The Plane and the Parade (Veronica Barry Book 3)

by Sophia Martin

  “Well, most days, neither do I, thank goodness.”

  “You see them a lot more often than I do.”

  Veronica held up the palm of the hand he wasn’t holding. “Peace,” she said. “I’m not up to fighting over how brave I am.”

  Daniel grinned. “Good, so—I win then.”

  Rolling her eyes, she laughed. “Fine. I’m the bravest person in the world.”

  “Not the world—I didn’t say that. Just that I know.”

  Veronica swatted his shoulder with her free hand. “Whatever, smartass.”

  ~~~

  They stopped by her place so she could take care of the animals and pick up some clean clothes, then continued on to Daniel’s. Veronica took advantage of his bathtub—her duplex only had a shower—to have a nice soak. Just as the water was starting to cool, Daniel appeared with her cell phone. She hadn’t heard it go off.

  “It’s Melanie,” he said.

  Veronica exited the bath and wrapped one of Daniel’s huge towels around her. As she took the phone, she saw she’d missed the call. Even before the tone that signaled a voicemail sounded she called Melanie back.

  “Hey, sorry, I was in the bath,” she said when Melanie picked up.

  “Oh, you shouldn’t have cut it short…”

  “I didn’t, it was done anyway.” Veronica made her way out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, where she flopped on her back on the bed. “So tell me how it went with Joe Chapela.”

  There was a pause. “Oh. Yeah, that was fine,” Melanie said.

  Veronica frowned up at the ceiling. “Okay. Something else on your mind?”

  “V, I am pacing my floor, trying to think of a reason not to go confront that bastard formerly known as Chris this minute,” Melanie said.

  “Oh yeah? Did something happen?”

  “You’re damn right something happened. What happened is my daughter saw my very soon to be ex at the mall with his other extremely pregnant girlfriend,” Melanie said, her anger emphasizing certain words. Veronica could picture her pacing as she did.

  “Um, and Angie knew that—what was her name?—”

  “Oh, you mean Ms. Homewrecker?”

  “Uh, yeah. Angie knew that she was also Chris’s girlfriend?”

  “I think the kissing was a giveaway, once again.”

  Veronica winced and covered her eyes with her free hand. “Ouch.”

  “Un-freaking-believable, right? And of course, we only find out now, it couldn’t have been two months ago before I made the mistake of getting knocked up!”

  “Mellie…”

  “No! No, Veronica. This is it. I’ve had it. I’m going over there right now to give him a piece of my mind. And her if she’s there too!”

  “Call me later and tell me how it went,” Veronica said.

  “You bet.”

  And then the line was dead. Veronica sighed and grasped the phone in both hands on her chest. Poor Melanie. She had no luck with men at all.

  “Everything okay?” Daniel asked, poking his head into the room.

  Veronica lifted herself up onto her elbows. “Melanie is in hell, but otherwise, yeah.”

  “What? Why?”

  Veronica blinked at him. “I never told you.”

  “Never told me what?” he asked, and came into the room, sitting next to where she reclined on the bed.

  “Daniel, you’re never going to believe it,” Veronica said with a shake of her head. She gave him the whole story, starting with how she misinterpreted the vision and thought it was Angie who was pregnant, and ending with Melanie’s departure to go confront Chris.

  “Two pregnant girlfriends, huh?” Daniel said, giving a short whistle.

  “Yep.”

  Daniel raised his eyebrows. “Sounds fun,” he said, and tugged a bit at the edge of her towel.

  “Men are dogs,” Veronica said, narrowing her eyes at him.

  Daniel tilted his face to the side, crossed his arms over his chest, and very pointedly gave her a once over. “Women are temptresses,” he retorted.

  “Oh-ho,” Veronica said, getting to her feet and tugging the towel around herself more tightly. “Is that right?”

  In one smooth motion Daniel hooked the edge of the towel with one finger and whipped it off of her. “Yes,” he countered.

  “You scoundrel!” she laughed, and she was in his arms, and soon she forgot everything but the feel of his strong body, silky skin, and warm mouth.

