A Thousand Tombs (16 page)

She turned onto Lombard, then picked up the 101 and motored past Crissy Field and the Presidio and onto the Golden Gate. It was a clear day, lovely and cool, and the breeze was crisp off the water. Before she knew it, she’d flown past Sausalito and Marin City and the Tiburon off ramp and was closing in on San Rafael.

Gen had gotten on the road earlier than expected, and, for the most part, the drive north was easy and the traffic light. Much of it was going the other way on Sundays, day trippers heading back to town to prepare for the work week.

Her thoughts turned back to her audience with Angelo. Where did he fit in the puzzle?

She was turning onto Dry Creek Road before she could formulate a theory, then through the wrought iron gates and up Madison’s driveway. She passed the little stone house with its raucous, overflowing beds of plants that looked so much like the billowing skirts of a dozen Victorian ladies. Thirty seconds later she pulled in beside the garage.

Gen got out and stretched.

The garden in back spoke to her and she followed its call, moving through the gate and into the neat green rows. She knew enough to recognize that the fall plants were in and had taken hold.

She held out a palm and brushed across the tops of lettuce that had gone to seed, then turned up another row and crouched down to look at the broccoli seedlings.

Cole had been busy.

She imagined Mack’s back yard would look similar about now, if Luca had kept at it. Once again she reflected on all the gardeners in her life, and drew her fingers through the rich loam.

Just beneath the surface she uncovered a clutch of wriggling red worms, busy digesting the bits of decaying plant matter from the compost that Madison and Cole diligently added to the blend.

She rose and dusted off her hands, thinking about the buried link between Luca and Vitelli. She knew they were confederates on some level, but she wondered how deep the tie actually went.

“Hey, you’re early. Have we turned you into such a dedicated horticulturist you couldn’t stay away?”

Gen was already smiling when she turned to give Coleman Welles a massive hug. She clung to him past ten counts, thinking how solid and calm and good this man was.

Mack was a lot like him, in that way.

Cole didn’t speak or ask questions. None of that, he just hugged her back. She was sure he had an inkling that there must be a reason she needed to be held, but like Mack, he didn’t pry.

“I was just thinking that all of a sudden there are a lot of men around me who are keepers of the soil,” she replied. “Well, maybe that’s going too far, but you know what I mean.”

She broke away and looked up into his face. “And me with not an ounce of proficiency at nurturing anything.”

“That’s not true, Genny.” He smiled and regarded her. “Might one of the gardeners be the man you were interested in? The one you mentioned last summer.”

She nodded.

“And yet, you’re not ecstatic.”

She shrugged. “Not at the moment.”

“Why? Did it turn out he’s not the one?”

She took his hand and led him to the bench beside the gate. “Mack’s definitely the one, Cole. We’re friends, and we’re dating and there’s more there, and I know I want him. I want this to work, and he does, too.”

They sat down. Cole leaned over to pluck a daisy-like fall-blooming aster from the rambling perennial beside them. He handed it to her. “There’s a ‘but’ in there somewhere. Sounds like you hit a glitch.”

“You could say that. It seems I’m looking for signs that it isn’t going to work because I’m afraid he’s going to walk away, and maybe he’s thinking that I’m not going to be loyal and steadfast.”

“You’d be there for Madison no matter what she’s done, no matter what she might do in her life, right?”

“Yes, I would.”

“That’s loyalty, and you know you’re capable of it. He’ll find that out, too.”

She nodded. “It’s more complicated with Mack. My old trust issues are raising their ugly head again. It’s tripped me up before.”

“So do you trust him?”

“I want to.” She looked at Cole. “I’m not sure I know what it really is.”

“When you trust someone you believe in them. You have faith that they’re going to do what they say they’ll do. Do you believe in Mack?”

“Yes.”

“Well, there you have it. You’re right and so is he, though. You both need trust and loyalty if you want to build a real friendship and a lasting love. I think that’s the only way a relationship can weather tough times. And you know the rough patches will come. So what makes you think he doesn’t deserve that kind of conviction?”

