Carwyn tore his eyes away. “I will care for it as if it were my own, my muscle-bound friend. How much do you want for it?”
“It’s not for sale.” Zain slapped the keys against Carwyn’s chest. “Do I need to give Brigid the speech too?”
“Oh no, she doesn’t drive in this country except on a motorbike. The steering wheel on the wrong side is more than she wants to deal with.”
He heard Brigid approach from behind.
“Oh, that’s beautiful!” she exclaimed. “Can I drive it?”
“No,” Zain said. “It’s mine and you’re Irish.”
“Feck off.” She scowled. “What’s that got to do with— Oh, the steering wheel thing, right?”
Carwyn and Zain both nodded.
Brigid shrugged. “Aye, that’s fair. I always hate when Yanks drive in Dublin. Feckin’ awful, all of you.”
Carwyn turned to Zain. “I promise I will take care of it for you. Much appreciated.”
“Fine.” He glanced at Carwyn. Then Brigid. Back to Carwyn. “Don’t let her drive.”
“I won’t ask!” Brigid scowled. “See if I let you shoot any of my guns when you visit Dublin next time.”
“That’s just mean, Brigid.” Zain smiled and walked back to the kitchen. “Don’t wreck my car!”
“So what’s on the agenda for the night?” Carwyn asked.
“We’re hitting the streets in your monster truck and asking questions. I have names.” She waved a piece of paper. “Beatrice did manage to get at least one name and address from every place Daniel worked. First order of business? We need to know where he was living.”
“You realize he might have been homeless too. Or living in a van. Something like that.”
“Don’t think so,” Brigid said. “One of the people Beatrice talked to mentioned a garage apartment, so I think he had a place, and it’s possible Lupe is there.”
They walked to the Bronco, and Carwyn helped Brigid into the passenger seat.
“Carwyn,” Brigid said, “would you call me a team player or a—?”
“Team player,” Carwyn said. “Definitely.” He walked around and jumped into the Bronco on the other side. “Why are you frowning?”
“It’s just annoying when you know things about me that I don’t realize about myself.”
“I can’t help it that I’m an emotional genius, Brigid.” He tried to keep a straight face. “This is why you should always listen to me. About everything.”
She snorted. “Feck off.”
“It’s okay.” He started the car. “Don’t try to compare yourself. That’s not fair to you.”
“God save me from egotistical Welshmen.”
“It’ll be all right.” He reached over and squeezed her hand. “Let it out.”
* * *
“Danny?” The freshly pressed director of CleanUPLA was incredulous. “You think Danny ran away with a teenage girl?”
“We’re not the police,” Brigid said quickly. “And he’s not in any trouble. We don’t think he kidnapped her or anything like that. We just need to find the girl. Her mother is sick with worry, as you can imagine.”
The woman named Sarah held the picture of Lupe. “I don’t recognize her; Danny never brought her around. Honestly, I never saw him with anyone in a romantic way, you know? There was a girl in the office who was into him and asked him out—supercute girl, you know? He wasn’t interested. I thought maybe he was ace or something.” She backtracked. “Not because of the girl. He just struck me as… uninterested. I guess that’s the word. He never talked about past relationships or anything. He was totally focused on the work.”
“Do you have any idea where he lived?”
“I mean, he was a volunteer for us, so we don’t have any paperwork really.” She closed her eyes. “I’m pretty sure he lived in South Park because we picked him up at the rec center there a few times, and he always looked like… Fresh, you know? Like he’d just cleaned up.”
“Thank you,” Brigid said. “Did he have any particular friends at CleanUPLA that you can think of?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Maybe Phil. He’s an older guy. Old hippy, you know? I have his number if you want it.”
“That would be helpful,” Carwyn said. “Thank you.”
They wrote down Phil’s number and tried calling, but no one picked up. Brigid left a message and her number before she hung up.
“Next?”
They drove to a tidy residential street in Willowbrook, far from the mansions in San Marino but miles away from the hard streets of downtown. It was a quiet family neighborhood and home to the director of the Downtown Revival Coalition, a man called Roderick Jordan.
