The Music Trilogy

by Kahn, Denise

  “They are mistaken,” Davina said quietly, surprising everyone because she had hardly said a word all day. “Alejandro is not dead. I would have known.”

  Martinez stammered an apology.

  “He is still alive,” Davina insisted. “I know it. I can feel it.” She spoke calmly. “He has to be found. He is not dead!”

  “Please my love, don’t exert yourself,” Melina said to her daughter. “You must remain calm.”

  “I am calm, Mother.” Things were beginning to fall into place for Davina. She remembered seeing Alejandro at the concert when he wasn’t actually there. “Please,” she said to all of them, to anyone listening, “please do everything you can to find him.”

  But what could they do? And who were they to doubt the Spanish Embassy which had sent out search parties?

  The following day, Davina was released from the hospital. She went to her villa, where B. A. and other FBI agents and Miami police were. As it was, each of them, she and her mother and godmother, Monique and Jacques, were shadowed by an ever-present guard. B.A. and Martinez insisted it was necessary.

  “Where is Jean?” Davina wanted to know.

  “I…don’t know,” Jacques answered honestly. “I haven’t seen her since we arrived.”

  Davina looked at his eyes and saw that Jacques was telling the truth. He really did not know. She looked from B.A. to Martinez.

  “Is Jean alright?”

  “She’s okay,” Martinez said. “She’s working as a waitress at a restaurant in Miami Beach. We’re keeping an eye on her."

  Davina was confused. “Wait a minute… what are you saying? Where’s Rodrigo?”

  B. A. put a hand on her shoulder. “Sit down, monkey.”

  “You must know that nothing is very good, Davina darling,” Melina said. “Why put yourself through all this?”

  “Someone please tell me what is going on.”

  “Davina,” Martinez said, “we’ve got everything we have out there looking for Grady. In fact, there may be too many people looking for Grady.”

  “There can’t be too many people be looking for that salaud,” Jacques snapped.

  “I’m talking about vigilantes, people like Johnny Thornton and Zeferino da Cunha. They want revenge.”

  At the mention of her childhood friend, Davina lost her patience. “What does Zeferino da Cunha have to do with this?” she demanded.

  “His fiancée, Gina Thornton, died in the explosion at the concert,” Martinez said slowly. “You know da Cunha?”

  “Yes. Oh, my God, he must be devastated.

  “Sit down, Davina,” B.A. said again. “Please.”

  Davina sat down.

  “I’m going to cook a big pastichio,” Melina said, but she didn’t get up from her chair.

  “Please continue,” Davina said to B. A. “Who is Johnny Thornton?”

  “Gina Thornton’s brother. He was part of the light crew at the Orange Bowl.”

  “Will somebody please tell me what happened to Jean? Where is Rodrigo?”

  “Jean wasn’t hurt, “B. A. said. “Rodrigo was killed in the explosion. He didn’t have a chance. He died instantly. In front of Jean.”

  Davina sat very straight in her chair. “I’m responsible for this…”

  “Don’t do this, little one,” Eleni warned her.

  “It was my decision to go ahead with the concert.”

  “If anyone’s to blame, I am the one,” Jacques said. “As your manager, I should have been present and insisted the concert be postponed or cancelled until the matter with Grady was over.”

  “Now, listen, we can all play that game,” Martinez said. “We can say that security, or better said, the lack of security, is to blame. Listen, Simon Grady is a psychopath. This is not a reasonable human being.”

  Melina stood up, wringing her hands. “Stop this! Stop this! This is ridiculous. None of you are to blame. The one to blame is Simon Grady. He must be found so he cannot do this again.” She threw up her hands. “I’m going to make pastichio.”

  “I’ll help you,” Eleni said, rising to follow her.

  Monique, fearing the worst for her friend, put an arm around Davina’s shoulder. “Wouldn’t you like to lie down, chérie?”

  Davina did not want to lie down, but she was too overwhelmed to think straight. It was as if a fog enveloped her, a haze she could not escape. She let Monique lead her into her bedroom. But she could not sleep. When she looked out the glass door of the balcony, she saw Alejandro.

