by Ali Vali
“That’s not forever, my love. Wait this one out and you’ll see I’m right.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“Because you can’t leave that much of yourself behind in order to make someone happy. You can pull it off for a while, but then love turns to resentment when the other person doesn’t commit fully.”
“Muriel is willing but Shelby’s not as in love?”
“More like Muriel’s lost and in search of her place, but Shelby doesn’t have that problem. She knows who she is and what she’s after.”
“As much crap as we’ve been through, I wouldn’t change a moment of our time together,” Cain said, and paused. “You are my idea of perfection and you understand me so well you could be dangerous.” She kissed the tip of Emma’s nose.
Their car stopped in front of the park and Cain glanced in the direction of the beautiful wrought-iron gate that surrounded Jackson Square. “Funerals, weddings, baptisms—they never rest, do they?” Cain said of the two agents who stood at the gate.
“Not our worry today, mobster.” Emma squeezed Cain’s hand between hers and smiled. “All you have to worry about is sending Jarvis home to your family.”
Bishop Andrew was standing outside and opened his arms to Emma first. When it was Cain’s turn he held her longer and whispered something to her that Emma couldn’t make out, but it made Cain smile. Watching them, she knew Cain was partly wrong about who she could totally trust. Father Andy had dinner at their house at least once a month, which the kids enjoyed because of his sharp sense of humor and bucket loads of patience. But Cain enjoyed their after-dinner conversation in her office. Behind that closed door was as close as Cain got to confession, Emma was sure, but she knew whatever was said wouldn’t go any further.
“Take this lovely lady inside, Derby Cain,” Father Andrew said so Emma could hear him. “Because I think those nice people across the way have stared at you long enough.”
“Good idea. I could spend my time praying for lightning,” Cain said, and smiled.
*
Gracelia stopped flipping through her magazine when she reached a page with pictures of who the article’s writer thought were the top dealers in the Colombian drug trade. Hector Delarosa was pictured second from the top of a tree illustrated on the page. The top box displayed only a shadow because the real head of the cartel was supposedly unknown. The tree growing on the northern side of the border in Mexico didn’t have that problem, and the top picture was of Rodolfo.
“You’re still a pig, brother, but you look fit,” she said to the page. He’d aged, though, possibly because his family had abandoned him, a choice that rested solely on his shoulders.
She still remembered every detail of the afternoon he came home and told her that her lover Armando wouldn’t be coming back. It had taken her over a month to find out exactly what happened to him, and the shock of Rodolfo’s cruelty had almost made her lose Juan. She and Armando didn’t have any secrets between them, so she’d believed him when he promised he was coming back to her and their child. Granted, she would never tame him completely, but that’s what she’d loved about him.
“It’s time to prune this family tree, Rodolfo, and my waiting is at an end,” she said when she finished the article that contained very few facts.
“Ms. Ortega.” The man standing before her pulled off his surgical cap as he addressed her. “It’s done and it went fine. We tried to give you everything you wanted, and we came close, but we couldn’t do the impossible.”
“How long before he’s ready?”
“In a few hours. We’ll need to see him in two weeks to remove the stitches. He’ll still be swollen then, but if you keep him still that shouldn’t be too much of a problem.”
“Is he awake?” Gracelia stood and dropped the magazine into the trash.
“I made sure before I came out,” he said, and swept his arm toward the correct entrance.
She stood next to the bed and stared into the dark brown eyes that, from the moment Anthony stepped before her, had reminded her of Armando’s. The doctor had wrapped his face in gauze bandages so there were only slits over his eyes and mouth.
“Don’t try to talk,” she said, placing her hand on his chest. “You’re almost done and I plan to take care of you.” Anthony blinked and seemed unfocused. “Now you can stop running and take control again.”
She leaned over him and whispered into the vicinity of his ear. “You won’t regret this because I will share the world I’m about to take over with you.”
“Mama,” Juan said from behind her.
Gracelia turned around and had to stare for a minute, still trying to get used to the new face that went with the voice she knew so well. “Juan.” She held her hand out to him.
“How is he?”
“Good, and hopefully he’ll heal as quickly as you.”
Juan had undergone plastic surgery the night after they arrived, and while he still had a lot of swelling, she could already tell how different his appearance was. The doctor had erased much of the roundness of his face and the plumpness of his nose, and with his new dark blond hair, he looked very American.
“Alberto got back an hour ago, and he has news.”
Gracelia placed her hand briefly on Anthony’s shoulder before she pointed toward the door. The waiting room was still empty, thanks to Lorenzo’s quiet presence at the entrance. Lorenzo Mendoza had worked for Rodolfo for years and had gladly left his job with her brother to go with her when Rodolfo took Juan to the States on business. He was older, but had had good instincts and Gracelia had come to totally trust him, so she didn’t hesitate to talk in front of him.
“What did he say?” she asked.
“Rodolfo’s still in New Orleans, but his man Santos comes in from Biloxi every few days to give Rodolfo updates. So far both the New Orleans and Mississippi operations have blown up on him and he lays the blame mainly on Cain Casey. Your brother thinks that since he made the mistake of getting greedy and taking over some of Casey’s territory, Casey’s wiped out a majority of his street dealers, which sucks for him since he wanted to control everything from the fields to the dime bags on the street.” The skin around his eyes appeared to be bothering him by the way he gently but methodically rubbed his eyebrows.
