The Breakthrough (3 page)

Jack shrugged. “I wouldn’t have if this one hadn’t forced me to go with her, but yeah, I do. Seems a little convenient, sticking old mistakes under the blood, but if it works for you—”

“Jack!” Margaret said, suddenly engaged again. “Let her answer.”

Jack raised his brows and gazed back at Haeley. “The floor is yours. Tell me what could have possibly attracted you to that white trash.”

“All right,” Margaret said, “now I need to let Haeley talk, but you happen to be in love with white trash.”

“Oh, come on,” Jack said. “You have a little redneck in you, but you’re a far cry from white trash.”

“He was convenient,” Haeley said.

“Convenient?”

“Listen, Jack, you’re one of my favorite people in the world. And though I don’t owe you any explanations, and I’d like to think a true friend wouldn’t ask for one, I’m going to talk about this one last time. Then if you ever ask me about it again, not only am I not going to answer, but I’m going to be angry with you. Understood?”

“Fair enough.”

“Now, hear me, I’m not blaming what I did on anyone else. I could say my too-strict parents drove me to this, but no, I own it. Other people were raised the way I was, and they didn’t rebel. They became better for it, and they’re raising their kids healthier. That’s what I want to do too, but that’s not what I chose when I was young and stupid.”

“Is that enough, Jack?” Boone said. “This is supposed to be a fun day.”

“It’s all right, Boone,” Haeley said. “Let me get through this for Mr. Nosy Badge, and then I’ll be forever done with it.”

“Mr. Nosy Badge!” Jack said, chortling. “I need to get that onto my business card!”

“Maybe they can give you a nose pin for your uniform,” Margaret said.

That made Boone laugh.

“So here’s the bottom line,” Haeley said. “DeWayne carried himself like an athlete, had some old sports stories. He wasn’t what I would call handsome, but he looked okay in a rough sort of way. I didn’t like his booze breath, his smoking, his personality, any of it. But before I found out what he was really like, I had already turned my back on everything I knew. He showed me attention, and he was everything I wasn’t. No rules, no standards, did what he wanted, and didn’t care what anybody else thought.

“Was that attractive? In a sick way, yeah. I was someone I had never been, so part of me hoped my parents would find out and be horrified. And they were. That God let a beautiful son come out of all that ugliness is just a miracle.

“As soon as DeWayne knew I was expecting, that’s the last I heard from him or even about him until he was deposed for the case. Tell you the truth, I couldn’t believe all it took was a pregnancy to get rid of that bum. Till that night, what was it, Boone, ten days ago or so?”

“So that’s it?” Jack said.

“That’s it. It wasn’t about him; it was about me. And it seems like a million years ago, yet not long enough; know what I mean?”

“
I
do,” Margaret said.

“Thanks for being a good sport,” Jack said. “Sometimes I get curious and—”

“Tell me about it,” Margaret said. “Now I’d love for you two to stay friends, so can you leave it alone now?”

“Forever?” Haeley said. “Please.”

“Just one more question . . .”

“Jack!” Margaret said.

“You promised,” Haeley said.

“I just gotta know. Am I really one of your favorite people in the world?”

“Well, you were, but now you’re going to have to reapply, and the decision of the judges will be final.”

As Boone neared the Galloways’ modest bungalow, Margaret said, “I owe Boone a conversation too.”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“’Course I do. I know you’re curious, and I promised. Trouble is, I need permission to do it in private. I mean, not private private, but just the two of us, maybe just sittin’ apart from everybody else later this afternoon. Jack, you or Haeley got any problem with that?”

“Fine with me,” Jack said. “I’ve heard it all before and didn’t like it then. You sure you want to bore him with this?”

“It won’t bore him, Jack, ’cause he’ll understand it.”

“I understand it. I just—”

“Don’t like it; yeah, we got that. You don’t like it because you lost something you liked. Now you’ve got to play your cards right.”

“I’m curious too,” Haeley said, “but Boone can tell me later, if it’s all right with you.”

“I’d never tell a spouse to keep anything from the other,” Margaret said.

“Will you watch this with me, Aunt Flo?” Max said.

“Sure, honey. Everything’s in the oven and will be for a coupla hours. What you watching?”

“
SpongeBob
,” he said.

“We watched that before, haven’t we?”

“Yeah! I like it.”

“Me too. It’s silly, but I like it.”

Florence had just settled in next to Max when her intercom buzzed. She rocked her way off the couch and waddled over to it.

“I’ll pause it,” Max said.

“No, no, I seen this part. You go ahead. I’ll just be a second.” Florence mashed the button. “Yes?”

“Yes, ma’am, young fella down here in the lobby to see you.”

“Who is it?”

“Says it’s a surprise.”

“I’m not ’specting no surprises, Willie. And I’m busy.”

“That’s why they’re surprises, ma’am. ’Cause you’re not expecting ’em. Should I let him up?”

“What’d I just say? Don’t you be lettin’ strangers up in here. What he look like? He from my church?”

She could hear the young man in the background. “No, sir, but tell Mrs. Quigley I got her name and address from her pastor.”

“What’s he want?”

