A Fine Balance Page 8

  A short time later, six children, ages ten to eighteen, from various far off corners of the world, had taken their places at the table with Jack and his mother occupying seats at either end. The food was passed around, young, ravenous appetites were attended to and before long the din of conversation was at its usual high-spirited, noisy levels. The children compared game scores as they ate, argued about who was best, fastest, coolest, discussed their day at school under their mother’s gentle prodding. Even Luis spoke up from time to time and best of all, he’d begun to smile.

  Jack found Luis’s smile gratifying. The resilience of youth perhaps or just a brief hiatus from grief. Either way, Jack decided, it was a well-deserved change for the better.

  Later that night, after the children had been dragged away from Call of Duty, after Luis had bathed and donned a pair of Karim’s pajamas, Jack tucked him into bed. He was flushed and smiling. He looked like any other kid fresh out of the bath.

  Jack’s mother kept her older boys’ bedrooms unchanged, so Jack had showered and changed into clean clothes. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he smiled at Luis. “Sounds like you gave Mbusa some stiff competition. He holds the family record on Call of Duty you know.”

  That small smile again. “Maybe not for long.”

  “Way to go. Next thing you know, you’ll be winning some on-line games.”

  Luis’s eyes lit up. “Felipe says they give away some cool prizes if you reach the professional levels.”

  “I’ve heard. No one’s done that here yet. You could be the first.”

  “I don’t know. It’s pretty hard.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Just have fun playing.”

  “I am. Lots.”

  “Good. And if you need anything, ask my mom. In the morning, I’ll introduce you to the crew. Marco runs things around here. He’s one tough dude but you'll like him. The other guys are great too.”

  “When you coming back?” A faint disquietude in his tone.

  “In a few days. Two, three. Depends on”--

  “What you find out. You gonna get’em?”

  “Maybe not in two or three days, but eventually-yeah. I promise. And while I’m away don’t worry about anything. You’re safe, everyone’s here to help and if you need a shoulder to cry on, there’s plenty around. Clear?”

  Luis nodded.

  “Okay then.” The boy’s eyes had teared up and Jack debated scooping him up into his arms. But he wasn’t sure how Luis would respond so he just touched his cheek lightly and whispered, “Sleep tight. I’ll see you in a few days.”

  He stood outside in the hallway for a few minutes, listening. If Luis broke into sobs, he’d go back and give him what comfort he could. But there was only silence. Moving down the hall, he visited with each of the other children before returning downstairs. The main floor was quiet. Once the children were down for the night, his mother normally was in her office.

  Going out the back door, he made his way to Marco’s through the olive grove that separated the houses. The solitude on the mountain was soothing, the craziness of the world seemingly distant in the quiet of the night. And once he spoke to Marco, they’d see that the nut cases kept their distance.

  As he left the grove and crossed the patch of lawn bordered by Maria’s roses, he could see Marco and his wife perfectly framed in their picture window. They sat side by side on the couch, watching TV. Marco’s arm was around Maria’s shoulder, her head rested on his chest, the scene so cozy and disarming, Jack briefly debated not interrupting them. For an even briefer moment he wondered what it felt like to experience such tranquility in a marriage.

  He winced, regret still capable of sucker punching him.

  But he didn’t stop walking because he had to interrupt them. He didn’t have a choice.

  When he knocked on the door, he watched Marco lean over and speak to Maria before coming to his feet. She said something back that made him smile and with a quick thumbs up, he moved to the door.

  Marco grinned on opening the door. “I heard you were home.” And he wrapped his arms around Jack in a bone-breaking hug.

  “Hey, dude, watch my ribs,” Jack teased, shoving him away. “I have to Protect and Serve tomorrow. Hi Maria?” he called out. “Who’s winning Dancing with the Stars?”

  “I’ll let you know in an hour,” she said without looking up, although she waved. “Ricardo’s on.”

  “A fanatic,” Marco murmured, moving them out onto the porch and shutting the door. He motioned Jack to a chair. “I heard about the dump killing,” he said, taking a seat nearby. “Is the kid gonna be okay?”

