by Mary Feliz
Nell was silent for a few moments. Just as I became sure she was thinking of a way to tell me that there was nothing she could do, she spoke. “We could get a court order for a certificate. We’d need to complete four or five different legal forms and provide notarized statements from two people present at the birth . . .”
“We can get hold of only one, Gabriela. The mother was deported years ago and is either missing or deceased.”
“Okay,” Nell said slowly. “Forrest told me this would be a tricky one. What other documentation do they have? Dated family photos? Marriage records for the parents? Infant immunization records? Baptismal records? A family bible? Because we don’t have the typically accepted records, we’ll need to overwhelm the court with evidence.”
“Gabriela was at the birth and would be willing to swear an oath to that effect. She said something about taking him for his baby shots, so it sounds like she’d have his immunization records.”
“That will work. It would be stronger with two witnesses, but we can get her statement notarized and submit that. What else?”
“The priest who married the parents and baptized Rafi as a baby has died, but the church would still have the records, wouldn’t they?”
“I should think so. Is Mrs. Maldonado a regular churchgoer who knows the parish priest and office workers? If so, it shouldn’t be too much trouble to get copies of those documents. I’ll do some research on what we need to do to assure the court they can be accepted as evidence. I’m not sure a notarized statement would help or if a copy will do. Maybe all it will take is a letter from the current parish priest. I’ll find out.”
“Will that take long?”
“I shouldn’t think so. Please ask Mrs. Maldonado if there is anyone else still living who was present at the baptism or birth. Maybe a neighbor, relative, or friend who stopped by after Rafi was born. An official statement from them could help. Look, probably the easiest thing is if I send you a list of documentation that courts have accepted in the past. The more we can provide, the better.”
“We found a photo of the mother and baby in their living room shortly after the birth. It’s dated on the back with one of those codes they used to put on photos during processing, and with a note handwritten by Gabriela.”
“Can you get a video or photo of the same room today? And bring a deed or utility billing record that shows Mrs. Maldonado has lived there all this time?”
“I think so, but wouldn’t it be easier to do a paternity test since Gabriela can prove Rafi’s father was an American citizen?”
“Maybe, but it would take too long. We won’t need all of the materials I mentioned, but gather up everything you can, as quickly as you can. I’ll talk to Forrest to see if he knows a family court judge who’d be willing to review the case immediately. Are both Rafi and his grandmother local and available? If I pull strings to get a judge to hear this case, I’ll want to be sure everyone can show up at a moment’s notice.”
“I’m told that Rafi is in Sacramento. Which means we’d need a lead time of at least a few hours to get him back here for a court appearance.” I thought of another snag and it took me a moment to catch my breath before I could explain it. “Nell, could any of this be done in Sacramento? Stephen won’t like Rafi being anywhere near the Mountain View Police Department unless Rafi can prove he’s a citizen.”
I could hear a tapping through the phone and assumed it was a nervous habit Nell had, drumming a pencil against a table or something like that.
“It would be easier to ask a judge to hear the case locally, where Forrest and the other partners know the judges,” she said. “I could ask . . .” Her voice trailed off and the tapping sped up. “No, I don’t think there’s any way around that particular problem. Even if we could get a court order in Sacramento, and I don’t think we could possibly get one on an accelerated schedule, we’d still need the Santa Clara County clerk recorder to issue the birth certificate.”
“How soon do you think you’ll need Rafi here?”
“As quickly as possible,” Nell said. “Does he drive? Can someone bring him down here? Or can we get him on a train or send someone to fetch him?”
“Probably,” I said. “We’ll work something out.”
“Great. I’ve got another idea, but I want to run it by Forrest first. Can you get the documentation in order on your end and see what the options are for getting Rafi back here? If that works for you, I should have more information in an hour or two that will help us pin down our plans.”
This puzzle had so many moving pieces and people, I was getting a headache trying to keep it all straight.
We wrapped up the call, and I focused my attention on getting in touch with Rafi. I wasn’t yet sure how much he knew about what was going on with Stephen and the plans to finally get him a birth certificate.
I phoned the number Gabriela had given me, but the call went to voice mail, again.
“Rafi, I’m a friend of Stephen Laird’s, and I’m working to get him out of jail and to finish his project to get you a birth certificate to prove your citizenship. I’ve talked to your grandmother. I think we have the paperwork we need, but I need your help with the next step. Can you call me please, as soon as possible? I don’t want Stephen to be in ja—” The voice mail system cut me off.
Chapter 15
Refrigerated storage.
One day a week, toss UFOs (unidentified or unloved food objects) from your fridge. UFOs include leftovers that are still good but that no one is interested in. I tackle this task on Sundays because that’s my farmers’ market day and I like to make room for all the fresh fruits and vegetables. Pick a day that works for you. (If all else fails, do it when you can’t sleep. The prospect of cleaning your fridge may be all you need to suddenly feel ready for bed.)
From the Notebook of Maggie McDonald, Simplicity Itself Organizing Services
Tuesday, February 21, Evening
I hadn’t wanted to tell Rafi in the message I’d left that I needed him to come back to the Bay Area. I knew he’d be afraid to do that because Stephen had urged him to stay away. I suspected the best way to handle the issue would be to have Gabriela explain the situation to her grandson. Or to have her vouch for me or for Nell before we gave him the details.
