“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 Mamá 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 sexuality, 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 sexuality 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 compassionate 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 Mamá 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 mass, 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.