Antonio fought the situation at first, shooting Parker blood thirsty glares and an occasional “Gilipollas.” But he did as he was told, knowing he had the choice of a comfortable home with good food and the street with a belly that would soon be empty again.
Eventually he settled himself to the demeaning work and even put some zest into it.
Parker could see he was meticulous, thorough, determined. And even though he knew the boy was channeling his rage and humiliation, he displayed traits that would serve him well in any number of careers.
After several hours they began to talk a little. They discussed the subjects he’d liked in school, wrestling, football. And once, just once, the boy addressed him as “Señor Parker.”
A fair enough compromise.
Then he fell silent. No doubt he was thinking of his mother and the life with her he’d forsaken.
As the night wore on, Parker let himself imagine the scene when Sylvia returned home. He would have only begun to remake this boy when she arrived.
He and Sylvia had had some intense arguments since he started taking on murder cases again. She was refined, sophisticated. She couldn’t understand his need to right the wrongs of this world. At least in the form of the cases that came his way. At times he wished—but no. He loved his genteel wife to distraction and couldn’t imagine his life without her. And Gen, despite her outspoken spirit, was the apple of his eye.
Then again, when Antonio’s case came up, he could be going to jail.
Had he done the right thing to bring this boy home? To show him a lifestyle he might never have? Just now he was as unsure as Antonio’s mother.
No, he would find a way for all of them to get along. A way to keep him out of prison. A way to make this work. A way to merge this boy into their lives. And by the time Antonio fell asleep on the floor beside the last commode and Parker picked him up, carried him to the guestroom, and laid him on the bed, he was confident he could do just that.
###
The next morning Parker made a huge plate of scrambled eggs, making a mental note to buy several dozen more. And a loaf of bread or two. And a gallon of milk.
Sylvia was not going to be happy.
He sat down next to his new houseguest and watched him shovel the eggs into his mouth as if Parker hadn’t fed him a bite last night.
At last he paused and swallowed half the glass of milk before him.
He wiped his mouth with his sleeve instead of the linen napkin beside the plate. “I have a question.”
Parker turned to the boy in surprise. He speaks. Improvement. “What is it?”
The boy cocked his head and glanced around the kitchen. “If you live in a place like this, what were you doing at that crappy convenience store last night?”
Parker hid a smile of amusement. “I was working.”
“Working?”
“I’m a private investigator. I was on a case.”
The boy stiffened. Interesting reaction.
Following his instinct, Parker continued. “A week ago a young man was killed at a party near that area. Emanuel Garcia.”
Antonio dropped his fork on his plate, pushed it away.
Another interesting reaction. Parker leaned in. “Do you happen to know something about that night?”
The boy stared down at the table.
“Antonio?”
“I don’t know nothing.”
Hmm. “Spoken like someone who knows a good deal.”
The boy glared at him. “I don’t have to talk to you.”
“No, you don’t.” Parker rose and took the plates to the sink. “I understand the police have brought in a young man for questioning. Enzo Vasquez.”
He’d heard the news last night from Sergeant Hosea Erskine, a contact he had in the department.
Antonio spun around in his chair. “Why? He didn’t do it.”
Parker raised a brow. “You know Enzo?”
The boy’s face twisted with anxiety. “Is that why you brought me here, gringo? To rat on my friends?”
He was back to gringo. But he’d just learned some valuable information. He rinsed the plates and put them in the dishwasher. “I brought you here to clean my toilets. I thought today we might do some yard work. Unless you’d like to help me with my case.”
Parker turned back in time to see the boy’s lip curl.
He fidgeted with his napkin for a long moment. At last he blurted out, “You know what snitches get.”
With a sigh, Parker lifted the tail of his shirt. “Something like this?”
He’d covered the wound with a Band-Aid, but it was clear there would be a scar.
The boy’s dark eyes narrowed at him as he twisted in the chair. “All I can tell you is Enzo didn’t do anything.”
Parker had questioned scores of suspects during his career. He was very certain there was a lot more this boy could tell him.
He moved to the table and put a hand on his shoulder. “How would you like to help me prove that?”
###
A call to Erskine told Parker the boy named Enzo would not be released until evening.
To kill the time, he took his charge to the library downtown. It was just as well. The gardener wouldn’t have liked them using his equipment.
Recalling Antonio’s mother had said he’d been captain of the debate time, Parker steered his charge away from the teen section, and led him to the technology area. He watched the boy eye the computers for a moment, half expecting him to sit down and play a game. Instead he began to make his way through the shelves of books. He scanned the Political Science section, bypassed Economics, Transportation. Parker wasn't surprised when his eye settled on a book in the Law section about legal procedure.
With a scowl at Parker, he pulled the book out, took it to a table, and began reading. He was looking for something to help his friend Enzo, no doubt.
The boy had potential. Parker couldn’t let him waste it.
After a few hours, he took him for a late lunch—which he gobbled with his usual relish—and then to the zoo where he introduced him to a friend who let the boy pet a live snake. Antonio was fascinated. Perhaps he’d go in that direction. There were so many possibilities. He had his whole life before him.
