All I Want Is Forever (26 page)

“Monette talks too much about some things and not enough about others,” Talia muttered.

“Answering machine. What's his cell phone number?”

This time Talia didn't bother to offer a token denial.
She gave him Derrick's mobile number. “Same area code.”

“Derrick, Jim Rand. Can we meet this afternoon at my office? Talia is here. Lunch is good. I'll order in. What do you like?”

Talia felt a rush at the prospect of seeing Derrick once more. Still, she would make sure this would be the last time. They both knew being together only made the inevitable parting more painful.

Jim hung up the phone. “So what is this plan?”

 

Derrick negotiated the busy New Orleans traffic with his mind already at Jim's office. He had resigned himself to not seeing her again. For the past three weeks he'd sweated her out of his system. Each morning he rose early, usually after a restless night. Fortunately, two old pals, both private detectives, gave him skip-tracing jobs. Every evening he exercised as though he was in training for a triathlon. Then he would sit in the hot tub at his health club. The pain was down to a manageable throbbing sensation in his chest. Not pleasant, but he could at least concentrate. His emotional shell would be tested much sooner than he'd expected.

He circled around a good fifteen minutes, searching for a parking spot. Finally, a car pulled out from a side street and he beat out a gray Lexus for the coveted space. Derrick walked the three blocks and used the extra time to shore up his defenses. When he entered the building that housed Jim's office he took a deep breath and let it out. He repeated the exercise once he was at the door. He knocked and braced himself.

Jim opened the door. “Hey, buddy. Come on in. The food should be here soon.” He clapped a hand on Derrick's shoulder.

“Sounds good. How are you doing?” Derrick nodded to him.

“Okay. What about you?” Jim wore a concerned expression as he studied Derrick's face.

“I'll survive.” Derrick flashed a grim smile that faded quickly.

“Hi, Derrick.”

“Hello.” He turned to face Talia. Might as well get a full dose right off the bat.

Talia wore a dark green and brown tweed jacket. Her chocolate brown jeans were tucked into brown riding boots. The outfit molded to her full curves. The colors made her honey brown skin seem even tastier. She lifted her chin to gaze up at him fully. Derrick forced himself not to stare into those beautiful eyes for more than a few seconds. At least not right away. More time, a small voice in his head echoed.
Sure, a couple of dozen lifetimes should do it.

“You really okay?”

“Great,” Derrick blurted out. He looked away.

“Glad you could make it,” Jim said, and sat on the edge of his desk.

“Anything else on the charges against you?” Talia asked.

“Larry just says the investigation is continuing. Which means just what it says. I'll be okay.” Derrick waved a hand. “They've got nothing.”

“What about Earl and that night?” Talia said in a low voice.

“I'm not your lawyer, and I can't claim client privilege,” Jim interrupted.

“Relax, I know. Talia, the charges have to do with divulging information not considered public record that might interfere with an open case.”

“Which also covers the obstruction of justice charge,” Jim said.

“They allege that I used my position to help Monette make a bogus claim and fed her information.
Then, knowing she was implicated in a possible murder, I kept her informed so she could fight it.” Derrick shook his head. “The only reason it works is because they found out I knew Monette years ago.”

“What made Hines change his mind about talking?” Jim asked.

“I'm not sure. One minute he wanted to give his former boss some payback, the next minute he had memory problems.” Derrick tapped a fist on the tablecloth.

“What a sleazy character!” Talia grimaced. “I'll bet he got a nice fat deposit in his bank account.”

“Try finding it. He and Barron are experts at hiding dead bodies.” Jim saw Talia wince. “Poor choice of words. Sorry.”

“It's okay. I'm over it. Mostly.” Talia smiled weakly.

Derrick gazed at her silky skin. Her fragrance, a light citrus scent, drew him like a strong magnet. He wanted to wrap his arms around Talia in a protective shield. Instead, he clasped his hand together tightly. His reaction to her proved his emotional defenses were pitifully inadequate.

Jim rubbed his forehead. “Monette will age me fifty years before this thing is over. Geez!” He took a long drink of ice tea.