  ~~~

  Melanie called back about two hours later.

  “Hey, sweetie, everything okay?” Veronica asked. She was sitting on the couch in the living room watching TV with Daniel.

  “Oh, V, I’m so humiliated.”

  “What? Why?” Veronica said, exchanging a glance with Daniel.

  “It’s me, Veronica!”

  “You?” Veronica prompted, heading for the privacy of the bedroom.

  “Me.”

  “Sweetie, I’m lost…” Veronica said, her voice trailing off.

  “I’m the other woman, V. Not Allie. Me. He’s been seeing her for over two years.”

  “Oh,” Veronica said, settling herself on the bed.

  “I’m a sleazy ‘other woman.’”

  “Look, Mellie, Chris is the sleaze here, not you. Don’t beat yourself up. You had no idea.”

  “I don’t know what I thought was going to happen when I went over there, V,” Melanie said. “I think I expected him to like—break down or something. To sob with remorse! And he didn’t. I mean, of course he didn’t.”

  “What did he say? Tell me what happened from the beginning.”

  “I don’t know. I went over there. He was alone. He let me in, and I just… I went off. How could he have cheated on me, yada yada yada. And he said, ‘Well, technically, I cheated on her.’ And it was like I couldn’t understand English or something. He had to repeat himself like four times. Finally it sunk in. He told me he met her back at his other job, the one he had before this one. And then he met me at the community garden that day and he said… he said he didn’t intend to start dating me, he just really liked me, and he thought we could be friends.”

  “Okay,” Veronica said. “So what the hell happened? I mean, how do you forget to mention you have a girlfriend to your new ‘friend’?”

  “I know, right. But they’ve been on-again, off-again, and at the time they were off-again,” Melanie said. She groaned. “The real problem is that he didn’t tell me when they got on-again. You know? I mean, if they weren’t really seeing each other when we started dating, I didn’t—I’m not the home-wrecker, right?”

  “Mellie, are they even living together? You can’t wreck a home that doesn’t exist.”

  “She’s having their baby in a month.”

  “You didn’t know!”

  “Yeah.”

  “He should have told you the minute they were on-again. And honestly, he should have told you when you started dating that there was potentially someone else. I am telling you, Melanie, this is not your fault. Okay? Say it!”

  “Oh, V…”

  “Come on. Say it.”

  “This is not my fault.”

  “Good.”

  Melanie sighed. “You’re right. I know you’re right. I just feel… I feel like trash. He’s been sneaking around on her to be with me.”

  “And sneaking around on you to be with her. He’s a sneak and a liar. He’s the trash, Mel, not you.”

  “Anyway, I gave him an ultimatum.”

  “You did? What ultimatum?”

  “I told him he’d better tell her about me, or I would.”

  “No way! You did?”

  “Yeah. In a way, I feel bad about it. She didn’t do anything wrong—I mean, part of me just hates her, but I know she didn’t do anything on purpose. So she’s going to feel just like I do when the truth comes out.”

  “Yeah, but she deserves to know,” Veronica said. “Even if it does break her heart. Man, how awful, to find out your boyfrien
d, the father of the baby you’re about to have, is such a total liar.”

  “Yep,” Melanie said, her voice low.

  “Poor Mellie. That sucks.”

  Melanie sighed again. “Yep. It does. But I’ll be okay, V. I have Mom, and I have you, and I think Angie’s even coming around to the idea of being a big sister. I wonder if Allie has anyone.”

  “I hope so,” Veronica said.

