In Their Blood (19 page)

Pumpkin.
One Halloween when she was four or five, her father had taken her outside in the dark. On the step sat two large heads with fire growing out of their eyes and mouth. Elise had screamed in terror. “They’re only pumpkins,” her father had said, pulling her close. “Come on, baby. Don’t cry.”

Baby
, she typed in now.
Don’t cry.
But she couldn’t stop herself. With each word, her loss spread wider and wider, like a drop of blood in a bowl of water. Mommy, Daddy, how could you leave me?

It was the Ecstasy, she knew. The depression was a symptom of coming down from the high. She needed to stop this self-pity. She had to do something to find her parents’ murderer.

To close the dark hole within herself.

She focused her attention on the desk blotter. Her mother had used it as a reminder calendar. Each word, each letter was written in her mother’s graceful handwriting. So different from the scribbles Elise had made. So different, yet so much the same. Her mother’s notes were as cryptic as the words Elise had written on the yellow pad.

Elise looked at the entry her mother had made for the day after they returned from visiting Jeremy in Madrid.
Geezer— bath; drycleaners; Opa Locka— St. M, 1PM, Passport.

Her mother had been planning on traveling, that was clear. But where? She was often flying off on business trips, and Elise had stopped paying attention to her mother’s destinations or even to how long she was going away for. She would find herself pleasantly surprised when she returned from school and her father would say, “Well, looks like it’s just you and me tonight, babe. Can you stand it?” And Elise could more than stand it. She’d loved those evenings when it was just her and her dad. So, probably out of guilt, she’d block out her mother’s travel talk.

Elise flipped through her mother’s file drawer looking for a travel itinerary, but the only ones she found were from before Madrid. Maybe she’d left the tickets or itinerary out on her desk and, hopefully, the police hadn’t taken them. She searched the desk blotter, under the coin paperweight, behind the calculator. Nothing.

She focused again on the words.
Opa Locka— St. M
.

Opa Locka was a small neighborhood just outside of Miami. St.
M. Was that a street in Opa Locka? No, then it would have been M St. Elise pressed her hands against her head. She had a dull headache and she was thirsty. So thirsty. And this was too difficult. She couldn’t figure it out. But she had to. St. M, St. M. St. Mary’s? Where had she heard of St. Mary’s? Mrs. Castillo had said the Olympus Grande resort was located on St. Mary’s. Could her mother have been planning a trip there?

Opa Locka was also the name of an airport for private planes. Was her mother supposed to fly from Opa Locka to St. Mary’s at 1 p.m. the day after she was murdered? It made sense. She would have needed the passport.

But what did it all mean?

Geezer licked her hand. She wished Jeremy was home so she could ask him. There were so many things she wanted to talk to him about. Was he feeling as lost as she was? Did he also get angry at their parents for leaving them? Did he know how to make the pain go away?

But she couldn’t ask Jeremy anything. Jeremy didn’t come home anymore, nor answer his phone.

Elise lay down on the Oriental rug in her mother’s office. She closed her eyes and concentrated as hard as she could until she saw the smiling woman in the yellow blouse with her hair held high by a red ribbon.

Chapter 22

Jeremy awakened with a throbbing headache as if someone was hitting him with a rubber hammer. He went down to the kitchen and took three Motrins. The sun was pouring through the kitchen windows, and Jeremy had to squint to keep the pain from flaring up. He closed the blinds.

“Another rough night?” Elise asked, walking into the kitchen. She was dressed in her school khakis and polo shirt, but looked like crap with dark circles under her eyes, her hair messily braided.

“I got to bed pretty late.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“Look, Ellie. I don’t want you thinking I’m wasting my time when I’m not here with you.”

She took a glass from the cupboard.

“I’m making progress. I’m pretty sure the murderer targeted Dad.”

“Why?” Elise filled the glass with water and drank it down.

“Because Dad made a lot of people angry. I just have to narrow it down.”

“Sounds like you have everything under control.” She refilled the water glass, drank it, and started toward the door.

“Aren’t you going to eat anything?” he asked.