“Nothing. It’s me.” Her voice broke. “I want to get past it with all my heart, Cole, but I’m afraid. A little voice inside me is screaming I’ve been wrong in the past.”

“So you expect him to walk away. That has to do with how you feel about yourself, Genny, it’s not a reflection of Mack’s character. Maybe you don’t think you deserve someone wonderful. Which is pure bull, and you know it. But if your head is whispering that, then you need to overcome it. If you don’t, it will drive you to do things you don’t want to do.”

“It already has.”

“Look. People aren’t made of stone. You have feelings. Things have happened and you worry about them happening again. So you hold back. But here’s the deal. You don’t have to act on those feelings. You can see them for what they are, which is unfounded, and choose to move beyond. Mack is Mack, he’s not Ryan. Believe that he is the person you know he is.”

Gen nodded.

“I read once that friendship is love that caught fire,” Cole replied. “I think it’s the strongest kind of love. That happened for Madison and me, and it sounds as if it might also apply to you and this man you care about. It doesn’t always unfold easily, that’s all. It didn’t with us.”

“We are friends.” She felt her chest constrict. “But as his friend, I see him setting himself up to get hurt, attached to someone who’s going to let him down. Not me, a kid he’s let into his life. I want to stop it. I don’t agree that he’s making the right decision.”

Cole took her hand.

“You know that’s not your place,” he said. “It’s like having children. Your life experience might tell you that a choice they’ve made is going to bring them heartache, and you want to keep them from feeling any pain. But you can’t do that. Sometimes you have to stand back and let them walk their path. That’s how people grow. You can’t do the growing for them. Loyalty is allowing someone to make their own choices and loving them through that and the outcome.”

She nodded. “I don’t want to screw this up.”

“Then don’t.” His tone was matter-of-fact, and the strength and conviction in his voice actually made her laugh.

“Is it really that easy?”

“The choice is that easy. I’m not saying you won’t have to work hard to make it happen.”

“If you say so.”

“I know so,” he replied. “Now come on inside, Maddy is dying to see you.”

* * *

The air in the kitchen was almost hissing with excitement, and Madison was the source. She was tossing a big bowl of pasta salad and still wore her cooking gear, slack maternity pants and a t-shirt that looked like Omar the Tentmaker had whipped it up on his sewing machine. Gen had thought her huge three months ago, but this. This was gargantuan.

“Oh my. Are we having twins?”

Madison shot her a look of pure love, despite her insinuation. “No, but wouldn’t that be fabulous? I’d love to pop out two at once. Save me the effort of going through this again. I haven’t been able to tie my shoes for weeks, and I don’t remember what my feet look like. Come here, you.”

She moved away from the counter, then wrapped her arms around Gen and leaned forward, hunching over her stomach, so she could rest her head on Gen’s shoulder. “God, I’ve missed that face.”

Gen felt the tug of emotion that told her it had been too long since she’d been here. She blinked it away and laughed. “What, nobody around here demeans you enough?”

Cole laughed with her and headed for the living room. “I don’t want to hear what she says, so I’ll leave you two alone to commiserate.”

Madison giggled but didn’t answer the question, which they both knew was a resounding
no
. “The doctor says Cole’s son is huge, maybe ten pounds. He’s going to hurt like hell when he comes out, but there’s nothing I can do. I can’t stop feeding him.”

“Son?”

“We still don’t know, it’s just I’ve gotten used to saying that. What will I do if it’s a girl? I’ll be calling her ‘Cole’s son’ until she’s out of diapers.”

They both straightened out of the hug and contemplated one another like only old buddies can.

“You look fabulous,” Gen said.

“So do you.” Madison bobbled her head right and left for a minute, watching her. “You’re in love,” she finally said. “Who is it? When do we get to meet him?”

Gen’s face pinked and she started to deny it, but bit off the words before she told her best friend in the whole world a lie. “He’s a cop. I’ll bring him up after the baby comes and all three of you can check him out at once.”

“You better.”

“You’ll like him.”

“We better.”

Gen looked at the floor and was quiet for a moment. “Maddy, please don’t tell anyone else.”

“Why not?”

