“Holy shit,” Toni said softly. “Look at this. This painting is by Jasper Johns. I’ve never even seen it before. If it’s real, it’s probably worth millions.”
I looked at it. To me, it looked like a drop cloth in a kindergarten class on finger-paint day. I guess I couldn’t appreciate fine art. At least not then.
I’d just started to answer Toni when the door swung open and Angelo Fiore entered, followed by Carina and Robbie.
I walked over to Angelo and shook his hand. He, too, had red, swollen eyes. Carina dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. She reached up and hugged me, and then Toni.
“Thank you both for coming by this morning,” Carina said.
“We wanted to be here,” Toni said. “We had to talk to you.”
Carina nodded.
“Let’s sit over here then and talk for a few minutes,” Angelo said. “It’s getting loud out there and now, of all times, I could use a little peace and quiet.” He motioned us to the sofa and chairs.
“I’m so very sorry about what happened,” I said.
Both nodded.
“I don’t know what you know or what you’ve been told.”
“I’d like to hear everything from you,” Angelo said.
“Okay,” I said. I walked them through each step in the chain of events that led me to Port Townsend, including my meeting with Robbie where he confirmed Gina’s location.
“It’s unfortunate that Robbie was put in that position by Gina,” Angelo said. “I understand his loyalty to his sister. I wish it hadn’t been at our expense—and I mean that literally—but I understand. I’ve forgiven him for misleading us, but I commend him here in front of you for trying to protect his sister.”
I looked at Robbie and nodded. “I understand,” I said.
I continued and explained how I’d located Gina and been taken to the house outside Port Townsend. I told them the exact plan for getting into the marijuana business that Gina had spelled out for me. I went on to explain what happened. I left out the grim details, but I did say, “I was with her when she died. Her last words were ‘Tell my mom and dad that I love them.’”
We all cried now, even me. Toni handed me a tissue.
“Sir, there was nothing I could have done,” I said. “It all happened so fast, it was over in just a few seconds.”
They both nodded. Angelo said, “Well, at least you put Frank Rossi in the hospital.”
I looked at him. “I did?”
“Yes,” he said. “That’s what the man from the government told us yesterday afternoon. He said that you’d broken his nose so badly that he needed surgery.”
“I lost my mind,” I confessed.
“Good,” he said. “Too bad you didn’t kill him.”
“Angelo,” Carina said.
“I mean it,” Angelo said. “The bastard killed my daughter.”
It was quiet for a second, then Toni said, “Well, I’m certain he’ll be going to prison—probably for the rest of his life—when he gets out of the hospital.”
Angelo nodded. “That’s something, anyway.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Fiore,” I said, trying hard to hold back my tears, “I feel like I failed you. You hired me to find Gina, and I take that to mean find her and protect her. Even from herself. The fact is, I failed. I’m so sorry.”
Angelo looked at me.
“Young man,” he said. “You didn’t fail. And I don’t like or appreciate your self-pity. Self-pity tends to fit like a poor suit. That is to say, badly. My wife and son and I will come to grips with Gina’s death, as will you. I realize that you had feelings for Gina in the past and that those feelings might still have been present even yesterday. But none of us can afford to wallow in self-pity. This was not our fault. This was not your fault. This was partly Gina’s fault for putting herself into that position. My cousins may have been partly at fault for the same reason. But the real culprit—the one who’s really at fault here—is Frank Rossi. He killed my daughter. Not you, not us, no one else. He pulled the trigger. Him. I’d prefer that you not try to deflect the blame for this heinous action onto anyone other than him. Certainly not onto yourself. You and your people did a fantastic job.”
I looked at him for a moment, then said, “Thank you. That helps a lot.”
Toni smiled at him and said, “We’re supposed to be trying to make you feel better, not the other way around.”
“None of us feels too good today,” he said. “But it will get better. Trust me.”
Chapter 28
GINA’S FUNERAL SERVICE was held at ten o’clock on Friday morning, September 2, at the Calvary Catholic Cemetery. It was a breezy day, partly cloudy. Although it was technically still summer, the temperature was noticeably cooler than it had been a month ago. The sun didn’t have the same warmth that it had before, and I was comfortable in my dark suit.
I was surprised that the Fiores had opted for a simple graveside ceremony instead of the full-blown Catholic funeral mass. I knew that they were active members of St. Joseph Parish on Capitol Hill, because my family were also members. As active parishioners, the Fiores were certainly entitled to the full-dress ceremony. If I’d have had to predict, I would have thought that they’d have gone big.
Instead, they downplayed the funeral. They told everyone that there would be a small, private ceremony for immediate family members only, although they invited Toni and me. The only thing I could think of was that they were embarrassed by the nature of Gina’s death—so much so that they didn’t want to make a big deal of her funeral.
Not that I objected. I’m Catholic, but I’m not exactly what you’d call devout. I don’t go to church often, and I particularly try to avoid funerals. I’ve had more than my share of close friends die, and I’ve found that for me anyway, I prefer that my last thoughts of my best friends be the happy memories I have of them—not the sad ones like watching their parents crying at their funerals. So, given my druthers, I’d normally prefer to chicken out and not go.