Derrick let out a short laugh, then grew serious again. “So what is this plan?”

“It's more like a few red flags that might suggest a plan.” Talia squirmed in her seat when both men stared at her. “Well, don't give me those looks! I've got some ideas.”

“God, you're like Monette,” Jim muttered.

“Hush and listen,” she snapped at him. She leaned across the table and lowered her voice. “Earl was an informer, and Barron used him. Earl was a known scumbag who drifted around spreading his dirt. Why would Barron focus on his disappearance after all these years?”

“He didn't care enough to spend time or money. But then he didn't lose much of an informant.” Derrick lifted a shoulder.

Jim nodded. “Earl had served his purpose. He'd given Barron a few low-level thugs.”

“Earl disappears, and maybe his gangsta buddies did him in. Barron didn't really care. But now he has a chance to really bury Monette. Maybe Barron has always suspected she at least knew what happened to him.” Derrick sat down and stretched out his legs.

“So he broke the law,” Talia said quickly.

“Not if he didn't have solid evidence against her,” Jim replied.

“And I'm sure he didn't go looking for it. Suspicion isn't enough to launch an investigation,” Derrick added. “He can easily offer that as an explanation.”

“It will look fishy, but he's got a bigger worry. Barron is in the fight of his life.” Jim leaned forward as he spoke quietly. “He's trying to stay out of jail.”

Talia waved a hand in a gesture of impatience. “We all agree he's desperate. But here's the thing, I think he's always known more about what happened to Earl.”

Derrick shook his head. “I don't see how.”

Talia started to reply but stopped short when there was a knock on the door. They exchanged looks. Then Jim's shoulders relaxed, and he smiled.

“Talk about paranoid. I ordered lunch, remember?”

He went to the door. Derrick and he argued briefly over who would pay. Jim finally agreed to let him get half. They split the forty-dollar cost. The delicious aroma of hot, spicy Creole dishes came from the large bag. They spread the food on the round table next to a window. Yet none of them started eating. Instead they picked up where they'd left off.

“How do you figure Barron knows about Earl?” Jim
said. He took a sip of cola through the long straw.

“First, I want Derrick to tell me what happened that night. And don't get nervous, Jim. This is relevant to Monette's case.” Talia looked at him.

“A hazy legal point, but I'll go with it.” They both looked at Derrick.

“Are you sure you want me to talk about that night, Talia?”

Derrick worried about the effect on her. Talia had never been able to tolerate more than vague generalities. She nodded, a silent message in her lovely eyes. His heart turned over at the trust in them.

“I should have asked before now. It's not fair to let you carry the entire burden. Go on.” Talia sat straight, her shoulders back.

She looked so brave. Still, Derrick knew how hard this was for her. Her courage made him love her more. He nodded. “When you leave town maybe the distance will help.”

Talia glanced at the gold watch on her wrist. “My plane is taking off right about now without me.”

“What?” Derrick gazed at her in shock.

“I'm not leaving, at least not for a while.” She crossed her shapely legs. The fabric of her slacks molded to them. “So let's hear it.”

“Honey, you shouldn't hang around.” Derrick used the endearment without thinking. Her pecan brown eyes seemed to soften, though her tone remained neutral.

“I can take care of myself. Come on,” Talia prompted. “What happened?”

Derrick glanced at Jim for support. The older man shrugged. “She knows what she's doing. Let me say this before you go on. As an officer of the court, I can't be a party to concealing a crime of any kind.”

“Understood,” Talia said. She looked at Derrick.

“Of course. But it's not what you're thinking. Either of you.” Derrick rested against the cushioned chair back and returned to the past. “Earl was alive when I got back to the house.”

“What?” Talia gripped the arms of her chair.

“Oh boy,” Jim said, and dabbed perspiration from his forehead.

“When I got back Earl was moaning. He took a swing at Monette, and she hit him with a chair. On the way down he hit his head on that old table. He didn't move after that. Anyway, Monette said he wasn't breathing. Not that either of us tried CPR or dialed 911.” Derrick glanced at Jim. “Sorry.”