“I want to have a secret that’s all my own for a while. And I want to be sure we’re–” She stopped. “Well, I want to know we’re a sure thing before I spread the word.”

Madison tipped her head again. “Do you want it to be a sure thing?”

Gen nodded.

“All right then, mum’s the word.” She grinned from ear to ear and leered at her stomach. “Get it?”

Gen blew out a big dramatic sigh and rolled her eyes. “What can I do? I came early to help.”

Madison looked at the clock. “We just need to put a few salads in serving bowls and cover them, then we’ll change clothes so we’ll be ready for the girls to arrive. Then we can set the table and start putting out wine and food.”

“Is everybody coming?”

“Yes. Us, and Anna and Gabi. One of the university wives we’re good friends with had a shower for us last month. Today is just for the four Musketeers.”

“It’s not right that you had to go to all this trouble. I was supposed to have your baby shower at my place.”

“Stop it,” Madison replied. “You know I wanted everyone to come here. I want you all to see the nursery. I wanted to cook.”

“Show-off.”

“Damn straight.”

“Okay, give me a task. Let’s get this party started.”

* * *

Forty-five minutes later Gen had changed into a knit dress, and Madison was in the bathroom getting ready. She wandered up to see the preparations they’d made for the baby and found that the sitting room attached to the master bedroom had been transformed into a nursery.

Madison had painted it a beautiful apple green soon after she’d bought the place, and she’d kept the color, just added a white crib and other baby-type furniture and a rocking chair.

The crib padding and chair seat were upholstered in a material that incorporated the green along with French blue and butter yellow and just a tiny bit of pink.

There was a shelf full of brand-new baby books, and framed prints of children’s drawings were hung on the walls. Knowing Madison, she’d replace these with originals as soon as the baby was old enough to pick up a crayon.

Gen went to the crib and looked in. There was a covey of stuffed animals there, waiting for their new playmate. She picked up a plush yellow duck and held it to her cheek.

It was as soft as the real thing. As soft as Mack’s eyes sometimes when he looked at her. She wondered if he would ever stare into their child’s sleeping face with those gorgeous brown peepers of his.

There was time, if the wind blew them that way.

When Gen got home Tuesday morning she dropped her bags in the condo, changed her clothes, then went down to the office to pick up messages from her answering service.

“Mack called,” Rita said. “That man’s voice, I tell you. Makes my heart flutter. For you, of course.”

“I agree, it’s like butter. Did he leave a message?”

“Yeah, but there was a thing when he talked yesterday. He sounded especially sweet. Maybe he was missing you.”

“What did he say?”

Gen could always count on Rita to weigh in with her opinion. And when she did, she was usually spot on. She’d been paying close attention to vocal inflections for over twenty years, and Gen figured all the practice had earned her a real skill for reading them.

“Just to tell you that he had a great time. You must have done something special, huh, Miss Delacourt?”

“Yeah,” Gen replied. “We had a heart-to-heart and it was a good thing. That was it?”

“Yeah, that was it. Oh, and an Italian gentleman phoned, just this morning. Name was Luciano, Giovanni Luciano.”

“What did he want?”

“He wanted to find out where you were. In a very suave way, if you know what I mean.”

Rita’s pronunciation,
swaaaa-vay
, made Gen chuckle. “Yeah, I know what you mean. So what did he ask you?”

“He gave me a goofy line about needing to track you down and give you an update. I suggested he leave a message with me because you would be checking in. He said he would try back later, then he asked me again where you’d gone off to.”

Luciano had her mobile number. Granted, she had left her cell off yesterday on purpose, but when she checked the call queue she saw that although he’d phoned, he had not left a message.

“I’d be curious about that if I was you, Miss Delacourt.”

“You’re always dead on when you tell me things like that, Rita. What makes you say so this time?”

“I’m not sure, Miss Delacourt. It seemed to me he knew you well enough to have your business card. And your card has your cell number on it, too. Even so, he didn’t ask me for your mobile, and any fool knows that’s the best way to get ahold of somebody quick. Makes me wonder if he just wanted to keep tabs on you.”

