Unforgivable Cin An Opera in Three Acts (Cin Fin-Lathen Mysteries Book 5)

by Alexie Aaron

  “I’m not going to lie to you and tell you that I trust you’re not going to get into trouble. Because I may trust you, but I don’t trust Alice or any woman that sets her sights on you.”

  His face softened. “All this time, I thought you were using me. Marking time, trying to figure out what you were going to do about a certain priest?”

  I was shocked. How did Michael get into this conversation? I walked away from him, picked up my purse and headed to the door. He followed me, catching me before I could turn the doorknob. “I’m a bit offended. Can you give me some air?” I asked, smarting from the hard truth he had uttered.

  “No, I’m not going to let you have room because you’re going to run out of here in tears, aren’t you?”

  “Well yes. Why did you have to bring up Father Michael? Not cool, Dave, not cool. I can’t help it that he and I had a connection. There was an attraction, but I never acted on it and neither did he. I’ve asked him to move on because of us, and he has. I thought that you’d be pleased that I chose you over whatever that was. Instead, you accuse me of marking time with you? You started all of this. I was doing just fine screwing up my life all by myself,” I said and pushed hard against him.

  He backed up, and I twisted around to open the door. He put a hand on the door and the other one on my waist and pulled me backwards. “I’m not letting you go, so stop, Cin. Damn it, you’re not the only jealous individual in this relationship.”

  Dave’s face was different, younger somehow. He had let the learned cynicism go, and the vulnerability of his heart showed on his face. I knew that I had to be careful. I needed to lock down whatever had me doubting my love for him quick, because he was mine. I could see that. I didn’t want to destroy him with my insecurities.

  “Cin, I love you. I have so much passion stored up that it scares me. I want to possess you, and I know that would suffocate you. I’m trying to be one of those new men, but it goes against my nature.”

  “Possess me?” I asked, confused.

  “I want to put you in a castle and surround you with my love. I am in no way prepared to ask you the question my heart wants me to ask you. Please give me time. Give us a chance, Cin,” he pleaded.

  “Dave, I’m honored that you want to be with me. Inside, my ego, right now, is hiring a billboard to announce that Dave Buslowski loves Cin Fin-Lathen. There are going to be bumps in the road, but I’m willing to give us a chance if you are. You have brought out the passion in me.”

  “Can you wait until I get my act together?”

  “I’m not going anywhere. But please understand that whatever happened to me before you, it has nothing to do with us. I’m reckless, but I mean well. No one was more shocked by the way I responded in that pool than me. But it was as if part of me that had been missing forever had returned.”

  “I wanted you so badly. I worried that I rushed you into this relationship, but the sharks were circling. Cin, you’re a beautiful, accomplished, talented, sexy woman. How dare I think that you’d be mine?” he asked.

  “I’m glad you dared,” I said, gently touching his chest.

  Dave picked me up as if I were a feather. He took me into the bedroom and lay me gently down on the bed. He stood a moment, looking down at me as if he were memorizing my face.

  I smiled, looking up at him. I patted the mattress beside me. “Come and make love to me,” I said softly.

  He sat down and traced my face with his finger. “You are so beautiful. How is this possible?”

  “Your eyes are failing, Grandpa.”

  The look of outrage was worth the tickling I got. That night could have ended very differently. It was something I was acutely aware of.

  Tango

  “There she is, my diva!” Preston said as I walked out from behind the screen.

  The black dress moved over my body like a lover. The deep V cut into the front and back was supported by a built-in undergarment. The dresser had handed me a roll of two-sided tape, recommending that I tape myself in when I wore it on Saturday. The skirt was full enough for me to comfortably play my instrument.

  “I love the necklace,” he said, fingering the charm of the two shoes that Dave had given me. “That reminds me. Here are the shoes.”

  The shoes he handed me were a simple pair of black heels. I slid my foot in and sighed. “They are so comfortable.”

  “So I hear. These are a bribe, my diva.”

  “A bribe?” I asked.

