In fact, as harsh as this sounds, I wondered if my mother even knew who my father was. But that was for another day.
Carlito began to rise, jamming his hands back into his hoodie pocket. “Well, thank you for your time, Miss Cartwright. It was a total long shot, but now that I’ve said it out loud, it sounds kinda desperate.”
But I waved him back to his seat. He looked like he could use a friend and if he wasn’t ready to confide in Liza just yet, at least he could talk to me and ease some of his troubles.
“Nah, not desperate at all. And why don’t you sit a spell with me? We can watch the sunset. Plus, I have the best ever cheesecake in the fridge. Want a slice?” I’d bet he was hungry, seeing as he was low on cash and living in that dreary hotel.
“Why don’t you let me get it for us and you rest?”
“Okay. He’s a nice bloke,” Win muttered, obviously displeased he was forced to approve of Liza’s choice, but approving nonetheless.
I smiled. “That’d be really nice, Carlito. So are you really transferring to Washington U or was that just something you made up to keep your secret?” I worried he’d up and go back to Idaho, leaving Liza heartbroken.
As he opened the fridge, Carlito turned and smiled at me. “I’m really doing it. It was time for me to leave my hometown and spread my wings, as you adults are always saying. I like it here. So I’m staying for now.”
I snorted. “As us adults say? I’ll have you know, whippersnapper, I’m only ten years older than you. I was still watching cartoons when you were born.” And making my own breakfast, and putting myself to bed.
He chuckled, balancing the cheesecake on his palm as I pointed to the stack of paper plates and plastic forks I kept on hand until we had a dishwasher in the kitchen. Or running water, for that matter. “Sorry. I keep putting my foot in my mouth today, don’t I? First it was a sledgehammer, now it’s your age.”
As we chatted, I warmed more and more to Carlito. He was a nice kid. A nice kid who just wanted to know where he came from.
As someone who wondered the same thing, I couldn’t fault him for that.
* * * *
“Interesting day, huh, Spy-In-Training?”
Yawning, I nodded, pulling the covers up under my chin. “And long. Very long. In the course of one day, I got beat up again, broke my butt, got reacquainted with Sandy McNally and her big rock, had a run-in with Bianca, and finally identified Tito’s long-lost son.”
“He wasn’t lost. He was just never claimed. Isn’t that illegitimate, Dove?”
My nose wrinkled in response as I gazed out the window at the lights on the Puget. “I hate that word. It’s so callous. How can you be less legit just because your father ran off with someone else?”
“It’s a very Dark Ages term. But I hear a tint of bitterness in your voice. Is there a reason?”
Win’s aura surrounded me, much the way it always did when he thought I was upset. But I wasn’t upset or very bitter anymore. I’d long ago given in to the idea that my mother, Dita, was never going to tell me my father’s identity simply because she was too ashamed to admit she didn’t know it.
My mother didn’t have much shame, but over the years, if she’d ever had any shame at all, it lay solely with whom my father was.
“I’m not bitter about it anymore. At least I don’t think I am. I’m finding things resurfacing these days that haven’t troubled me in a long time. Maybe it’s all the life changes.”
“You speak in riddles, Grasshopper. Explain, please.”
Tucking my fist under my chin, I rolled to my side, careful not to disturb Belfry, who slept on a heating pad next to my head. “I don’t know who my father is. I guess Carlito’s predicament just reminded me of that.”
The warmth around me increased. Win’s way of soothing me, I’d come to find. “Bloody hell, Stevie. I didn’t know. I’m sorry. But your mother…she never told you who he was?”
I closed my eyes, fighting off the feelings I’d thought I’d left behind. “Nope.”
“I take it you don’t get along with your mother?”
“That’s putting it mildly,” Belfry chimed in, his wings rustling at my ear. “If you put World War One and Two in a pot, added all of Hiroshima and a dash of The Battle of The Bulge, you might just touch the tip of not getting along.”
“It’s true. My mother and I have our differences. So I understand where Carlito’s coming from in a way. Though, it sounds like good people raised him—even if his mother didn’t tell him the man who was presented as his father wasn’t his biological parent.”
“I’ll admit, he seems quite well adjusted. I’m not a
fan
of admitting that, but there it is,” Win said.
“And he likes Liza, which is important. It means we don’t have to kill him,” Belfry said sleepily.