She gestured toward the countertop, empty except for the bottle of Motrin. “Aren’t you?”

“Touché, I guess.”

“Gotta go.” She waved without meeting his eye.

“Ellie, wait a sec.”

She leaned against the refrigerator, her arms folded across her chest. “What?”

“I want to make sure you’re okay. You were asleep on the rug in Mom’s office when I got home last night.”

“Was I?” Her tone said she couldn’t care less.

“You were holding the pad— the one you’d been writing in the night you were sleepwalking.”

“So?”

“Every page was filled with scribbles.”

“Is, is that a crime?” She’d pushed off the refrigerator with her foot. Her lower lip was trembling. “At least I come home at night.”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t criticizing. I just want to make sure you’re all right.”

“Thanks. You win the good brother award. I’ll make sure Dwight knows.”

“What does Dwight have to do with anything?”

“Nothing. He, he calls. That’s all.”

“When?”

“Most nights. Usually he starts at ten or eleven and keeps calling until I unplug the phone.”

“What does he want?”

“You, I guess. He keeps asking for you.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, well. We all have problems. I’m going to school.”

“He’s not going to take the guardianship away from me, Elise. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“You know something, Jeremy. I don’t care anymore. M-maybe it would be nice to have someone in the house to talk to.” She flung her braid over her shoulder. “Even if it’s Dwight.”

Jeremy walked Geezer to the park where he used to take Elise when she was little. She loved climbing the huge banyan tree they’d named “the grotto,” or hiding in its thick roots. But taking his sister to the park was very different from having complete responsibility for her. Flora did the shopping and cooking, but late at night Elise was all alone. And even if she spent time with Carlos, it wasn’t the same as being with family. So maybe Dwight and Selma moving in with Elise wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

It seemed to be what Elise wanted.

He rested his hand against a low smooth branch protruding from the banyan tree.

Take care of your sister.

“But I’m no good at it, Mom. That’s why I went away in the first place. Because I wasn’t ready for commitments or responsibility.”

Geezer looked up at him and wagged his tail.

Of course, if Elise wanted him to stay, it would be different. But she’d said herself that she didn’t care. So he’d finish working with Marina to find the murderer, then get the hell out of here.

Back where he belonged. Where there were no mothers, fathers, or sisters.

Where there was no one to worry about but himself.

He left the park and pushed his sunglasses up on his nose. The sun was already strong. He lit a cigarette. A bicyclist whizzed by. Jeremy resisted the impulse to run after him. His father used to do that— run after speeders and shout, “Slow down.”

A slouching woman in a dark pantsuit was walking toward him. He took another puff on the cigarette. It was after eight. Time to
leave for work, not that it served much purpose for him to be there anymore.

“I thought you might be walking the dog,” the woman called out as she got closer. “There’s a car in the driveway, but no one answered the door.”

“How are you, Detective Lieber? I’ve been meaning to call you.”

“But you haven’t. You must be pretty busy.” In the harsh sunlight, the gray in her hair gleamed.

“I figured you’d let me know if anything was happening.” He dropped the cigarette on the ground and stubbed it out with his shoe.

Lieber leaned over to pet the dog. “Geezer’s looking well,” she said, pulling herself back up.

“Our housekeeper usually walks him.”

“But you wanted some fresh air this morning?”

He checked his watch. He remembered Detective Kuzniski doing that the first time they’d met, as though he didn’t have time to be bothered by Jeremy.

The bicyclist zoomed by, causing Jeremy to pull Geezer out of the road.

“I won’t keep you long.” Lieber gestured toward a stone bench at the edge of the bay. “Why don’t we sit there so we don’t get run over?”

The reflection from the water hurt his eyes, even with sunglasses on. Jeremy twisted around on the bench so that the direct glare didn’t hit him.

Lieber took a small bottle from her handbag. She held out the Advil. “Need one of these?”

“Thanks, I’ve already taken three Motrin.”

“You’re keeping up a heck of a pace— work, school, taking care of your sister. How’s it working out?”

“Great.”

She popped a piece of gum in her mouth. “That’s a beautiful car you’re driving. I remember someone telling me your father really cherished it.”

