“You want to see Emilio?” Monica took a deep breath and tried to remain calm. He hadn’t seen his son since he’d dropped off the infant in Sweet Pine. Deep down, Monica hoped her brother would change his mind, but would that be fair to Emilio? Maybe Emilio should meet his father and have at least a visiting relationship with him. One thing was for certain—she would be present when they finally met for the first time.
“Yeah, sure,” Miguel said. “I’d like to see Mama, too. I’ll stop at your place when I get to Sweet Pine, before this interview.”
“Emilio is in camp, but I can keep him home that day.” She made a mental note to take Thursday off from work. She wasn’t going to be absent from the house when Miguel showed up. Maybe he’d made a change in his life. A couple of years in the Dade Correctional Institution should have changed him, rehabilitated him. Maybe his years of stealing cars and stripping them at a Key Largo chop shop had taught him a skill, one that he was now using at the legitimate body shop.
On the other hand, maybe Miguel hadn’t changed at all. She would know in just a few minutes on Thursday if he was still the self-centered hothead he’d always been. One thing she didn’t ever want to consider was Miguel deciding to take back his son. She refused to picture Emilio in that kind of environment. Wait. No, that would never happen. A child was a responsibility and Miguel avoided responsibility at all costs.
Monica disconnected with Miguel and called Edward.
“Hi, Monica,” Edward said. His tone was hopeful. “What’s up?”
“My brother will be coming here on Thursday and he’s agreed to talk to you.” She let the news sink in, then added, “For what it’s worth, Edward, I don’t think my brother had anything to do with your father’s death.”
“You should stand behind him, if you can,” Edward said. “He’s your brother. For your sake I hope you’re right. I hope I can agree with you that Miguel is innocent.”
“He should be at the marina by noon,” she said.
“Okay. Thanks for doing this, Monica. By the way, what did you think of my half sister?”
“She seems nice,” Monica said. “And again, for what it’s worth, she seemed like she could be legit. You should give her a chance.”
“That’s what I decided, too,” he said. “She and her fiancé are coming to the service tomorrow night. That reminds me...are you coming?”
“Planning to.”
“Great. Any chance you could bring a DNA test kit?”
“Uh...okay.”
“Thanks. I appreciate you’re coming to the funeral. I’m not saying we’ll uncover any clues about the people who attend, but it would be nice to have two investigative minds there.”
“Just what you need, Edward, a working funeral.”
“Yeah, I know, but maybe it will be therapeutic. I need something to occupy my mind. These last few days have been tough.”
“My mother and I are both coming,” Monica said.
“You’ll come to the chapel and back to the house later?”
“Yes. That’s fine.”
“I’ve got about a hundred things to do between now and tomorrow night,” he said. “But it’s good to be busy, even if all my errands are directed toward saying a final farewell to my dad. I’ll look forward to seeing you again, Monica. You could be the only bright spot in an otherwise gloomy evening.”
“See you then.” Monica disconnected, packed up her sandwich container and backed out of the parking spot. Edward’s last comment had taken some of the sting from having to speak to her brother. She’d head to the sheriff’s department now and see if Forensics had come up with a report on that pocketknife yet.
* * *
BY 6:00 P.M. the following night, the food Edward had ordered for after the service had arrived, and he was making final arrangements for the people who showed up at the house. He’d told folks in Sweet Pine to tell anyone who might have known his dad about the service, but he had no idea if anyone would come. He hoped the dining-room table in his father’s house could support the weight of several large baking dishes and numerous appetizer platters. Better to have too much than too little, he concluded, knowing that this gathering was also a chance for him to get a better sense of the local residents who might show up.
Besides the investigation he was quietly conducting, he wanted people to come and pay their respects. In the last few years Edward hadn’t spent a lot of time with his dad, and he reasoned that he would feel more at peace about his dad’s life here if he’d had friends.
“Everything looks fine,” he told the representative from a local restaurant. “Please come back around ten to pick up your supplies.”
Edward headed the five miles down the road to the Fisherman’s Chapel and arrived well before six thirty. A few people had already gathered in the parlor. Edward walked past them to the open casket. He hadn’t wanted the lid to be raised, but Raul Gonzalez convinced him that this was a tradition in the Keys. Edward went up to the coffin and took a last long look at the man who had changed his life. He’d known this phase would be difficult, however, seeing his father like this—pale and unnatural-looking—was harder than he thought it would be. After just a minute, he walked away to introduce himself to the assembled guests.
Gonzalez stayed close by his side and filled in details about people as they came into the chapel. “This is the handyman many folks in the Keys hire to do assorted jobs,” he said of a young, burly fellow. “I assume your father hired him, as well.”
He went on to tell Edward about the supermarket manager, the local postman and several owners of retail establishments. Edward tried to remember names so he could have a conversation with each person before the night was over.
In the back of his mind was the constant thought that one of these people might have killed his father. If so, Edward was trained to uncover motives.
His father’s marina employee, A.J., was the first person Edward immediately recognized. A.J. brought his bicycle into the chapel, claiming that he couldn’t trust “these people on Sweet Pine” not to steal it. To his credit, A.J. had combed his hair and cleaned his beard. He had on a decent shirt with conch shells printed on it, nice shorts and leather sandals.