Talia felt as though a large rubber band was squeezing her chest. She worked hard to steady herself before she tried to speak. Derrick reached toward her but drew his hand back.

“I'm okay,” she said.

“Go on.” Jim sat forward. His dark brows pulled together as though the legal wheels in his head were already turning on a defense.

“She told me to leave. She said she'd call the police and say they'd both gotten high, Earl became abusive,” Derrick said. He glanced at Talia.

Talia's fear turned to wrath. “I can't believe this! She didn't follow through, and you covered for her.”

“I didn't know what else to do.” Derrick combed his dark curls with his long fingers.

“I'm not blaming you,” Talia said quickly. Her eyes narrowed to slits. “Monette lied.”

“And actually that story wasn't far from the truth. It might have worked. Glasper had been charged with assault and battery more than once.” Jim wore a thoughtful expression.

All three fell silent for several minutes. “So how did she get rid of the body? Monette couldn't have moved him by herself.” Talia looked from Jim to Derrick.

“I never asked. Somehow I always assumed he'd ended up under the house.” Derrick sat forward, both elbows on the table. “Remember it sat off the ground. All she had to do was pry the floor up and shove him through.”

“So Monette disposed of the body alone?” Jim shook his head. “She's not that strong, and she'd been using only hours before.”

“Somebody helped her. Now whom would she call? Someone she thought could get things done, someone with power.” Talia looked at Derrick and Jim.

“Barron wouldn't get his hands dirty.” Derrick shook his head.

“Hines? That might explain why he suddenly got amnesia.” Talia took a sip from her cup.

“He realized his butt was at risk and decided to shut up,” Jim offered.

“Barron had to have known Earl was dead. He didn't just wake up last week and say ‘Come to think of it, what happened to Earl?'” Talia frowned as she teased out the puzzle.

“He knew Monette was with Earl when he died.” Jim looked at them.

“Right. Now the question is, how much did he know?” Talia said.

“And when.” Derrick stared ahead in concentration.

“Doesn't matter,” Jim replied. “If we can uncover enough evidence to raise suspicions about Barron's behavior back then…”

“Which brings us back to my plan.” Talia sat straight when both men glanced at her sharply.

“If this involves you being in danger, then forget it,” Derrick said with a determined scowl.

“He's right. I'm sure Monette would agree.” Jim eyed her with disapproval.

Talia glared at the two men. “Listen to me, I didn't cancel my flight, suspend my career, and lose three nights of sleep just to do nothing.”

Derrick squinted at her. “Talia, I'm not going along with anything that puts you in—”

“Shut up and let me finish!” she shouted. The two men blinked in surprise. When neither spoke, Talia cleared her throat and continued in a normal tone. “We have theories and suspicions but no proof. So what do cops do when interviewing bad guys in that situation?”

“One technique is to make the suspect think they know more than they do and have evidence to back it up.” Derrick crossed his arms. “So what?”

“So we can do the same thing. Maybe Monette kept records, items from Barron's office and other things as insurance.” Talia lifted a shoulder.

“No, she didn't,” Jim said with a dubious expression. Then his eyes bulged. “Did she?”

“I don't know, but I'm going to find out. I know you can't engage in deceitful practices as a lawyer, Jim.” Talia wore a smile.

“A bluff won't work. Barron and Hines are too smart,” Derrick said. “They know Monette would have used it before now.”

“She's got a lot of old clothes and personal items stored at her sister's house in a shed. What if I went through the belongings she thought was just junk and found something? Or at least made them think so?”

“Then they'd come after you. No! End of discussion,” Derrick said firmly.

“Same here,” Jim added with a deep frown. “Forget it.”

“I'd make sure the world knew it wasn't true.” Derrick stared at her hard.

Talia struck the table hard enough to make their food containers bounce. “Then damn it,
you
come up with a plan!”

“I have a great one. You go back to D.C. and let us handle it,” Derrick snapped.

