by Becca Bloom
He shook his head and grimaced. “I couldn’t be the one to send my dad to jail. He’s a good man. He learned Sign for me and made sure my sister and I never lacked anything — even after my mom left us. He stayed with us. He never hurts anyone.”
Miss Patty spoke as she signed, “But, Eduardo, stealing is wrong.”
A shadow fell into the room, and I turned to see Patricio.
He reached for his pocket, and my heart froze. I stepped back, reaching for Mammy and my friends.
Chapter 28
It was difficult to stay scared when my beloved pup trotted up to Patricio and licked his hand. He patted her as he pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket and handed it to me. “For your hands, Señorita James. It looks as if you have recently taken up gardening,” he said.
In my rush of excitement and panic, I’d forgotten about my dirt-stained hands. Was Patricio angry we’d discovered his secret? He seemed so calm.
I took the handkerchief, opening it up, and my breath caught in my throat when I saw the embroidered black cat with long whiskers I’d heard was the jewel thief’s calling card from the radio.
“I know stealing is wrong,” Patricio said, signing as he spoke so his son could understand.
“Then why do you do it?” I asked, trying to hold on to his handkerchief without getting it too dirty because it was evidence.
Patricio ran his hand through his hair. “At first, it was to put my kids through school. My wife left me shortly after we found out Eddie was deaf, and there weren’t a whole lot of jobs that allowed me enough time to be the kind of father he needed.” He glanced at Eduardo. Patricio didn’t have to say it for me to understand that having a child with special needs required more time than an average job would permit. But stealing?
He continued, “Things went well for me. I didn’t get caught, and I began to think I never would. Then, I bought my daughter a house. She noticed that I paid in cash when I made minimum wage as a laborer for a landscape artist. She’s a smart girl, and she figured it out. She hasn’t talked to me since.”
“Is that when you came here?” I asked.
“I moved here and set up my own landscaping business. But I missed my kids. I knew I’d burned my bridges with Emilia, but I hoped my boy might be able to forgive his fool of a father. It took a year, but I persisted. I promised her I would stop my … let’s call it … my side project … and that I wouldn’t tell anyone that Eddie and I were related. Her reasoning was that if I was caught, the cops wouldn’t have any reason to suspect Eddie or bother him.”
Patricio minimized what he did, how he made his victims feel. I was sorely tempted to smack him upside the head and say “Estúpido” with as much attitude as I could muster.
Mammy said, “It must have been difficult to hide your relation when you’re so proud of your son.” Her words were kind, but there was an edge to her voice.
“You have no idea,” Patricio said, shaking his head. “Which reminds me. How did you figure out we were related?” he asked me.
I raised my arms heavenward, letting them fall to my side dramatically. “Your son was in jail and scared. He wanted his dad. He drew a picture asking for you. You speak of your ‘side project’ as if you’re the only one affected by it.”
Patricio ran his hands over his face. “My daughter was right.”
“What do you plan to do?” I asked. Not that he could do much, but I felt like I had to ask. Patricio wasn’t a threat. Not with Lady sitting on his feet, nudging his hand so he’d keep scratching her head. But he had a lot to answer for.
“It depends. Have you called the police yet?” he asked, casting me a look I’m sure he’d used before many times. It was the “have-pity-on-this-poor-soul-at-your-mercy” look.
My mind reeled. I wanted to help him, but I refused to enable him. Not even a little bit. Watching him closely, I asked, “What if you could redeem yourself? Would you do it?”
He sighed. “There’s no redemption for me. I’ve tried to stop before. Lord knows I’ve tried. I guess, this is just the way I am.”
This is just the way I am. It was the same excuse my younger sister used on me every time she couldn’t pay a bill, and it lit a fire within me. As if people are completely incapable of change! As if others must bear the responsibility of covering over their faults so they can continue on their merry way, learning nothing, and doing nothing to improve their situation!
