Chapter Thirty One
Gwen and her assistant argued downstairs as Dori gathered up the crime scene tape in the backyard. The gardener finished planting the last rose bush. They had sprung for fresh mulch to create a little path so potential buyers and lookey-loo's could wander about with tea or a glass of wine during today's first open house.
"We're done," the gardener said, pulling off his gloves.
"Thanks for coming on such a late notice," Dori said.
He shook his head as if it were no consequence. "You be okay, right?"
"I will."
He glanced at the envelope she pulled out of her pocket. He took it. "That body you found, my wife and I asked our priest to pray for him."
"Thanks."
"You know who it was?"
"Not yet."
She told him she appreciated his prayers, and then he walked to his truck.
Dori checked the time on her phone. Gwen had kindly but firmly "asked" her not be here during the open house. If she left now, she'd have to think of something to do, or she'd have to wait almost two hours before she met Elliot for lunch.
The gardener's truck drove away. Dori walked across the yard, doing her best to ignore the voice of the wind through the pines and the forest smell of the mulch that called at her to stay.
When she stepped into her office, Gwen or her assistant were stomping around the house. Dori reached for her bag and debated whether to say good bye or get the hell out.
She found Gwen in the front parlor, primping in the mirror they'd hung over the fireplace. The pocket doors had been squirreled away in the basement and velvet curtains graced the new window.
Even with the open windows and the faint smell of fresh ceiling plaster, Dori detected that strange wet creepiness in the air. She stayed near the doorway. "I'm out of here," she said.
Gwen turned from the mirror, and her face instantly broke into a smile. "Okay great! Are you doing anything fun?"
"Lunch with my partner," she said. "Good luck."
"It's going to be fabulous! I have so many people coming who are in the restoration business, and Tracy will be tweeting pictures of the open house in real time." Gwen crossed the rug that had been rolled over the scarred floor.
Dori's stomach turned at the memory of Vicente bleeding out on the rug that had once lain here. "Sounds great. I'll be back tonight, so just lock up."
She escaped and headed out to her car. Maybe she should get some tea at Halcyon in Golden Hill or window shop for a place to rent before lunch. Then again, Golden Hill and South Park were treacherous places with old houses all in various stages of restoration. It might depress her.
Dori mentally cast around for ideas of how to use up her time, which was why she didn't see the car blocking the driveway until she drove into it.
An awful crunching sound ripped through her and then all went silent as she processed that she'd literally crashed into a parked car.
Then again, crashed might have been too strong a word. At the speed she'd been going, Dori had nudged and bounced off the passenger side of the car. She forced herself to release the steering wheel and then realized Ceferino Campbell stared at her from inside his sparkling gold 1978 El Camino. When they made eye contact, he held up his hand and waved.
Her face burning with embarrassment, she turned off the engine and then got out of the car.
"You live here?" he asked.
"I do. Are you okay?"
"Oh sure," he said as if car crashes were routine.
She pointed a shaking finger at her glove compartment. "I'll give you my insurance information-"
"That's not important, mija." He made a face as he reached into his pocket and took out a candy stick. "Want one?"
She forgot to look at the damage. "Yes, thank you."
Ceferino peeled the plastic wrapper. "Don't worry. It's my grandson's car and he owes me money."
"That sounds like something my grammy would say."
He smiled and she shivered. The brim of his fedora shaded his eyes, but his voice and his stance were too familiar. "Now, why did you come to my mother's funeral?" he asked and then stuck the candy in his mouth.
She held onto the door for the support, trying to wrap her mind around the fact that she was talking with the living version of his dad. "How did you know I live here?"
"Everyone at the funeral knows your grandma, so I called her up."
And she didn't think to warn her? That'd be the last time Dori would buy Grammy a whole pie. "You did?" she said. "What did she say?"
"She told me that I needed to talk to you."
"They're having an open house today so I'm not-" Dori pointed to the open house flags flapping in the breeze as if they weren't obvious.
