Body Work Part 19

"What's going on, Clara?" I tried to keep irritability out of my voice, but my short night made me not only foggy but grumpy.

"Did you go to-did you ask-were you talking about Allie with Prince Rainier?"

"No," I said. "I went up to Tintrey's headquarters in Northfield yesterday. Did Rainier come around?"

Like so many chains, this place had overheated the milk for the cappuccino, which ruins the taste. Caffeine is caffeine, though. I poured some into the lid to cool and swallowed it, wincing at the bitterness.

"Did you go up there to spy on Allie? Why can't you let her and Nadia rest in peace?"

"The soldier who's accused of shooting Nadia lost his whole unit in Iraq. I was trying to find out if Alexandra had died in the same attack."

"Why do you care?" she said in a fierce whisper.

"I'm trying to understand where Nadia and Chad Vishneski's lives connected. It seemed to me that Iraq was a place-"

"Leave Allie alone. What don't you understand about that?"

"Everything. Why can't I talk about Alexandra?"

"Because we're not supposed to." Clara peered around again. "She did something awful in Iraq. The company won't publish it as long as we don't talk about her. But if we do, they'll put it online. They'll put it everywhere."

"The company? Tintrey?" When she nodded, I asked, "What did she do?"

"I don't know! Mama and Papi won't tell me. Ernest, he knew, but look at him now. He doesn't remember, he just starts waving his arms and saying Allie is a dove with Jesus when I ask him."

"This doesn't make sense." I tried to force my sleep-deprived brain to work. "What difference does it make if anyone knows?"

"The company paid us her insurance," Clara muttered. "Even though they shouldn't have-at least, that's what Mama says-because Allie had gone off on her own. Whatever she was doing when she got killed, it wasn't part of her job."

"That shouldn't affect her life insurance. Maybe it was workers' comp?"

"What difference does it make?" Clara cried, and then looked around again, afraid her outburst had attracted attention.

Someone asked if we were waiting for the bathroom and pushed past us to use it. We moved deeper into the alcove, farther from the noise at the front of the shop.

"It doesn't. You're right, it doesn't matter. At least, from a legal standpoint. The insurance company could demand their money back if they thought they'd paid a fraudulent claim. Is that how Rainier Cowles got involved?"

"I hate him." Clara's voice was savage. "Mama and Papi were beside themselves when Allie died. They wanted to sue. They said the company was to blame for not taking care of Allie, but then he he started showing up." started showing up."

"Cowles?"

She nodded.

"And what did he tell your folks?"

She grimaced. "I didn't really know what they were talking about. These horrible arguments started, round and round, I wasn't sure who was on whose side, but Ernie, he'd just been in his accident, and finally Papi said we'd better take the money or we'd never be able to take care of him. Nadia, she was furious. She said Allie's life shouldn't be for sale. In the end, she promised Mama not to talk about Allie, not to talk about how Allie died. But Nadia never stopped being angry. So she moved out. And then we just went on and pretended like it was all normal, Ernie flapping his arms around, Nadia never coming home, me going to St. Teresa of Avila's."

"It sounds like your home life is a nightmare."

"It is!" she burst out. "You don't even know, you can't imagine. But it's worse now because of Nadia dying. And what if Mama finds out-"

She cut herself short.

"What if Mama finds out what?" I asked.

"Nothing. Nothing!"

"That Allie was a lesbian?" I suggested.

"She wasn't. She wasn't, you can't be saying things like that. She was so beautiful, every boy who ever saw her fell in love with her, but she never dated. She was saving herself for marriage!"

I sighed. "Oh, Clara, it's not a sin, let alone a scandal, for a woman to love another woman. How did you find out? Did Allie tell you herself?"

"Nadia," she muttered after a pause. "Right before she died, she told me that Allie was-that Allie, that she'd met this woman, this Artist, who-who, I guess she seduced Allie and made her do-"

"Clara, the Artist didn't seduce your sister. Or, if she did, your sister was a willing partner. The only sad and shocking thing is that Alexandra felt she had to keep her life a secret from her family. When did she tell Nadia?"

Clara looked around the alcove, seeking inspiration. "I don't know how Nadia knew."

I bit back a sharp retort. "Clara, you trusted me enough to get me out of bed and down here. Can you trust me enough to tell me the truth?"

She scowled, not so much in anger, perhaps, as some way of holding back her fears.

"It wasn't Rainier Cowles who told Nadia, was it?"