“Maybe if you could just come down and talk to him . . .”

“All right, but it’s got to be quick.”

Florence made her way back to Max. “You be all right here for a minute? I’m gon’ lock the door, and you don’t open it to anybody, hear? I got my key, and I’ll be right back.”

In the lobby Florence found a sunburned young man with a buzz cut and wearing Army fatigues tucked into spit-shined boots. He approached smiling and held out his hand. She slowly offered hers but left it limp as he shook it.

“And who might you be?” she said.

“You don’t see the resemblance, ma’am?”

“To who?”

“To my sister, ma’am. I’m Alfonso Lamonica, but you may call me Al.”

Florence cocked her head and studied him. “Haeley never told me ’bout no brother.”

Alfonso laughed. “She wasn’t supposed to, ma’am. I was on a classified assignment. Did she ever ask prayer for an ‘unspoken request’?”

“Many times! That was for you?”

“Reckon it was, ma’am.”

“I’ll be! Now stop with the
ma’am
stuff, will ya? Making me sound old. I’m Florence, but you can call me Aunt Flo if you want to.”

“I’ll stick with Florence, ma’am, for now. I just wanted to tell you that Haeley does not know I’m back from Afghanistan, and—”

“Now just hold on. Maybe you’re who you say you are, and maybe you ain’t. You got any proof a who you are?”

“Of course, ma’am—Florence.”

Alfonso produced a South Carolina driver’s license and a military ID. Florence took the ID and held it next to his face. He smiled.

“You wasn’t smiling when this was taken.”

“I wasn’t too happy,” he said, and appeared to force a comical frown. It matched the picture.

“Well, welcome home,” Florence said. “And thank you for your service. What can I do for you?”

“Tell you what I’d like more than anything else in the world, ma’am. I’d like to meet my first and only nephew, and I’d like you to shoot a picture of him and me I can send to Haeley. Then, just about the time she’s getting it, I’ll be at her door.”

Florence grinned. “That sounds like a wonderful surprise. You know where she lives?”

“Oh, yes. I went by there, hoping to surprise everybody at once and meet her husband, but they were gone. She’d written me about her church, so I tried there and met the pastor, Reverend Waters. He told me where to find you.”

“How much time you got? We’re gonna eat here in a little while, and I’d love you to join us.”

“That’d be wonderful, ma’am. Florence. When will Haeley and Boone come and get Max?”

“Tomorrow. Mid-mornin’, I believe.”

“That would be even a better time for me to surprise her!”

“I’d love to see that.”

As they headed toward the elevator, Alfonso nodded to Willie. “Nice to meet you, sir, and thanks so much for your assistance.”

“Yes, sir,” Willie said, saluting.

Max didn’t seem to have moved a muscle when Florence entered her apartment again, Alfonso hidden behind her ample frame. “You ever see a real army man, Max?” she said.

“Huh-uh,” he said, eyes still on the screen.

“Well, pause that thing and c’mere.”

“Do I have to?”

“Obey orders, young man,” Alfonso said, and Max jumped. The soldier laughed.

Max paused the video and slowly approached as Alfonso emerged from behind Aunt Flo. The little boy’s eyes were wide. “You’re a real army man?”

“I’m a Ranger, sir,” Alfonso said. “You know what that means?”

Max shook his head.

“Well, you will in a while. Aunt Flo has invited me to dinner, and at dinner I’m going to tell you lots of stuff you never knew. Do I look like anybody you know?”

“No.”

“No, what?”

“No, you don’t.”

“No,
sir
.”

“No, sir, you don’t.”

“Are you sure?”

“You don’t look like Daddy.”

“How about Mommy?” Florence said.

Max kept staring. “Maybe a little.”

“Well, your mom is my big sister,” Alfonso said. “You know what that makes me?”

“Her brother?”

Alfonso and Florence threw their heads back and roared.

“It makes me your uncle, little buddy. Do you have any other uncles?”

Max squinted. “Yes! My new dad has two brothers. He told me I’m a forever Drake and they’re my forever uncles.”

“Well, there you go. I’m your third uncle then. Put her there.” Alfonso thrust out his hand, and Max shook it. “You need a firmer grip there, soldier. Let me feel it!” Max squinted and seemed to be working at it. Alfonso dropped to one knee. “Oh, now you’ve done it! You’re too strong!”

Max beamed. “You want to watch
SpongeBob
?”

“Do I! And maybe after dinner we can all go play. Is there a park nearby?”

“There is!” Florence said. “You wanna do that, Max?”

“Do I!”

Boone had always been impressed by how regal Fletcher Galloway looked in a suit or in uniform. A big black man with a good-size middle, he knew how to camouflage it, and he carried himself with solemnity and grace.

That was a contrast to the host who greeted the two couples from the grill across the tiny, fenced-in backyard. Today Fletch wore a sun-faded Cubs cap too small for his head and hair longer than he had ever worn it on the job. A cooking apron covered his polo shirt, his retirement belly testing the limits of both. The ensemble was completed with plaid Bermuda shorts that looked as if they could apply for statehood and flip-flops tucked between the toes of black dress socks.