He was amused by her attempt to hold him off. She might as well as let him in after having hit his car.
"Come in. Just park your car in the drive."
He flapped his hand as if her invitation were a fly. "I'll walk."
He started up the driveway. Dori looked from him to their cars and then caught up with him in case he fell.
Grinning, he held out his arm for her to take. "You can call me Cef. How old are you, doll?"
"Old enough to handle you." She threaded her arm through his. He laughed and patted her hand.
"I'll cut to the chase, Dori," he said, staring straight forward. "My mother and father kept no secrets from me. When I was 17 and told them I signed up with the Navy, they told me everything about my father."
Dori shivered and tried not to show it.
"It's okay, mija." Cef stopped just before they crossed into the shadow cast by the house. He turned and faced it, clutching her hand tightly. He wasn't as nonchalant as he appeared.
"Of course, I was angry when they first told me and I said things I never should've said to my mother. But you know, time moves so fast, especially in war. When I came back, she never spoke of it, but my father did. He told me about this house and what he'd pieced together."
"Did they ever come here?"
He shook his head, his eyes clouded with old memories and regret. "Not that I know." He then cleared his throat and turned to her. "But I've come here from time to time. Never stood this close before."
"You're welcome to come inside."
He nodded. "Yes. I need to. When I see my mother and my father - well, fathers-" His mouth trembled, but he straightened his shoulders. "When I see them again, I can tell them that I knew and I understood. But first thing, how did you find me?"
Dori mentally scrambled for ways to edge around the truth. She swallowed before she lied, "I was researching the history of the house."
Cef accepted her answer and she walked him inside. Debussy was playing softly from speakers hidden in the potted palms. Gwen swept out of the front parlor with her realtor's smile on her face. Her pleasure dimmed when she saw it was Dori. "Back so soon?"
Dori had no patience for her. In her best command voice, she said, "Gwen this is Ceferino Campbell. He's here to see the house."
"Oh, of course!" Gwen stepped back in retreat. "I'll just be in here waiting for guests."
"We need this room," Dori said.
Gwen looked at her laptop set on the table with fliers and business cards.
"I'll let you know when we're done," Dori added, softening her tone.
"May I bring you some wine or lemonade?"
"Wine in fifteen minutes, por favor señorita," Cef said, his voice smoldering.
Gwen actually swayed and then giggled as she backed out of the room.
Dori should've asked for two glasses, but instead she led him into the front parlor. She took a deep breath and tried to ignore the clammy air crawling over her skin. He wrapped his candy in the plastic and stuck it in his pocket.
"Tell me what you know," Cef said, standing in the doorway. "Through your research."
Dori looked around the room that still dripped with sadness inspite of the beautiful furniture.
"From what I know, Vi
cente was supposed to be arrested but they-" She tried to hedge around the truth but then she lost her place and didn't know what to say next. What if he called her crazy or worse, asked how much money she charged to talk to the dead?
She sucked in her breath and braced for the worst. "This is where they killed him."
Cef's eyes closed and for a horrifying moment she thought he would have a heart attack or something. But he nodded and then opened his eyes. "How do you know it happened here?"
"I saw- I mean, I don't know for sure." She couldn't look at him as she told half truths.
"My father," Ceferino started and then paused. "The one who raised me, told me even though my father was a bootlegger and money launderer and worked for murderers and thieves, he thought he was the bravest man he knew. He admired him."
"Did Rick love Anna?"
Cef's eyes widened, as if surprised by the question. "Very much so. When I was a young man, I accused him of setting up my real father to die so he could have my mother." He shook his head as if he still couldn't believe he'd done such a thing. "She loved him, too."
Dori took a deep breath before she told him the rest. "There's more. We found his remains in my backyard. I told the coroner if they didn't find family that I would bury him."
"You did? How do you know it's him?"
"I just know."
