The referee’s whistle blew. A boy in a blue jersey was down. A group of parents on the opposite sideline was about to have a cow, but the kids just kept playing. Theo wandered off quietly, allowing Jack to have a little one-on-one time with Alejandro.
Jack said, “It’s about a couple things. One is just something I’m curious about. You remember that newspaper article that came out in the Tribune right after the trial? The one with the anonymous source?”
Alejandro was watching the game, not so much as glancing at Jack. But Jack could tell he was listening. Jack continued, “I thought that article was a stroke of genius. It prompted Lindsey to talk to the prosecutor, because it made her think that Johnson was on the verge of turning state’s evidence. At the same time, it effectively put a target on Johnson’s back, since it made the drug people think he was going to rat them out. In hindsight, I have a sneaking suspicion that none of it was true. Johnson had no intention of going to the U.S. attorney. Somebody had a very well-conceived plan, and he got the whole thing in motion by burning a favor with a reporter who was willing to work with an ‘anonymous source.’ ”
Alejandro lit a cigar, saying nothing.
Jack said, “You think I’m on to something? Or am I totally off base, Alejandro?”
They watched the kids battle for the ball in the near corner, then Brian made another save. Pintado said, “The boy’s good, isn’t he?”
“Yeah, he is,” said Jack.
“Being deaf’s a disadvantage most of the time. But out here, it shuts out all the noise and distractions, lets Brian focus on the ball. In some ways I think it makes him a better goalie.”
“Could be,” said Jack.
Finally, he looked right at Jack and said, “It’s like everything else in life. You keep your eye on the ball at all times. You identify your strengths, and you use them. Whatever they are. You know what I mean, Jack?”
Jack considered it, but not for long. He didn’t even want to think about what he might do if his own son were murdered, even if his son had been a lousy husband and an even worse father. “Yeah,” said Jack. “I think I know what you mean.”
They turned their attention back to the soccer game. Then Pintado said, “You said there were two things. What’s the other thing you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Brian,” said Jack.
His expression turned more serious. “What about him?”
“I just wanted to let you know that I think he landed where he belongs. Plenty of bad things have happened to him, but that’s all in the past. I think he’ll have a good life. And I’m happy about that.”
He looked at Jack curiously, as if wondering why he cared. “I appreciate that.”
“Good luck to you.”
“Thanks. Same to you.”
They shook hands, then Jack walked away, leaving Alejandro alone on the sideline to cheer on his grandson.
Jack caught up with Theo a couple of fields away. He was watching the four-year-old players, laughing it up with an attractive mom on the sidelines. He tucked something into his pocket, probably her phone number, then gave her a little wave good-bye as he hurried over to catch up with Jack. They talked as they walked down the tree-lined path that led back toward the parking lot.
“Did you tell him?” asked Theo.
“Tell him what?”
“That Brian isn’t your kid?”
“Didn’t have to. No one ever told him he was mine. Not me, not Lindsey.”
Theo put a hand on Jack’s shoulder, giving him a friendly shove. “Hey, man, I’m sorry it turned out like this.”
“No problem. I’m okay with it.”
Jack had been glad to find out the truth, though he didn’t condone Theo’s tactics. When Jack had visited the Pintado house during the trial, Alejandro had told him how worried they’d been for Brian’s safety after some fool had stolen his backpack. That fool turned out to be Theo. Unbeknownst to Jack, Theo’d snatched the boy’s backpack from under the bleachers at soccer practice. Inside, there was a goal tender’s protective mouthpiece, which contained more than enough traces of saliva for a DNA test. It took weeks to get the lab results, and Theo didn’t tell Jack about it until after they were in.
“I’ve been wondering,” said Jack. “The lab needed my DNA to make the comparison. What’d you end up giving them? Or should I say, what did you end up taking from me?”
“Well, uh…”
“What?”
“I actually got your sample first. Sort of had a doctor help me out with that.”
“A doctor?” Jack stopped cold. Just one night in town on her way from Africa to L.A., and Dr. Wham-Bam-Thank-You-Jack was suddenly in the middle of it all. “Damn it, Theo. Why’d you go and drag Rene into this?”
“What are friends for?”
Jack considered it, as if it were high time someone actually answered that question. “Let me get back to you on that one, okay, buddy?”
They walked in silence for a moment, then Theo seemed to read Jack’s mind. “You knew even before I told you about it, didn’t you, Jack? You knew Brian wasn’t yours.”
“I wouldn’t say that. Lindsey had me pretty convinced.”
“Personally, I never saw that much of a resemblance between you and Brian. I think you wanted it to be true, so you saw it when she showed you those pictures.”
“Maybe. But I still had my moments of doubt. I suppose that’s why I never told her that Jessie had left a nice inheritance for the boy she’d given up for adoption.”