  He spoke to her from the balcony. “Davina, amor mio, yes, it is I.”

  “Alejandro? Where are you, my love?”

  But he went away without answering. Davina ran outside to the swimming pool and looked up at the empty balcony off her bedroom. Eleni and Sergeant Martinez were sitting at a table by the pool. Alejandro was not there. No one else was around.

  Davina suddenly felt weak. She slumped into a poolside chair.

  Martinez and Eleni, who had watched her from where they sat, stood up to go to her side. “I’ll handle this, Sergeant,” Eleni said. “And thank you again. You’ve been very helpful.”

  Martinez wondered at how easily Eleni had gotten information out of him that he had not planned to divulge. Nothing major, but still. This case was really getting to him. Martinez was at turns enraged and frustrated to the point of almost giving up. But he was not one to give up. He could not help but feel responsible in part for the Orange Bowl fiasco, for Grady escaping again. They would catch him, sooner or later. Hopefully, sooner.

  Martinez left Eleni and Davina at the pool. He had work to do. He had to catch a psychopath. He worried that if he didn’t Zeferino da Cunha and Johnny Thornton might die trying to catch him.

  “What is it, little one?” Eleni asked her godchild.

  “He was just here, Eleni.”

  “Who?”

  “Alejandro. I know what you think, but it’s true. Alejandro was here. I saw him.”

  “Where?”

  “In my balcony.” Davina began to cry. She buried her face in Eleni’s soft ample shoulder. “Eleni, please, please, you’ve got to help him. He’s not dead, I know he’s not dead.”

  Davina sobbed and sobbed. Just like a baby, Eleni thought. It will be alright, she told Davina, holding her as she had held her when she was a little girl, when what made a little girl cry seemed insurmountable—being thrown off a horse, a pet kitten that stayed away for a day. The future was so far away then. But it was different now. It was more difficult to promise Davina that soon everything would be better. The kitten did come back, and the horse learned discipline but what of Alejandro? Eleni was not convinced that it had been Alejandro that Davina saw, but she also knew that it could have been more than just a dream and she was determined to do whatever she could. “We will find him, little one,” she cooed, already thinking of how to find Alejandro, dead or alive. Stefanos would surely have some connections.

  Melina carried a plate of ground meat and pasta she prepared to the table at the poolside. “Pastichio,” she declared, hoping it would tempt Davina. It was once her favorite meal.

  “Oh, mother, what a nice surprise,” Davina said, wiping the tears. “I have the absolute best mother in the whole wide world.”

  “And I have the best little girl in the whole wide world.” She hugged her daughter. “But now I suggest we eat. You have lost weight, you know.”

  “Don’t worry, I can’t lose too much weight and anyway it’s such fun putting it back on.”

  Her laughter gave them a renewed sense of hope that her good humor would continue. What they didn’t know was how she would react once she understood that Alejandro had died, much to her insistence to the contrary.

  “Mother, forgive me, I just can’t right now, but I will. Later.”

  “Are you feeling alright?” Melina asked.

  “Yes, I’m fine, but…”

  “Yes? What is it, my darling?”

  “It’s just that I know that Alejandro is alive.”r />
  “How can you be sure?”

  “I don’t know. I just have a feeling.”

  Melina studied her daughter. Should she tell her to give up, to accept Alejandro’s death or should she let her keep on believing that he was still alive? “What kind of feeling?” She asked.

  “I’m not sure. I just know he is alive but I don’t know where to start looking. Oh, Manoula and Eleni, I need your help.”

  “Of course, my darling,” her mother said in despair. Melina knew Davina was very good at helping others with their pain and problems, but when it came to her own self, she worried. Even when her father died, she had been strong for both of them. She understood that this would have been her father’s wish, and she had been strong, guiding Melina through her worst mourning. But would her little Davina in turn be strong for herself? Or would she let go? “Maybe you should get some sleep now.”

  Eleni agreed. “Get some rest, and while you do that, we will make some phone calls. Okay?”

  Davina returned to her room. She was alone. Alejandro did not appear again, and she finally fell asleep.

