Dead Man's Rules (33 page)

Another shoe box. More letters. Most of these were unopened. She was about to close the box when an envelope caught her attention. Her hands began to shake as she reached for it. She knew the unmistakable scrawl. It belonged to Marco Gonzales.

Her breath caught as she read her mother’s name on the front of the envelope. It carried no address or postmark. Drawing out the folded pages with quaking fingers, she felt like a thief. The familiar cheap paper was yellowed with time, almost brittle. She wanted to stop, but she had to know. A shiver ran down her spine as she read the first line.

Lottie, my love, I’m sending you another song...

She dropped the paper with a cry as though it was hot, springing to her feet.

“What?” Rafe asked, approaching her.

Tears clouded her eyes as she turned to him and handed him the page. “Rafe...”

He read the letter while she pulled out a piece of typing paper that was also inside the envelope. It was a typed version in English of one of the love songs she had read the day before.

“You knew,” she accused in a shaky voice.

His stunned face told a different story. “No, I didn’t. I was just being a jerk.”

A spasm of dizziness shook her, and he slid his arm around her. She clutched at him, needing a connection of some sort and he helped her to a seat on the piano bench.

“Is that why she’s been so against my doing the story?” Bewilderment grasped her in a tight vise.

“I would think so.” He sank onto the bench beside her, taking her hand.

“Why didn’t she tell me? I would have understood.”

“Would you have stopped asking questions?”

“Well, no but she could have helped me, given me information...”

He grunted. “See? That’s exactly why she didn’t tell you. You wouldn’t give up. You’d be asking more questions, and it’s obvious she doesn’t want to talk about him.”

Across from them, the yearbook stood open, as though presenting its secrets. She reached over and touched it gingerly. “Is this why my uncles hated him?”

“Probably.”

“But how did she betray him? What did she do?”

He drew a deep breath. “Think about it. They were teenagers when he went to jail. I bet she didn’t stand by him. That she didn’t stand up to her family and answer his letters. Look. Only a few of them were opened.”

Cere got to her feet as though she might be sleepwalking.

“Where is she right now?”

“At the Matador. She was meeting Mr. Foster for lunch. I wanted to surprise her and clean the basement while she was gone.”

He sighed unhappily. “What a surprise. It looks like you managed to open up a whole new can of worms.”

Cere picked up the yearbook and the envelope with the typewritten songs. “I want to talk to her, but maybe I should ask my uncles about these letters first. Maybe I can get someone to tell the truth.” A sudden thought hit her. “You don’t suppose one of them hurt Marco?”

“What do you think?”

She recalled the anger both her uncles demonstrated when Marco’s name came up. “But why?”

“Are you kidding? Look at that picture. The town hood? The sweet younger sister?”

“They wouldn’t kill him to keep him away from her. Besides, this was high school. She was in college when he died. I don’t know if she was around that final summer.”

“Well, if you insist on questioning them, I’m going with you.”

For once she didn’t feel like tackling things on her own. She put her hand on his hard forearm. “Thanks, Rafe. That’s very sweet of you.”

Her smile nearly melted him and he covered her hand with his. He wanted to do more than that, he wanted to take her in his arms and hold her. The discovery had hit her hard. “Have you ever been involved in a story that affected you directly?”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe you should pull back. Now that you know your family might be personally involved, isn’t it a conflict of interest?”

Her reply was to pull her hand away from his touch. “I can still gather the information and figure it out.”

He could see he would not deter her. She wasn’t thinking about the emotional toll of the story, even yet. “Why would you put your mother through this? Name her as the girl who betrayed Marco? This story doesn’t need to be told.”

“As a journalist I have a responsibility to uncover the truth and tell it.”

“No matter who gets hurt?”

Tears emerged at the corners of her brown eyes and he sensed her wavering. He pressed his advantage.

“You don’t have to do this, hon. Let it go. No one is going to criticize you.”

She gazed up at him, dark eyes haunted. “I can’t play favorites. Besides, now I know why I have to do it...”