Just after the sun had set, they were heading east when Parker got the call he was expecting from Hosea. He made a turn onto Buford Highway.
In the passenger seat, Antonio tensed. “Where are we going?”
“Your friend, Enzo, has been released. I thought we’d pay him a visit.”
The boy folded his arms and let out a snort. “He won’t say anything to you.”
“All right. I’ll let you speak to him alone.”
It was a risk, but Parker was willing to take it.
They rode along in silence until Parker turned into a residential section near the DeKalb-Peachtree airport. Slowing, he scanned the small houses with their gray and white and tan siding and average-sized yards. Homes filled with hard working people, he thought. Mothers and father who hoped for the best for their children and often got just the opposite.
He found the address Hosea had given him and pulled over to the curb several houses down.
Antonio sat staring down at his lap. “I don’t know what you expect me to do.”
Parker placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I think you know exactly what to do.”
With a nod, the boy got out of the car and made his way up the sidewalk. He knocked on Enzo’s door and after a moment, was let inside.
Parker waited.
Ten minutes. Fifteen. Twenty.
It might not be easy to get information from Enzo. It might take time. More than one visit. On the other hand, it wouldn’t be hard for the boys to slip out the back door and disappear into the night, leaving him sitting here.
Wishing for a cup of coffee, Parker glanced at the clock and wondered if he had done the right thing to trust a young boy with a questionable history.
After forty minutes, at last
the front door opened and Antonio appeared with another young man Parker assumed to be Enzo.
The boy was a few inches shorter than Antonio. His hair was shaved on the sides and piled up in thick curls atop his head. A pair of torn jeans and a black hoodie complete the tough-and-anonymous look. The pair was headed for a rundown Buick parked in front of the house.
Antonio shot Parker a look, then got into the passenger seat.
The Buick’s lights turned on as its engine came life, revealing the need of a muffler. It pulled away from the curb and puttered down the street.
Apparently Antonio wanted him to follow. At least Parker hoped so.
He took off, driving slowly, though he had a feeling Enzo might already suspect he was being followed. They turned back onto Buford Highway and made their way south for a mile and a half to an outdoor shopping mall.
The parking lot was huge, about a third full of cars, and bordered by a myriad of establishments. Colorful signs delineated clothing shops, shoe stores, a grocery, a restaurant and bar.
As Parker followed the Buick through the lanes, he hoped Enzo wasn’t going to buy a six-pack. He hoped the boys hadn’t gotten the idea to rob one of these places. His rehabilitation of the lost young man had only begun. Perhaps it had been too early to put so much trust in him.
And then he spotted a group of youths near a dark corner along the edge of the lot.
The Buick pulled into a nearby spot and the two boys got out and headed for the assembly.
Parker found a spot a safe distance away and reached into the glove compartment for his binoculars.
Four young men in dark clothes stood huddled around a lamp pole, smoking. The tallest one seemed to be older by a few years. Muscular, tattooed, mean-looking. From the body language of the others, he was clearly the leader. Was this Caruso? The gangbanger Antonio’s mother had mentioned to him yesterday?
What was Antonio planning?
Perhaps he was telling his buddies he had a rich gringo in the Mazda a few spots away, and they’d gang up and try to rob him.
That would break Parker’s heart.
Antonio addressed the taller boy who seemed to be in charge. He listened a moment, then blew smoke out of the side of his mouth and laughed. Antonio said something else. The tall boy shook his head. There was a back-and-forth for another minute or two. Suddenly the tall boy tossed down his cigarette. He raised a fist and shouted something at Antonio.
In response, Antonio gave him a shove. Not the best move.
Parker watched the tall boy’s eyes glaze over with anger for a moment. The next instant, he had a switchblade in his hand. He swung out toward Antonio.
The boy was fast and jumped away. Then he turned and ran.
All the others fled, but Caruso went after him.
Parker grabbed his Glock from the glove compartment, sprang out of the car and ran after them.
They’d gone to the rear of the mall, the section behind the row of stores. Parker raced around the brick corner of the last building. With only a few dim streetlights, he hurried over the broken pavement, dodging stacks of empty boxes and trash bins, jumping over the debris that cluttered his path.
For a moment he’d though he’d lost them. Then he heard a shrill cry. He rushed toward the sound. His gut twisted when he caught the gleam of the switchblade just as the tall boy swung around the far end of a rusted dumpster a few yards ahead.
Parker was there in an instant. When he came around the dumpster he found Antonio on the ground, the older boy on top of him. He was holding the knife blade to Antonio’s throat.
“You dare threaten me, Estavez? I’ll show you where that will get you.”
“And then you’ll see where that will get you, Caruso.”
His hunch was right.
Calmly Parker raised his Glock, pressed it to Caruso’s temple. “Hurt him and they’ll be scraping your brains off the side of that dumpster tomorrow.”
Before the young man could reply, the sound of a police siren rang out.
###
“Enzo told me it wasn’t drugs.”
After the police came and arrested Caruso, and they had spent several long hours giving their statements at the station, they were heading home. Antonio was still flushed with excitement, talking quickly and saying more than he had said since Parker met him.