That said, most of the time I end up feeling compelled to attend out of a sense of duty to my deceased friends. I figure that they’d want me to be there to help comfort their parents, just as I’d hope they’d do for me if it were me in the box instead of them. So I sucked it up and went for them.
The coffin was bronze-colored and sat on a rack made of stainless steel. A dark green carpet, made to resemble grass, covered the hole beneath the coffin. Covered chairs were lined up behind the coffin. Altogether, there were a total of maybe twenty people at the service, including the Fiores themselves, a few other people who looked like family members, the priest, and Toni and me. That was it. Angelo Fiore stared somberly at the coffin while Carina dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief. Robbie simply stared at his feet.
Promptly at ten o’clock, the priest began the service. He offered up a benediction prayer and then introduced Robbie.
“Thank you for coming,” Robbie started. “I’ll be very brief.” He spoke extemporaneously. He paused, gathered his thoughts, and then started. “You all knew Gina; there’s not much for me to add to that. You all knew that not only was she beautiful on the outside, but she was beautiful inside as well. Full of life, caring, take-charge, in control. I can say that this past Monday, I lost not only my sister but also my best friend. My mentor. She was always there for me. I’m—I mean I was two years older, but it always seemed like she was the big sister. She took charge of everything she touched. She always had everything under control. But she couldn’t control what happened this past Monday.
“As you know, Gina went missing three weeks ago. We believe that she left on purpose for reasons that are still not entirely clear to us. And though we know what happened this past Monday, we’ll probably never know exactly why things happened the way they did. We do know she died trying to assure my mom and dad that she loved them—in fact, those were her last words.
“We don’t know why she’d gotten involved in the things she had, but we ask you to please re
member Gina as we do—a loving daughter, a caring sister, a true friend. My family believes firmly that when people like Gina die, they ascend to the right hand of God. There’s no doubt in my mind that that’s where Gina is right now, seated at God’s right side. And, knowing Gina, she’s most likely explaining to God exactly what He could be doing to improve things up there.”
~~~~
After the service ended, we walked over to the Fiores and gave our condolences.
“Nice words, Robbie,” I said.
“Thanks,” he said. “I guess words and memories are all that’s left.”
I nodded. “I suppose. Still, I’m sure Gina would have liked what you said about her.”
“I hope,” he said.
“Mrs. Fiore, we’re very sorry about the ways things turned out,” Toni said to Carina. Toni had tears in her eyes, and I think this made Carina start to cry again.
She smiled and choked back a sob. “It’s not easy burying your little girl,” she said.
Toni stepped over and hugged Carina. “I can’t even imagine. And I know there’s nothing we can say to make this better,” she said. “Only God and time can do that. I’ll pray that God is kind to you all and that the time to heal is quick.”
Carina smiled. “That’s very kind of you, dear. Thank you very much.” She thought for a second, and then said, “You never even knew Gina, did you?”
Toni shook her head. “I didn’t,” she said. “I’ve heard enough, though. And the biggest thing for me is my partner here,” she poked me. “He always held her in the highest regard. I trust his judgment. If he thought Gina was tops, then she was tops.”
“Thank you,” Carina said. She turned to me. “Danny, I know you were close with Gina once. And I know that because of your commitments to the service, your relationship ended abruptly in what might not have been the best of circumstances. For all of her good qualities, Gina was not always very patient or understanding. But, what I’m saying, what I’m hoping is that after you found Gina last Sunday, the day before she died—the night before she died, did you get the chance to find some closure? Were the two of you able to talk?”
“We talked,” I said. “But not too much about the two of us. It was mostly about what she was doing and why she was doing it. And why I was there and what was I going to do about what she was doing—that sort of thing.” I didn’t want to bring up Gina’s and my conversation about going to Hawaii. I didn’t know how I felt about it. I’d never agreed to it, and it would be too hard to explain. Instead, I said, “I guess that on a personal level, I’d have to say no, we didn’t have time for any closure.”
Carina looked at me. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said. “I’m sure Gina thought very highly of you as well.”
Angelo said, “We all do. I understand now what she saw in you. You’re an honorable young man. Thank you so much, both of you. You did a better job than anyone could have expected, given the circumstances. We’ll always be grateful.”
I thanked him for the nice words and then we said our good-byes. I asked Robbie to call me next week. I wanted to discuss how to return the overpayment of the fees that Angelo had paid us when we started.
~~~~
“So,” Toni said as we drove west on forty-fifth back to the office, “you going to be okay?”
“I am,” I said, confidently, changing lanes to pass a Subaru so covered in bumper stickers that I was amazed the driver could even see out. “I’m strong, and I’ve got good friends, like you.” I smiled at her.
She smiled back. “Really?” she asked, challenging me.
“What?”
She hesitated, and then said, “I think of all the people I know, I’m closer to you than I am to anyone—even closer than I am with my sister and my mom—or at least, a different kind of close. And I think you feel the same way, right?”
“You know how I feel about you,” I said. “No one knows me the way you do, that’s true. And I think I understand you pretty well, although you’re probably way more complicated than I am.”