"No, although I guess he knows somehow. Someone in Iraq, they knew. They-I don't know-they wrote Nadia because she was the one Allie was close to."

"Someone in Iraq wrote Nadia about the Body Artist and the women's music festival?" This time, I couldn't keep the scorn out of my voice.

"Believe me or not, I don't care. But Prince Rainier came over last night-it was awful how he talked to Mama and Papi! He knows you were asking questions up at Tintrey. You have to stop! He thinks we told you to ask questions, and if you don't stop, he'll . . . he'll-"

"He'll what?"

There was another long pause, and then she mumbled, "I'm not sure."

"What hold does he have over your family? If it's Alexandra's s.e.xuality, that means your parents already know about her."

"They don't! They don't!"

I couldn't budge her, and I tried for several fruitless minutes. I couldn't put together a plausible story about why Tintrey was giving money to the Guamans in such a secretive way. If it was some kind of compensation for Alexandra's death, that would be a straightforward workers' comp payment.

Maybe Tintrey had done what so many companies do these days, namely, taken out a life insurance policy on a high-risk employee, with the company, not the family, as beneficiary. Maybe the Guamans had threatened to go public with that information. Or maybe Tintrey was splitting the insurance payout with them but threatening to reveal Alexandra's s.e.xuality if the Guamans said anything.

"It's my fault that Allie died," Clara burst in on my convoluted thoughts.

I was too tired to deal with an adolescent's wild mood swings-one moment attacking me for ruining Alexandra's reputation, the next drowning in fear and remorse over crimes she hadn't committed. I took a breath and tried to speak in a warm and compa.s.sionate voice.

"What can possibly make you say that? You just said you were a kid. I don't believe you were in Iraq putting your sister in harm's way."

"Allie, she wanted me to go away to college, someplace special. That's why she took the job in Iraq, because Tintrey pays people in war zones, like, four times what they pay here. Allie wanted me to go someplace grand, Yale, or somewhere like that. If it hadn't been for me, she wouldn't have gone off to war. And now? With Nadia gone and Ernie hurt, I have to do something big with my life or they'll all be dead for nothing!"

"That sounds like a terrible burden to carry around."

"I have these dreams," she whispered, "where Nadia and Allie push me off a cliff, and Mama and Papi are holding out their arms like they're going to catch me, only they disappear, and I'm still falling. I wake up just before I hit the ground."

Her shoulders began to shake, and she was suddenly sobbing-those heaving, gut-wrenching sobs that make you feel your whole body will rip apart. That's what it means to cry your heart out. I put an arm around Clara.

"Tough road you're on, kid, tough road," I murmured into her hair.

People kept coming to the back of the shop to use the toilets. They stared at us, and one of them started to call Clara's name but backed away when Clara glowered at her. Eventually, her sobs died down. I made her swallow some of my cold, overboiled coffee and handed her a napkin to blow her nose.

"What did Nadia tell you about Chad?"

"Just that he scared her. She thought first he was from Prince Rainier and that he was going to beat her up for drawing Allie's picture. But Chad thought she was making fun of him, that's why he was so angry. It doesn't make any sense, does it?"

"None of this makes any sense. Not the insurance money. Or why a lawyer like Cowles cares. Although Chad has PTSD, and things set him off that might not seem logical."

"I have to get to school," Clara said. "I left before ma.s.s, but now I'm late for first period. What are you going to do?"

I made a face. "I don't understand anything right now. But, I promise, I will act with your safety in mind. If you do start feeling scared"-I pulled out one of my cards and wrote my home address on it-"go to this address, ring the first-floor bell. An old man named Mr. Contreras will let you in and look after you. He's my neighbor. I've known him for years. Believe me, there's no one more trustworthy in this city."

The pen pressed against my swollen palm and made it hard to write clearly, but I added CONTRERAS in block letters under my address on Racine and handed it to her along with a twenty.

"That's for a cab if you need to run fast. Don't spend it on eye shadow or coffee drinks. It's your bolt-hole money."

29.

Stale Act.

When I got to my office, Petra was sitting in the lot in her silver Nissan, the motor running. She climbed out as soon as she saw me pull up and started talking before I was out of my car.

"What happened last night? Olympia just called to tell me I'm fired! She said it's because you burned down her club, and I couldn't be trusted as long as you were in my life. You didn't really, did you?"

"And the top of the morning to you, too, my little chickadee."