  “I want you to go visit this place Saturday morning and have this temporary tattoo put on.”

  He handed me a photo of a vivacious woman with a strand of ivy that wound around her ankle before it headed upwards in lazy circles around her calf. Appearing around her neck was another strand that ended with a dropped leaf appearing just shy of her right breast.

  “That’s beautiful,” I said.

  “She was beautiful,” Preston said. “You see, Cin, you remind me so much of my old friend Eldora Capella. The only difference is that your hair is red. You see, she disappeared after a performance of Carmen. I had hoped she’d found true love and had run off, but she never contacted me. I fear she’s dead.”

  “Would you like me to look into her disappearance? I am one of two consultants who deal with the world of music. I can’t promise you more than information, but we’re pretty good at finding things out.”

  Preston’s face lit up. “I’d be happy to pay you. You will be careful, won’t you?”

  “Yes, Preston, I will. How about you have Mandy find a time when Harry - he’s my partner - and I can interview you.”

  “I’ll do that.” He put his hand on his heart. “I’m so happy I decided to do this benefit. It has brought me to you, diva.”

  “About the diva…”

  “Sorry, but you will always be my diva, Cin Fin-Lathen. To argue this, makes my point, don’t you think?”

  I laughed.

  ~

  “He wants you to do what?” Harry asked, ironing his tuxedo shirt for Saturday.

  “Get a temporary tattoo.”

  “You know that they are drawn on with Sharpies, and they last for a few weeks.”

  “No, I didn’t know,” I admitted. I looked at the tattoo again and thought it was kind of sexy. “I already said I would do it.”

  “Why?”

  “He gave me a pair of shoes that feel like I’m walking in a cloud.”

  “You are a shoe whore, aren’t you?” Harry teased.

  “I guess I am,” I admitted and giggled.

  “How’s Buslowski?” Harry asked.

  “He found out he’s going to be a grandfather.”

  “You’re dating a grandpa,” Harry snickered.

  “A sexy grandpa,” I countered.

  “Ew,” Harry said, putting his hands over his mouth.

  “Wrong monkey,” I told him.

  He put his hands over his ears. This cracked both of us up.

  “He’s going to be spending Thanksgiving with his daughter, and I’m not invited.”

  “Did you want to go?”

  “Hell no. I’m looking forward to an O’Rourke turkey, watching football, and spending the day in my pajamas.”

  “Since Thanksgiving is a few months away, things could change.”

  “Still not going,” I said. “I can’t think of anything more uncomfortable than being at the same table with the woman Dave left for me. I feel like a homewrecker.”

  “You didn’t know you were the reason, Cin,” Harry comforted.

  “I fear the ex-wife and the daughter are going to band together, and I’ll be branded with a scarlet letter.”

  “Hey, it will go with your new ivy tattoo!” Harry said.

  “We have been offered a missing persons case,” I said, changing the subject. I proceeded to tell Harry all about Eldora Capella.

  “Sounds interesting. I think it’s right up our alley. I love opera.”

  “Well, that’s one of us.”

  “What’s your problem w
ith opera? I know you love the music. I’ve heard you practicing it.”

  “Did you ever listen to the words?”

  “I don’t know that much Italian,” Harry admitted.

  “Most of the stories are so tragic for the women. If she is forced to have sex and dishonored, she is cast out. She is thought to be better off dead. She’s not allowed to survive. A stain upon the house type of thing. It’s her fault that she caught the villain’s eye. Phooey.”

  “So your opinion of opera is…”

  “A bunch of chauvinistic crap set to beautiful music.”

  “What about Carmen?” he challenged.

  “What about Carmen?” I asked him.

  “She wants a man, José. She seduces him and then tires of him and moves on to another. Hardly chauvinism.”

  “How does she end up?”

  “She is stabbed by José.”

  I rolled my eyes. “She hardly wins in the end.”

  “Well, how about your opera? Let’s call it Unforgivable Cin.”

  “Like what you did with the sin/Cin thing,” I commented.

  “May I continue?”