  “What if she’s right, Melina?” Eleni asked. “What if Alejandro is alive?”

  It was the only hope, as remote as it seemed, but it was still hope. Eleni and Melina spent the evening on telephones, with the Coast Guards of the U.S., Cuba, the Bahamas, even Bermuda. They were on the phone with Stefanos, Penelope and their aides for hours. Koulouris Enterprises put out an all points bulletin to all its ships in the Atlantic and extended the bulletin to every maritime line and navy in those waters. All vessels, from the smallest pleasure boat to the largest container ship in the area would pick it up on their radios. Stefanos and Melina tried to get the heads of state and the admirals of surrounding countries they knew or at least were acquainted with—in Cuba, Haiti, the Dominican Republic, Bermuda, the Bahamas, and the United States. Everyone they spoke to at least listened, some with more compassion than others. But almost none of them had any hope.

  It was after midnight when Eleni and Melina put down the telephone receivers for the last time. They were both exhausted and emotionally drained from the hours of questioning and pleading, and of being told, again and again that it had been six days since Alejandro’s plane went down and that the odds of him being alive were not good, not at all good.

  Eleni was up before the others that morning. She wore a muumuu with an African pattern of dancing zebras splashed over a sea of browns and greens. She wrapped her hair in a kerchief, tied at the back. Sunglasses in hand, she told the policeman who seemed to be in charge of the guards at the villa that she would be leaving to do some errands and she was not about to be seen with a man in uniform following her around. The policeman said he would be glad to supply her with a guard in civilian clothes. So it was that a young man in a suit and tie accompanied Eleni to Los Pollos (The Chickens), where Sergeant Martinez said Jean worked.

  Eleni’s handsome young police escort convinced her to let him drive. Why should they take two cars? She graciously agreed. She did not mention that she in fact could not drive. She had never driven a car in her life. She never had a need to. In Europe, Melina or William drove when they were together and required an automobile. Or her lovers drove. And when she became successful in her career, there were enough chauffeurs.

  Los Pollos was not among the more fashionable eateries in Miami Beach. It was near the boardwalk, next to one of those souvenir shops that cater to tourists everywhere. Inside Los Pollos, Eleni was greeted with the smells of Cuba—cumin and roasted coffee beans, onions frying and chorizo. The sounds of salsa and merengue filled the place.

  Eleni sat in a back booth. The officer sat at the bar. Eleni kept her sunglasses on. Jean, wearing an apron, came to her table. Eleni peeked up at her from over the menu.

  Jean looked tired, very tired.

  “How are you, Jean?”

  ♫

  CHAPTER 38

  Melina woke Davina with a glass of orange juice. “I’m going to bring you something to eat, and I don’t want to hear any complaints. You must eat or you will stay weak, and that is not like you.”

  “Alright, Mother, whatever you say.”

  “So, what would you like?”

  “How about some of that pastichio.”

  “For breakfast?”

  “Why not?”

  Yes, of course why not. Not wanting to give Davina a chance to change her mind, Melina hurried to the kitchen and heated up a portion of the ground meat, cheese and pasta. She placed it before her daughter on a tray. “Now promise me that you will eat every little bite.”

  “All of this?”

  “All of it.”

  “But, Mother, this is enough for an entire army!”

  “I know you can eat all of it. You used to eat more than that when you were just a child.”

  “Those were wonderful years, weren’t they, Mommy?”

  “The best, my darling, the best. Now eat.”

  Melina’s pastichio was also the dinner that evening, enjoyed by Jacques and Monique, and Eleni and Melina, and even Davina enjoyed another piece. Davina’s appetite was coming back. She had more life in her voice. They felt a renewed sense of hope for her. Not wanting to dampen that in any way, they stayed clear of any talk of Alejandro. Life must go on. Eleni was confident that the visitor she expected that night would only help matters.

  They were all still seated around the table at the patio when that visitor arrived. Only Eleni was not surprised.

  Jean was as beautiful as ever, clad in jeans and a loose blouse.

  “Jean!” Melina exclaimed. “My dear, how are you?”