  “I hope. Losing a brother can’t be easy.”

  “Tough for a little kid. No doubt.”

  “There’s still a hit squad on his trail too. They shot the hell out of Ella’s place today.”

  “I heard.”

  “I figured. You have more connections than God. So tell me who’s after the kid and why? Or better yet, tell me who killed his brother?”

  “I’ve got some feelers out. There’s a rumor the brother might have been a whistle-blower.”

  Jack softly exhaled. “That would explain his grisly death. He didn’t come to us, so he must have gone higher. Which accounts for the over the top hit squad. Twelve, armed to the teeth. Not to mention the money men who were willing to leave three mil in the field.”

  “Serious money.”

  “No shit. It makes me wonder if the brother went to the AG on this one. If he did, they’d have the resources to take down more than field hands. It’s worth a check with the people in Sacramento. As for the boy, I’m leaving him in your care. The killers tracked him down once already. They’re not stupid or they have contacts or both. So everyone has to be on their toes. I warned Mother to watch for any strangers coming up the drive.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll lock the gates and guard the driveway. I’d like to talk to the kid, too, if you don’t mind? Or is he traumatized?”

  “He seems to be holding it together. He’s tough. But he’s still just a kid, so go easy on him.”

  “I’m good with kids. I’ll be careful. When you coming back?”

  “In a day or two. We have one stiff to ID after the shoot-out. We’re hoping to find him in the fingerprint data base. And forensics might have found something else useful at Ella’s. One of the posse climbed in through a window and a few more of them bled all over the yard.” Jack suddenly yawned.

  “When did you sleep last?” Marco bit back a comment about Liz. Small town, everyone knew everyone’s business.

  “I don’t know. It’s been awhile.” Jack balanced his palms on the chair arms, made ready to rise. “I think I’ll call it a night.”

  “One quick drink for the road? You haven’t tasted the new white.”

  “The one from the Assyrtiko?”

  Marco smiled. “Yeah. You won that bet. We’ll be planting more.”

  “Do I know good grapes or don’t I?” Jack said with a grin, leaning back in his chair. They’d argued about planting the Greek variety.

  “Shut the fuck up.” But Marco was grinning too. A few minutes later, he was back outside, two bottles in one hand, two wine glasses in the other. And in short order, they’d emptied the bottles of spectacular wine.

  Setting his empty glass down, Jack hauled himself out of his chair. “See you in a day or so.” He was bone-weary but carrying a pleasant buzz. “Don’t shoot anyone you don’t have to.”

  “Hey, I’m discriminating.”

  “Yeah, right.” Marco had left a bloody mess on a road outside Booneville. But the goons after his sister hadn’t come back. “And thanks. I owe you.” With a smile and wave, Jack took the porch steps in a bound and strolled away.

  The moon was a soft saffron haze, the stars sparkling overhead, a gossamer web of dazzling tinsel against the blue black sky. The fall air was cool, the wine strumming through his senses. Dragging in a breath of crisp night air, Jack felt at charity with the world.

  Momentar
ily.

  No bottle of wine could permanently obliterate his unease.

  Trouble was on the way.

  It was just a question of when and where.

  The house was dark when he entered, but familiar with the layout, he moved down the hallway to his mother’s office with ease.

  “Making any money?” he asked, entering what once had been his parent’s office, the room in shadow save for the desk light.

  His mother looked up from the computer where she’d been tallying accounts. “A few dollars.”

  “Liar. Marco says we’re rolling in it this year.”

  She smiled. “Makes up for the bad years.”

  He dropped into the brown leather club chair beside the desk that had been his father’s favorite and slid down on his spine. “Had any of those lately?”

  “The problem is you never know.” She swiveled around in her chair and smiled at Jack, thought with pleasure how much he looked like his father. On the other hand,” she added, shaking away the melancholy that always overcame her at the thought of her husband’s death, “why look for trouble?” Rhys had died doing what he felt needed doing. “By the way,” she said, shifting the direction of her thoughts, “I like Luis. He’s a sweet boy.”