Damn, he wanted to shake her. Why didn’t she walk away while she could, the way he wished he had when he looked into Marco’s story for Riggins? Maybe he could still limit the damage. He’d been unable to discover the unknown woman and he’d suspected that might be the key that unraveled the entire mystery. But now that he knew, did it really help?

Chapter Thirty-Five

Norm and Dick Winslow worked in Rio Rojo’s main bank, a golden sandstone structure of five stories that dominated the downtown area. It sat on the central corner of Main and First streets. Cere didn’t see Rafe or his Jeep so she parked in front to wait. They had agreed to meet at the bank in an hour, giving her an opportunity to shower and dress and him time to check in with his office. She remained in her car, watching traffic pass, checking for white vans. Unfortunately she counted five before Rafe pulled into the parking spot beside her.

“Ready for this?” he asked as they walked inside.

“I’m always ready,” she declared, though her stomach fluttered like it buzzed with butterflies. She had no idea what she was going to ask or if her uncles would see them. They had not called in advance.

Rafe led her to the executive offices at the back of a cavernous lobby. The plush, elegant surroundings were a surprise. Her feet sank into thick emerald carpet and the burgundy wing chairs beside the receptionist’s cherry wood executive desk looked like they belonged in a gentleman’s club. Muted green walls gave the room a somber appearance, and she wondered if the wall and carpet colors were selected to make visitors think of money.

A tall thin woman who resembled a sleek cat in a well cut suit looked over the top of rimless glasses as they approached. Her graying hair was pulled into a severe bun. She had been at the party, but Cere had not met her. In cool precise tones she assured them Dick was in a meeting and couldn’t be disturbed but Norm was available.

“I’ll let him know you’re here,” she said in a crisp tone, gesturing them toward a side door as she picked up her phone and pushed buttons.

Stepping through a dark walnut door they entered a world of chaos. Norm’s cluttered desk had no empty space and two visitor’s chairs beside it also held files. His pudgy face creased with a wide smile as they stepped through the door but he didn’t rise.

“Cere, Rafe, nice of you to drop in. What can I do ya for? Have a seat.” He waved toward a dark green and burgundy sofa that lined a wall to the right of his desk. The window above it framed downtown in the foreground and a blue ridge of mountains in the distance.

Drawing a deep breath she plunged forward. “This isn’t a social call, Uncle Norm. I’m curious about my mother and Marco.”

The smile disintegrated, and Norm sat back. His black leather chair screeched in protest. “Whoa. That’s a strange thing to say.”

“You’re not going to deny she dated Marco, are you?”

His plump hands raised in protest. “She never dated that thug. Where did you get that idea? Sure, he wanted to go out with her, but we never let her. He was a loser. We all knew that.”

“You didn’t like that she wanted to see him?” she pressed.

“I discouraged it from the get go. And she never went out with him.”

“He sent her letters and songs while he was in jail.”

His head gyrated back and forth. “Did you ask Lottie about this? I can’t imagine she wants you prying into private matters.”

“She doesn’t know I found his letters and songs. They were in a trunk Uncle Dick returned to her when she moved back.”

“You mean that stuff from Mom’s basement? Damn! If we’d known that we’d have thrown them away.”

“Did you ever see the two of them together?” she asked.

“Well, maybe once or twice, but it was innocent. Just him walking her home from school once. Daddy made it clear she wasn’t to see him again. When that boy left our house, he knew better than to come back.”

She drew a deep breath. What had the Winslows done to discourage Marco? Thoughts of his poignant words came back to her. It was hard to reconcile them with the photo of the rebellious youth in the yearbook. “Who did she go out with?”

“Lots of boys. Hell, she could have dated any boy in the county. Lottie was a looker.”

“Even Mr. Foster?”

“Well, no. Bradley was married then. He was a deputy and he’d come by the house all the time to see Daddy.”

This wasn’t getting them anywhere. She doubted a romantic rivalry had anything to do with the current situation.

“Did she see him after he got out of prison?”

“Nope. She was in college and sure wasn’t going to date a con. I think she was seeing a pre-med student. Seems like I remember she wanted Daddy to get him a job at John’s hardware store. No, any foolishness with that crazy kid ended when he got arrested.”

