“Did you tell him?” asked Theo.
“Tell him what?”
“That Brian isn’t your kid?”
“Didn’t have to. No one ever told him he was mine. Not me, not Lindsey.”
Theo put a hand on Jack’s shoulder, giving him a friendly shove. “Hey, man, I’m sorry it turned out like this.”
“No problem. I’m okay with it.”
Jack had been glad to find out the truth, though he didn’t condone Theo’s tactics. When Jack had visited the Pintado house during the trial, Alejandro had told him how worried they’d been for Brian’s safety after some fool had stolen his backpack. That fool turned out to be Theo. Unbeknownst to Jack, Theo’d snatched the boy’s backpack from under the bleachers at soccer practice. Inside, there was a goal tender’s protective mouthpiece, which contained more than enough traces of saliva for a DNA test. It took weeks to get the lab results, and Theo didn’t tell Jack about it until after they were in.
“I’ve been wondering,” said Jack. “The lab needed my DNA to make the comparison. What’d you end up giving them? Or should I say, what did you end up taking from me?”
“Well, uh…”
“What?”
“I actually got your sample first. Sort of had a doctor help me out with that.”
“A doctor?” Jack stopped cold. Just one night in town on her way from Africa to L.A., and Dr. Wham-Bam-Thank-You-Jack was suddenly in the middle of it all. “Damn it, Theo. Why’d you go and drag Rene into this?”
“What are friends for?”
Jack considered it, as if it were high time someone actually answered that question. “Let me get back to you on that one, okay, buddy?”
They walked in silence for a moment, then Theo seemed to read Jack’s mind. “You knew even before I told you about it, didn’t you, Jack? You knew Brian wasn’t yours.”
“I wouldn’t say that. Lindsey had me pretty convinced.”
“Personally, I never saw that much of a resemblance between you and Brian. I think you wanted it to be true, so you saw it when she showed you those pictures.”
“Maybe. But I still had my moments of doubt. I suppose that’s why I never told her that Jessie had left a nice inheritance for the boy she’d given up for adoption.”
“Nice?” said Theo, his voice almost shrill. “As I recall, she left him everything she had, including that settlement on her life insurance policy. That’s more than nice.”
The shady footpath gave way to sun-baked asphalt. Jack looked around for his car. Even after all this time, he half expected to see the old Mustang.
Theo said, “So, now what do you do, Jacko? Even though Brian’s not your son, he’s still Jessie’s. Which means he’s still entitled to her inheritance.”
“I know.”
“So when do you tell Alejandro about the cash windfall?”
“I’ll let Jessie’s estate handle that. I’ll call the lawyer on Monday. And tell her we finally found Jessie’s heir.”
Jack opened the car, got inside. Theo slid into the passenger seat, and their doors closed simultaneously.
“You think Jessie knew all along that the kid wasn’t yours?”
Jack considered it. “No. I think she managed to convince herself that he was mine. For whatever reason.”
Theo flipped down the sun visor and checked his reflection. He seemed utterly fascinated with the fact that Jack’s rental car had a light-up mirror that worked. “Why don’t we ask God what he thinks?”
“What?” said Jack as he started the car.
“It’s a special offer, limited time only. The last guy to get a chance like this totally blew it, so don’t you screw up. God has decided to let you ask Him just one question. What’s it going to be?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Maybe you want to ask Him something like, ‘Did Jessie know you weren’t the father when she filled out that birth certificate, or didn’t she?’ ”
“I don’t like this game.”
“Then think of something else to ask. Come on. What’s your one question?”
“Okay. How about, Why did my mother have to die?”
Theo made a face, as if he’d just sucked lemons. “Shee-it, man. You’re such a fucking downer sometimes, you know that, Swyteck?”
“You’re the one who brought it up.”
“Yeah, but-damn. A few more people like you in the world, poor God’s gonna end up on Prozac.”
“Okay, smart ass. What would your one question be?”
“Whattaya havin’?”
“Huh?”
“Whattaya havin’? As in to drink, moron. That’s what I’d ask Him.”
“God gives you one question, and all you want to know is what He’d like to drink?”
“Isn’t that the way all great conversations get started?”
Jack shook his head and backed the car out of the parking spot.
Theo looked at him and said, “So, Jack: Whattaya havin’?”
Jack hit the brake, then shifted in to gear. “It’s eleven o’clock in the morning.”
“True, true. It’s getting late. But if we start with tequila for lunch, we could easily be talking to God by dinnertime. With any luck, you could have an answer to that one question before sunset.”
Jack shot him a bemused expression. “You’re a sick man, Theo.”
Theo checked the light-up mirror one more time, smiling at himself as Jack drove out of the parking lot. “Yeah. I am, ain’t I?”
Acknowledgments
August 2004 marks the tenth anniversary of the publication of my first novel, The Pardon. I’m old school, and I think relationships matter. So, nine novels later I feel lucky to say that they were all published by the same publisher (HarperCollins), represented by the same agents (Richard Pine and, now in spirit, Artie Pine), and shaped by editors I like and respect (the last seven by Carolyn Marino, who adopted this orphan).
Even more important, 2004 marks the tenth anniversary of marriage to a woman who was willing to take a ride with a lawyer who wanted to be a writer. I probably never would have had the guts to quit my day job, so thank God that the love of my life turned out to be an English literature major who simply said “Go for it, honey.” So I did. And so did you, Tiff. I’d say “All’s well that ends well,” but this will never end.
I’m also grateful to many others who answered my cries for help in writing and researching Hear No Evil, including the American Speech Language Hearing Association; the Cuban-American National Federation; Carlos Sires (interviews and translation); Steve Sawatzky (Mustang expert); Tito at Galiano’s Market (Cuban food); Dr. Gloria M. Grippando and Eleanor Rayner (manuscript comments); and Michelle Starke, M.D. (obstetrics). Others prefer to remain anonymous, but I’m equally grateful to them.
In support of a good cause, I’ve named a character in Hear No Evil after Janis Wackenhut, the winner of a fund-raising auction for the Gold-Diggers, Inc. The Gold-Diggers is a nonprofit organization that has raised over one million dollars for the benefit of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society of America, Inc., Southern Florida Chapter, and the Food for Life Network. It’s a beautiful thing when the arts can feed the hungry and fight disease.
About the Author
JAMES GRIPPANDO is the bestselling author of eight novels-Last to Die, Beyond Suspicion, A King’s Ransom, Under Cover of Darkness, Found Money, The Abduction, The Informant, and The Pardon-which are enjoyed worldwide in nineteen languages. He lives in Florida, where he was a trial lawyer for twelve years. Visit his Web site at www.jamesgrippando.com.