Hunkering down, I resigned myself to the fact that we weren’t going to find Tito’s killer today. “I think we have to call it a day and start over tomorrow. I don’t know where else to look or what we’ve missed, but maybe the morning will bring some fresh thoughts, and we do have Tito’s funeral to attend.”
My stomach jolted and my chest tightened almost unbearably at the thought. I didn’t want to say goodbye. I didn’t want to go to a place where I knew heartache would drench the event in visible, palatable sorrow.
But I would.
Because even if my Taco Man was a cheater, I still couldn’t help but love him, and I wanted to help his family move forward—even Bianca.
“Then I’ll leave you to your rest. Sweetest of dreams, Dove.”
I smiled into the darkness at the familiar nightly routine we’d created. “Night, Win. Stay off of Plane Disco, would you, please? No late-night Locomotion. We need you sharp tomorrow. Eyes and ears peeled. Maybe we’ll find a new suspect.”
His laughter, rather than a confirmation he’d behave, rang in my ear as I drifted off to sleep.
A
wet tongue lashed at my face just before I heard Win in my ear.
“Dog, no! We discussed this, did we not? When introducing yourself to your new mistress, you must do so with aplomb. Not slather her with your slobber! That’s no way to treat a lady, bloke!”
My nose twitched with the scent of wet dog and saliva.
So I kept my eyes closed because that couldn’t be right. Besides, my neck ached today, taking over the lead from my caboose.
There was another long lick and a snort. Okay, couldn’t ignore this anymore.
“Win? When I open my eyes, will there be a dog there?”
“Good morning, Dove.”
Oh, I knew that tone. It was the tone that said he’d somehow managed to talk Belfry into changing the already-hashed-out color for the parlor yet again because he’s a fickle pickle.
“Answer the question, Spy Guy.”
“Define ‘dog’.”
“Four legs, comes in many varieties, shapes and sizes, occasionally known to eat their own poop.”
“Then I reply with sort of.”
“Sort of? How can there
sort of
be a dog there? There either is or there isn’t. It’s not a trick question.”
“Well, I wouldn’t define this handsome, nay, dare I say,
majestic
beast as a dog. That’s too little. Too underqualified a word. Though, while he certainly has four legs, I’m unclear as to whether he eats his own poop.”
Okay, there was no choice. I had to open my eyes.
When I did, I got a quick glimpse of this “majestic beast” before he was on the bed, muddy, sopping-wet paws and all.
“Oomph!” I protested before Mr. Majestic was on top of me, bathing my face with kisses. I held my hands up and bracketed his enormous head to take a good look at his face. A St. Bernard, for sure. He was a bit older, no doubt. The graying around his muzzle told the story, but his eyes, his soulful, chocolatey eyes spoke to me, peered into my gaze with warmth.
“Win? What have you done?”
He cleared his throat. “Soo, it went like this: Whilst you slept soundly, dreaming the dreams of the content, I took a stroll down by the Sound. Lovely morning, by the way. Beautiful sunrise, all purple and pink. Anyway, as I strolled, I watched a horrible woman bring this beautiful, terrified creature to the edge of the Sound, coaxing him in a cutesy voice. Once he’d realized there was water, where all good puppies like this one love to splash about, he became excited. She, on the other hand, literally turned tail and ran away from him, hopped into her overrated Range Rover and drove off, leaving Dog to wonder what bus just hit him. It was unconscionable.”
I gasped in horror. I’d never understand how anyone could do such a heinous thing as abandon a pet. To leave them all alone to face the world after having a warm bed and food in their bowls made me spitting mad. But…
“What a dreadful, horrible, despicably inhumane thing to do.”
“The despicablest, inhumanest, in my opinion.”
“Did you get her plate number? Let’s hunt her down and attach those jumper cables we’re always talking about to her toes then drop her in the Puget head first.”
Mr. Majestic burrowed his head against my shoulder and groaned. As I tucked him closer, stroking his huge, soaking-wet body, he began to melt into my side. Which, I admit, was kinda nice.
“I did not. I was too focused on Dog and his well-being. It took me over an hour to get him to trust me enough to talk him off the ledge and lead him back here.”
Mr. Majestic harrumphed a snort as though agreeing with Win.
“He can hear you?”
Win whistled and called out, “Dog? Who’s a good boy? Who’s the best boy ever?” His tone, all saccharine sweet, made me giggle. Who knew Spy Guy had a soft place in his heart for animals?