Gen remembered something Mack had once said, about keeping enemies close. She wondered if that was what Luciano was doing. But they weren’t enemies, were they? Then again, maybe the Carabinieri thought so, since for all intents and purposes she had come down on Vitelli’s side.

“You’re a good detective, Rita. Let me know if you need a job.”

“Aw, it’s nothing. I like the job I have just fine, I can watch my soaps between calls. But thanks, I like knowing I have a backup if I need it. The number this guy Luciano left was 555-3549. Be careful with that one.”

“I will. And I have his number, if you know what I mean.”

Rita laughed. “Oh wait, one more thing. Your cleaning service. They left a message with another one of the girls and she didn’t think anything of it, so she didn’t pass it on until yesterday. They mentioned they hoped it was okay that they let your nephew in. He wanted to wait for you in the lobby. Said you were expecting him.”

Gen went on full alert; she didn’t have a nephew. “My nephew, huh? When was this?”

“A while ago now.” Rita’s voice had grown wary. “Did we screw up, not saying anything sooner? I keep telling the other girls to–”

“Not at all, Rita. Everything’s good.”

“Okay then.” She sounded relieved. “You have a lovely day now, Miss Delacourt. You know how much we appreciate your business.”

Gen hung up the phone and leaned back in her chair. Her thoughts cycled to Luca. Could he have been the nephew the cleaning crew let in, and if so, why was he here that time, and why didn’t he phone?

Following up with Luciano could wait, but she felt a sudden urge to see Mack. She reached for the receiver again but quickly changed her mind. It was almost lunch time. She’d head up to the Fillmore station and take a chance on catching him there.

The jeans and sweater she was wearing would work just fine. She slipped on a pair of pumps she kept in the office, then went into the bathroom and put on some lip gloss and hoop earrings and ran a mascara wand over her lashes and a brush through her hair.

Fifteen minutes later she was uptown, pushing through the station doors and greeting Franco, who was manning the front desk.

“How you doin’,” he said.

“Great, Franco, how about you?”

“Never better, never better. You looking for that Southern boy?”

“I took a chance. Is he out?”

“Yeah, but he’s just down the street. That Italian lady policeperson came looking for him again and they went for coffee. The usual place. You can find him there.”

Again?

She wondered what Franco meant by that. There was only one female Italian Gen knew, and that was Carla Salvatore. And she was no lady. How many times had she been here to see Mack? A bevy of questions bubbled up from a cold place in her belly.

Not one was reassuring.

“Thanks, Franco.” She kept her tone normal. “I’ll go check.”

Gen stalked down the street, then stopped at the front window of the café and looked in. Mack was there. And just as she suspected, he was with Carla. The woman was facing the street, leaning across the table toward her prey. She turned away.

She took a dozen steps before she stopped dead on the sidewalk. Her head was telling her to keep walking, but her heart was saying the opposite. She remembered Cole’s words.

If she wanted to trust Mack, she had to do it.

Don’t believe everything you think, right? Or feel, for that matter. Mack told the truth. She had no reason to doubt him. It was time for her to man up, believe she deserved him, and lose the jealousy.

Up came her chin. She stuck a smile on her face, pivoted, and pushed through the door. Carla was so busy showing off her cleavage she didn’t notice Gen until she was standing beside the table.

She ran her fingers down Mack’s arm. He turned his head and saw her, and she was rewarded with a searing grin. His reaction held not a trace of guilt, not a hint of guile.

“You’re back.” He tried to stand but couldn’t in the confines of the booth, so he settled for grabbing her hand. “What a great surprise. I’ve been thinking about you since Saturday night.” He slid closer to the wall and gave her room to join them. “Would you like coffee?”

Gen slipped onto the bench seat and leaned to buss his cheek, but Mack turned his head and their lips brushed instead, giving Carla a full shot of PDA.

Gen liked that.

“I was hoping to surprise you and take you to lunch,” she said. “Have you two eaten?”

“No, and I’d love to. Miss Salvatore stopped by to ask a couple of questions about SFPD procedure. I’ve told her what she needed. We’re done here, right, Carla?”

That was a dismissal if Gen had ever heard one.

