Dead Man's Rules (37 page)

Cere sank onto a chair at the table and took out Naldo’s snapshot. “Who are these guys? One is Naldo’s son, one is Marco, but who are the others?”

Lottie frowned and lifted the glasses she kept on a chain around her neck. She peered through them at the picture. “Why that’s Art and Willie.”

A shiver ran through Cere. “Rafe’s dad and uncle?”

“Yes.” She took one final look and handed it back to Cere. “I’m positive.”

Cere re-examined the picture but saw little resemblance to the men she knew. “They were friends with Marco?”

“In junior high. Then Berto went to reform school, and the Tafoya boys stopped running around with Marco. I think their parents worried he might lead them in the wrong direction.”

“Was that how Marco got his reputation for being wild? Hanging out with Berto? BJ called him ‘Shark.’”

“Berto
was
wild. It wouldn’t surprise me if he committed those burglaries. He was here when that second round occurred.”

She put the picture into her purse. Did Rafe know his father and uncle were once Marco’s friends? Or was that yet something else he hadn’t told her?

“How was your date?” Lottie placed plates with sandwiches on the table and sat across from her.

“I’m not asking you about how your night was.”

“Disastrous. I was home by midnight. You were fast asleep.”

She paused with her sandwich halfway to her mouth. “Disastrous?”

“It was silly. But... I read those songs and letters you left in the dining room.”

This time she nearly dropped her sandwich. “You did? Did you learn anything?”

Her mother carefully avoided her eyes, focusing on her own sandwich. “The Marco who came out of jail was different than the boy who went in. But I knew that. He was over me at the end. He even forgave me...”

“Forgave you for what? Not returning his interest?”

Lottie sighed and pushed away her sandwich. “I must tell you something, but it can’t leave this room. It can’t go into a story.”

“Of course not.” Cere held her breath as her mother hesitated.

“Everyone thought Marco was obsessed with me, that it was one sided. They still think that.” She took a deep breath, eyes glued to the table. “The truth is... I was just as crazy about him. He was so intelligent. His grades were horrible, but he taught himself. He knew all the romantic poets and could quote poetry. No one saw that. He could have done so much. If it hadn’t been for me, he would have.”

She paused, but Cere didn’t prod her. She knew when to not interrupt a reluctant subject.

“I never told anyone about my feelings. Not even Millie.” She looked up as tears filled her eyes. “My family hated him so I couldn’t admit the truth. He accepted it and let everyone think it was one-sided. He took those beatings...for me.”

Cere took her mother’s hand as tears flooded her eyes. “Oh, Mom...”

“It’s more than that.” Lottie swallowed hard, as though choking on something. “I knew Marco never committed the burglaries.”

The hand she held trembled in her grip. “How?”

“I was with him...all those nights. The money was ours...his and my babysitting money...what we’d saved. That ring was mine. He got it at the pawn shop doing odd jobs for Naldo. Bradley caught him with our money. We were going to run away...”

Tears cut a pale swath down the makeup on her cheeks. “I...I never came forward during his trial. I think my parents realized something… They packed us up and took us to the lake. It was only thirty miles away, but I couldn’t get to town. We stayed until the trial ended. He went to jail...because I was too cowardly to admit I loved him.”

Cere felt tears fall on her hands as her own eyes overflowed. “Oh, Mom...”

“I want to know how he died. I owe it to him. I was afraid to come through for him once. I want to do it now. You do it. Bradley’s so sure...but he’s not right. I can’t prove anything...and...damn, sometimes I’m such a coward.”

She stared at Lottie. She had never looked so defeated. Squeezing her hand, Cere nodded. “I’ll find out the truth, Mom. For you and Marco.”

Chapter Forty

“Did I tell you about the first time I saw that hand print?” Rafe asked as he and Cere arrived at the Palladium parking lot. “It was early twilight just like now. Dad and I were looking for old bottles. He said we might find some in the lot.”

“You’ve never discussed that.” She shifted beside him and he fought to keep his eyes from straying to the sight of her shapely legs as she uncrossed them. In form fitting capris, her tanned calves curved in an inviting line.