Lack of sleep was making me dizzy. I forgot about my sore palm and picked my gun up from where I'd left it on the car seat. Cold metal on open wound made me cry out involuntarily.

"Don't snarl at me-thanks to you, I'm unemployed."

"Thanks to Olympia, Olympia, you are unemployed," I snarled. "I haven't had breakfast. Olympia kept me up late, and another crisis got me up early. You can come to the diner with me or wait in my office." you are unemployed," I snarled. "I haven't had breakfast. Olympia kept me up late, and another crisis got me up early. You can come to the diner with me or wait in my office."

Petra trudged down the street with me, everything in her body, from the jut of her lower lip to her hunched shoulders, designed to tell me how big a burden I was in her life. I didn't even try to make conversation. Let her sulk.

At the diner, I thought about the healthy option-oatmeal, fruit, yogurt-but I needed protein. And I was craving grease. Fried eggs and hash browns. Petra petulantly told the waitress that she wasn't hungry.

"What did you do to Olympia and why is she taking it out on me?"

I shut my eyes and leaned back in the booth. "Not until I get food."

As soon as my breakfast arrived, Petra repeated her plaint. She, un-hungry cousin, also helped herself to my hash browns. I ate the eggs, trying to pretend I was alone, or with Jake, perhaps in a luxury suite at the Four Seasons. Finally, though, I told Petra what had gone on last night after the thugs had sent her and the rest of the staff away.

"Olympia is playing a very dangerous game if she's playing with Anton Kystarnik," I said. "Frankly, since you wouldn't quit, I'm glad she fired you."

Petra took a piece of my toast and spread jam on it. "But you said you weren't sure who those guys were."

"I'm not sure what makes the sky blue, but that doesn't mean I don't believe it is."

"But-"

"Rodney, the guy who stuck his hand in your pants, works for Kystarnik. Olympia gives him the run of the club. She forced Karen to let him put his cryptic messages on her b.u.t.t when she was doing her mourning piece for Nadia. Look up Kystarnik. He is one scary dude."

I glared at her and s.n.a.t.c.hed the last piece of toast before she could get it. "Order your own d.a.m.ned breakfast."

"So how come you set the stage on fire?"

"Collateral damage." I explained how it happened and showed her the purple mess in my palm. Not that it was relevant, just that it hurt, and I wanted Petra to see that I'd been wounded in the line of duty.

"Olympia is scared. She's thrashing around, she's blaming me for her troubles, and she's taking it out on you as a way to hurt me."

"But what am I going to live on?" my cousin cried. "I lost my day job. Now this. Don't tell me to beg my folks, that's what my friends are saying, but I just can't, not now that I know how they got their money."

"Petra, I need help." I wondered if I was insane or just too tired to think straight. "You can work for me for a bit. Not anything glamorous, and definitely not anything dangerous, but I'd pay you fifteen an hour to start."

"Really?" Her face instantly lost its sullen pout and came to life. "Oh, Vic, you're the best. I'm sorry I called you names!"

"A few provisos," I said in my driest voice. "Everything I do is confidential. Everything. People who come to a detective have problems that they can't solve any other way. If you text or blog or phone or communicate anything anything about any client without my permission, I will fire you that minute. Got it?" about any client without my permission, I will fire you that minute. Got it?"

She looked instinctively at her phone, which had been Tweeting at her while we talked. "Gosh, Vic, there's no need to look like Darth Vader. I know how to keep a secret."

"Good," I said, although I didn't really believe her. "The other thing is, you aren't licensed, you don't have the experience or the credentials for a license, so there's a limit to the kinds of tasks you can undertake. But the state will view everything you do as happening on my orders, so don't, under any circ.u.mstances, start imagining a better way to handle a tricky situation. If it backfires, I could lose my license, and then we'd both be in the gutter, living on Peppy's leftover dog food."

"This doesn't sound like fun," Petra grumbled.

I put twelve bucks on the check and got to my feet.

"You don't have to do it. I can get someone from an agency."

"I will, I will," my cousin stood up, too. "Just don't be a bully. I work best when I'm part of a team, not a robot."

"There's a certain amount of robot to the a.s.sistant job," I warned her. "You'll have to pretend I'm not your cousin, that this job is as important as, well, as keeping Olympia's customers happy. There's filing, there's keeping track of e-mails, phone messages-a lot of all investigative work is sheer, unmitigated, boring routine."

Petra nodded. "I will be the unbullied gofer to end all unbullied gofers, as long as you don't hog all all the good stuff." the good stuff."