****

“I don’t think he was telling us everything,” Rafe said as they stepped through the bank doors into a blast of hot summer air. He was good at judging people who were being questioned and being less than truthful. Norm met all the criteria. He kept fidgeting and his eyes rambled from his disheveled desk to the window, refusing to look at them.

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s go over to the Matador and talk. We can leave your car and I’ll bring you back.”

She glanced at the clock on the bank façade. “It’s nearly three, a little late for lunch.”

“I want to talk to Frank. Actually I should do this alone.”

“Don’t tell me you’re suddenly interested.”

“Maybe.” He didn’t want to admit it to her, but the letters and that interview had piqued his interest. He didn’t like unanswered questions, and right now he had plenty of them.

Could she be right about Naldo’s murder being tied to Marco somehow? When they’d entered the bank, he’d noticed a few smears on the marble floors of the lobby. Old Naldo had kept those floors spotless when he was alive. One of his many odd jobs. In the middle of Cere’s questions, Rafe had a sudden recollection—the gleam in old Naldo’s eyes when Rafe mentioned Cere wanted to do a story about Marco. The old man was always looking for ways to earn money. What if he had known something about Marco’s death? What if he had tried blackmailing the wrong person?

Her hand touched his arm. “You know something.”

“No. I’ll call you later.” He started for his Jeep, but she was right behind him.

“I have time. I’ll go with you to the restaurant.”

He shot her a cool look. “On one condition. Frank may not want to talk in front of you. If he balks, let me do it alone.”

“Will you tell me what he says?”

“Not if he wants it kept confidential. And not if it jeopardizes the investigation.”

Her eyes lit up in triumph. “So you do see a connection!”

“No comment, Ms Reporter,” he said, unlocking the door for her. “And if you misbehave I’ll make you walk back.”

****

Only two booths were occupied when they entered the restaurant. One held a couple with two lively children in bright vacation garb—probably tourists, Cere decided. Josie sat in another booth, two stacks of bills in front of her. The spicy aroma of chili wafted from the kitchen.

“Frank around?” Rafe asked as they took stools at the counter. “We’d like to talk to him.”

Josie picked up the bills, got to her feet and tucked her order pad into the back pocket of her tight jeans. “He’s in the back. I’ll get him. Can I bring you anything?”

“A couple of sodas.”

Cere leaned forward and called, “Make mine diet,” but Josie had vanished.

Frank came through the swinging doors to the kitchen wearing an apron spotted with red chili. He nodded at Cere before turning to Rafe.

“Hey,
compadre,
what brings you around at this time of the day?”

“We’ve been looking through Marco’s stuff. Gus brought her his songs.”

“Yeah? So?” He looked from one to the other, openly curious.

“I’m trying to find out who Marco didn’t get along with.”

Frank leaned on the counter, dark face scrunched in concentration. He might not say anything to her but she could see he wasn’t going to refuse Rafe’s questions. “Well... let’s see...”

“What about
her
uncles?”

Frank’s eyes flickered to Cere as his head bobbed up and down. “They didn’t like him and he didn’t like them. I was a little kid when he came back but I remember hearing that before he went to jail they beat him up pretty bad. I guess Dick and John grabbed him outside the Palladium, but I hear that place always had fights.”

“Was it over a girl?” Cere asked.

“I never heard why they did it.”

“Did you ever hear if he had a girlfriend?” she continued.

Frank’s glance slid to Rafe. “Didn’t you once tell me he dated your mama?”

Cere gasped and swung to Rafe who refused to meet her eyes. “You never told me that.”

“It wasn’t important.” He slid off the stool and got to his feet as Josie emerged with their drinks. He dug into his pants pocket and tossed money on the counter. “I gotta go.”

Cere wasn’t about to let him out of her sight. Dropping her own money on the counter, she quick-stepped after him to his vehicle. She yanked open the door and threw herself into the front seat as he started the ignition.

“Why didn’t you tell me about your mother?”

Refusing to look at her, he pressed his lips into a tight straight line as he backed out the Jeep. “She wasn’t the girl who betrayed him, the mystery woman. She told me he was involved with someone before he went to jail, someone he kept secret. I think we both know who that is.”