Trevar's Team 1

by Kieran York

“I didn’t say no. I told him I’d consider it.”

  Before I could inquire, I turned to see Summer dashing across the lot. Her arms slipped around our waists. We walked three abreast. “On our way over here,” I announced, “I deposited Lilia’s check in the firm’s account. So we’re flush. Lilia made plans to do some kind of a video that will take a few weeks of production in Mexico. I figured the three of us should take a vacation. Pull up anchor. Head for the mystical sea and a vacation adventure we deserve. Sun. Fun. We’ve just finished a big case and could use some R&R.

  “Trev,” Summer’s words stumbled. “I won’t be going.”

  “Come on, Summer,” I argued. “Only a few weeks. Debra will be fine. She’s got healing to do. And I know the case won’t require my services for at least another couple months. Time away—reward for our valor,” I prompted.

  “It isn’t Deb. I’ve been thinking about it all night. I missed calling this case by a mile. I’m trying to figure if I belong in detective work. I was duped by Deb.” Summer opened the station door.

  “Summer,” I disputed, “we aren’t augurs. We began with raw speculation. We sorted until the ingredients turned up. My theory was that Jeremy killed Sylvia. Originally, I would have bet the barge on that. But the important thing was that we crossed the finish line first. We completed the case.”

  “I figured Cruz and Hammer might have done it. But I never thought Deb was there.”

  We were seated in a waiting room outside the lieutenant’s office. “Summer, drugs make people different,” I offered. “You were right about the fact her heart isn’t bad. You saw that in her, so don’t kick yourself around the block for believing in someone.”

  “I blew it.” Her head hung. “I was accusing you for your lack of objectivity. I was the one weighted down. I flat out blew it.”

  Rachel reached for Summer’s hand. She put it to her cheek and gave a kiss. “Summer, we were all emotionally invested. On different levels, but we were. You came through. You saved my life. No one has ever accused you of having a mushy spine or mind. It ain’t over until the wrestler threatens to give you the final high seas slam.”

  We chuckled. I added, “Our suspect list was diverse enough for any outcome.”

  “I feel rotten,” Summer said with dejection. “If I hadn’t been negligent in picking up clues, maybe Rach wouldn’t have been taken hostage.”

  “That’s bull!” I barked. “Summer, it was your rescue. You planned it. Look at all the cases you’ve solved. But everything on this one was goofy from the start.” I paused as my mind whirled. “Still is. The deal was that we’ve had a very expeditious resolution on a very tough case.”

  Rachel agreed. “Things have happened for the best. I’d been choking on my own anger. Spinoza said that peace isn’t just the absence of war, but rather a virtue. A disposition for benevolence and justice. I was waiting for justice to get right with me. Maybe now I can accept that it doesn’t work that way.” Rachel issued a smile. “Hatred hurts the hater most.”

  With a wry grin, I expounded, “And Simone de Beauvoir said that hatred can at times be a positively joyous emotion. So who you gonna believe?”

  “I don’t believe anyone if I can’t pronounce their name,” Summer replied. “Sounds like something old Loma might say.”

  “Loma,” Rachel repeated the name with an attached sigh. “Powers told me that the photo of Helene was verified by the eyewitness as the woman coming from Jeremy’s motel room. With a positive ID, Helene is sure to be indicted.”

  “Loma will finagle a deal,” Summer declared.

  “Helene will hire a battalion of lawyers. They’ll be more sidebars than the judge will be able to count. Helene will probably get an acquittal,” I predicted.

  “After examining her financial records, I can verify her wealth,” Rachel added. She gave a melancholy glance in my direction. “Although I didn’t exclude her from being a suspect, I rather hoped she wasn’t guilty. She’s one of a kind. Good fanatics are difficult to find these days.”

  I understood that we each had our own cairn of clues. They pointed us in different directions. As the case unraveled, it became difficult to keep up with collective theory that blended with truth. Individual insight got in the way. I wondered if this would always be how we operated. Perhaps experience would eventually sharpen our skills. The vintage saying, ‘You don’t catch an old bird with chaff’ came to mind.