Cef grinned like he was onto her. "You know both my fathers' names. You knew my mother."
"Well, I just pieced things together and-"
He held up his hand. "I came here with my secrets. Now you can tell it to me straight."
"I don't want anything from you. I did it for- To make things right and-"
Thinking of Bernice, the phony psychic, Dori had the sick realization she was doing the exact same thing. "Okay fine. Vicente was uh- I saw him and I-"
"You said you'd come out with it," Cef teased.
She looked up in surprise that he hadn't called her out as a swindler.
"Vicente and I were friends," she said. "Yes, he was a ghost or a spirit or whatever you want to call him. But he was my friend."
When she was done, she felt the last of her burden fall away. Her chest no longer burned, and she felt her shoulders melt from where they'd lodged up under her ears.
"That's an interesting way to put it," Cef finally said.
"Look, I'm not psychic or anything like that. It was just- He came to me for help. He needed to find your mother and make sure she was okay, so I helped him."
When he still hadn't called her names, Dori said, "I didn't believe in this stuff so I was trying to- Never mind. There's no excuse for lying."
"Lies and fibs are the tools of cowards," he said with approval. "But you're no coward. If my father chose you to find us, you made good."
She didn't know how to respond to that, considering she missed her chance to tell Vicente about Anna and their son.
Cef held out his arm for her take. "Show me where you found him."
As they walked out of the room, it lost its coldness. The sunlight glowed through the curtains and the antique tea cups and silver demitasse spoons sparkled on the table Gwen had set by the fireplace. All of the windows were open letting in air sweetened by fresh cut grass. Dori led Cef into the back garden and down the steps.
"You made this a very beautiful place," he said as they made their way to the spot where she'd planted white roses and gardenias over the old incinerator and the crime it had concealed.
"I'd be honored if you and I both laid him to rest," Cef said. "There's a plot next to my mother and father's."
Dori couldn't say thank you through the swelling in her throat. Instead, she hugged him.
"How are you going to explain things to your family?" she asked.
"Heh, they already think I'm old and crazy. I can handle them." He winked and then turned his face to the sun.
Chapter Thirty Two
Dori walked around the table pouring wine into seven glasses. She paused at the eighth place setting at the head of the table.
Grammy cleared her throat. "Give him the tequila, mija."
Dori switched bottles and poured Vicente two fingers.
Sighing, she started for the kitchen to help Meg carry out the food. They buried Vicente this morning and Gwen left her voice mail that they had an offer for the house. Dori decided it could wait till tomorrow. In the meantime, she needed to keep busy as this part of her life approached its end.
"Perfect timing," Meg said, handing her a tray of empanadas at the doorway. "How are you holding up?"
Dori shrugged. "Holding up."
Meg nodded with approval and then rushed back into the kitchen.
The hot December day turned the house into an oven, and they decided to have dinner out in the backyard. Cleve had put up a cover with mosquito netting to which Brenda and Meg added lanterns. Grammy set the table with her vintage linens and Dori used her "nice" plates before she had to pack them up. Cef's grandson, Victor brought the wine.
"What is that girl doing to my mole?" Grammy asked. Last week she'd emailed her secret recipe for mole negro to Meg. She'd been giving her cooking lessons and Dori was happy to taste their efforts.
"Smells great," Victor said, making eye contact with Dori. "Here let me help."
He stood up and held open the mosquito netting for her to duck into the tent. She sensed Grammy and Cef watching the two of them. His brother had been the one who witnessed her awkward encounter with Cef at the funeral. But it was his El Camino she drove into. She liked Victor enough that if he asked her out, she'd say yes.
"Try one," Victor said, startling Dori back to the present. He held out an empanada for her to bite.
"Yes, mija," Grammy said. "You should try one before they're all gone."
Dori caught the emphasis in Grammy's voice. She took it from him with her fingers, and his friendly grin widened. She didn't dare look at Brenda or Grammy as she ate it.