“You’re a man. That goes without saying,” she said, smiling. “Anyway, I think you might call us best friends, agreed?”
“Of course,” I said.
“And best friends are honest with each other, right?”
“Agreed.”
“Then listen to me. Danny, I know you. I know what this has meant to you. I know what you’re going through. You may think you’re okay, but you’re not. I think you’ve got some healing to do.”
I shrugged.
“Maybe you should take a few days off. I can run things in the office for a while. We’ve got these three little surveillance cases, and they’re all easy. The boys and I’ll finish them up over the course of the next week. You should take the Jeepster and head out to the forest. You seem to like it out there. You do well out there.”
I thought about it. I hadn’t had a day off in over a month. A week between jobs might be nice. I could load up some camping gear and drive up to the Olympic National Park. Take my guitar and find a quiet spot where the only sound was my music, the wind in the trees, and the running water. And mosquitoes the size of blue jays, but that was just a recreational hazard that you had to get used to. I agreed, the trip sounded like a good idea. Only one thing might make it better.
“Come with me,” I said. “You haven’t had a day off in God knows how long either. I could use the company.”
She looked at me and smiled. “You’re not thinking straight, Danny,” she said.
“Why?”
“For starters, you’re forgetting a few things,” she said.
She waited for me, so I said, “What?”
“We’re friends, remember? We work together. I think neither of us wants to take a chance at screwing that up.”
I nodded. If I were thinking straight, I’d have probably agreed.
“Besides,” she said, “even if I didn’t work for you, I’m no rebound baby. If you want me, you’d have to do it properly. Not ‘someone dumps you, and you turn to Toni’ or ‘someone dies, and you turn to Toni’—no disrespect to Gina. You need time to get your head straight all by yourself, not twisted around by me or anyone else. You need to do this on your own.”
I was quiet for a few seconds as I thought about it. She was probably right, at least about her last point. “Can’t blame me for bringing it up,” I said.
She smiled at me. “I don’t,” she said. “In fact, I’m flattered.”
Chapter 29
I LEFT THE next morning at eight. Courtesy of the army, I’m able to pack quickly and efficiently. It took about ten minutes to load up the Jeep with tent, sleeping bag, my Martin D-28 guitar, and my backpack. One more sack of supplies, and I was on my way. I’d called Toni the night before and thanked her for what she’d said and for being my friend in general. She deserved that and more from me. Much more.
I told her I’d take the Edmonds–Kingston ferry to Highway 104, and then take that to the 101. Highway 101 circled the top of the Olympic Peninsula and would take me to the park’s main entrance at Hurricane Ridge near Port Angeles. My intent was to drive all the way back to Lake Mills and then find a nearby camping spot on the shores of the lake. It was remote enough that even on Labor Day weekend, I should be able to find a nice quiet spot all to myself. I’d be home on Tuesday, maybe Wednesday. On the way, I’d be damn certain to skirt Port Townsend. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to visit there again.
I didn’t tell Toni that I was going to stop first at Gas Works Park on the way. In fact, I didn’t even think of stopping until I pulled out of my condo, but the damned Jeep seemed to have a mind of its own. It turned north on Westlake, crossed the Fremont Bridge, and then hung a quick right on Northlake. Three minutes later, I pulled into the nearly empty parking lot at Gas Works. I locked up and walked to the park entrance.
Because of the hour, the park was very quiet, only a few people out. A young couple held hands and sat on the grassy slope, staring at the wate
r without speaking. An elderly lady threw crumbs to a flock of Canada geese, the birds honking excitedly around her. I walked past and made my way south down the hill to the water’s edge. I found the exact bench where Gina and I sat on Thanksgiving Day, almost six years ago. I had a seat. I looked south over the water and took in the vista. I thought about everything that had happened over the past few weeks, particularly last Sunday and Monday. My emotions were completely jumbled. As I remembered Gina, tears formed in my eyes.
“We used to sit on that bench together.”
I looked quickly to the side. The old woman who’d been feeding the geese was talking to me. She was plainly dressed in neatly pressed khaki slacks and a dark green jacket.
“I was saying,” she repeated, when I didn’t respond, “that we used to sit on that bench, together, my Harold and I.”
“Really?” I asked, wiping my eyes. “I’m sorry. Would you like to have a seat here now?” I started to get up.
“Sit down,” she ordered, waving me down. She sat on the edge of the bench and looked at the water. Then she turned to me. “You know, Harold and I sat right on this very bench fifty-five years ago,” she said. “He proposed to me, sitting right where you’re sitting now. Told me he didn’t have a penny to his name, but that he was dedicating himself to making me happy for the rest of my life. And he did, too. Leastwise, for the rest of his life, anyway. Harold’s been gone since 1998 now, but I still come here, and I remember. For me, this will always be a happy place. I come here often.”
I smiled. “That’s a nice story. What’s your name?”
“I’m Helen. Helen MacReedy,” she answered.
“Hi, Helen,” I said, holding out my hand. “I’m Danny Logan.”
Angel Dance (Danny Logan Mystery #1) Page 34