“First you make me feel guilty about leaving Monette when things get tight, now you tell me to run. I think you're nuts.”

“Yeah, crazy enough to care what happens to you. So insane that I'd rather not see you again than put you in danger,” Derrick tossed back. “Don't try to ease a guilty conscience by doing something stupid.”

“I'm going to help my mother with or without you,” Talia said calmly.

“You might as well send Barron an invitation to put a gun to your head, Talia. Use common sense,” Derrick said.

“We all want to help Monette. We're just not sure which is the best way.” Jim used the measured tone of a diplomat on the front lines. “Now think this thing through clearly.”

Talia sat down. She gave Derrick one last icy look before she turned away from him. “Fine,” she said.

“Okay.” Jim sat down again. “Talia, we need a Plan B for sure.” A tense quiet stretched for ten minutes.

“There could be something in Monette's belongings.” Derrick looked at Jim.

“Knowing Monette, she would have mentioned it by now.” Jim waved away his suggestion.

“Monette traveled light, like most folks living the street life.” Talia twisted her hands together in frustration. “Damn it, Barron is going to win!”

“I don't want you risking your license or jail.” Derrick looked at Jim with a worried frown.

“The authorities already know most of what you've told me. They've linked Monette to the case. It's a fine line, but I'll consider it privileged because she told me the basic details first.”

“Be careful. We're swimming with sharks,” Derrick warned.

“Tell me something I don't know.” Jim wore a grim smile. “My first order of business is a visit with Monette.”

“I thought she'd changed.” Talia stared at Jim. “She's been pulling crap like this for years, Jim. Join the club.”

Jim's expression softened. “Talia, Monette has changed.”

“Not enough,” Talia replied in a tart voice. Then she sighed deeply and rubbed her eyes tiredly. “I've been through this kind of drama with Monette all my life.”

“I know, I know.” Jim put a hand on her arm briefly, then withdrew it.

“I wish Monette did have some box of junk we could go through. What she didn't sell usually got left behind when we'd move. But I was a pack rat. I always hoped we'd be a family. I'd hide little things to keep her from selling them or so they wouldn't get stolen by one of her drug buddies.” Talia shook her head slowly and stood. “I'm sick of crawling around in the past.”

“I think we've raised enough questions about Barron. Maybe some of it will help,” Jim said.

“It's a long shot. Monette's track record on telling the truth is terrible, Hines won't talk, and now Barron's raking up this Earl thing.” Talia picked up her purse. “I say we hit back with every piece of dirt we can find on Barron. If you two won't help, I'll do it myself.”

“Attacking Barron will only make things worse. He's holding all the cards. We've got nothing more than guesses. Monette has more to lose,” Derrick said.

“So does Derrick, Talia,” Jim added with a sober expression.

“Barron is going to dig until he finds Earl, literally. We've got big trouble either way,” Talia countered. “I say we go down fighting.”

Derrick's irritated expression relaxed into a smile. “And you say I'm reckless. I appreciate the passion, but I can't let you do it, honey.”

“You can't stop me. Calling me ‘honey' isn't going to change my mind.” Talia started for the door when Derrick grabbed her arm.

“Wait a minute!” Derrick tugged her back.

Jim blocked the door. “Talia, be rational.”

Talia faced them both with her chin up. “Monette was never much of a mother, but she's
my
mother. I'm going to go after Barron, Perrilloux, or anybody else who tries to hurt her.”

Derrick exchanged a glance with Jim, who lifted both hands. “Okay, at least talk strategy before you charge off.” He paced for a few minutes.

“Maybe we've missed something.” Jim pulled a hand over his face.

“Stalling me won't help.” Talia crossed her arms. “I'm not going to stand by and let that high-class hoodlum—Oh!” She blinked rapidly.

“Now what?” Derrick stared at her with a dubious expression.

“All that stuff I dragged around with me as a kid!”
Talia laughed. “Those darn social workers, bless their hearts.”

“What are you talking about?” Jim exchanged a worried glance with Derrick.