He turned away and they climbed out of the car. “I was a kid and I’d heard the stories so I asked him if we could go inside. He had a flashlight and shined it on the wall. It was spooky.”

She pursed her lips and tugged the lower one, deep in thought. She’d been quiet most of the evening. His pulse quickened as she licked her lips.

“I remember that night we came with your cousins. You were so brave. The rest of us were jittery going home, but you were quiet. Composed.”

She stopped and stared at the building, still reflective.
What was she thinking?

“Did you really have a crush on me?” he asked, adopting a playful attitude.

Her head jerked to him. “What?”

“That’s what Freeda said.”

She rolled her eyes, and a smile slid across her face. She elbowed him playfully. “Dream on, Tafoya. I was only twelve.”

“Yeah, trouble.”

They picked their way through the overgrowth and entered the building. Rafe helped her across the broken planks of the wooden floor. Floorboards creaked as they walked into the main room. A small animal scurried off to one side, and she drew closer to him until he could smell her perfume.

“Something scares you now that you’re no longer twelve?”

“Creepy, crawly things.”

He gave her a mock stern look. “They don’t scare Ginny.”

“She’s been around male cousins too long.”

“She didn’t want to go to Santa Fe with my sister. She would rather get her nails done by Cere. You’re her new best friend.”

“After the dog and rabbits. I had fun doing her nails. I never thought of being a mother, but taking care of her, I could do it...”

Rafe whirled toward her, keeping his voice playful although her admission struck a sharp chord inside him. “You?”

“I’ll think about it once this is solved.”

“Of course.” He’d been pleased when she called. He had been trying to think of a reason to get in touch with her. Then she revealed her motive—she wanted to get into the building. Now she stood in the middle of big room, surveying it.

“I’m not sure what I’m looking for. I thought if I saw the hand again, I might get a new clue. Mom liked the idea.”

He moved to stand beside her. “I’m pleased you asked me to come. It shows you have some sense.”

“I needed your permission to get inside.”

“Like you wouldn’t climb through the broken door and come in anyway,” he said.

Rafe was right, and they both knew it. Cere wasn’t certain why she asked him to come. She wanted to ask about his father and maybe while they were here she could broach the subject.

Stepping around cracked steps they made their way to the second floor. The door where she had been locked was blocked with police tape, but she had no desire to visit that room. She stepped inside the room with the hand print and played her flashlight over the image.

The outline and the words under it were dark smudges on the wall. What did they mean? She closed her eyes, thinking about all she knew that she hadn’t known the first time. Marco had loved Lottie. He faced her angry family, only to have her betray him. He’d forgiven her while he was in jail, and she said he was over her. Who had the romantic words been written for? Who was the final mystery woman? Rafe said it wasn’t his mother. How could he be sure? Lottie said Rosalie loved him. Had he loved her at the end?

“It’s strange to think of them all growing up together,” Cere said softly, her fingers touching the print gingerly.

“Do you really feel a connection to him?”

She stood still. Wherever Marco’s ghost lurked, it wasn’t there now. “I’ve been to places with psychics. It’s not like that. I feel like he draws me back here, to see something. But I have no idea what it is. Mom doesn’t think he committed suicide. His final letters were filled with hope. He didn’t come back for revenge or kill himself out of grief. There was something else. I need to talk to your Aunt Rosalie.”

“Good luck. She just took off. I’ve never asked Mom about her. I guess I can. I’m just not sure what good it will do.” His voice was quiet, but she sensed an edge.

“I thought you wanted to learn the truth.”

“Marco is gone. We can’t bring him back.”

“We could help his memory.”

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “Tell you what. I have a songwriter friend in L.A. I can send some of the songs to him and see if he can sell them.”

The gesture touched her. “Mom claims Marco didn’t commit any burglaries. She and Mr. Foster had a fight over his comments the other night. She’s furious that he’s so smug.”

“How would she know Marco didn’t commit them?”

Cere bit her lip. She couldn’t betray her mother’s confidence. “She just does. We agreed he didn’t commit suicide. Do you think he was guilty of the fires? The thefts? What if Shark committed the first round of burglaries? Naldo’s son?”

