of pressure, Kit. I think you should take a week off and try to find your mother.’

  ‘Was that Carla’s idea?’ I asked.

  ‘It’s my idea that you have too much going on in your life right now.’ He grew more confident by the moment. ‘You can do today’s show, Kit, but after that, you have a paid week off. Check in with me after that, and we’ll discuss how to continue from there.’

  ‘Suppose I leave right now?’ I said.

  He sputtered. ‘I need to check it out.’

  ‘With Carla?’

  ‘That’s none of your business.’

  ‘You’re right, Scott. It’s none of my business. I’m going to drive home now. Tell Farley I hope he does a great show today.’

  ‘You have no right …’ he began.

  As he stammered to a finish, I turned around, climbed in my car, and drove away. I’d write a blog today, maybe more than one. But before I did anything, I would do my best to find Luis Vang.

  He lived in East Sac. That I knew because he had told me he didn’t live far from the crêpe diner. Come to think of it, so had Alex. I had picked him up for work there one day.

  Less than thirty minutes after I arrived home, Farley pounded on my front door.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ I asked.

  ‘Helping you.’

  ‘You’re supposed to be on the air.’

  ‘So are you.’ He walked inside and squeezed my shoulders. ‘When Scott said you’d been suspended for the week, I told him I was taking my vacation time. Screw them.’

  ‘Oh, Farley.’ The gesture was the last thing I expected from him, and even though it touched me, I didn’t want to get him fired over my battle.

  ‘Carla is behind it,’ he said. ‘You know that.’

  ‘And we need to find Luis. He’s the key to everything.’

  ‘He barely talked to you,’ Farley said. ‘I’m sure he didn’t give you his contact information.’

  ‘I think he might have been Alex’s room-mate. And he did say he lives on the east side.’

  ‘You know where the house is?’ He looked skeptical.

  ‘I went there once. I might be able to find it again.’

  ‘This time you aren’t going alone.’

  I could no longer argue with him. ‘OK,’ I said. ‘But you’re driving.’

  While Farley cruised through the east side, the neighborhoods, and the streets, I squinted house-to-house and tried to remember. As it turned out, we hadn’t been able to leave until late afternoon. Scott called and demanded that Farley come in to talk to him, and I insisted that he go. I felt guilty that he was endangering his career out of loyalty to me.

  ‘That one.’ I pointed.

  The yellow porch awoke something in my memory. We parked and started to the door. But it was protected by an iron gate.

  ‘No,’ I said to Farley. ‘It’s not this one, after all. It only looks like Alex’s house.’

  ‘OK. We’ll find it.’ He put his arm around me, and I remembered why we were such a good team. No egos, no put-downs. We really did want the best for each other.

  Then I looked across the street and saw the simple olive-colored Tudor with the arch on one side and the driveway on the other.

  ‘Farley, that’s it.’

  ‘I thought you said it was yellow.’

  ‘They painted it. Farley, I know that’s the house.’

  ‘We have nothing to lose, do we?’ He tried to sound cheerful, but I knew he was as worried as I was.

  Together, we crossed the street.

  I knocked at the door. No one answered.

  I knocked again. ‘Luis,’ I said. ‘Please let us in.’

  I heard movement from inside, as if someone were pulling furniture away. I glanced up into Farley’s eyes and knew that whatever happened I would be safe.

  Slowly, the door opened. Before us stood the young man with the serious expression and the dark-rimmed glasses.

  ‘Hey, Luis,’ I said.

  ‘You figured out my name?’

  ‘Kind of remembered it, I think.’

  If he were surprised by this visit, he didn’t show it. Wearing khaki shorts and a matching T-shirt, he didn’t seem at all out of place in Alex’s home.

  ‘How are you, Kit?’

  ‘You live here, don’t you?’ I asked, even though I already sensed the truth.

  For a moment, I thought I might lose him again, the way I had that day outside the crêpe place. But then he seemed to settle down into himself.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I do. Please come in.’

  ‘I was here once before,’ I said.

  Farley squeezed my arm, as if to say I was talking too much, and I forced myself to slow down.

  ‘You were picking up Alex for work, I believe.’ Luis ushered us in. ‘Could I get you a glass of wine?’

  ‘Red would be great,’ Farley said.

  ‘Pinot noir OK?’ Luis asked, and Farley nodded. ‘What about you, Kit?’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  I knew I needed to take my time with this. He had run from me before. I couldn’t risk it again.