  “Yeah, me too.”

  ~~~

  Veronica dreamt of a stuffed red cat and yellow balloons tied together with pink ribbons made of real satin, flying into the sky. That was all—the dream showed her no faces or actions, but she knew what it meant when she woke the next morning, feeling better rested than she had in ages. Veronica hopped out of bed and stole the bathroom just as Daniel’s alarm went off.

  “Hey!” he called after her. “What’s the big idea?”

  Veronica laughed and called back, “I have something important to do today.”

  “Ronnie, you have to stay away from the case from now on,” he said.

  “I don’t know if I can do that,” she replied, sticking her head out of the bathroom. “I’ve already told you, I’m not going to stop as long as I can do something to help. But anyway, this isn’t about the case.”

  Daniel had been scowling as if he meant to argue with her about it again, but now his face cleared. “You have something to do that isn’t case-related?”

  “It has been known to happen,” Veronica said, returning to the bathroom.

  “Well, why didn’t you say so? Hey, you want to go by Penny Coffee before you head out on your errand of mystery?”

  “Sure.”

  Later, an iced mocha sitting in the cup-holder of her car, Veronica drove home to use her laptop and possibly her old-fashioned phone book. Harry barked from the back yard as she let herself in. The cats both appeared and tried to trip her as she made her way to let Harry in.

  “I know, guys. I’ve been gone a lot lately. We’ll have some us time soon, I promise,” she said. She checked everyone’s dishes and stroked each soft head before she settled on the couch. Veronica opened her laptop and set down the mocha, then googled the name “Miguel Pablo Santiago” in Sacramento.

  The top search result was a website for an artist. Miguel Santiago actually lived in Roseville, near Folsom Lake, and apparently he painted and sculpted. Veronica wrote down the address of his studio on a piece of paper and stuffed it in her purse. After finishing off the mocha, she petted all the furry heads again. Then she hurried back out.

  Chapter 23

  The website had promised that Miguel Santiago could usually be found in his personal studio in Roseville, ready to answer any questions about his art. It was a good marketing device—people would be curious to meet the artist, perhaps, want to come in, and end up seeing pieces they might not have otherwise.

  His studio was small, and, judging from the layout of the building, Veronica suspected that he had a workspace above the area open to the public. Paintings in bold jewel-tones covered the walls, depicting people in movement—dancers, fighters, a horseback rider, a person falling. Veronica also counted four bronzes—they were abstracts, twisted shapes that also spoke of movement.

  In the back of the studio, Santiago stood, paging through a magazine. He was about six feet tall, thin enough to be called lanky, and his hair was shoulder-length, curly, and black. He wore an untucked plain white tee over jeans. He was very attractive.

  And an artist! Veronica thought, and then wanted to pinch herself. Come on, V. You can’t develop yet another crush. Things are going so well with Daniel. And you know, it is possible to have a platonic friendship with a man. Although that certainly hadn’t worked out well with Melanie and Chris, but then, that had more to do with Chris being a cheating liar than any inherent When Harry Met Sally theory of heterosexuals being incapable of befriending the opposite sex. Veronica took a deep breath. Her mind was babbling. It was probably because she was so nervous she couldn’t feel her hands or feet. She’d never done this before—tracked down the family member of a ghost to pass on a message. What if he accused her of fraud? What if he tossed her out on of his studio? Or called the cops?

  More mind-babbling. She had to get a grip. Just jump in, she told herself. It isn’t going to get any easier.

  “Excuse me,” she said as she approached Santiago.

  The man closed his magazine and tucked it under his arm. “Can I help you? Are you interested in a piece?”

  Veronica gave him her best, I’m-harmless smile. “No, I’m here—well, that is to say, I’m interested in all of them, you have beautiful work here. But that’s not why I’m here.”

  Oh good, she thought. Now my mouth is babbling, too.

  “Are you alright?” Santiago asked, cocking his head to the side.

  Veronica chuckled weakly. “Look, I’ve never done this before, and I’m scared you’re going to throw me out. So—so let me just start off by saying, I’m not here to try to get you to pay me for anything, or anything like that…”

  Santiago narrowed his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched up.

  Well, at least he thinks the crazy woman is funny, Veronica thought.