Carwyn and Brigid parked on a street lined by practical compact cars and a few small trucks. They walked toward the front door of the Jordan house and heard a deep bark greeting them.
Brigid pressed the doorbell and hung back from the front step as footsteps approached the door. A tall black man holding a toddler opened the front door but left the screen closed. A large grey dog sat dutifully at his feet.
“Can I help you?”
Carwyn said, “Good Lord, you have the lowest voice I’ve ever heard. Even lower than the man in the insurance commercials.”
Brigid looked at her husband, shaking her head. “Seriously?”
“What? It’s true!” Carwyn pointed to the man, who looked amused. “I bet he’s heard that before.”
The man laughed a little. “Yeah, I have. I don’t want to be rude or anything, but my wife’s nearly got dinner on the table. Are you selling something or…?”
“Excuse my knob of a husband,” Brigid said. “Are you Roderick Jordan from the Downtown Revival Coalition?”
The man nodded. “Can I help you?”
“We’re looking for information about Daniel Siva, and we were given your name as a contact. I hope you don’t mind that we found you at home.”
The man shrugged. “Nah, it’s cool. Is Daniel in trouble or something?”
“We hope not,” Carwyn said. “We’re private investigators hired by a mother over in Huntington Park. Her daughter worked with Daniel sometimes over at Saint Peter’s rescue mission. Do you know it?”
Roderick nodded. “Yeah, I know the mission. Have you talked to Tonya Parker?”
“I have,” Brigid said. “We know Daniel volunteered with your organization quite a few times. Is that how he became connected? Through Tonya?”
“Yeah, I know Tonya from way back. She and my mom are friends. I wasn’t too sure about Daniel at first, but Tonya vouched for him.”
Brigid asked, “Why? Was something off about Daniel when you met him?”
Roderick shifted the little boy from one hip to the other. The dog remained at attention. “Uh, you know, he was just real quiet. I don’t want to say secretive, ’cause that sounds negative and he might just be real private. Passed the standard background check. Had a little drug use in his past, but he said he’d been in recovery for about three years, which… Hey, you gotta give people second chances, right?”
“Absolutely,” Brigid said.
“Daniel was a hard worker, I can tell you that. He did a lot of park cleanup projects and graffiti cleanups with us. We spent a whole day down at the river one time. It was summer and just scorching. The man didn’t slow down once.” Roderick narrowed his eyes. “I think he was from the desert, you know? Like Hesperia or Mojave or something like that. I remember him saying he grew up in the heat. Why are you looking for him?”
“Unfortunately, we think our client’s daughter might have run off with Daniel. Her name is Guadalupe Martínez. As you can imagine, her mother is worried sick.” Brigid stepped closer and showed the picture of Lupe to Roderick. “I don’t suppose she looks familiar? She would have been with Daniel a little over a week ago?”
Roderick looked between Carwyn and Brigid a few times. “You know what? Come on in for a minute. Let me ask my wife, Tisha. People talk to her about everything.” He nudged t
he dog back and opened the screen door. “Duke, bed.”
The dog promptly retreated back into the house.
“Yeah, there’s something about that picture that seems familiar.” Roderick motioned them inside. “If anyone knows, it’ll be Tisha.”
Chapter Seven
Carwyn was bouncing a laughing baby on his knee and happily tearing into a plate of meat loaf as Brigid and Tisha Jordan spoke.
“Oh my God, I do recognize her.” Tisha scooped a serving of green beans onto Carwyn’s plate. “She was in Daniel’s truck and I remember asking him who she was because he never talked about girls, you know?”
“We’ve heard he was very private,” Brigid said.
“He was so private. I could barely get him to talk and everyone talks to me.”
Roderick nodded. “Hundred percent true. My girl can make anyone spill.”
Tisha smiled at her husband. “It’s a gift. I was teasing him a little for bringing a girl around, and then I noticed that she looked about fifteen, so then I was being real nosy if you know what I mean.”
