Once we started eating, conversation was kept to a minimum:
“Would you like some mojo?’’ he asked.
I shook my head. “Doesn’t need any sauce. It’s great just like it is.’’
“Were you planning to share the bread?’’
I offered him the basket, he took a piece.
I pointed at about a half-cup of picadillo left in the pan. “Okay if I finish it off?’’
He nodded.
Finally, I quit eating, and collapsed back against the chair. Carlos grinned at me.
“I don’t know where you put it.’’ He dabbed at my chin with a napkin. “I do see one little piece of an olive that got away, right there.’’
I ran a hand over my face, checking for any more errant morsels.
“Man, that was good.’’ I gave a satisfied sigh. “You’re going to make some lucky girl a very fine husband one day.’’
He lifted my hand to his mouth and kissed my palm. “That’s just what I intend to do. Soon, I hope.’’
Our eyes locked. His were like deep, dark pools drawing me in. I basked in this molten warmth that washed over me. It was a feeling of contentment; of safety; of love.
“Yes, soon,’’ I said. “But first … ” I threaded my fingers through the hair at the back of his head, pulling his face close to mine. “How about us enjoying some dessert?’’
He kissed me, nipping gently at my lower lip. “I couldn’t eat another bite of food,’’ he said.
“Who’s talking about food?’’ I asked.
_____
Later, as we showered together, I rubbed Carlos’s back. “How’s that?’’
“Little higher, to the right.’’
With the hot spray of water and a soapy washcloth, I worked the familiar spot at the base of his neck. All the stress of his job often parked itself right there.
“Ahhhh,’’ he said. “Gracias, niña.’’
Hearing him thank me stirred my guilty feelings again. I was so tempted to say something about Kenny, but I didn’t. First, I had to find out more about the relationship between my brother-in-law and the dead librarian. D’Vora was pretty specific about Kenny’s truck, but she could have been wrong about seeing them together. Even if she wasn’t, there could be a reasonable explanation.
Couldn’t there?
I had to talk to someone who could help me sort out what I knew. But who?
“… about the case.’’
“Sorry, what?’’ I said. “I zoned out there for a minute.’’
“I said I appreciate the fact you haven’t grilled me about the case.’’
“Camilla,’’ I murmured.
“Yes, the murder of Camilla Law.’’
“Well, it’s really none of my business.’’
“Since when has that ever stopped you?’’
I didn’t want to tell him my real reason for not trying to pick his brain. I was afraid if I did, he’d work his detective magic and end up discovering my secrets instead. I needed to create a distraction before I spilled everything I knew. I spotted a bottle on the window ledge in the shower.
“Shampoo?’’
“That depends,’’ he said. “Do I have to tip the shampoo girl?’’
“I’m sure we can think of an appropriate reward.’’
The smolder in his smile told me he’d already conjured up a fitting idea. I put away the bottle as he wrapped his strong arms around me. I was willing and eager to collect my pre-shampoo tip.
thirty-five
Henry closed the door between his office and the reception area. He opened it again a moment later, and stuck his head out to speak to Amy, the college student who helped him run his legal practice. “No phone calls, okay? My cousin and I need some uninterrupted time.’’
I’d settled on Henry as the most likely person to help me sort out what I’d come to think of as The Kenny Crisis. He knew the law, and he wouldn’t reveal anything that would harm Maddie. It wasn’t simply a question of attorney-client—or attorney-cousin—privilege. He truly cared about my sister, despite the fact that he poked fun at her like a kid with a stick every chance he got.
“You said on the phone Kenny and Maddie are in trouble. Please don’t tell me somebody’s sick.’’ He touched a golden gavel on his desk, like a talisman.
“Kenny’s running around. He’s cheating on Maddie.’’
Henry stared at me, and then gave his head a forceful shake. “I don’t believe it.’’
I outlined the evidence. As I spoke, Henry’s face betrayed his emotions: Sorrow when I told him how devastated Maddie had been when she found out. Anger when I said Kenny had left their home, simply disappeared. Finally, shock when I revealed his apparent involvement with Camilla, and how Kenny may have been among the last people to see her alive.
I’d rarely known Henry to be speechless. But there he sat, uttering nary a word. Eventually he closed his eyes, as if to clear away images of Kenny’s actions. He rubbed his hands over his face. “Well, this is one heck of a shit-storm, Mace.’’
“Tell me something I don’t know. What are we going to do about it?’’
Henry’s face turned thoughtful. He lifted the gavel from his desk, and pounded it into the center of his palm: Smack. Smack. Smack.
Before he could injure himself, I asked if he had any water. “I had picadillo for lunch,’’ I said. “Good, but the olives were salty.’’
He took a water pitcher from a small table beside his desk, turned two glasses right side up, and poured one for each of us. I wondered if he’d reach into his bottom drawer for a shot of something stronger, but he didn’t. Just as well. Clear minds would help us decide our next step.
“There’s something else, Henry.’’
His grip on the glass tightened. “It gets worse?’’
I nodded. “It’s Carlos. I haven’t told him what I found out about Kenny and Camilla, even though it’s relevant to his murder investigation.’’
“Great. One cousin’s husband might be a murderer, the other cousin could be brought up on obstructing justice charges.’’ He put down his glass and started massaging his face again.
“Can he arrest me?’’
Henry peeked at me through his fingers. “Realistically? Probably not. Technically, yes. We all remember how Carlos once tossed your mama in the slammer without a second thought.’’
He dropped his hands from his eyes, took another minute to think about it. “He’s going to raise holy hell and prop it up on a block when he finds out you’ve withheld information.’’
“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of.’’ I looked out the window; wondered what Carlos was doing at this moment. Maybe he was fondly remembering his loving interlude with his lying fiancée.
“I don’t want to hinder his investigation,’’ I continued, “but I do want to protect Maddie. If all Kenny’s guilty of is cheating, maybe they can save their marriage. That becomes a lot less likely once her husband’s name has been dragged through the mud as a murder suspect.’’
He pointed at me with the golden gavel. “If Carlos asks you a specific question about Kenny, and you lie or mislead him, you’re on shaky ground, legally.’’
“I’m going to be on shaky ground emotionally if I don’t tell him what I know. We’re engaged, Henry. It’s a trust issue.’’
We both sipped at our water. A soft knock sounded at the door. Amy looked in. Conservatively dressed and serious seeming in dark-framed glasses, she was the antithesis of the “administrative assistants’’ at the mayor’s office.
“Sorry to interrupt, but it’s after five o’clock,’’ she said. “I just wondered if you need me for anything before I go.’’
Henry thanked her, told her he’d see her in the morning. I heard the outer door close, the lock slip into place.
“There’s only one thing I can do, Henry. I have to find Kenny and prove he had nothing to do with Camilla’s death.’’
“And how are you going to do that?’’
Thinking about that question, I gazed around the room. A blue blazer hung on the back of an office chair. Law volumes crowded the bookcases. My eyes lingered on an antique radio displayed on a shelf.