Brooke and Jeremy arrived just before six thirty. She came immediately to Edward and wrapped him in a warm hug. “How are you doing?” she asked.
“Okay, I guess.” Confiding his feelings to this woman, as nice as she was, wasn’t easy. He glanced at the door again, hoping to see Monica come in. After a moment, he said, “I got the DNA kits from my detective friend,” he told Brooke. “She left them at my house this afternoon.”
“Great. I’ll follow instructions and leave my kit with you so you can handle the follow-up. I assume you’ll be more comfortable doing that than having me take them back to Charleston. This way the results will come directly to you.”
She smiled at him warmly. “I can’t say it enough. I’m certain that you’re my brother and I can’t wait for you to meet our sister and all the children. I guarantee you’ll be greeted with love, Edward.”
Edward thanked her, but couldn’t wrap his mind around meeting another sister and numerous kids. “I have to get through these next few days first,” he said. “But maybe soon.”
“Do you still think your father was murdered?” she asked quietly.
“I do,” he said. “Though I’m probably the only one around here that thinks so.”
She touched his arm. “Please be careful, Edward. I hate to think of you associating with anyone who would do such a thing. I want you in my life for many years to come.”
Jeremy expressed his condolences and he and Brooke took seats in the parlor.
And then the Cortez women entered. Rosa Cortez, Monica’s mother, was first. She wore a long black skirt and white blouse, and a fine lace mantilla over her dark hair. Monica walked behind her and nearly took Edward
’s breath away. She was dressed in a sleeveless, knee-length black dress with a high round collar and flared skirt. Her hair was pulled back and flowed past her shoulders. A simple moonstone and silver pendant hung against her chest. She was so unlike the no-nonsense police detective he’d met and more like an elegant lady going to a big theater opening.
So many sides to this woman, Edward thought. The serious officer in uniform, the sun-kissed Keys gal in shorts and a T-shirt, and now this—a woman who burned a new and powerful image into his mind with worldly beauty. He didn’t wonder which Monica he preferred. He liked them all.
Rosa approached him first. “Oh, my poor querido, I am so sorry for your loss. I did not know your father well, but he and my husband were once close. This is a sad day for sure.”
Edward smiled at her reference to him as a small boy. He had not been called a boy for more than thirty years. Maybe he never had. Running away from one foster home after another, and later learning to survive in a detention center, matured a person quickly. He was practically a man when Judge Smith took him in.
“If there is anything I can do...” Rosa said.
“No, thank you. I’m glad you came tonight.”
She walked to the casket, kneeled in front and made the sign of the cross. Her lips moved, and Edward assumed she was saying a prayer for the man she could believe had cheated her husband.
Monica came up to him next. She placed her hand on his upper arm. “How are you holding up?” she asked.
“I’m okay. Just want to get this over with.”
She gave him a smile of encouragement and the dimly lit room seemed to glow with the light of her compassion. “Some people believe we need these formal services to say goodbye to the dead,” she said. “I’m not convinced. I preferred to say goodbye to my father in quiet, more personal ways.”
Edward didn’t need pageantry, either. He had said goodbye to his father in the solace of the home they had spent time in, in his father’s library among all his books, on the porch where he spent his evenings. His goodbyes were almost finished now. He had other important work to do.
“Thank you for coming, Monica,” he said. “I don’t mean to take advantage of you after hours, but...”
“Don’t be silly. I’ll be doing exactly what you are doing, looking at the people here, talking to them, trying to uncover some little clue, no matter how small.”
“Will you stay at the house after everyone leaves? Maybe we can compare notes.”
“Of course. I’ll just run Mama home and come back. We’ll talk as long as you like.”
At this moment, surrounded by strangers, Edward had the sense that talking to Monica about anything for hours, days, even longer, would not be enough. He hardly knew her, but she had been, and still was, an anchor during this troubling time.
The service was short and simple. Edward and Raul were the only people in the family row of chairs. Edward gave the eulogy, which seemed well-received. A few others spoke of the judge’s kindness and generosity to people who lived on the Key. Some said they would miss him. And then Edward invited everyone to his home. Of the fifty or so people who had attended, all said they would come. Edward waited until they had all left. He walked Rosa and Monica outside, and then returned to the coffin to say a final goodbye.
His words were only a quickly spoken expression of what he was feeling, but they came from his heart and soul. “I will miss you, Dad. I loved you, and thank you for allowing me to be your son. I promise I’ll get to the bottom of what’s happened. I won’t stop until I find the answers.” He touched the smooth wood at the side of the coffin. “Just rest, Dad. I will never forget you or my promise tonight.” He turned and left the parlor knowing his father would be buried in the Middle Keys Cemetery, a spot his dad would have liked.
In the parking lot, Monica stopped Edward and spoke softly. “Are you okay?”
“I think I will be,” he said.
“I hope you find answers, some closure for all of this.”