“Garcia was flirting with Caruso’s girlfriend, Paula Ramos. Caruso wasn’t having that.”
Parker scowled. “That’s what it was about?”
The boy nodded. “Paula is still in school, she’s a sophomore and so was Garcia. Caruso sent someone to warn him to stay away, but Garcia asked her to a dance, anyway. Enzo was at the party. He told me Caruso knew about it. It was at Paula’s best friend’s house. He told me Caruso cruised by, saw Garcia in the yard and shot him from the window of his car. He only meant to wound him, but it didn’t turn out that way.”
The boy grew silent. It could have been his friend who’d gotten shot that evening. It could have been him.
Parker was glad the thug was off the streets. “What did you say to Caruso tonight?”
“I told him to turn himself in. I told him the cops would find him eventually. He didn’t like what I had to say.”
“Apparently not.”
They both fell silent and Parker drove on, marveling at the untold courage this young man had displayed tonight. Parker’s plan had worked. Some food and a little tough love had begun to turn this boy’s life around.
Antonio had promised to testify against Caruso in court. It would take more courage for the boy to carry out that promise, but Parker had faith he would do just that. He was working on getting his friend Enzo to testify, as well.
Parker’s attorney could use the testimony to plea bargain and keep the young man out of jail. As well as bring closure to Garcia’s mother.
While at the station tonight, Parker had put in a call to Carlota, and though she was surprised and pleased at her son’s actions tonight, she wasn’t ready to take him back.
Parker pulled into the circular drive of his home and saw Sylvia’s BMW parked near the entrance. His wife and daughter had come home from New York early. Suddenly facing Caruso earlier seemed like an easier confrontation. But he was determined to make his wife understand. She had a tender heart. He knew he could convince her.
He turned to the boy. “Would you like to come in and meet your new family?”
Eyes wide with expectation, Antonio nodded.
###
Five years later Parker sat in the crowded football stadium of the University of Georgia with Sylvia smiling on one side of him and Gen furiously applauding on the other, as they watched the boy he had brought home one rainy night rise to give the valedictorian address.
Next to Sylvia sat Carlota Estavez and Antonio’s sister, five-year-old Dulcea, their faces beaming with pride. Carlota’s boy would be going on to law school in the fall, his future bright with hope.
The crowd became silent and Parker caught the eye of the young man he now thought of as his son as he stepped to the podium. His heart warmed to overflowing at the love and deep gratitude shining in them, as well as that ever present spark of intelligence.
And Parker knew in his heart that night long ago he had done exactly the right thing.
THE END
Antonio did go on to law school. After graduation he was sought after by many prestigious firms, but he chose one close to home. Unfortunately, he was just starting his career as a defense attorney when Sylvia was diagnosed with cancer. After five years, they lost her. Beside himself with grief, Parker felt lost and alone.
He was thinking about retiring from his private investigation business when a feisty young woman with a horrific past came into his life—and changed it in another way he never expected.
You can read about this woman in the Miranda’s Rights Mysteries.
Someone Else’s Daughter is now FREE!
Here is an excerpt from the first book, Someone Else’s Daughter
(A Miranda’s Rights Mystery).
Someone Else’s Daughter, Excerpt
She could make it to the trees. She was too far away for him to catch up now. It started to rain. A soft rain. The kind, somebody had told her, that often came up in Georgia without warning. Beneath her, the ground sloped steeply as the grass grew wet. She slipped, tried to stifle a yelp, but it escaped her lips.
The cop heard her. His light found her. “Stop,” he yelled.
Man, she was having a bad night.
But the rain slowed him down, too. She could hear him grunting and cussing behind her as he struggled down the slippery incline. She reached the bottom and the land became flat again. Almost there. She sprinted across a patch of grass to the first clump of trees. Hesitating, she stopped to catch her breath.
The bright moon cast an eerie glow on the rocks and wild growth. She’d never liked wooded areas. She thought about murders in the forest preserves where she’d grown up. She thought of stories she’d heard about snakes in the Georgia woods. She glanced behind her.
The cop’s light bobbed about halfway down the hill.
No choice. Gritting her teeth, she braced herself and stepped into the tall grass. Her foot went down on a squishy surface of pine straw and matted grass, a twig snapped, but it held. She took another step, reached out and felt tree bark in front of her. She sidestepped and moved around it. The ground was uneven and muddy. The drizzling rain fell against the leaves with a sound like soft cymbals. The air smelled cool and freshly washed. Brush tangled around her shins. Her hair and clothes were wet, but she couldn’t think about that now.
She looked back again, could barely make out the cop. That meant he couldn’t see her either. She’d done it. She’d escaped. But he’d be hunting her in these woods soon. Probably call out the cavalry, too. Maybe she could make it to the other side. It was part of a subdivision, after all. She couldn’t remember the layout of the forest from her map.
Better move faster. She took a quick step, then another. Found a spot where the trees opened up. She started to sprint. Wrong move. Something caught her foot. Down she went. She tried to catch herself on a tree, but her hand scrapped across its bark. Her palms skidded across the muddy ground.
The Unexpected Guest Page 2