  Lieutenant Tom Powers had a stack of statements ready for our signatures. After reading and signing, I asked about Helene.

  “Helene Earnest is already bailed. She must have had twenty briefcase-toting mouthpieces,” Powers answered, exhaling dramatically. “They’ll go for self-defense. Claiming Howell became abusive. To be honest, I doubt if she’ll do time. But the scandal might put out her fire, light, and truth for a while. Eventually, she’ll get an amended proclamation on forgiveness from her flock. She’ll be back in business. Those kinds always surface again.”

  “She could begin a new congregation of people who are glad she offed Howell,” I alleged.

  “No doubt,” Powers remarked. “You nailed down both cases. I got to hand it to you peepers.”

  Summer rolled her eyes. She repeated, “Peeper?”

  “The expression is way before your time,” I explained. “Even before mine.”

  “Oh, please!” She stood. “I’m late for a meeting at the gym. So this peeper is out of here.”

  “Now listen,” Powers instructed, “you stay out of police business from here on.”

  “If we do that,” Summer retorted, “who will solve the crimes?”

  “I’m on my way, too,” Rachel said as she followed behind Summer. “See you later.”

  When they were safely down the hall, I turned back to Powers. “Tom,” I said as I leaned my hands against the edge of his desk. “I have a question. Or two. My team solved the crime despite a very important missing particle. The medical examiner’s report was incomplete. The blood work was missing. No spectrographs or chemical analysis. How about shedding some light on that?”

  With a hushing motion, Powers closed the door. He sat back down. “Guess I owe you this. We’re talking confidentially. It goes nowhere.”

  “You’ve got my word.”

  “That’s the nuts part of this case. We wanted the digestive enzymes to establish the time of death. But there was more. You see, Sylvia’s kid comes by for money. They fought and it ended up a murder. The crazy part is that they wouldn’t have had to kill her.”

  “What are you saying?” I leaned near, impatiently demanding, “Talk to me.”

  “Sylvia had enough cocaine in her stomach to kill off our alligator population. Pure stuff. Enough to make certain a suicide took.”

  I blew a puff of air toward the ceiling. “I don’t get it. Why would she try to kill herself?”

  “Her lover leaves. Daughter is giving her fits. She gets loaded up. She talks about her will with all the people who are making her life a zoo. She decides to end it. You know the scenario.”

  “Yes. Too well.” I paused. “But she didn’t seem the type.”

  “She’d been drinking. Depressed. Hey, she took those capsules jammed with….”

  “Capsules?” I delved.

  “Yes. That was the missing autopsy report. She’d taken blue and white capsules. Gelatin casings hadn’t had time to fully disintegrate.”

  “That’s why the body was cyanotic. The yellow discoloration of the body had been questioned by my team. So you buried the path report? And you didn’t fight the request for cremation of the body.”

  “That’s right. We told everyone we hadn’t caught the paperwork for the cremation in time.” He looked away. “I’ve been on the force for a long, long time. Sometimes things are right.”

  “Mala in se,” I declared. Offenses against one’s conscience. With a confirming nod, I spoke, “Tom, you’re a terrific cop. And a terrific father. Even if you didn’t raise a Sapphic or two,” I kidded. “There h
ad to have been a reason for the path report to have vanished.”

  “Before she went sour from suicide, she was murdered. No need to dredge up something so sad.”

  “No.”

  “Listen, Sylvia Grant was celebrated for getting clean. When her anti-drug messages hit the airways, people started calling drug centers to get help. She gave them hope. If she could get straight with drugs and booze, they figured they could, too. Trevar, I pick kids up off the street. Needles still sticking in their arms. Only in their teens, and already, they’re stiffs. Jesus. If Sylvia’s message would have saved one kid a month, it was worth a little inventive filing. There was no way I was going to take away that kind of positive message for something that didn’t matter in the long run.”

  I respected him too much to dispute his reasoning for obstructing justice. “I understand, Tom.” I began to truly understand it all.