She turned her attention across the table for the first time and gave Mack’s booth-mate her most pleased look. When Carla stood and shouldered her bag she looked stunned, like Wile E. Coyote after he’d been cracked over the head with a hammer. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Hackett.”

Then, without another word, she left.

Gen beamed at Mack and he grinned back like a proud papa at a dance recital.

“Perfect timing,” he said.

“I thought so, too.” She bounced her eyebrows up and down and gave him a peck on the cheek. “So, shall we eat here or does someplace else sound better?”

“Let’s walk over to that sandwich place you like.”

He paid the bill and they were out on the street and holding hands before Mack spoke again. “She’s not after me, Genny. She’s bleeding sex all over my shoes because she wants information. That day at Vitelli’s when she threw herself at me, I just brushed it off. But she must have run my plates and found out where I worked, because she showed up at the station a couple days later.”

So Carla had been around, and Mack hadn’t mentioned it. She glanced aside and saw him watching her.

“There’s more, Gen. Let me finish.”

Yeah, Mack knew her pretty well.

“That first time she was digging around about our relationship, acting like she wanted to know if I was available. But I figure she really wanted to know something else … and I worried it might be whether you and I were tight enough for me to be keeping the kid. So I lied. I told her I wasn’t into you, but you were having trouble taking the hint. I wanted to keep the heat off Luca and my place and her out of our hair, but it backfired when she came to the gallery.”

Gen pursed her lips and kept silent. She was still processing how she felt, and he left her to her thoughts. They’d taken a couple dozen steps before she reached for his hand.

“He’s been kicking butt out in the yard,” Mack said. “Wait till you see. It’s almost like he’s on a deadline out there. Like he wants to be sure everything’s right before he has to leave.”

Pride wound through Mack’s voice the minute he began to talk about his house guest. He’d gotten attached to the kid, all right. Not exactly a virtue for a cop, but a pretty good indication what kind of a dad he would be.

Gen startled at the thought. When had she ever considered a man’s paternal aptitude? Yikes.

“Look Mack, I don’t want to ruin the moment and please don’t get your back up, but I have to ask. Did you ever run Luca’s name through the runaway database?”

He shook his head. “No. I didn’t want to know, and I didn’t want to leave any kind of electronic trail showing I might have known.”

“Aren’t you worried it might compromise your job if it turns out the kid stole the coins?”

“He didn’t.”

“I understand that you think that but–” She stopped. “Sorry. Old habits.”

“Genny, if you need perfect, I’m not your guy.” Mack’s voice did not hold a challenge or a warning, it was just a statement of fact.

Cole’s words filtered in again. This was the time to let him do what he needed to do, and just to back him up. “Oh hell. What fun would that be?”

He laughed and raised their clasped hands and planted his lips on the back of hers.

“Okay,” she continued. “It’s time for me to pay attention to what your gut is telling you. The kid didn’t steal the coins. So what do you think is going down?”

“I think Luca is protecting Vitelli.”

It all kept coming back to Luca.

“Why would he do that?”

“I think he knows what’s going on,” Mack said, “in spite of his reluctance to talk.”

“He told you about the coins he brought me that day he came into the city.”

“Yeah, he did.”

“Why do you think he’d hand them over?”

Mack shrugged. “I think he’s trying to shield someone, and that someone has to be Vitelli. And now, I think he’s also trying to protect me. My house, my job. My relationship with you. My regard for him, too, I suppose.”

“Makes sense, I guess. I mean, I understand that not having the coins at your house is better for both of you, but my question is, what’s his reason for protecting Vitelli?”

Mack nodded. “That is the question.”

Whatever the truth, the kid was immersed up to his eyeballs, way beyond being the keeper of the coins. It could be he was the best actor of them all. And maybe if she asked Vitelli one more time, he’d give it up.

Mack tugged her hand. “Let’s go eat.”

“Sure,” she replied. “If that’s what you want.”

“What I want is for you to spend the weekend with us.”

“That could be arranged,” Gen said. “Are you cooking?”

“No worries there.” He looked at her and grinned. “The fires will be burning.”