  “Who’s seen more than his share of misery.”

  She brushed a tendril of fading auburn hair off her forehead. “You brought him to the right place. The children have all suffered sadness. They’ll help him.”

  “That’s what I thought. You don’t mind do you?”

  “Of course not. I’m happy to help. Now how much do I have to worry about–shall we say...outsiders?”

  “I talked to Marco. He’ll see that the property’s secure. If you don’t mind though, keep Luis close to the house until we get the all clear.”

  “Then you don’t want him going to school with the other children?”

  Jack shook his head. “Not yet. He’s aware of the danger. He’ll understand.”

  She leaned forward a little and the lamplight played over the fine contours of her face. “Can you find these people who want to do him harm?”

  “That’s the idea.”

  “Be careful, Jack. Please. You take too many chances.”

  “Rarely. Only under duress. I mean, no Mom, I won’t take any chances.”

  Her blue eyes twinkled. “There you go. That’s the answer I want. By the way Wade called looking for you a while ago. He said you haven’t been answering your cell or home phone.”

  “I’ve been up in the hills. I’ll give him a call later.”

  He and his mother spent the next half hour discussing the bumper harvest of what might turn out to be some of their finest vintages. And before he left to call Wade, Jack promised to spend some time with their vintner Sally Drey.

  “She’s been asking for your advice on the new wine vats,” his mother said.

  “First thing in the morning.” Coming to his feet, Jack shook off his exhaustion and walked back to the kitchen.

  Chapter 14

  Dragging a chair over to the kitchen wall phone, Jack sat down and dialed his brother. On the seventh ring, he was just about to hang up when Wade answered. “Sorry–did I wake you? Mom said you called.”

  “It’s about time,” Wade said.

  Jack heard his brother whisper something to someone. “I’ve been busy. Did you talk to her?”

  “Where’ve you been?”

  Another muffled sentence. “Look--why don’t I call you tomorrow?”

  “No. I’m going out on the balcony. Where the hell were you?”

  “Up in the hills. Did you see her?”

  “Doing what?”

  “I haven’t slept much for a few days. Just answer my fucking question.”

  “Yes, I saw Jillian Penrose yesterday. She’s lovely. She’s more than lovely. She’s hotter than hell. She also can nail US Bank to the cross. Her mortgage was paid off a year and a half ago.”

  “What the fuck are they doing then?”

  “Stealing her house.”

  “No shit. How can they do that?”

  “US Bank paid some foreclosure mill $1500.00 to foreclose on her house. They, in turn, farmed it out to Lender Processing Services that works behind the scenes for most big banks, commits wide-spread document fraud among other deceptive practices and hustles homeowners through foreclosure. If questioned, they only pretend to offer redress–all the while proceeding with the foreclosure.”

  “Jesus, that’s gotta be illegal.”

  “You betcha it is. But absent new tough measures against mortgage fraud, the banks will just keep conning people out of their houses because most homeowners can’t afford a lawyer. Your girlfriend a case in point.”

  “She’s not my girlfriend.”

  “Your future girlfriend then. Ray and I have a bet going on for when and where.”

  “Christ. Are you twelve?”

  “No, just entertained by your unusual behavior. You don’t ordinarily stick your neck out like this. You’re the guy who always says ‘Don’t call me, I’ll call you,’ not quite so crudely but you know what I mean. And she said, you said, I have a brother who might be able to help you. Pro bono, she said you told her. That’s a first for you.”

  “Maybe I’ve never met anyone who needs a pro bono lawyer.”

  “And maybe I’m going to win my bet. Let me reword that. I am going to win my bet. She’s bringing over more papers for me at ten tomorrow morning in case you’d like to know.”

  “Thanks, but I’m in the middle of a murder case.”

  “Whatever. Gotta go.”

  The phone went dead.