  He closed his eyes, confessing, “Maybe my kids are okay because I’m a hell of a lucky guy. I see good parents in here all the time. Trevar, we don’t need to besmirch Sylvia Grant’s message just because she got tanked up and took pills. Her image helped to heal young people. That report was conveniently tossed. I’m trusting that you’ll keep your mouth shut.”

  I nod. “Like you said, some decisions are right.”

  I left his office. My mind was whirling as if my thoughts were in a blender. I needed to contemplate the information. I went to my one impregnable fort of tranquility—the ocean’s edge. The sea’s splash always clarified my thinking. I drove to a vacant beach where I walked for over an hour. I watched curling foam-topped waves break against the shore.

  My existence was being considered. My rightful place on this home of a planet was being reasoned. Life was similar to a comber. We were lifted high by fate, and then with gravity’s assist, we returned to where we began. But we were never the same. Sometimes we fell with the benignity of a tumble. Other times, we collapsed as we were smashed by the plummet to earth.

  And it was just when I’d learned the meaning of a kiss.

  As I got out of The Breakers elevator, the noise was still squalling within my soul.

  “My darling,” Lilia greeted me. “I wasn’t expecting you back until later this afternoon.”

  I entered silently. Turning, I watched her shut the door behind us. I breathed deeply, feeling the pinch of suffocation in my lungs. She sensed my sorrow.

  “Beryl, you are troubled. You went by to see Debra?”

  “No, but last night she told me about the murder. I can’t begin to imagine Sylvia’s final thoughts when her daughter’s companions beat her to death. It did save her from finding out that her lover had attempted to murder her.”

  “What?” Lilia’s face froze.

  “I told you early on, the victim usually tells on the murderer. Where the body was found told us who killed her. Massive quantities of drugs in her system told me that you attempted to kill her.”

  Lilia sat. She covered her face. I went to the opposite chair and eased into it. My fatigued shoulders slumped.

  I continued, “Sylvia had betrayed you with Helene. You used the drugs that Debra had left around the house. You loaded up the capsules Helene had furnished with her energy herbs. That way you could blame her. You could get revenge on both of them. There was revenge for their disloyalty. The remedy for betrayal was killing Sylvia and framing Helene. One verdict, one sentencing. Ironically, Helene stole Sylvia’s gun to frame you. Bodies fell while everyone was framing everyone else. A scorecard might have helped.”

  “I loved Sylvia.”

  “But you doctored the capsules. Before leaving, you gave her a dosage. That’s why you were so frightened this morning when I almost took them. This noon I was told about the Path report. Then I knew. I mistakenly thought your panic was out of concern that I not have anything to do with Helene. You didn’t want me tainted by her. All along, you knew the capsules would have killed me.”

  She sobbed softly. “Beryl…”

  “The police believed that Sylvia tried to kill herself with an overdose. But there was no real motive for suicide. In her drunken state, why would she have put the drugs neatly into the capsules? She was inebriated. She would have spilled the junk, but the police scene photos didn’t indicate any dusting. And the tox report was missing, so we attributed the skin’s discoloration to booze. But we knew it wasn’t quite right.”

  “I was angry.”

  “But after you left, you felt guilt. And maybe fear. You called the police asking that they respond to the Grant Mansion. They would have arrived and revived her. You muffled your voice so it was barely audible. You knew how to make it intelligible, yet unrecognizable. You’d worked in studios with microphones. And finally, several times you mentioned that you knew you’re incapable of murder. You were too certain of that not to have experienced the crossroads.”

  “You can’t possibly understand how hurt I was by the terrible things she said to me.”

  “She told you about Helene. The punishment for her infidelity was death.”

  “Her words were so cruel they cut into my heart. She said that I am like my mother—a fool. Just as my father was adulterous, Sylvia had also been unfaithful to me. She said my mother and I were both deceived. We were both fools. She left my family with little honor.”

  Cognizant of the fact that the Latin culture hated acrimonious slurring of their mothers, I comprehended Lilia’s fury. But I couldn’t accept her solution. “Lilia, there’s no honor in taking another human being’s life.”