Meg came out with the main course and everyone oohed and ahhed over her work. She wiped a piece of hair stuck to her forehead. Dori handed her a glass of wine.
"You ground the spices by hand like I told you?" Grammy asked.
"I did," Meg said.
"You used corn oil not olive."
"Yes. Just like you told me."
Dori handed Grammy her plate. "You be the first taster."
She continued serving the plates and passing them out. Grammy took a delicate bite and then closed her eyes. Meg kept her cool, calmly sipping her wine.
Grammy nodded and then opened her eyes. "Damn girl, you did good."
Everyone broke out into applause, and Meg's eyes were suspiciously bright. Dori squeezed her shoulder and then took her plate to fill it. When she sat down between Victor and Meg, Dori eyed Vicente's place.
Cef stood up. "Thank you for your friendship and kindness to my family," he said. He looked at Dori with a smile that silently expressed that by family, he meant his father for whom they'd made a place of honor.
She returned his secret smile. Victor, her mother and Cleve were the only people at the table who didn't know the whole story. They'd agreed his family would never believe them and so as far as Victor knew it was Dori's "uncle" they were mourning.
"It just goes to show you're never too old to meet good friends." He lifted his glass, and the tent was filled with the sounds of clinking glasses.
Cef sat down and resumed flirting with Grammy. As Dori cut into her chicken, she thought of that day he came to the house and they sat out here during the open house. Cef finished where Vicente had left off, explaining that Andy Munemitsu brought Anna to Rick Campbell. Andy's family stayed close to his parents, Cef and his sisters having grown up with their kids. When they'd been relocated under Roosevelt's Executive Order 9066 of 1942, Rick and Anna leased their home and kept it until they returned after the war. Eugenia had been widowed when Alex broke his neck while digging a well. She raised her two boys and was Cef's godmother. Unlike the woman Grammy had remembered, Eugenia lived
up till 1996 and died of old age.
Dori never found out what happened to James McClemmy after he'd been incarcerated at McNeil Island Prison on February 15, 1933. He'd been sentenced on December 5, 1932, a year before the 21st Amendment passed, ending Prohibition.
Dori slipped the mole-soaked chicken into her mouth and let it linger on her tongue. The present moment had no room for regrets or anger she told herself. Anna had lived her life. She hoped that Vicente's absence meant that he knew and he was free.
"Excuse me," came a voice.
They looked over, and Gavin stood outside the mosquito netting. Dori nearly dropped her fork. He held the same porkpie hat he'd worn the first day she almost shot him in the living room. His dark hair glistened as if he'd cleaned up before coming over.
"Mijo! Come and eat with us!" As Grammy rose from her chair, he ducked into the tent.
"Thanks, but I was just stopping by," he said and then looked at Dori. Her heart bloomed in her chest. "Have you talked to your realtor yet?"
It took Dori a moment to process his question. "No. Not yet."
"Oh. Well, I brought this." He pulled out an envelope. "Maybe I'll just leave it by the door."
Her heart beat double time. "You could sit down and have dinner with us."
He glanced at Meg and smiled bashfully. "I'm intruding."
"Sit down next to me," Grammy insisted, pointing to an extra chair in the corner of the tent.
"I don't believe we've been introduced," Brenda said, offering her hand. Gavin shook her hand and then Cleve's before sitting.
Dori tried not to think about Gavin now across the table from her. When she looked his way, he paid attention to Grammy.
She forced herself to eat, not really tasting the food as she went all shaky inside.
"Are you going to miss your house when you sell it?" Victor asked.
Dori swallowed and then nodded. "I will. I made a lot of good memories here in a short time."
"My grandpa said you planted the garden."
She glanced across the table, admiring the strong elegance of Gavin's hands. She then remembered that Victor had commented on the garden. "I did, but with a lot of help."
"You don't seem like the kind of person who asks for help too easily."
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