  “Why don’t you tell me why you’re here?” he asked, speaking somewhat more slowly than Veronica thought was entirely necessary. But then, she couldn’t blame him.

  “Okay,” she said, hugging herself. “Please, just hear me out.”

  He gave her a short nod, pressing his lips together.

  “I was in jail a few days ago.”

  His eyebrows went up, but he said nothing.

  “And I saw… well, I saw a—a ghost. I—I do that, sometimes. I see ghosts. I know it sounds like I’m a nutjob. I just—okay, anyway, I’d better just get this out.”

  He still said nothing, but his eyebrows stayed up.

  “The ghost told me to find you. She said her name was Ariana Santiago.”

  At the sound of the name, he took a step back, and his face blanched.

  Veronica hurried on. “She said to tell you she remembers the red cat, and the yellow balloons with the pink satin ribbons, and that they flew away. And that she was so sad, and so sorry.”

  Santiago said nothing, standing like a statue, his hand halfway raised to his face.

  Not wanting to provoke him any further than she already had, Veronica remained immobile as well, although her mind continued to chatter, wondering what it would look like to a potential customer if they happened to walk in right at that moment.

  At last, Santiago let a breath escape his mouth, and he blinked and looked around. Then he turned from her and made his way to a stool that stood next to a short counter at the back of the studio. He sat, hunching over, wrapping his arms around his waist. A low moan emitted from him, ghostlier than any Veronica had ever heard before.

  She stayed where she was, afraid to say anything, and afraid to leave.

  After several minutes of this, Santiago straightened. There were tears in his eyes. He looked at Veronica, his face a mask of pain.

  “I knew she was dead,” he said, the volume of his voice unsteady as it broke over the words.

  Veronica’s eyebrows drew together and she took a few steps towards him, managing to hide the immense relief that washed over her as she realized he believed her.

  “Mama… our poor mother,” he gasped. “Oh god. She always prayed that Ariana would come back. Every time someone knocks on the door, she thinks it’s Ariana. But I knew. I knew.”

  “Ariana was your sister?” Veronica asked softly, and he nodded, his eyes nearly shut with grief.

  “My baby sister. I gave her a little stuffed red cat I bought with my allowance for her sixth birthday,” he said, the words tumbling out just as the tears did from his eyes. “And I said I was sorry because it was red, and I knew her favorite color was yellow. Mama and Papa got all yellow balloons for her, all tied together, and she loved them, but she said she loved the cat too.” Sobs racked him, a
nd he said nothing for a while.

  “What happened?” Veronica asked after a time. “Did she disappear?”

  He shrugged. “Sort of. She ran away. Well, not when she was six—when she was a teenager, she was always running away. Then she’d come back a month later. Sometimes just a week. But not the last time. It had been getting worse. She was doing drugs. She was seventeen, the last time I saw her.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Veronica said.

  “I guess the police picked her up,” he said.

  She nodded. “I don’t know when.”

  “It would have to have been in the last two years.”

  Veronica reached out and lightly touched his wrist. “I’m very sorry,” she said. “And she said she was too. She said she was very sad.”

  Santiago wiped his eyes with one hand. “Major depression,” he said, choking on the words. “She was self-medicating, you know. And she saw things, sometimes. I think maybe she was bipolar really. There’s this guy I know—anyway. Why do you think she was in the jail? Do you think she died there?”

  Veronica shrugged one shoulder. “I’m not sure. She said they called her Jane Doe, that they didn’t have her name, so it sounds like that’s probably what happened.”

  With a few ragged breaths, Santiago regained his composure. “Thank you,” he said at last.

  Surprised, Veronica said, “Oh, no, I’m so sorry I upset you, I just promised…”

  “No, I am grateful,” he said firmly. “You don’t know what it’s like, not knowing. And now there’s actually something I can do. I’m going to call the jail—which one was it?”

  Veronica blushed. “Um, Central.”

  Santiago eyed her speculatively. “Well, I’m going to call them. Maybe they can tell me where she’s buried.”

  Veronica nodded again.

  “What did you say your name was?” he asked.

  “Veronica,” she said, realizing that in her panic, she hadn’t introduced herself at all. “My name is Veronica Barry.”

  “And do you work as a medium?” he asked.

  Veronica’s eyes widened. “Oh no, nothing like that.”

  “Well, maybe you should. You just kicked the ass of every one of the six mediums my mother hired to try to find Ariana.”