“Rodolfo has made some stupid decisions, but that wasn’t one of them. Controlling everything at every stage was smart business, and that’s how we’ll do it. The difference will be which people we use, so what’s been lost isn’t a problem for us.” She looked back at Anthony and knew he was the key to getting what she wanted.
Anthony Curtis, in her opinion, had no more quit the FBI than she had forgotten what Rodolfo had done to the man she loved. He might have done some things without the permission of his superiors, but his ultimate goal was to go back and reclaim what he’d lost. When he could work it out, Anthony would trade Juan and her for his mistakes.
I won’t give you the chance, though, because I intend to pull you down so deep I’ll be the only one who can keep you alive, Gracelia thought. She knew how she’d accomplish that, and the best way wasn’t to challenge the Feds and the other cartels directly, but to hit where no one expected. Some would think that was a clichéd approach, but she planned to destroy her opponents psychologically by destroying something they thought was safe and not an important part of their business. As a bonus she’d get Anthony completely on her side, along with insight on how the FBI and DEA would try to stop her.
“Go home and get some rest. Pretty soon we’ll put things in motion, and I need you to see all this through.” She took Juan’s hands and kissed them. “Whatever feelings about Rodolfo you have inside, it’s almost time to let them out, but we have to be smart. Think about what you want and embrace this chance, Gustavo Katsura.” She kissed his cheek and let the new name that would complete his new identity hit his ears. Armando’s grandfather’s name was Gustavo, which was her only bow to sentiment. She had picked the last name from the phone book. Emo
tions sank most people, and she refused to be beaten before she got a chance to try.
Chapter Seven
Remi sat two pews back from Cain and held Dallas’s hand. They’d gotten up early and driven to the airport to pick up Kristen Montgomery, so her nights with Dallas were over until Dallas accepted her offer to live together. Remi wanted to be upset but it was hard, considering how happy the sisters looked even at a funeral.
Dallas’s sister strongly resembled her, but Kristen’s hair was a deep brown that reminded her of milk chocolate, which set off eyes the same shade of blue as Dallas’s beautifully. If Remi had been expecting Kristen to be standoffish, and she had, Kristen dispelled that fear when she hugged her right after she released Dallas. It was, she’d said, the best way to thank her for finally setting Dallas free.
The mass was almost over and she was sending Dallas and Kristen home to reconnect while she went to the cemetery. “Emil will drive you home after this,” she said as the last of those receiving communion went through the line. “If you want, I’ll stop by later and drop off dinner so you two won’t have to go out.”
“Bring your pajamas.”
“Not here, baby,” she said with a smile. “I’ve got work tonight and I don’t know how long I’ll be.”
“We’ll talk later, then, because this,” Dallas lifted her other hand, which Kristen was holding, “doesn’t change anything.”
Cain stood and walked to the altar after the service ended, placing her hand on the coffin as she passed it. When Cain stepped behind the pulpit Remi wondered what it was like to have lived a life touched by so much loss.
“On behalf of the Casey family, thank you for coming to honor the life and memory of Jarvis Michael Casey. If you know us well, I don’t have to elaborate on how important tradition is to our family.” Almost everyone, including Remi, laughed. “Traditions are important because they provide a roadmap of the future, but they can also be a heavy burden to carry when it’s your turn at the yoke.
“Uncle Jarvis carried the weight of the past with ease and honor, doing our ancestors proud by his contributions—the most important two being Muriel and the way he lived his life. We will miss him, his advice, the gentle way he guided us when we tried to take a shortcut along that proven roadmap, and simply because he loved like he lived. He did that without fear and by giving us more than we deserved sometimes.” Cain paused and gripped the old wooden slab that the pulpit was made of. Then she took a deep breath.
“I can recall my grandfather saying what every Casey child hears as a welcome to the world. My da said it to me and mine, just as Jarvis said it to Muriel.” She took a flask with a small cup for a top from her coat pocket.
“The Catholics, they get a hold of you soon enough, but the whiskey—that’s a Casey baptism.” She poured a bit of whatever was in the flask into the cup. “No oil or water a priest pours over you can wash that away, no offense, Father Andy. The whiskey’s our business, our heritage, our history, and you did well keeping the traditions alive when it was your responsibility to do so, Jarvis. Our mothers, like you, Father Andy,” Cain raised the cup in his direction, then toward Jarvis’s casket, “didn’t understand that first taste was a welcome to a Casey. A reminder of who we are and where we came from.” She drank and capped the flask.
“You were a Casey, and a fine damned good one, Jarvis. You were ours, but for too short a time. Now it’s our turn to send you off from this world, but with the certainty that a clan up there is waiting for you where the love and the whiskey never run dry.”
“Amen,” the Casey family members said in unison when she was done.