“Nice?” said Theo, his voice almost shrill. “As I recall, she left him everything she had, including that settlement on her life insurance policy. That’s more than nice.”
The shady footpath gave way to sun-baked asphalt. Jack looked around for his car. Even after all this time, he half expected to see the old Mustang.
Theo said, “So, now what do you do, Jacko? Even though Brian’s not your son, he’s still Jessie’s. Which means he’s still entitled to her inheritance.”
“I know.”
“So when do you tell Alejandro about the cash windfall?”
“I’ll let Jessie’s estate handle that. I’ll call the lawyer on Monday. And tell her we finally found Jessie’s heir.”
Jack opened the car, got inside. Theo slid into the passenger seat, and their doors closed simultaneously.
“You think Jessie knew all along that the kid wasn’t yours?”
Jack considered it. “No. I think she managed to convince herself that he was mine. For whatever reason.”
Theo flipped down the sun visor and checked his reflection. He seemed utterly fascinated with the fact that Jack’s rental car had a light-up mirror that worked. “Why don’t we ask God what he thinks?”
“What?” said Jack as he started the car.
“It’s a special offer, limited time only. The last guy to get a chance like this totally blew it, so don’t you screw up. God has decided to let you ask Him just one question. What’s it going to be?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Maybe you want to ask Him something like, ‘Did Jessie know you weren’t the father when she filled out that birth certificate, or didn’t she?’ ”
“I don’t like this game.”
“Then think of something else to ask. Come on. What’s your one question?”
“Okay. How about, Why did my mother have to die?”
Theo made a face, as if he’d just sucked lemons. “Shee-it, man. You’re such a fucking downer sometimes, you know that, Swyteck?”
“You’re the one who brought it up.”
“Yeah, but-damn. A few more people like you in the world, poor God’s gonna end up on Prozac.”
“Okay, smart ass. What would your one question be?”
“Whattaya havin’?”
“Huh?”
“Whattaya havin’? As in to drink, moron. That’s what I’d ask Him.”
“God gives you one question, and all you want to know is what He’d li
ke to drink?”
“Isn’t that the way all great conversations get started?”
Jack shook his head and backed the car out of the parking spot.
Theo looked at him and said, “So, Jack: Whattaya havin’?”
Jack hit the brake, then shifted in to gear. “It’s eleven o’clock in the morning.”
“True, true. It’s getting late. But if we start with tequila for lunch, we could easily be talking to God by dinnertime. With any luck, you could have an answer to that one question before sunset.”
Jack shot him a bemused expression. “You’re a sick man, Theo.”
Theo checked the light-up mirror one more time, smiling at himself as Jack drove out of the parking lot. “Yeah. I am, ain’t I?”
Acknowledgments
August 2004 marks the tenth anniversary of the publication of my first novel, The Pardon. I’m old school, and I think relationships matter. So, nine novels later I feel lucky to say that they were all published by the same publisher (HarperCollins), represented by the same agents (Richard Pine and, now in spirit, Artie Pine), and shaped by editors I like and respect (the last seven by Carolyn Marino, who adopted this orphan).
Even more important, 2004 marks the tenth anniversary of marriage to a woman who was willing to take a ride with a lawyer who wanted to be a writer. I probably never would have had the guts to quit my day job, so thank God that the love of my life turned out to be an English literature major who simply said “Go for it, honey.” So I did. And so did you, Tiff. I’d say “All’s well that ends well,” but this will never end.
I’m also grateful to many others who answered my cries for help in writing and researching Hear No Evil, including the American Speech Language Hearing Association; the Cuban-American National Federation; Carlos Sires (interviews and translation); Steve Sawatzky (Mustang expert); Tito at Galiano’s Market (Cuban food); Dr. Gloria M. Grippando and Eleanor Rayner (manuscript comments); and Michelle Starke, M.D. (obstetrics). Others prefer to remain anonymous, but I’m equally grateful to them.
In support of a good cause, I’ve named a character in Hear No Evil after Janis Wackenhut, the winner of a fund-raising auction for the Gold-Diggers, Inc. The Gold-Diggers is a nonprofit organization that has raised over one million dollars for the benefit of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society of America, Inc., Southern Florida Chapter, and the Food for Life Network. It’s a beautiful thing when the arts can feed the hungry and fight disease.
About the Author
JAMES GRIPPANDO is the bestselling author of eight novels-Last to Die, Beyond Suspicion, A King’s Ransom, Under Cover of Darkness, Found Money, The Abduction, The Informant, and The Pardon-which are enjoyed worldwide in nineteen languages. He lives in Florida, where he was a trial lawyer for twelve years. Visit his Web site at www.jamesgrippando.com.
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Table of Contents
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Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Hear No Evil Page 32