  “Please, this is getting interesting. Mind if we continue it in the living room? My feet are killing me.”

  Harry turned off the iron, grabbed a beer, and followed me. I sat down in the big leather chair. Harry stood up to better illustrate my opera. “You are the very musical Cin. Sought after by Michael, a handsome priest, and Dave, the cop. You choose Dave which is unforgivable because everyone expected you to run away with Michael. He was going to give up God for you. Choosing Dave is also unforgivable because he gave up his marriage for you.”

  I gave Harry a wry smile. “You forgot a big part of the plot.”

  “What?”

  “My love for a stray cat named Harry. This cat followed me home and refused to leave.”

  “Ah, but said cat saved your life.”

  “That he did, physically and emotionally. This stray cat is annoying, but she can’t live without him. The priest wanted her to leave the cat. The cop didn’t. She chose the cop.”

  “Is that the only reason you chose the cop?” Harry asked.

  “No. The cop adores Cin and wants to protect her from herself and the stray cat,” I told him.

  “So the unforgivable sin is…”

  “Love, Harry. The unforgivable sin is love.”

  ~

  It took roughly three hours to draw the tattoo. What I didn’t know was that the ivy was continuous. It moved up my leg, disappearing in my inner thigh and reappearing at the base of my spine, moving around my waist, up my back, around my neck and stopped with a single leaf on my right breast. Another strand moved lazily down my left arm. I was overjoyed when I found out that the artwork was already paid for.

  “I can’t imagine the pain of having this done for real,” I said to the artist. “I imagine it would be quite painful for me too.”

  “It would have to be done in three or four sessions,” she said. “The most painful part would be the inner thigh and the underside of the arm. Once, I was working on a Native American tribal arm band when the customer couldn’t stand the pain. The band stops just shy of the underside of the arm.”

  “Well, I think this is a far as I would go,” I said, admiring the ivy.

  “Now, if you want to get a few more weeks of wear, you’re going to have to avoid the pool and exfoliation.”

  “Thank you, I’ll keep it in mind.”

  “Ms. Fin-Lathen. I couldn’t help but notice all the knife scars. I could work something up so they would adorn you instead of take away from your beauty.”

  “That is so kind of you. But these scars are reminders that I shouldn’t act too rashly, and that I’m mortal. In the heat of an investigation, sometimes I forget that I’m not just a character in a book, but a living person.”

  ~

  I walked into the green room and over to the Reed Asylum. Mercedes gave me a go-to-hell look which was much friendlier than Nadia’s eat-shit-and-die one. The guys, however, were stunned. I knew I looked good, and I was using it to my advantage. I had some young man named Carlos following me around carrying my music. He helped me find a safe place to house my instrument case and found me a small room to tune up in.

  Kyle walked in and surveyed us. He wiggled his finger at me, and I looked at him with disdain before walking over with Carlos in tow.

  “Go away,” he said to Carlos.

  Carlos scampered away like a rabbit. He was a thin, expertly-groomed, young gay man. His dark Italian looks, I could see, turned the heads of the women in the group. Unfortunately, Carlos only had eyes for Kyle. I couldn’t help the smile that twitched on my lips.

  “You look amazing. Preston has brought out the vixen in you, Cin,” Kyle said.

  “I assure you, it’s just window dressing.”

  “Still…” he said, never completing his thought.

  Ryan walked over and started talking business. I used this opportunity to leave. I stood over at the fringe of the group, waiting for our cue to go on. I could bear the frosty looks, knowing this would be the last time I would consent to performing with them. Ryan finished with Kyle and headed over to me. He stopped and gave me a once-over before nodding his approval.

  I felt relief. Part of me was worried he was going to flirt with me, and part of me was disappointed I didn’t get a chance to spurn his advances. I wondered if wearing the diva’s dress had somehow brought out this side of me.

  “Places, Reed Asylum,” the stage manager called.

  I waited for the group to pass me. We were to enter the stage according to instrumentation. Leon Madison, the first-chair, would lead us. I was to bring up the rear and take my place opposite him in the half circle.