“You poor thing,” I blurted sarcastically. “Have you been caught before? How do you know how far you’ll go to avoid consequences when you’ve never felt them before?”
“That’s my girl,” Mammy said, crossing her arms and giving Patricio the “Mom Look.”
I had too much to say to stop now. “Have you stopped to think about the people you’ve stolen from?”
“I only stole from people who had enough to spare—”
I held up my hand to stop him. “That’s the stupidest excuse I’ve ever heard. The jewels you stole from these ‘rich’ families had more worth to them than their intrinsic value. You took something of theirs — a piece of their history, of their family — that didn’t belong to you. And for what? So you could hide them at the bottom of flower pots?”
He looked like he might want to defend himself, but I’d only gotten started. If he had the jewels, it meant he’d taken my painting. It had been Patricio who had broken down my door.
“And what about me, huh? You think I’m rich? Did you know that both me and Tia Rosa have spent every penny in our possession to get our doughnut shop going? We’re strapped. You say you only target the rich, but I’m definitely not rich and I don’t want to hear you justify yourself like you’re some modern day Robin Hood. You took the one beautiful thing I possessed because you were scared someone would connect the missing jewels to Eduardo’s paintings. Do you not get how selfish that is? Not to mention how you scared me out of my wits when you busted my door down and invaded my space! You made me think my home was dangerous — that my safe haven wasn’t safe at all. And right before my Mammy’s visit. Not that it’s ever a good idea to break into anyone’s home, but your timing was terrible. And then you have the nerve to take money from me when I’m pretty sure you’ve cost me more than the work you did for me on the terrace.”
“You can have your payment back. I shouldn’t have accepted it,” he said softly, holding his hands up.
“Great! But, I want my painting back, too. As much as those poor families want their heirloom jewels back.”
Miss Patty struggled to Sign fast enough to keep up as the words poured out of me. The stormy expression on her face showed that she agreed with every word.
Patricio didn’t stand a chance against three irate females. He held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. You have a point. But let it be on my terms.”
“You have no right to negotiate. You’ll get no leniency from me. Accept full responsibility for what you’ve done, promise once and for all that you’ll come completely clean, and just maybe I won’t personally press charges against you for your son’s sake,” I demanded, preparing to withdraw my offer if Patricio so much as flinched.
“I’ll call. I’ll turn myself in,” he replied with a surly growl.
Before I could put him to task for his attitude, I saw a change that dried the words on the tip of my tongue. Eduardo brightened, his eyes clouding with tears and his chest puffing out. He grabbed his dad, locking him in an embrace that made Patricio stiffen in shock.
I almost laughed at how uncomfortable Patricio looked. It served him right.
He’d hugged Eduardo at the police station, but his awkwardness betrayed how few embraces he’d received in his lifetime. It made me sad to see how his own decisions had deprived him of something so wonderful as a hug from his kid. Eduardo held him long enough, Patricio’s bravado melted. His chin quivered, and he blinked rapidly.
If that didn’t put him on the straight and narrow, I didn’t know what would. Certainly not my threats.
Miss Patty interpreted when Eduardo pulled away, gesturing to his father. “He says he’s proud of his dad for owning to his mistakes, for taking responsibility for his actions, and for being brave enough to face the consequences. He says his sister will be proud of him too.”
Patricio looked dumbfounded. He pulled Eduardo back into his arms and they smacked each other on the back and pretended not to cry.
Finally, with one arm draped over Eduardo’s shoulders for support, Patricio pulled out his phone and dialed the police station. He didn’t look happy about it, but his defiant attitude was gone.
Mammy, Miss Patty, and Lady stood guard over Patricio in the shed while Eduardo and I started removing the jewelry from their pots. We’d make things as easy for Gus as we could.
We worked in silence, the wait excruciatingly long as the gravity of what had just happened — what Patricio was about to do — fell heavily around us.
Patricio asked, “How did you figure it out?”
I looked between Miss Patty and Eduardo. “Your son paints what he sees. It was an artistic confession.”