“I'm not cracking under the strain, guys. Listen up.” Talia dropped her purse. “Even if home is a hellhole, having familiar items is a comfort to a kid in foster care. So, social workers would always allow me to carry my bag of junk when I moved. Like I said, I was a pack rat.”

“Okay, you've still got your favorite stuffed bunny rabbit. How does that help?” Derrick sat on the edge of Jim's desk.

“Funny guy,” Talia retorted. “I kept Monette's old address book and some other stuff.”

“Another long shot, but it's better than nothing.” Jim looked at Derrick. “I'll go talk to Monette. You and Talia search through her ‘bag of junk.' Maybe we'll get lucky working both angles.”

“Let's go.” Talia started for the door. She stopped when Derrick didn't follow her. “Well?”

“I'll let you look through your things, Talia,” he said quietly. “I'll follow up on a few other leads and get back to Jim.”

“Oh.” Talia cleared her throat. “Yeah, that might work better anyway.”

“Right.” Derrick turned away from her. “I'll call you if I find out anything, Jim.”

Jim glanced at Talia, then back to Derrick. “Sure. Maybe you two could compare notes later on. I know Monette will feel better if you work together.”

“I've got a few other private contracts to work. I'll be in touch though. Bye.” He walked out before either of them could reply.

“I tried,” Jim mumbled, and scratched his head. “I'm a pretty clumsy Cupid.”

“You're a sweet guy for a lawyer,” Talia said with a sad smile. “Our problems go a lot deeper than any Cupid could fix. I'm going to go home, change clothes, and root around a dusty attic.”

Talia patted his shoulder and left the office. The drive back to Rougon was long and lonely. She turned the radio up until music was blasting. For the next fifty miles she didn't want to think.

 

“I don't know why you don't call him,” Mama Rose said for the tenth time in the past hour. She sat in an old cane chair next to Talia in her attic.

Talia sneezed when dust flew everywhere as she pulled out another box. “You need to have a serious garage sale.” She grunted with the effort of shoving aside an old trunk.

Mama Rose held up a huge ceramic rooster painted a strange shade of pink. She went to the small circular window and examined it in the light. “These are heirlooms.”

“I'm sure the Smithsonian would beg for
that
thing. I'd like to point out that you've got these ‘heirlooms' hidden in the attic.” Talia sneezed again.

“Don't be a smart aleck. And you should call Derrick. Not that you listen to me these days. If you ask me, you both should get out of this state.” Mama Rose wrapped the rooster in an old blanket and set it aside carefully.

Talia held a shoe box stuffed with papers on her lap. She sat on a short squat stool that had been owned by Mama Rose's great-aunt. The woven tapestry that covered the cushioned seat was still comfy, though faded and moth-eaten. Under different circumstances, Talia might have enjoyed searching through Mama Rose's collectibles.

“Derrick and I have talked, argued, made up, and
talked some more. Let it go.” Talia put the shoe box aside and picked up another one. “We have.”

“Bull! You're both hurting and too proud to reach out. Love is too hard to find in this world to just throw it away so easily.” Mama Rose shook a forefinger at Talia.

“You've been watching those Lifetime movies again,” Talia tossed back.

“You know I'm right.” Mama Rose was not deterred by her sarcasm.

“Mama, I appreciate your love and concern. But Derrick and I are adults, who can handle our own issues,” Talia said.

Mama Rose looked out of the window and smiled. “Of course, sugar. I'm sure you can.”

“That was easy.” Talia examined a stack of old letters.

“I'll get the front door.” Mama Rose left, humming a tune.

“I didn't hear anything.” Talia glanced up in time to see her disappear down the narrow stairs. Seconds later the door chimes sounded. “Now she's psychic and a relationship expert, too.”

Talia brushed a thick layer of dirt from the top of a vintage hatbox. She removed the lid and found stacks of receipts from the sixties. Mumbling about Mama Rose's penchant for holding on to useless paper, she dropped it. A familiar object caught her eye. The leg of a stuffed toy the color of swamp mud stuck out of a cheap blue overnight case.