Or . . . maybe we all needed to hop in the car and head to Sacramento to explain it to Rafi and his uncle in person. While electronic communications are great for efficiency purposes, any emotional or dicey situation is so much better handled face-to-face.
In the meantime, I set an alarm on my phone to remind me to dial Rafi every two hours. He couldn’t dodge my calls forever.
* * *
While I waited to hear back from Nell, I decided to phone Gabriela despite my earlier reservations. I hoped the good news from Nell would lift Gabriela’s spirits. She’d also need to make arrangements for her granddaughters’ care so she could go to court with Rafi when the time came.
“It is milagro,” she said when I filled her in on all that Nell had said. “A miracle. Thank you so much for doing this for Rafi and for me. It is such a load off my heart.”
“Don’t count your chickens before they hatch. Are you sure you’re well enough to go to court? You should be in bed.”
“I am sure that no one is strong enough to stop me. We say, No hay que vender la piel del oso antes de cazarlo. Don’t sell the bear’s hide before you catch him. With a birth certificate for Rafi, he can come home and we can release pobre Stephen from his cage. I am cured of everything that ails me.”
“Get some sleep. I’ll call you in the morning with an update.”
“First I will phone Rafi and tell him to call you back immediately.”
* * *
The dogs, tired from chasing one another through the grass, had literally collapsed at my feet. The air outside was the perfect temperature, with a gentle breeze that held a hint of rain. I thought of Stephen locked up in a small cell and decided to enjoy the outdoors on his behalf.
&n
bsp; By the time Max came home, it was getting chilly on the back porch. Belle had curled up in one of the cushioned rocking chairs. Munchkin had pulled a blanket from my lap and was lying on it, asleep with his nose dangerously close to Belle’s rocker. An outsider would have said we looked relaxed and content, though that assessment was far from the truth.
I still hadn’t heard a word from Rafi.
Max ran up from the car, beaming. He gave me a big hug and kiss. “We finished the project and I’m taking vacation days for the rest of the week. Happy virtual weekend!”
I returned his greeting, but I was distracted. And still worried about David and the threats from the guys at the high school. I wondered what connection they might have to the thugs who’d killed Mr. Xiang or to the strange undercurrent of secrecy, tension, and fear I’d felt among the shop owners. Was Liz’s description of the illegal gambling club at the center of everything, or was something even more dangerous occurring or in the works?
I wondered if David knew the names of the boys who had threatened him, though I wasn’t sure it mattered. From his description of his encounter with them, both he and the music teacher and probably the administrators would be able to identify them. If we could get Rafi’s situation settled, he could confirm the identity of the felons who’d broken into the restaurant and fatally wounded Mr. Xiang. David could identify the boys who’d threatened him. And the police could pull together the case, let Stephen out of jail, and put pressure on the shop owners to reveal what they were so afraid of. But there was still so much to do.
Max put his hand on my shoulder. “Maggie? What’s going on? Your brain seems to have taken up residence on another planet.”
I covered his hand with mine. “Sorry. David has something he wants to talk to us about. He’s asked me not to tell you about it until he can be there.”
David was already waiting in the kitchen when we went inside. He set out wine glasses for Max and me and pulled a bottle of chardonnay from the fridge. He uncorked it and poured.
“Thanks,” Max said, sitting at the table. “But what’s so bad that we need wine to choke it down?” Max listened intently as David retold the story about the threats he’d received. When David was done, Max shook his head. “I don’t like this. Not at all. Have you called the police?”
I nodded. “Paolo hasn’t gotten back to us.”
“I’ll call him now,” Max said, “but I’m thinking it might be a good idea to take the kids out of school for the rest of the week and head up to go skiing. What do you think, Mags?”
I pursed my lips. It wasn’t like Max to dangle a treat like two days off school and a ski trip in front of the boys without discussing it with me first. I cut him some slack because I knew he was exhausted from his hectic schedule, craved more family time, and was terrified by threats to those he loved.
“We’ll all go,” Max said. “I wonder if Tess would let us stay at their place near Squaw Valley?” I pushed my chair back from the table, still mentally reviewing everything I had to do. David looked at me with pleading eyes that would have done a hungry golden retriever proud.
“Uh-uh,” I told him. “Dad and I have to talk first and get some pesky adulting out of the way. Let us see what we can do to juggle schedules, and we’ll let you know at dinner.”
David looked hopeful, excited, worried, and an adolescent soup of other emotions I couldn’t identify. He probably couldn’t either. I pointed toward the stairs. “Homework, trumpet practice, or reading. We’ll see you at dinner.”
“But if we’re not going to school tomorrow . . .”
“Then you’ll want to have all your homework done so you don’t have to worry about it during the trip.”
He grabbed his trumpet and flew up the stairs. “Bri, find your ski stuff,” he called to his brother.
I turned toward Max. “Looks like you successfully changed the mood around here from fearful to celebratory, but what are we teaching the kids?”
“When the going gets tough, the McDonalds go skiing?”