  When I perform, I don’t look into the audience. It makes me nervous. Until I’m finished with the first piece of music, they simply do not exist. If we are well received, then I’ll turn and smile at no one in particular. Since we were only playing Kyle’s masterpiece, although lengthy, I would not have to deal with the audience’s reaction at all. Or so I thought.

  I followed the bass clarinet player, and as soon as I approached center stage, the oohs and ahs began. “Is that Eldora?” someone asked. “No, it’s not she.”

  I sat down, being careful to fan the dress so the audience would see the ivy-tattooed leg. I prepared myself and waited for Kyle to be announced.

  “Ladies and Gentleman, we are honored to announce Palm Beach Opera’s interim conductor, the one, the only, Kyle Martel.”

  Kyle walked out and accepted the applause, bowing slightly. He was dressed in a very expensive tuxedo. I would have thought that he would wear a short jacket to show off his firm youthful backside, but in its place, he had on a very romantic set of tails, and instead of the standard bow tie, he wore a skinny black tie.

  He turned and walked over and looked at each of us before lifting his baton.

  I was lost in the music. Kyle brought out the best in each of us, demanding volume when needed, his fingers dancing along the happy passage before he turned to me and directed my small solo. I played the memorized music, watching his hands as he turned the music into something magical. By the time I had finished, the audience was at the edge of their seats. I almost felt bad that I was so repulsed by Kyle.

  Before the final note died, the audience was on their feet applauding. There were cries for more, but Kyle shook his head. He instructed us to stand and stepped aside as we were given applause, and then he did something I still have nightmares about. Kyle walked over, took my hand, and got on his knees and kissed it.

  An assault of cellphone flashes blinded me. He got to his feet, took my instrument from me, put his arm around me, and guided me off the stage. If he hadn’t had my precious alto clarinet in his hands, I would have throttled him. His hand tightened at my waist, and he pushed me into the hall and shut the door.

  I was about to say something when the look on his face stopped me. It was cold. Gon
e was the passion he exhibited on the stage.

  “I think that your piece was accepted well,” I said, aware of the tremor in my voice.

  “I saw your lover out there.”

  Did Dave show up? What a nice surprise. I smiled a lazy confident smile, unaware that Kyle hadn’t seen Dave at all but Harry.

  Kyle lifted his hand and smacked me hard. My eyes filled with tears of surprise and pain. Once my senses came back to me, I grabbed my alto and stormed off. I moved past where the chorus members for the next number were having their costumes adjusted. I felt a hand on my arm. Preston looked at my face, saw the red welt there, and rushed me into the bathroom. He stuck his head out and bellowed, “Carlos!”

  I felt my instrument being taken from me and handed to the hysterical young man who couldn’t stop apologizing to me. Preston took me into his arms and held me.

  “Come on, diva. Let me take care of you.” He drew me over to the sink and ran his handkerchief under the cold water. He folded it and touched it carefully to the raised skin. “Carlos, take care of that thing, and get me some ice. Diva has to do the meet-and-greet. We have to repair the damage.”

  I looked around me and realized I was in the men’s bathroom. It wasn’t the first time I’ve seen a men’s john, but I was aware of the impropriety of it.

  “I shouldn’t be in here.”

  “Nonsense. The ladies’ is full of gossips. It’s just you and I in here, diva.”

  “What if…”

  “I have Mandy watching the door. Tell me what happened?”

  “Kyle took me out into the hall and smacked me across the face. He said he saw my lover… Preston, my lover is on duty tonight. I’m here with my partner,” I explained, and then it came to me, Kyle thought Harry was my lover. “Why did he hit me?”

  “Who can explain passion? I saw him direct you out there. It was just Kyle and you. The others did not matter.”

  Carlos arrived with an ice pack, a folding chair and more apologies.

  “Sit. How could you leave her alone?” Preston asked him.

  “There was no way Carlos could have helped. I was onstage and…” The realization hit me. “You knew this was a possibility, didn’t you?” I accused.