“I’ve thought of that. Maybe that’s why Naldo gave Marco a place to stay when he came back. Berto went to jail not long after Marco for something else. It’s possible.”

Cere studied the hand print and the words below it. “All for love.” Maybe she could never get to the bottom of Marco’s death, but selling the songs could help Marco’s image.
No.
His burning eyes seemed to appear inside the hand print. They blazed from the dingy wall, as though saying that was not enough.

****

After a quiet trip back to town, they drove to Rafe’s house and called Gus to ask permission to send off the songs. There was no answer so she called her mother to let her know where she was.

“I was just on my way out the door,” Lottie said. “Tony is taking me to dinner.”

The news surprised but delighted Cere. “You still haven’t made up with Mr. Foster?”

“Not exactly. Maybe we both need to take a step back.”

“Mom’s going to dinner with Tony,” she said as she hung up. “I hope I haven’t caused problems with Mr. Foster.”

Across the room that served as a home office, Rafe dug through papers that cluttered his desk. “If it’s meant to be, they’ll make up.”

“This place needs organization,” she teased, approaching him.

“You want to clean it up?” He tossed papers into a drawer waving at the remaining piles. “Be my guest.”

She shook her head. “My office at home is the same.”

“I knew it was beyond you to be domestic. Since Ginny is gone and Lottie is busy, how about if I grill steaks for dinner?”

Her insides tightened and she tried to keep the grin to a minimum as she nodded in agreement. “I might even dazzle you with my salad making abilities.”

****

“Have you ever thought of going back to L.A.?” she asked as they sat in the living room after dinner, sipping coffee. Dinner had been enjoyable. His steaks had been succulent and he enjoyed her salad. For once they kept the conversation on their parallel lives in the city.

She was aware of how close they were on the loveseat, but it didn’t bother her. She liked the feel of his hard thigh pressing against her leg.

“I’ll never go back,” he said. “That’s no place to bring up Ginny. Carmen never liked it actually. I was the one who wanted the city. All she wanted was a home, kids, and to help others.”

Cere touched his arm lightly. “She loved you.”

“She did everything for others. For me. It was all about me. That was wrong.”

“So you’ll marry to give your daughter a mother? Now you’re doing everything for your family and giving up doing for yourself? That’s not right either.”

A corner of his lips lifted in a smile. “You speak with such certainty. Like you really know.”

“I know giving up your life is wrong. A relationship needs balance. You should both make sacrifices.”

“Maybe, but I was selfish, and it killed her. I’ll do anything for my family. I’ll make whatever sacrifices are necessary. One day you may understand sacrifice.”

“It doesn’t mean anything if all it brings is pain.”

Rafe’s hand on her hair surprised her. She turned to him, saw the fire in his eyes and moved toward him. Talk of sacrifice and pain died in her throat. He leaned forward and claimed her mouth with his, his arms wrapping around her and pulling her to him.

“Damn you,” he whispered against her ear when he broke the kiss. “You make me crazy. I didn’t want to do this, and here I am. I want you.”

She moaned and found his lips again. His hands skimmed over her until they fell on her breasts. His palms caressed them.

“I want you too. Can we stop worrying about what’s going to happen and just...”

His responding groan was his only response. He began kissing her neck, his lips trailing down from her ear to the neckline of her blouse. His tongue snaked out, outlining the V-neck. Nimble fingers unfastened her buttons, and she cried out as his lips found the bare skin at the top of her bra. Smooth hands pushed her blouse down her arms.

Cere unbuttoned his shirt, her hands enjoying the hard feel of his muscles below her fingers. She rubbed her face against the thin mat of black hair on his chest as it sent an electrifying rush through the rest of her. Her insides were growing warm, liquid, building to a fiery sea of desire.

His fingers found the catch of her bra. Her full breasts swung free into his hands, as his lips found her sensitive nipples. Again Cere cried out. Everything was forgotten but the hot touch of his lips and his hard, throbbing body against hers.

She tugged at his pants, and Rafe pulled back slightly.

“Wait.”

“No,” she moaned. “Don’t say you don’t want me.”