The funeral pall was removed from the coffin and Remi took her place with the other pallbearers. After they placed the coffin in the hearse, the cars started to pull up behind it. Muriel and Shelby’s was first, followed by Cain and Emma’s. Remi saw hers fifth in line and figured Dallas and Kristen could take it and she would ride with her parents.
“Are you trying to get rid of me for a reason?” Dallas asked softly. The question held a tinge of disappointment.
“You know better than that, querida. Your sister just got here today and I thought this was the last thing you’d want to be doing.”
Emil held the door and stayed quiet as Dallas looked up at Remi. “I’m telling Emil to drive me to the cemetery, so you can either come with us or walk, but we’ll end up at the same place.”
“You should know better by now,” Emil said after Dallas and Kristen got in.
“You’d think,” Remi said, and laughed. No one liked getting a lecture, especially Remi, but Dallas’s words showed they were making progress.
“I’m glad you made the right choice,” Kristen said when she climbed in and sat next to Dallas. “But then my sister keeps going on about how wonderful and smart you are.”
“A compliment I don’t deserve, I’m sure.”
Dallas put her hand on Remi’s thigh and patted it gently, as if rewarding her dumb-witted response.
“Were you close to Mr. Casey?” Kristen asked, obviously trying to keep up the conversation.
“I knew him practically my whole life after my family arrived in the States.” She glanced though the windshield at the hearse. “It’s a shame we wait for days like today to realize or admit that we should’ve spent more time with people like Jarvis.”
“That’s what I’ve always thought about Dallas, but it hasn’t been safe up to now for us to have that opportunity.” Kristen’s voice cracked midway through her statement, and Dallas put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer.
“Time is a given now, Kristen, not a luxury,” Remi said as her phone rang softly.
“Remi, I just got a call from the building supervisor,” Simon Jimenez, Remi’s main guard, said from the car behind them.
“Is the bathtub leaking or something?” It had to be more for the usually serious Simon to make the call.
“Something’s leaking, all right, but it’s not anything at your place.”
“Elaboration would be good,” she said, and laughed.
“A supposed private delivery service dropped off a large box for you at your apartment, and even though a plastic sheet was duct-taped around it, the damn thing was leaking. The doorman called the super because of the smell, and the super ended up calling the cops.”
“What the hell…or should I ask who the hell was it?”
“Wendy Bruster, and whoever was stupid enough to do this made the body ID easier by stapling her work badge to her forehead.”
Remi pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes, trying to conjure up a face to go with the name Simon had provided. When nothing clicked, a string of curses ran through her mind. “What did Wendy do for us?”
“She was one of the new bartenders at Pescadors, and not even the cops have an accurate tally of who works for us where.”
Simon had said Pescadors, not the club. Ramon’s main interest was the upstairs portion of the business where the gaming tables were located. He referred to the first floor as “the club,” which was merely a necessity that had conveniently made money for them because of its popularity after hours. If Wendy had been cleared to work upstairs, Remi’s father had checked out everything about her life.
“Call one of the guys and get over there and see what this is about.” This could be aimed at them, but the majority of their business took place after dark and at times it attracted employees who were magnets for trouble. It took a different type to work nights in that environment. Such bartenders needed to enjoy crowded bars and dealing with every kind of personality on the other side of the oak. None of their employees had been killed in years. With time Ramon had acquired power along with money and had protected their staff.
“I’ll leave from the cemetery.”
“What’s wrong?” Dallas asked when she ended the call.
“Someone’s idea of a sick joke that I’ll tell you about later.”
She shook her head when Dallas said, “
But—”
“Not now, trust me.”
They stopped outside the cemetery, and Emil got out and waited to open the car door. Remi smiled when her parents stopped and hugged Emil, since he was now permanently with Dallas and they saw him more often when they spent time with Dallas. Judging from the set of her father’s mouth, Simon had already told him what had happened.
“Honey, I think they’re starting,” Dallas said, causing her to tap the window for Emil to open the door.
Even though the family cars had already driven in, Cain walked back to the gate and waved her over. “Did you get a gift today?” Cain whispered close to her ear.
“At my house just now, yeah. Simon told me a private courier service that didn’t make it past the lobby brought it.”
Cain nodded and guided her to the first row of tombs. “Who was it?”
“A new bartender at Pescadors. Her name was Wendy and I wish I could tell you something about her, but I’ve never met her. Who told you?”
“Same thing at my place, only the boxes were dropped off in the alley behind Emma’s.”
“Boxes?” She slumped against the tall brick wall that surrounded the cemetery and exhaled deeply. “How many?”
“Five, from what I understand, and hopefully there aren’t any at the pub in the Quarter.” Lou cleared his throat behind them and Cain nodded again. “Today isn’t the day for this shit, but we’ll have to deal with it as soon as we’re done here.”
“You have any ideas?” They didn’t really have time for Cain to answer fully, but she was curious about the bizarre message someone was trying to send.
“Not yet, but my best guess is someone thinks we’re distracted,” Cain said, her eyes pinned to something behind her. When Remi turned, she realized Cain was staring at Dallas and her sister walking in with her parents. “I don’t know about you, but Emma is the only person alive who can drive me to distraction.”
“When it comes to Dallas, I’d say we have something in common, then.”