But Dog responded by sitting up, instantly looking in the direction Win’s voice had come from.
I scrubbed his head with the flat of my palm, dropping a kiss on the top of his broad skull, stinky fur and all. “So it’s true, then? Dogs really are attuned to the afterlife, huh, buddy? I’ve never encountered something like this before. Not in all my years as a medium.”
“So can we keep him, Mom? Huh-huh?” Win asked as though he were twelve, making me smile.
“
What
is that?” Belfry squeaked, pushing his way back up against my bed-head.
“It’s a puppy, Bel. Isn’t he cute?” I cajoled, squeezing the dog’s cheeks.
“He smells like pee and desperation. Not cute.”
“Aw, come now, bloke. You’d smell too if you were abandoned on the side of the road. Poor guy. Look at him. He’s just a big ol’ smooshy face, isn’t he?” Win cooed.
Dog noted Bel’s presence and immediately used his wet nose to sniff him, giving him a big swipe of his tongue in approval before sitting back and crossing his front paws.
“Gak!” Bel sputtered his distaste, rolling backward. “That’s no puppy. It’s King Kong disguised as a dog.”
I scooped Bel up and held him in my palm, keeping him just far enough away from the dog so he could see him. “But look at him, Bel. Look at that face. How can you resist?”
“Well, his breath for starters, that’s how. I’ll call Liza and have her book a dental and a bath pronto. She knows that vet in town. Went to school with his daughter, I think I heard her say.”
I fought a smile. Liza thought Bel was my virtual assistant who lived in Connecticut. They talked to each other all the time, arranged my Madam Zoltar appointments, helped to keep me on task.
“So he can stay?” Win asked, his voice more excited than I’d ever heard before.
I pushed my way up to a sitting position, my butt feeling decidedly better this morning. “First we have him checked for a chip. Who knows, maybe that appalling woman is a jealous girlfriend and she plans to tell her BF that Dog escaped. Also, if he’s not chipped, then we can only keep him if we give him a better name than Dog. And a bath. He needs a bath.”
“He needs a power wash,” Bel chirped, inching his way toward Dog’s wet snout by using his wings for leverage.
“Bloody good then!” Win agreed.
I ran my finger over Bel’s head before I hoisted myself out from under Dog and planted my feet on the floor to get a really good look at him. He covered the other half of my queen-size bed, his rust and white fur matted with mud. But he was precious. Beautiful. And I found myself already visualizing in my mind long walks with him on the beach.
Planting my hands on my hips, I then gave some thought to how hungry he must be after his trauma-filled morning. “Bet he eats a lot.”
“I hope he doesn’t eat me!” Belfry squeaked.
Tossing Bel upward with his nose, Dog somehow managed to roll my tiny familiar onto his big head, where Bel gripped his fur with his little bat hands.
“We’ll need food. I imagine a lot of it. Good thing the driveway’s almost done. If we’re going to have a dog, no way am I carrying food for one this size up those crumbling stairs. Must’ve been fate that you so generously agreed to the exorbitant cost of concrete, eh, Spy Guy?”
I knew wherever Win was, he was rolling his eyes. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Dove. Now, on to today’s events. Tito’s funeral. I don’t relish this for you.”
Instantly, my heart sank, but I made my way out of the bedroom with Dog in tow, not nearly as stiff as I thought I’d be after yesterday’s butt injury, and down the stairs to find no Enzo, but a wonderful pot of coffee brewing.
When Enzo is done with renovations, I’m pretty sure I’m going to die.
Pouring an aromatic cup into the mug Enzo always left for me, I caught sight of the headline from the
Ebenezer Falls Herald
and gawked.
Local Food Truck Owner’s Daughter Questioned in Murder Investigation
.
All the air escaped my lungs in a rush of surprise. “Oh no… What do you suppose made them bring Bianca in for questioning? And on the day before her father’s funeral? I know she sucks bags of rocks, but I can’t believe she murdered Tito, Win. I just can’t.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if they bring Maggie in, too, Stevie. Isn’t it standard procedure to question the spouse? Stats say it’s quite common.”
“Well, the
Herald
isn’t much help, that’s for sure. Few new details in this article other than its officially now being investigated as a murder, and they were more specific about cause of death this time. It says Tito ingested so much cheese he aspirated it. Clearly he didn’t dunk his own head in a vat of cheese. So, duh. Anyone who has two brain cells knows that.”