“Yup, that’s what I was afraid of.”
“Look at it from the school’s point of view. According to those boys who threatened him yesterday, David’s safety is at risk. The school is going to have to spend the next few days working with the police to defuse that danger and deal with the scumbags. We’ll make sure the principal knows that David was intimidated to stop you from learning more about the murder at the Golden Dragon.” Max leaned forward on his elbows. “As a manager trying to keep my employees safe, if anyone on my team didn’t feel safe, I’d prefer they stayed home until I was sure we had all of our security issues ironed out. Surely the school will feel the same way.”
I considered Max’s point. “David handled everything exactly right from his end of things. The school is probably already working on an investigation that ties these bullies back to the murder in some way. David is in real danger, as are any kids in his classes, if those jerks decide to prove they were serious. If we can get the administrators on board with this plan to keep David out of harm’s way, then I’m okay with it. Especially if they keep David looped in so that he can be part of the solution.” I bit my lip. “I think.”
Max threw his hands up in a “touchdown” gesture and beamed. “I know this trip idea sounds capricious and extreme, but if you think about all the incidents on school campuses, I expect the administrators will be relieved to know that David will be safely out of their jurisdiction for a few days. We’ll make sure the boys know this is a once-in-a-lifetime deal and that they’ll need to get all their work done and keep their grades up. I’ll talk to them.”
“I’ll take care of calling Tess and the schools. If I can’t reach them tonight, I’ll send them e-mails outlining our plan and ask them to phone as soon as they get in tomorrow.”
The music teacher had given me her home number when I worked with her months earlier on a volunteer project. I felt justified in using it now. Not because planning a ski trip and skipping school were urgent, but because the threat to David and to me constituted an emergency.
While the phone rang, I thought about all the other calls I needed to make: the lawyers, Rafi, Paolo, Jason, my clients, and probably seven, eight, or ninety-three other people I’d forgotten all about.
I hung up the phone after talking to David’s music teacher and filled Max in on our conversation.
“Kathryn spoke to the vice principal this afternoon, and they both had a meeting with the police. It sounds like all the school needs from David is for him to call the police and confirm the names of the two boys who intimidated him. We can do that through Paolo. We also need to check in with the principal in the morning, and you’ll need to be available for phone conversations and e-mails during the ski trip.”
“Wait. I need to be available? You aren’t coming with us?” Max’s shoulders sank. “I wanted us all to have some family time. To celebrate the end of the project together. And those jerks at school told David they’d hurt you. We need to get you out of here just as much as we need to protect David.”
“I get that. I do. But Munchkin’s not up for the trip and someone needs to stay with him. We could put him in a kennel, I guess, but Stephen’s still in jail and I’m hoping to rectify that situation very soon. I haven’t had a chance to tell you that I’ve spoken to Nell Bevans, a lawyer who works with Forrest. I’ve been leaving messages for Rafi all day. Nell thinks that if we get him down here tomorrow or the next day, she can schedule some time with a judge who will issue a court order to create Rafi’s birth certificate. If everything goes smoothly, we’ll have Stephen out of jail before the weekend.”
Max sighed, and then looked guilty. “I’m sorry, Maggie. It’s great that you’ve worked so hard and it’s paying off for Rafi and Stephen. They’re lucky to have you on their side and I’m happy for them. But I’d be lying if I said I was thrilled that you’re staying behind while we head up to the snow.”
“Maybe we can consider this an emergency trip and plan a
nother jaunt for all of us?” I offered. “I know at least two people who’d approve that plan immediately.” I pointed upstairs, where we could hear drawers opening and closing, and Brian and David calling out to each other from their rooms.
While they all packed up their gear, I tried to reach Rafi and asked him yet again to get in touch. I was growing increasingly annoyed and worried because he hadn’t responded to my messages. Had he lost his phone? Let the battery die? Had the bad guys found him? Or had Stephen completely misjudged him? That last possibility terrified me the most—the idea that Stephen’s noble gesture might have been wasted on someone who ignored common courtesies.
I was about to call Nell to tell her we needed to make other plans when my phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number but was relieved to hear a young man’s voice on the line.
“Mrs. McDonald? This is Rafi Maldonado. My grandmother Gabriela said that I needed to talk to you tonight because you had good news about my birth certificate and Stephen Laird. I hope I’m not calling too late.”
“I’m happy to hear from you. I hope your grandmother explained that I’m a friend of Stephen’s and acting under his instructions.”
“She did tell me that, and said I could trust you . . .”
“You don’t sound convinced, and you’re right to be wary. What can I tell you that might reassure you?”
“I’ve thought about that. Stephen has a friend who spends a lot of time with him at night. Can you tell me the friend’s name?”
“There are two friends who fit that description, Jason and Munchkin.”
I heard a sigh of relief from Rafi’s end. “Is Munchkin okay? And Stephen? My grandmother says Stephen’s in jail. It’s my fault, Mrs. McDonald. We have to get him out of there.”
“Which is why I’m calling. Stephen had been working to get you the citizenship papers you need and the lawyer thinks that we can do that as early as tomorrow if you can get down here to the Bay Area.”