“I do,” Brigid said. “She’s seventeen, but what did Daniel say?”
“Just that it wasn’t like that. She was a friend’s sister, and he was giving her a lift. The girl didn’t look worried or anything. She was texting on her phone, so I didn’t think much of it.”
“Had you seen him with anyone in his truck before? Did he carry people around much?”
“Oh…” She shrugged. “Every now and then. Usually men though. He’d take people he knew from the mission if they needed to get somewhere, like to a probation meeting or a doctor’s appointment, stuff like that. Daniel could be a little abrasive, but he had a big heart.”
Roderick nodded. “He was very passionate about making the world a better place. That was clear from the beginning. He used to talk about fighting the system. Not letting the system beat him.” Roderick took a bite of his dinner. “He was young. Had a feeling he’d had a hard time of things growing up.”
“That’s the impression we’ve gotten from a few people,” Carwyn said. “Tisha, I don’t suppose you know where Daniel lives?”
“I don’t know exactly, but I got him talking one time because I was real worried he was on the street and I didn’t want that. Especially for someone in recovery, that’s very risky. And he told me he had a garage he rented from a friend. It sounded pretty basic, but that made me feel better.”
“Did he tell you the friend’s name?”
“Oh, it was something real average. Bill? Phil!” Tisha raised a finger. “That’s what it was. Pretty sure anyway. Phil. Or Bill, but I’m pretty sure it was Phil. He knew him from another charity he volunteered with.”
“That name matches what someone else said. Thank you so much.” Brigid started to get up, but Tisha stopped her.
“You’ve gotta stay for dinner now.” She smiled at Carwyn. “Besides, you take that one away and I’ll be juggling Dashel instead of enjoying my meal.”
Brigid smiled. “Then we’ll definitely stay. Feel free to put him to work too. He’s excellent at lifting heavy things.”
“You’re so kind, wife.”
“Just trying to keep you out of trouble.”
Roderick smiled at Carwyn. “So where are y’all from? Irish or something, right?”
Brigid laughed. “I’m Irish. He’s ‘or something.’”
Carwyn shook his head and spoke to the baby. “I see we’re going to have to educate your father about the long and storied history of my homeland, young man.”
* * *
After bidding the Jordan family a good night and exchanging numbers—they promised to call if they heard from Daniel—Carwyn and Brigid were once again on the road.
“We need to find Phil.” Brigid’s foot was tapping rapidly. “Lupe disappeared on Thursday night. Tisha is pretty sure the last time she saw Daniel—with Lupe in the car—was Friday afternoon because she mentioned getting a babysitter for a date night. Maybe it was a Saturday, but likely Friday…”
“And Daniel lives somewhere in South Park, and his landlord is a man named Phil. We think.” Carwyn steered the Bronco into traffic. “Try calling Beatrice. There can’t be that many old hippies named Phil in South Park.”
“Good idea.”
Two phone calls later, Brigid had an address that matched with a name and number in South Park, along with Phil Macedo’s short rap sheet and longer credit history.
“Looks like Phil had a colorful youth.” Brigid read from her phone. “Growing pot. Dealing pot. Using pot.”
“I’m sensing a theme.”
“Nothing recent though.” Brigid scrolled down. “He owns his house in South Park and another couple of rental properties in the area. A small apartment complex in Ladera Heights.” Brigid looked up. “Seems he’s quite wealthy.”
“Interesting.” Carwyn glanced over. “So Old Hippie Phil is part of the landlord class, eh? Wonder if Daniel-who-hates-the-system knows about that.”
“He’s Phil’s tenant, so I have to imagine he does.”
“But there’s a difference between renting a garage to your mate and renting out apartments and houses all over Los Angeles if you know what I mean.”
“I suppose.” Brigid wrinkled her nose. “Is this you showing your age? Pent-up aggression against the land-owning gentry and all that?”
Carwyn raised an eyebrow. “Do you think I owned land when I was human?”
“I suppose I never really thought about it.”