  Jack was surprised at the over-the-top pleasure he felt at the news that Jillian’s house was going to be saved. It hit him with the kick of a Taser zap. Although, he decided, rationalizing away his wildly feel-good sensations, the fact that the little guy triumphed over the big, bad bank was more likely reason for his elation.

  There. He let out a breath.

  No way was he getting jazzed about a woman he’d met two days ago.

  A spectacularly fine woman a little voice inside his head pointed out. Past gorgeous. Stunning. A real beauty queen. The kind of--

  “Enough already,” Jack grunted, arresting the picturesque litany. He didn’t need any smart ass voice inside his head messing with his life. So she was good looking. He liked good looking women. So what?

  He was over tired, that’s all. He needed sleep; he needed sleep two days ago. He glanced at his watch. Crap–it was nearly midnight. And he had a lot to do in the morning before he left. Taking the stairs at a run, he stripped off his clothes, climbed into his childhood bed, turned off his brain and slept like the dead.

  Chapter 15

  Jack woke at dawn. Since Sally was an early riser, he tracked her down first and over coffee in her office they briefly discussed the fall harvest–excellent, the Assrytiko wine–better than excellent–and at more length, the wine vats she needed. After looking over their options, they agreed on a product from a new start-up company in, of all places, Rhode Island. Returning to the house, Jack helped his mother get the children ready for school and once the school bus had driven away, he and Luis went to Marco’s house for a get-acquainted session. It went swimmingly. Marco knew how to be disarming. Although the fact that the two families had lived within twenty miles of each other in Mexico couldn’t be discounted in terms of rapport.

  Check. Another item on his morning list accomplished.

  Back at the house, Call of Duty exerted its magic lure and Luis disappeared into the family room. A short time later, after a last cup of coffee with his mother, Jack stopped in to say goodbye to Luis.

  The boy looked up, flashed a smile and went back to his video game.

  Prozac for kids, Jack thought.

  Activision should get a freaking medal.

  At the stroke of nine, Jack walked into Morrie’s small, no-frills, institutional beige office at the back of a building that had seen better days a d
ecade ago.

  Morrie put down his pen, looked at the clock, then at Jack. “You been standing outside the door?”

  “Uh-uh. I’m just dependable as hell.” Lifting a stack of papers from the only chair in the room, Jack set them on the floor alongside a dozen other stacks and sat down in the midst of Morrie’s eccentric filing system that somehow functioned smoothly.

  “How’s Luis doing? Coffee?” Mr. Coffee had a place of honor on Morrie’s desk, the scorched fake wood desk top testament to a long line of Mr. Coffees.

  “No thanks.” Jack forgot, leaned back, the chair creaked and he lurched upright. “Jesus, you’re going to kill someone someday.”

  “The state’s insured. So how’s the kid?”

  “Not as anti-social as you.” Morrie maintained that budget cuts kept him from buying a new chair. The truth was he didn’t like people dropping by and wasting his time. The chair was his way of saying: “Make it short.” Although Jack was on the same page today. He glanced at the old schoolhouse clock on the wall, calculated time against the procedural issues on their agenda, and got down to business. “Luis seems to be coping well. He’s settled in with the other kids and he and Marco are nominal chums. He’s safe for now. How’s the tech squad doing? Any fingerprint or DNA matches on our corpse?”

  “Not yet. They’re running them through the system. Maybe this afternoon. Ditto with the blood work. We didn’t get anything on the first prints though.” Morrie shrugged. “No surprise. This isn’t necessarily the work of professionals.”

  “That posse I saw might have a rap sheet or two. The firepower they were carrying didn’t come out of a car trunk.”

  “Speaking of cars, Nibs is half way through the diesels registered in the county. They’ve all checked out so far.”

  “Could be an outside job then.”

  Another shrug as the sheriff leaned over to refill his cup. “We sent a crap load of stuff to our lab and the state and federal agencies.” An under-funded county such as theirs had minimum equipment. “With so much forensic material, there’s a chance of IDing some of the posse.”