  “I know that. When I realized what I’d done in anger, I called the police. So that she would not die. I first attempted to contact Sylvia to warn her, but there was no answer. You must believe me—I tried to save her. I was sorry for my actions. Beryl, you once told me that you would have done things differently in your past.”

  “You can’t measure my sexual behavior with the intent to commit murder.”

  “No. No, of course not.” She dabbed her eyes with a tissue. “How long have you know?”

  “Too long. My antenna was receiving messages. I refused to listen. I gutted my own truth.”

  “I’m so ashamed.”

  “Tragically, the two people Sylvia Grant most loved, in her twisted way, would both want her dead.”

  “You can’t believe how abusive she was.” Her eyes clamped shut.

  “Drunks are abusive. That gives you the right to leave the abuser. Not murder them.”

  “I have learned that now. Too late,” she spoke. “I didn’t wish to deceive you.”

  “I even halfway believe you wanted to be discovered. You had ample time to flush the capsules. Perhaps your need for absolution required you be found out. Penance.”

  “My act of contrition, and yes, penance.” Her head bowed.

  “Lilia, I know you were provoked, and you relented before the drugs would have killed her. Attempted murder is a crime. My own crime of omission is equally tragic.” Tears began to seep from my eyes. “I love you, Lilia.”

  She came to me and knelt at my side. She wiped my tears. My head fell against her shoulder. “Beryl, forgive me. I shall now give myself up. Make a confession to the authorities. Now that you know of my crime, you are involved. I can’t allow you to compromise your values by making the choice to turn me in. I may lose your love, but wish not to lose your respect.”

  We stood. We both understood it was a felony to secrete criminal evidence. And I would also be disbarred. I took her in my arms. “I appreciate that.”

  “I’ve harmed you enough. But it has never been purposely.”

  When our embrace ended, it nearly dismembered my heart.

  While Lilia dressed, I drove back to the yacht to freshen up, as well as brief my partners on the update. I told her that I would return in an hour to pick her up for our appointment with Lieutenant Powers. Rachel and Summer were completely mute when I explained the case’s painful addendum. Gone were the glittery eyes of a lover that I’d worn. For the first time,
I understood my mother’s despair. And her wish to escape reality.

  I’d picked up Lilia and we’d arrived for our meeting with Lieutenant Powers. Lilia made her confession. I expounded on her explanation. There were extenuating circumstances, I expressed. Although there was culpability, Lilia had been a ready-made victim by her cultural upbringing, and by her passion for and her commitment to someone who didn’t know how to return that love. Sylvia Grant had met a vulnerable, sheltered younger woman. The legend’s perverse emotional sadism ravaged Lilia as well as her own daughter.

  Powers tapped his cigar. He sighed from his gut. The attempted crime, he believed would not have had a complaint signed against Lilia by Sylvia. Silvia was aware of what she had done. Add to that, there was no evidence. Officials might question the lost report—and the truth might harm the community.

  I suggested a voluntary psychological treatment. Powers asked if Lilia would agree to a self-imposed deportation of one year. I began to object, but Lilia hushed me. She agreed. Powers told her to conclude her business in Florida and return immediately to Argentina. He tipped his ashes in the ashtray when she thanked him. He was aware that they each were doing what their sense of honor required of them.

  When we arrived back at The Breakers, Lilia insisted that she needed time to herself. I begged to stay with her, and she rejected my plea. I asked if she would allow me to visit her in Latin America. She objected. We needed time to heal, she believed. With that, she kissed me. I recognized that I was the recipient of a goodbye kiss. There were to be no postscripts.

  I returned to The Radclyffe at twilight. It felt far darker than it was becoming.

  The team’s scheduled evening conference took place in the galley. I sat on the stool opposite my partners at the counter. An iced limeade was set in front of me. “You okay, Trev?” Summer inquired.

  “I’m still in love with her. She’s made her decision to end the romance.”

  Rachel looked down at her legal pad. “I spoke with the prosecutor’s office this afternoon. Debra’s case won’t be coming up for at least three months. You’ll have plenty of time to prepare the case. And you’re down for that speech at the Bar Association’s luncheon.”