Patricio shook his head. “I didn’t realize he saw so much. Makes me wonder what he still sees in me.”
Mammy pet his arm. “Don’t you understand what you’re doing? Your criminal activities have alienated you from your family. Yes, you worked with your son, but what good is that when you couldn’t even admit to being related? You will lose your freedom, but you have gained the respect and support of your son. Your daughter might do the same. Don’t you think you’ll try harder not to disappoint them from here on?”
The sirens of the police cars wailed in the distance, growing stronger as they drew near.
Patricio hugged Eduardo again, then stood and waited with his hands in front of him. “I’m ready now.”
1-2-3-Go.
Chapter 29
We were a quiet bunch when Gus and Officer “Uptight” walked up to the door.
Patricio turned around, holding his wrists together behind him.
“Wait a minute! Nobody’s going to jail until we know what happened to Eduardo’s paintings!” Miss Patty spread her arms to block Gus’ path to Patricio.
The paintings! As moving as it was to see Patricio and Eduardo act like a real father and son, I wanted my painting back.
“The paintings can wait,” Gus said in a calm voice, pulling out his handcuffs.
It was the wrong thing to say. Shoving the extra officer out of her path to stand directly in front of Patricio, she said, “Not if the owners want to press charges when their painting has been destroyed, it can’t.”
If Miss Patty hadn’t done it, I would have. I added, “We need to know what we’re dealing with here. We need to know how bad the damage is.”
I looked at Gus, willing him to agree with my laser stare.
“I know what you’re after. You just want your painting back,” he said.
“Yeah, I do! Can you blame me after all that’s happened this week to want a happy ending?”
Miss Patty looked at Patricio. “Come on,” she held her palm out and wiggled her fingers as if he could produce the nine paintings from his pocket and hand them to her. “You have the jewelry. I’m hoping you still have the paintings. If you destroyed Eduardo’s work, I’ll make sure you never see daylight again,” she said, standing toe-to-toe with Patricio.
I felt sick. All I had left of Illari was the picture on my phone. She belonged in my home. He’d better not have destroyed her.
Mammy smiled. “Oh, he has them.”
“How do you know?” I asked, desperate to believe her.
“I have every bit of art from my kids, grandkids, and my great-grandson. Even the finger painting and macaroni art projects from school. He wouldn’t destroy his son’s work. Not when he knew how much it meant to Eduardo.”
Patricio smiled. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you. Is that acceptable, Officer Rivera?”
Naturally, Gus and Officer “McTense” flanked him on each side as we made our way to Patricio’s office.
He opened the top drawer of a tall, metal filing cabinet. Removing a large piece of hard board surrounded by bubble wrap, he pulled back what looked like silicon paper, and I immediately recognized my painting — the very one that had been stolen from the police station.
“Illari!” I exclaimed to Gus’ sigh.
Miss Patty counted the paintings, praising Patricio for the care he took to properly store them and protect them from damage in Baños’ humid climate. She forgave much too easily. I was still annoyed.
“It’s harder for me to part with these than with the actual jewels,” he said, looking longingly at the artwork.
I didn’t feel bad at all for taking my painting back. Illari was in my hands, and I wasn’t going to let her go until I got home. Not even for Gus. On second thought, especially not for Gus.
Miss Patty rubbed her hands together. “And now that I know what price Eduardo’s paintings can fetch, we’ll make sure he has enough cash to pay for the best defense attorney to be had in the country.”
Eduardo heartily agreed.
The jewels were found. The paintings had been restored. Family ties were being repaired. Now, if only my mixer would magically appear, I could return to my shop and call it a day. My ill-humor toward Patricio faded in comparison to how happy the Montalvos (and everyone else affected) would be when they got their diamonds back. Eduardo was proud of his father for probably the first time in his life, and I wouldn’t spoil his joy by remaining grumpy at his dad.
Patricio shuffled his feet and looked at me sheepishly. “There’s one more thing,” he said.