“Yeah, well. I wish he would have cherished his family as much.”

“I was under the impression he did.”

Jeremy rubbed his temples. How much did he want to tell the detective about his relationship with Marina and what he was discovering about his father?

“I thought you and I were on the same side, Jeremy. What’s going on?”

Geezer pulled on the leash, straining to chase a squirrel. “I think I’m onto something,” Jeremy said, “but I don’t want to be premature.”

“I’m just here to listen.”

“I’ve been looking over my father’s papers. He was a pretty outspoken guy. Seemed to get a kick out of pissing everyone off.”

“You think he was rash? That he didn’t consider the repercussions?”

“Well, he sure gave a lot of people a motive to kill him.”

“Is that what his graduate assistant believes?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Marina Champlain smokes those unfiltered cigarettes, too.”

“She’s helping me. Is that a problem?” He was sounding as defensive as his sister had earlier.

“Not at all. As long as you remember one source isn’t very objective. I assume you’ve been talking to other people at the school. Confirming what Marina tells you.”

“Look,” Jeremy said. “Marina’s been great. She’s explained my father’s theories to me and who they may have offended.”

“It’s obvious she wants to help you.”

“That’s right.”

“Why?”

“Why? Why wouldn’t she? Marina cared about my father and she wants to find his murderer. I think it’s pretty clear something my father said provoked the murderer. You know about the fire in his office?”

“I do.”

“My father was brilliant. He knew just what buttons to push. How to enrage the opposition.”

“It sounds like you’re very angry with him. Do you want to believe he was the target?”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m just curious why you stopped considering your mother’s business associates.”

“My father got a lot of people to hate him.”

“And that’s your basis for believing him to be the target?”

“My father didn’t care who he offended. He wanted to be sure everyone understood exactly how he felt. Even if he knew he was making people angry enough to want to kill him.”

“So free speech is a crime, Jeremy?”

His throat tightened. “It is when you value it above your family.”

Chapter 23

Just after nine a.m., Jeremy turned the Corvair onto the MIU campus. It was congested with slow-moving cars cruising the full parking lot. Several were parked up against the curbs with the “No Parking” signs. It had been almost two weeks since his mother’s car had been towed away. He’d made no effort to reclaim it. It just hadn’t been a priority.

A car was pulling out of a legitimate parking spot. Jeremy zipped around a curve to get to it before another car cut him off.

He was annoyed after seeing Lieber this morning. He could tell the detective didn’t trust Marina. And why was Lieber making it seem as though Jeremy wanted his father to be the reason for the murders? If his father had incited the killer with his glib talk, then he was responsible. Jeremy was merely telling it like it was.

He cut the engine.

Some kid was staring into the car. “Nice car. What is it, a Corvette?”

“Corvair,” Jeremy said, slamming the car door. He headed toward the campus. He didn’t care that Lieber doubted him; Jeremy was sure he was on the right track. And he’d find another source to prove it.

Students were swarming over the quad, congregating under the trees. He debated going over to the economics building, but didn’t
want to risk running into Winter. Marina didn’t have a class until eleven, so there was no chance he’d bump into her.

On the path toward the cafeteria, Jeremy spotted two people in brown tee shirts, Queso and Liddy, the café jers. He called after them. They waited for him to catch up. Liddy’s curly black hair was tucked under a baseball cap and they were both wearing sunglasses as though hoping not to be recognized. They would have done better wearing different shirts.

“How’s it going?” Queso asked. “Anything new about—” He rubbed his neck like he had an itch. “You know, your dad.”

“Not really,” Jeremy said. “Hey, you guys have time for coffee?”

Queso and Liddy exchanged a look. “Sure,” Liddy said.

They sat at a table a distance from the other students. The outdoor eating area bordered the edge of a man-made lake with a fountain at its center. A running path went around the lake’s circumference. Several joggers, the wires from their iPods dangling from their ears, ran by.

Jeremy used to go jogging every day, but hadn’t run in weeks. Jeremy had stopped doing many of the things that once seemed so important to him.