  We followed Luis across the honey-colored hardwood into a small but elegant kitchen with marble countertops and glass-brick accents. From a wine cooler, he pulled out a bottle of red and poured it into a squat Italian-looking glass.

  ‘Nothing for you?’ he asked me.

  ‘I need a clear head,’ I told him. ‘And I need you to tell me the truth, Luis. I’m about to get fired for talking to you, and I’d really like to avoid that if possible.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I need to know what’s really going on.’

  He adjusted his glasses and studied me for a moment. Then he put out his hand and said, ‘Come with me.’

  ‘Farley too?’

  ‘No,’ Luis said. ‘Just you.’

  Farley looked uncertain, as if to say no way would he leave me alone. He put his wine glass on the bar. ‘Are you sure, Kit?’

  ‘We’re just going upstairs,’ I said.

  ‘Why can’t I go with you?’

  ‘You can in a moment, but right now, I think Luis and I need to do this together.’

  ‘Five minutes,’ Farley said. ‘Any longer, and …’

  I shook my head, turned, and walked with Luis toward the stairs.

  ‘Thank you for understanding.’ He took my arm, as if the conversation with Farley had never happened. ‘And thank you for coming. I was afraid to call again. I’m so worried about my parents, so afraid to risk their safety. They could be deported.’

  ‘What makes you think that?’ I asked, and then wished I hadn’t.

  ‘You really don’t know?’ He paused on the stairs.

  ‘I don’t agree with Carla Brantingham’s politics,’ I said, ‘but I didn’t think she would harm innocent people.’

  ‘Trust me, she is not my friend. And she would do anything to erase my family from her life.’

  We reached the top of the stairs, and, with him behind me, I walked into the master suite. A long, white brocade chaise took up most of the room leading to a large bedroom, and from what I could tell there was a tiled bath beyond that.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ I said. ‘More than that, it’s peaceful.’

  A powder-blue carpet led to the patio. I glanced back at Luis.

  ‘You had to know,’ he said.

  Of course. Although I had never consciously thought about it, being in this house brought everything into focus.


  ‘You and Alex?’

  ‘This was our home.’

  His hand trembled, and I felt myself doing the same. My fingers reached for his arm. ‘I didn’t know him that well, Luis.’

  ‘You knew he was gay?’

  ‘I guess so, but I didn’t think about it. We worked together only a month. But I knew he had someone, and I knew he was in love. He didn’t hide that.’

  ‘Thank you for telling me.’ He put his hand over mine and squeezed my fingers. ‘He said he was going to introduce me to you, but at the end everything got crazy, and I wasn’t sure what you were aware of.’

  ‘Only that Alex was in a serious relationship,’ I said. ‘How did everything get crazy, as you put it? What happened?’

  ‘Frank Vera didn’t kill him.’ He sank down on to a black sling chair. Tears filled his eyes. He lifted his glasses and wiped them away.

  I sat on the love seat beside him. We stayed like that for a moment, for many moments.

  ‘Luis,’ I said as softly as I could manage. ‘Who killed Alex?’

  He turned to me, tears streaking his face. ‘I can’t … I don’t know.’

  I started feeling pulled in, the way I had when my mom Elaine had said she’d left me a letter, and then when I had read that letter and learned about Kendra.

  ‘You must have some idea.’

  He shook his head. ‘I only know it wasn’t Frank.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I’m sorry. I can’t tell you that.’ He stood. ‘Thank you for finding me. I swear I am not a coward, and I don’t want to see Frank punished for something he didn’t do. But my situation is sticky. I just got a teaching job, and I am all my parents have in this country.’

  ‘Are you sure you can’t tell me anything else?’

  The person who spoke first would lose. I bit my lip and stared into his eyes.

  He met my gaze. ‘They sent him away. He was supposed to get cured at some kind of camp. Never again look at another man.’

  ‘Who sent him away?’ I asked, and then realized it as soon as I said it. ‘The family?’

  He nodded. ‘There’s nothing else I know for sure.’ He stood with a sigh. ‘It’s best you leave now. I’ve gotten you in enough trouble.’

  I tried to think about Alex’s family. The jovial father, his light dimmed by tragedy. His mother, who did nothing but smile and nod. Carla, with her surgeon husband and plans for re-election.