“I hope so, too,” Edward said, wondering how her thoughts had so closely mirrored his in the chapel. “And, Monica, thank you so much for all you’ve done. Coming tonight, arranging the interview with your brother.”
“Edward?” She looked into his eyes and slowly shook her head. “Really, Miguel didn’t do this. I understand why you want to talk to him, but I’d like him to leave Sweet Pine as soon as possible. My brother isn’t a good man. I don’t hold any illusions about that. But he gave me Emilio to raise and keeping the two of them as far apart as possible has been my main goal for a long time. Now, they’re going to meet, and I won’t rest until Miguel is on his way back to Miami.”
She spoke with such passion that Edward was taken aback.
“Miguel is going to see his son?”
“He has asked to, not that I want it to happen. But I can hardly keep him from seeing his family. I’ll take the day off so I can be at the house the whole time.”
She was suddenly in police mode, making plans, being protective of her family, and Edward had to respect her desire. But he wondered. What had Miguel done to this family?
CHAPTER SEVEN
MONICA DROVE HER mother home around ten o’clock. “Edward is a nice man, ’Nica,” Rosa said in the car. “And a gentleman. He walked you home the other night. A mother notices such things. What do you think of him?”
“The same as you, Mama. Edward is a nice man. But don’t let one walk home lead you to believe in a future that doesn’t exist.”
“Bah. It could exist, ’Nica. I saw how he looked at you tonight. He finds you pretty. If you dressed more often like...”
“I’m a police detective, Mama. I don’t start my days thinking about which pretty dress to put on.”
Rosa stared at her hands clasped in her lap. “That’s for the daytime, ’Nica. I’m talking about when you’re not working. You don’t have many pretty dresses. Spend a little money on yourself, hija. Buy pretty things, maybe some jewelry.”
Monica sighed. “I will, Mama. Soon. Please don’t worry about me. When the right man comes along, I’ll know it. And if he doesn’t, that’ll be just fine, too. I have you and Emilio. I’m happy.”
“I already had two children when I was your age, Monica. I was married to a wonderful man. I only want the same for you.” She reached across the front seat of the car and twisted a strand of Monica’s hair around her finger. “Sometimes I don’t think you know how lovely you are, ’Nica. Beautiful inside and out. So you should think about settling down with the right man, sometimes I fear you wouldn’t even know if he came along.”
Monica smiled at her mother. “You’re beautiful, too, Mama, and I’m not worried.”
Rosa blushed. “You always know what to say.”
They pulled into the driveway, and Rosa got out of the car. “Lucy and Horatio will be glad I’m home,” she said. “I hope Emi wasn’t any trouble.”
“Get some sleep, Mama,” Monica said through her lowered window. “I’ll be home late. Edward and I have to talk.”
Rosa gave her a sly look. “That’s all? More talk?”
Monica closed up her window. “Good night, Mama!” she called out and reversed onto the street with a smile on her face. Family traditions affected her life in so many ways. Rosa believed that a woman had to be married to be happy and complete. She had to have children. A career was secondary. Monica knew differently.
But then Monica’s thoughts landed on Sunday night, when a nice gentleman had walked her home and held her hand. Monica grinned. It wouldn’t be so bad if they did more than talk, but she couldn’t consider getting romantically involved now. Edward was grieving. She had promised to help him. Still, she hadn’t gone inside her house and changed into shorts and sandals. She drove back to Edward’s in her best black dress.
When she was almost at the marina, Monica glanced in her rearview mirror. O
kay, she was pretty enough, she supposed. But Edward was a man for whom Sweet Pine Key was an occasional weekend away from the city. Monica had never really been interested in Miami. She’d visited there a few times and knew the city was full of vibrant and varied people, but she was happy in Sweet Pine Key with her mother and Emilio.
When Monica got back to the judge’s house, a truck from a local Italian restaurant was leaving. Lights were on in the first floor of the big home. She hoped Edward had had a chance to relax and put some of the sadness of the night behind him. He stepped onto the porch when she pulled up. Like her, he still wore the clothes from the funeral service—a light blue shirt and black trousers.
“I’m glad you came back,” he said. “I thought maybe the stress of the evening was enough for one night.”
She smiled. “Funny. I thought the same about you.” She came up the three steps to stand in front of him.
“And yet here we are,” he said.
“Yes. Here we are.”
He took her elbow and led her to a chair under the porch light. “Did I mention how pretty you look?” he said. “How nice that dress is?”
She fingered one of the folds of the skirt. Maybe her mother was right. “Thank you, Edward, but I doubt my wardrobe was the most important thing on your mind.”
“More’s the pity. It should have been. If you and I had met under different circumstances, I’m sure the evening would have been all about that dress.”
Her face flushed with an unfamiliar warmth. She was grateful the light was too low to give her blush away. Edward pulled a chair close to hers and sat.
“So, I thought everything went very well,” she said. “Your eulogy was perfect.”
“Thanks. It was difficult to write because I never expected to be giving it so soon.”
“I don’t think we’re ever prepared to say parting words to someone we’ve loved.” She cleared her throat. “What about the guests tonight? Did you have enough opportunity to talk to them?”
A Family Man At Last Page 7