“Don’t laugh!” he called out, waving a spatula. “Had her way, I’d be wearin’ a big ol’ chef’s hat. Feel fool enough as it is.”

Dorothy, a handsome woman in her late sixties wearing fashionable shorts and a plain white top, opened the gate at the end of the driveway that led into the yard. The women embraced her, but when Boone approached, she shot up an open palm and said, “Uh-uh, you ’member what I said. I’m talking only to the women. You can talk to the hand.”

Then she burst into laughter and gathered Boone in. “I can’t stay mad at you!” As she drew close to his ear, she whispered, “But you know exposin’ one of his best friends in the department liked to break his heart.”

“I know.”

She backed away and glared at Jack. “Now
you
I can stay mad at, mm-hm.” But she quickly dissolved again and hugged him. “Y’all get out there and keep Chef Boyardee company.”

“One stip-a-lation,” Fletcher said as he greeted everyone. “Nobody be telling me how to cook meat. If there’s one thing I know . . .”

Dorothy showed the women her flower and vegetable gardens while the men huddled around the grill. “You been to Stateville at all?” Jack said.

“To see Pete? You kiddin’? Hard enough knowing he’s there, much as he deserves to be. Don’t know if I could take seeing it with my own eyes. Plus, what would I be saying by going? He spit on everything both of us built our careers around.”

The three men stood nodding sadly until Jack mimicked what friends would ask him Monday. “So, how was it seeing your old boss? What’d you talk about? Have a good time?”

That made them all chuckle. “Yeah,” Fletcher said, “enough with the doom and gloom. Looks at these brats.”

“Everything smells great,” Boone said. “Can’t wait.”

“Ain’t seen you since you became all high and mighty,” Fletcher said. “I ever congratulate you?”

“Yes, sir, you sent a nice card. Appreciated it.”

“Well deserved. Two of my best guys top cops now. Feels good. Almost makes up for Pete. Still can’t figure that one out. But hey, we were trying to change the subject. Tell me about the new squad.”

“Well, we handle certain cases of aggravated assault, burglary, murder, rape, robbery, and—my favorite, ’cause it gives us so much latitude—any other crime that constitutes a threat to the city.”

“How do you stay out of Homicide’s way?”

“We don’t. They resent us.”

“Doesn’t surprise me.”

“That’s not true, actually,” Jack said. “Boone’s being modest. Yeah, things started rocky, but he took the bull by the horns.”

“Yeah, and I found out there was more bull than horn.”

“Fletch,” Jack said, “Boone pulled together the two squads and told ’em that he knew Homicide had all the experience and the authority and the jurisdiction. He said Major Case would take only those murders assigned from the superintendent’s office, and even then, he would work closely with Homicide’s best people. It really calmed things down.”

“Smart,” Fletcher said.

“It’s not perfect,” Boone said. “There are still turf wars and squabbling over who gets the credit. But I don’t care about that stuff. Get the bad guys off the street, I say. Who gets the collar doesn’t make that much difference.”

“My man.”

When it came time to eat, the six sat at a picnic table situated on a slab of concrete that served as a patio. The table was more suited to four, and with the men on one side and their partners on the other, Fletcher said, “Don’t one side be gettin’ up without the other. Whoever’s left is gonna tip over and have all the food in their laps.”

“That’s not all bad,” Jack said.

“Hope y’all don’t mind if I say grace,” Fletcher said.

Everyone nodded, but Boone was stunned. He hadn’t ever come to any conclusions about Fletch’s spiritual life, but he had certainly never heard the man pray.

“I jes’ like this little poem,” Fletch said. “Dear Lord, ‘For food that stays our hunger, for rest that brings us ease, for homes where memories linger, we give our thanks for these.’ Lord, make us truly thankful for these and all other blessings. I ask this in Jesus Christ’s name; amen.”

Margaret added her own loud amen and reached to take Fletcher’s hand. “Thank you, sir. That was wonderful.”

“You know,” Dorothy said, reaching for a huge bowl, “when I made my joke about y’all’s cholesterol, I wasn’t kidding. So if you have a problem with it, you probably don’t want much of this potato salad. I even looked it up, and a couple of scoops of this stuff will add up to about a hundred grams of cholesterol. If I wasn’t on my pills, I couldn’t have any of it. And if Fletch hadn’t behaved all week lookin’ forward to this, he couldn’t either.”

“This is why I work out,” Jack said.

“Me too,” Boone said.

It didn’t seem much later that Boone was stuffed to where he could hardly breathe. The potato salad, greens, fruit salad, and especially the charcoal-grilled meats were irresistible. “Jack, we’re going to have to work out two hours a day for a month.”

“Or jog to Colorado.”

“This is how we keep you here longer than you planned,” Dorothy said. “I know you want to run off soon, but you can’t.”

“Because we can’t move?” Boone said.

“Well, that and you’ve got to wait a while before you can enjoy my pie. Rhubarb and apple today, and there’ll be no doggie bags leavin’ this establishment. And you can say all you want that you couldn’t eat another bite, but you don’t want to offend me that bad. Give it a few hours, and you’ll find your appetites again.”