Happy to have Illari back, but with my mixer very much on my mind, I teased, “What, you don’t have my mixer in that cabinet, too, do you?” Now, that would be the cherry on top of a pretty spectacular day. I wondered if it was worth it to swing by Sal’s bakery and pester him more about my mixer.
Patricio opened the back door of his office and motioned for me to look outside.
A tarp I’d walked by between the parking lot and Eduardo’s shed covered something large and lumpy.
Oh. My. Goodness.
“No!” I exclaimed, realizing what it was before I moved the tarp. “It was you? You stole my mixer?” I gasped, angry enough to strangle Patricio. Not only had I spent the night in jail because of this stupid, antique mixer, but I’d been wrong about it!
Mammy mumbled, “I didn’t see that coming.”
“Why?” I demanded, spinning to face Patricio. “You almost put me out of business! I trespassed on private property! I spent a night in jail! I almost didn’t open because of you!”
Patricio spoke softly, like people did to calm crazy ladies down. “I knew you were looking into the disappearance of the paintings. I needed to throw you off my trail. You’re good at what you do, Señorita James.”
Had Patricio not shown it to me, I never would have believed my sabotager could have been anyone but Sal. So much for my detective skills.
“Don’t you ‘Señorita James’ me,” I grumbled half-heartedly. I tried not to be appeased at his compliment, but I had to admit that I was pretty proud of myself for being the first one to connect the pieces of this particular puzzle.
Then, the strikes against Patricio multiplied as I remembered more of the damage he’d caused. “My beautiful shop window? The cocoa powder and sprinkles…”
Patricio winced. “That was all me. I’m really sorry and hope you will allow me to pay for the damages for everything. If you’d be so kind as to write out a list and give it to my son, I’ll see that you’re fully compensated.”
Gus stepped in front of me, holding his arm out to block my path to Patricio. “Nine paintings, eleven jewel burglaries, larceny, vandalism… And I get the feeling that’s only the tip of the iceberg. You, sir, are going to keep me in my office all day doing my least favorite thing — paperwork. Any other confessions while you’re at it?”
Patricio grinned, “I’
ll wait until we get back to the station. You’ll want a chair.”
Gus groaned.
Patricio continued, “So long as my kids can come visit me, I’ll tell you what you need to know and do my time quietly.” He turned to me. “Señorita James, I am sorry. I made you a promise, and I want you to know I don’t take it lightly. I’ll try my best.”
“Don’t try. Do,” I said. Yoda had said it better, but the sentiment was the same. I still wanted to kick Patricio in the shins, but I’d have to settle for sending him to jail.
“You’re tougher than you look,” Patricio said to me as Gus pushed him out the office door to the police car.
Mammy elbowed me and whispered, “Like Joan Jett,” with a wink.
Eduardo accompanied his dad to the station — after returning his latest painting to Miss Patty’s hot little hands.
She grinned like the Cheshire cat. Eduardo’s paintings would be restored to their rightful owners, Eduardo had a lot of motivation to continue painting, and she could help her prized student by charging more for his work.
Eduardo was thrilled his art would be used to help his dad mend his ways.
While Patricio wasn’t thrilled with his immediate fate, it warmed my heart to see how he responded to his son’s support and growing respect. I hoped he’d respond like one of Eduardo’s orchids. If Patricio was smart at all, and I had no doubt he was, he’d bloom and prosper. They were a family, and I wanted them to be okay. Now that justice had been served, Eduardo was happy, and I had my painting and my mixer back, I was feeling much more forgiving.
Mammy looped her around mine. “Not a bad day’s work, Sugar, but you have a doughnut shop to run. Let’s get back to it!”
Chapter 30
Five days later, I was too busy running my shop to worry about anything other than sifting flour and getting ready to say goodbye to Mammy. Her flight left early the next morning, and Jake had returned early from an excursion to drive us to Quito after closing that night. My last night with Mammy.