  “Very well, thank you, Melina,” she said quietly

  Davina was happy to see her. “Jean, where have you been?”

  Jean slowly turned to Davina but she would not meet her eyes. “How are you?” She made no attempt to move. Her tone of voice made it sound as if as if her presence here was a burden she really did not want after all.

  Davina’s elation turned to confusion.

  Jacques stood up. “Hello Jean,” he said. “May I introduce you to my wife Monique.”

  “How do you do,” Jean said.

  Monique wondered if this was the same Jean Conrad she had heard so many wonderful things about. Why was this woman so uncomfortable here among friends? She seemed almost morose.

  “Eleni convinced me to come,” Jean said almost in a monotone. “But it was a mistake. It’s not safe.”

  “You cannot hide forever in a hole,” Eleni said, trying to reason with her as she had that morning at Los Pollos.

  Jean shook her head and studied her shoes. “It’s not safe, Eleni. I’m putting you all in danger, my being here.”

  “Listen, Jean,” Jacques tried, “we have to get this all behind us.”

  Jean looked up abruptly and stared at Jacques. Her eyes seemed to penetrate him. “Easy for you to say, Jacques,” she snapped. “The only man I ever loved is dead. How do I put that behind me, I’d like to know.”

  “Children, children, it is over,” Melina said, her voice rising. “Whatever happened happened.”

  “It wouldn’t have happened if there hadn’t been a concert,” Jean said quietly, tears now on her face.

  “If you’re trying to tell me it was my fault, Jean, you’re right,” Davina said quietly. “I should have listened to you and to Jacques and cancelled the concert.”

  “That is nonsense!” Jacques said.

  “I have to go,” Jean said and began to walk across the patio.

  “Just a minute!” Jacques said, catching up with her and grabbing her arm. “What is wrong with you? What are you trying to do to Davina?”

  “To Davina? Don’t make me laugh, Jacques. Let me go,” she said, pulling her arm free.

  “No!” Jacques hollered and grabbed her arm again. “Maybe you have nothing to say, but I do.”

  “Jacques, please let her go,” Davina said.

  He ignored her. “I didn’t hear you blame y
ourself for any of this, Jean. And we all know that if Davina hadn’t rescued you from Simon Grady at the airport, you would have been dead by now. If she hadn’t, none of this would have happened! Would it?”

  Jean tried to get away but Jacques held both her arms firmly.

  “Davina’s first mistake was to help you at the airport. Her second was trusting you!”

  “Jacques, stop it!” Davina yelled.

  “Jean,” he said looking at her straight in the eyes, “I hope none of us ever sees you again.” He let go of her arms.

  Jean, sobbing, rushed to the gate.

  Davina called after her. “Jean, please! Don’t go!”

  Jean didn’t turn back. She ran out of the villa grounds and didn’t stop until she reached the security gates. “Goodbye, my great friend,” Jean whispered. “I shall never forget you and your heart of gold.” Her chest and her throat tightened. She would have to forget all those wonderful people. She knew the road ahead would be difficult and lonely. She would have to work much harder and save up so that she wouldn’t have too many financial problems once the baby started to show.

  Raindrops began to drip down the large glass balcony doors off Davina’s bedroom. She wiped the glass with her sleeve. It was raining inside. But no, it was not raining. The only water that was falling was from her eyes. “They have done everything possible to find you, Alejandro,” Davina said. “Even if you had survived the crash, you couldn’t live without food and water. Maybe it would have been better if I had died as well, mi amor, we’d be together now.”

  ♫

  CHAPTER 39

  If only they could suspend the poor bugger in mid-air, Captain Christian Nelson thought staring at the man. He could almost cry, something his crew would never expect from him. The big rugged Bahamian was known for his strictness and perfectionism and he expected nothing less from his men. Standing six-feet-five and weighing close to three hundred pounds, the man was an impressive figure and many feared him. But the Captain could have cried as he watched his crew move the man in the rescue launch. No human being should have to endure what this man had been through. The Captain shuddered at the idea of his pain. Like being burned alive but without the hope of dying, just slow excruciating torture.