How he missed hearing do-re-mi!
25
Wednesday, July 12, 11:45 A.M.
Good Shepherd Cemetery, Las Piernas
The graveside service began under a hot July sun that made the black-veiled woman sway from the heat. No, Frank decided, it wasn’t the heat that made her sway. Although she held the boy’s hand firmly, she seemed distracted, more upset than at the church. The boy continued to watch Frank. It might have unnerved him to have anyone else regard him so fixedly, but there was nothing hostile or even overly curious in the boy’s stare. It was as if the grave between them formed a much deeper chasm, and the boy was willing him to find a place to cross. For what reason, Frank could not begin to guess.
He was wondering again if the boy could be Lefebvre’s son when movement several yards away caught his attention. A large, neatly dressed man sought the sparse shade of a jacaranda tree. There was deeper shade nearer to the grave, but the man seemed to want to keep his distance. He was wearing wraparound sunglasses and looked down in a slightly different direction often enough to make Frank briefly wonder if the man was there not for the funeral, but to visit a grave. Something about him made the hair on the back of Frank’s neck rise — the way he stood, the way he moved, the way he watched the mourners. Frank looked to see if Reed or Pete had noticed him and saw that they were as attuned to the man as he was. It was then that Frank noticed that the man was looking down and away not toward a gravestone, but to avert his face from the camera whenever Reed moved it toward him.
Reed’s presence was not obvious, but the man knew where he was. Matt Arden also knew. Now Frank saw that Arden was watching the man beneath the jacaranda, too.
The large stranger stood straighter and walked away. Pete followed him.
The priest was sprinkling the casket with holy water when a high-pitched, electronic ringing rent the air. As the rest of the group near the grave looked on in irritation and disbelief, Tory Randolph pulled a phone from her purse.
“Hi,” she said in a loud voice. “I’m so glad you called me back. I’ve been trying to reach you about the material for the draperies in the guest cottage. Have you—”
But before she could get any further in her drapery order, the woman in the black veil marched over to her, grabbed the phone from her hand, and pitched it onto the nearby pavement with a force and accuracy that could have won her a place in the Dodgers’ starting lineup.
“Hey!” Tory protested. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Today is not about you,” the woman said angrily.
“Do I know you?” Tory said.
Frank began moving toward them, wondering if they were going to start a shoving match right here in the cemetery.
“Get out of here,” the woman said. “Get out now.”
Tory put her hands on her hips. “Just a—”
“Apologize,” Dale Britton said to his wife with surprising firmness.
Tory eyed him angrily but said nothing.
“Very well, then, I will.” He turned to the veiled woman. “We apologize. It was incredibly rude to create a disturbance at a time like this. I’m sorry, Ms.—?”
“I’ll send money for the phone,” she said, not telling him her name.
“That won’t be necessary. Our condolences to your family.”
He took Tory by the arm and steered her toward their gold Lexus. She got into the driver’s seat and pulled away from the curb almost before he was able to get into the car. Frank noticed that Britton had slammed part of his suit coat in the door — several inches of dark blue fabric waved along the side of the car as Tory sped away.
The assembled guests murmured, but the ceremony ended without further disturbance. The family group stayed behind as most of the mourners left. Irene moved a little distance away to give the family some privacy.
He looked for Pete, but didn’t see him. Pete had apparently followed the jacaranda man. Reed signaled to Frank that he was going, too.
The woman in the veil and Matt Arden were talking with someone from the funeral home, choosing which flowers would be taken with them. Yvette Nereault walked over to Frank. “So — I am saying good-bye to you. I go back home today. You have my phone number there, I know. I’ll wait to hear what you learn.”
While she was talking, Frank became aware of someone coming closer, to stand next to him. When he looked down, he was not surprised to see the boy.
Yvette said something to the boy in French. He answered, looking stubborn. He moved even closer to Frank.
“Won’t you introduce me to your nephew?” Frank said, putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. Yvette Nereault was unable to hide her surprise. The boy gave a small smile of triumph.
Behind them, a woman’s voice said, “Don’t say another word to him!”
Frank turned to see the veiled woman. Matt Arden stood next to her.
“It’s too late,” Arden said to her. He studied Frank, then said, “If we can count on your confidence — we can introduce him.”
“Confidence from the department?” Frank asked, feeling the ground shift beneath his feet as surely as if he had stepped backward and into the grave.
“Especially from the department,” the woman said.
He hesitated. Make a pledge like that to someone whose face he couldn’t see? He was fairly sure he knew who she was, and could guess at her reasons for wanting secrecy, but he wasn’t willing to offer that promise to a stranger. “I don’t know if I can guarantee that under every circumstance—”
“My name is Seth Lefebvre,” the boy announced clearly. “I’m not ashamed of it! My father was a hero. That’s what everyone said. I’m proud to be Seth Lefebvre.”
“Seth?” Frank said, startled.
“Seth,” Matt Arden said at the same moment, but in a pained voice. “Of course you’re proud, but what you just did is dangerous. You should have let your mother decide.”
“He knows,” Seth said, looking up at Frank. “You said ‘your nephew.’ I didn’t even tell you. You knew the day you helped me catch My Dog, didn’t you? You tried to call on the phone.”
“Yes,” Frank said. “I wasn’t certain, though. Mr. Arden is right, your mother is only trying to protect you from danger.” He turned to her. “Elena Rosario?”
“Yes,” she said quietly, but not lifting the veil.
“I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”
“And I’ve been wanting to talk to you!” Seth said. “Just ask Tante Yvette.”
Yvette Nereault was the only one of the group besides Seth who was smiling. “You know, Seth, I would not need to use DNA testing to know you are my brother’s child.” To Elena, she said, “He will decide his own course, you know, just like his father. And God help anyone who tries to sway him from it. If you don’t mind, Elena, I think it would be best to invite Detective Harriman back to the condo. We should not allow Seth to have his important discussion here in the open.”
“It seems I don’t have any say in the matter.” Elena held out a hand to her son. “All right, let’s go, Seth.”
Seth didn’t budge. “You promise?” he asked his mother.
“Yes, I promise. Now please…”
Seth started to move away from Frank but looked up at him and said, “You can come to my house?”
“Yes, I’ll be there in a little while,” Frank said.
“You know where it is,” Elena said acidly.
Frank let that go by. “Yes.”
“Good,” she said. “Try to make sure you aren’t followed.”
“Elena,” Arden protested, “there’s no need to insult the man.”
She stiffened, then walked off. Seth called to her and ran after her. Yvette sighed, then followed.