“I didn’t.” He shook his head. “The land owned me. The church was the only sense of freedom I had. My faith and my family were mine; that was all. Didn’t even own my horse. That belonged to the local lord along with everything else.”
They’d never really talked about it. Brigid had been born into the middle class and had bought her own small house in Dublin before she and Carwyn married. Now they owned a rolling estate on the edge of the city and another cottage in Wicklow near Carwyn’s daughter Deirdre’s family home.
“Carwyn?”
“Hmm?”
“What was the first home you bought?”
He frowned. “You mean for myself?”
“Yes.”
“Not for one of the children or the clan?”
“Just for yourself. Your first home.”
He frowned. “I suppose the one I bought for us when we married.”
“Our home now?” She was flabbergasted. “You’ve been alive over a thousand years and you bought your first home eight years ago?”
“Well, I always had homes. Deirdre and Ioan’s farm, Isabel and Gustavo’s ranch in Cochamó, Gemma’s various houses over the years.”
“But you never bought—?”
“What would be the point of buying a house to live in by myself?” He looked at her as if she were daft. “It’s not a home unless there’s people you love living in it.”
Fuck, he was so damn sweet even when he didn’t mean to be. What was she supposed to do with him? Luckily, they pulled up to Phil’s modest one story before Brigid could start getting emotional.
“There’re lights on.”
Brigid cracked the Bronco door open. “Ah, and a distinctive aroma in the air.”
Carwyn grinned. “Some things don’t need to change, now do they?”
Brigid walked up the front step and rapped at the door. A few minutes later and a few muffled coughs told her Phil was looking through the door.
Brigid put on her friendliest I’m-not-a-scary-vampire face. “Mr. Macedo? We’re friends of Daniel’s. We were hoping to speak to you.”
There was a long silence, and Brigid could hear him backing away from the door.
She switched to Irish and turned to Carwyn. “He’s going to try to run.”
“Isn’t he near seventy?”
“I think so, but he does not want to speak to us.”
Carwyn sighed. “I’ll go around back.”
The giant man slid into the shadows and remarkably s
eemed to disappear. He could be an awfully sneaky bastard when he wanted to be. Brigid rapped on the door another time, peeking through the windows to peer inside.
“Mr. Macedo?” She knocked again. “My name’s Brigid Connor. I was hoping…” She trailed off when she heard grunting and cursing from the backyard.
She stepped to the left and entered through a wrought iron gate that led to an overgrown backyard that Brigid was guessing far exceeded the personal growing guidelines for marijuana in California.
She saw Phil pinned to the ground by her husband. “Oh Phil. I promise we do not care about your weed.”
“Then why are you lying?” The man panted.
“How do you know we’re lying?”
“You said— Ow!” Phil tried to shift Carwyn’s weight off him. “You said you were friends of Daniel’s. And that’s bullshit. Daniel doesn’t have any friends.”
Brigid crouched down. “That may be, but he does have an apartment here, doesn’t he?”
Phil looked to the right. “Maybe.”
“We’re going to look in Daniel’s apartment now, Phil.” Brigid pulled out Lupe’s picture. “And you’re going to tell us everything you know about Daniel, Lupe, and what they were doing.”
* * *
“I don’t know much,” Phil said. “There was something going on out in the desert. Some ‘action’ that Daniel kept talking about. The girl wanted in. They went out there over a week ago. That’s all I know.”
“An action? What does that mean?” Carwyn asked. “Like a protest?”
“No.” Phil shook his head as he led them to Daniel’s garage. “Daniel wasn’t into protesting. An action would be something like… I don’t know. Like if you were really into animal rights, setting all the animals in a lab free. Stuff like that.”
“Was Daniel passionate about animal rights?”
“Not that I know of.” Phil took out a ring of keys and unlocked the door. “It would have been something with homelessness maybe. Putting up a barricade to save an encampment? Physically protecting an environmental site? Something like that. Daniel spent over three months at the action in Standing Rock.”
Saint’s Passage: Elemental Covenant Book One Page 6