Angel Among Us (10 page)

‘Mr Romero employs a number of people at the house,' his agent interrupted. ‘Perhaps she is friends with one of his staff?'

‘I don't know her,' Romero told Maggie, glancing at his watch. ‘I think I would remember a woman as beautiful as that.'

I believed him. Apparently, so did Maggie. She looked around the library. ‘Where is your wife? I understood we would be able to talk to you both.'

‘Why don't you talk to the staff instead?' the agent suggested. ‘Mr Romero's wife is indisposed at the moment.' He, too, looked at his watch. I guess they had allotted enough time for the riff-raff and were eager to get on with their high-powered deals and exciting lives.

‘Why don't you tell us where your wife is?' Calvano said, speaking up for the first time. ‘We need to talk to her and we need to talk to her today.'

For the first time, Enrique Romero lost a little of his cool. ‘My wife is not feeling well. She's pregnant and having a difficult time of it. She suffers from headaches and a number of other conditions.' He looked to his agent for help.

‘I'm sure we can arrange for Ms Wylie to speak to you at a later date.'

‘Why don't you arrange for us to speak to the staff, and while we're doing that, you can go do whatever is necessary to enable Ms Wylie to speak to us today,' Maggie suggested.

The men in the room froze. They were not used to someone evading their deflections. The lawyers stared at one another and then at the agent. He looked toward his client for help.

‘Of course,' Romero said smoothly. ‘I will tell the housekeeper to see that she wakes up and gets ready to speak to you. Now, if you will excuse me, I must leave for the airport. I have an extraordinarily important meeting I must prepare for. I'm sure you understand.'

It would have been a good exit line, but Romero's timing was spoiled when a small but stocky man barged into the library and said, without bothering to gauge the mood in the room or caring that he was interrupting, ‘Enrique, you and I need to talk.'

The silence in the room was eloquent. Romero was staring at the newcomer like he was dirt on the bottom of his shoe while his advisers had openly contemptuous looks on their faces. I could not quite understand their scorn. The new man was dressed in an expensively tailored black silk shirt and gray flannel pants and his blond hair was expertly cut. Clearly, he spent a lot of time on his personal grooming and he even sported the requisite deep tan. But I guess appearances were not enough. The men in the room considered him an outsider.

‘This is neither the time nor the place for this discussion,' Romero's agent snapped. He yawned and held it a little too long for it to have been genuine. ‘I will touch base with you when we get back.'

‘No,' the new man said abruptly. ‘I've waited long enough. Are you going to do the joint project or not?'

‘Not,' the agent snapped back before Romero could answer.

‘But she's your client, too,' the new man protested.

‘That is why I am saying no,' the agent said smoothly. ‘She is not ready. One look at her should tell you why.' He turned to Romero. ‘We need to get going. I have a few business items to go over with you before the car gets here and you still haven't packed.'

Romero dropped all pretense at charm and simply left the room, without waiting for Maggie and Calvano's permission. The man who had interrupted them followed Romero out like a puppy dog. His agent look anxious and I wondered at his reaction. What was it that made him so nervous?

‘Why don't you ask the staff members to come in here?' Maggie suggested. She selected the largest chair – a huge, overblown leather affair – and settled back in it, crossing her legs. ‘We'd be glad to wait.'

The lawyers glanced at one another and then stood as one. Tweedledee and Tweedledumber. ‘We'll be on our way,' one of them said. They both stuck their hands out to shake the agent's before they left, but Maggie and Calvano merited no recognition. Maybe they were getting paid by the word.

‘I'll ask the butler to arrange for the staff to come in,' the agent said through clenched teeth. He acted as if Maggie and Calvano had made him look bad, which I couldn't see. He was one uptight guy and I had a feeling there was no love lost between him and Dakota Wylie, or him and the staff and, possibly, him and the world.

As the agent turned to go, Calvano snagged a prime seat on the couch and gave Maggie a skeptical look. Neither one of them had been bowled over by Enrique Romero's charm and neither one of them trusted the agent any farther than they could throw him.

I decided to follow the agent out to check out what he really said to the butler. We walked down a hallway that led toward the rear of the house. Once again, I could feel despair and unhappiness rushing at me. Two things startled me as we rounded a corner. One, I caught a flash of yellow and turned around just in time to see the man who had barged into the library slowly closing the door to another room. He had been waiting to see who left the room. Almost immediately after that, I felt a sharp pain near my right ear. There was a sound like a clap. The air pressure around me dropped. I felt rocked by the sensation. I looked around and saw no one.

Curious. Where had it come from? The other presence was near and it was growing impatient with me. I was missing something.

The air around me had grown cold and, yet, almost instantly, I stepped out of it into the warmth of the hallway. I looked around but could see nothing, though I felt the presence near. Ahead of me, the agent had disappeared into a large kitchen where he was giving an older woman orders to bring the servants together. She was in her early seventies, with gray hair pulled back in a bun and a face that had once probably been quite beautiful.

‘Send them all into the library at fifteen minute intervals,' the agent told her. He checked his watch. ‘I'll be leaving in a few minutes for the airport so make sure you follow through. I don't want anyone saying he would not cooperate.'

The housekeeper held a potato peeler in one hand and a partially peeled apple in the other. She was staring at the agent with a blank look on her face.

‘Did you hear what I said?' the agent asked impatiently.

The old butler hustled through the door and put his hands on the housekeeper's shoulders. He turned her around and led her to the sink where a mound of apples waited to be peeled. ‘I'll take care of it, sir,' he told the agent.

The agent was staring thoughtfully at the old woman, looking her up and down as if she were livestock that he was contemplating buying. Then he glanced at the old man, shrugged and walked from the room.

As soon as he was gone, the woman grabbed the butler's arm and asked him in a frightened voice, ‘Who was he? Is he here to take me away?'

‘Just peel the apples, Muriel,' the old man said wearily. ‘It's OK. I'm right here and I will take care of it.' He gently picked up her hand holding the potato peeler and helped her get back into the rhythm of the task. She fell to peeling automatically until she did not even seem to notice him any more. I felt no emotion from her at all once the flare-up of fear had passed. In fact, I felt very little from her other than a sort of humming that came from where most people held their memories.

She would be of little help to Maggie or Calvano. Her mind was going and the old man was fighting a losing battle to disguise it.

I
returned to the library, where Maggie and Calvano were talking to a nervous-looking Mexican man who sat on the edge of an armchair and wrung his hands as he answered their questions. Apparently, his name was Rodrigo Flores and he was head gardener, a position that came with room and board, including a private bathroom at the rear of the house.

‘Do you know her?' Maggie asked, showing him the photos of Arcelia Gallagher.

The man nodded rapidly, fearful of the police and nervous because of it. ‘Yes,' he said. ‘Yes, I know her. She is from my church.'

Calvano tried to put the poor man at ease. ‘St Raphael's?' Calvano asked. ‘I know it. I go there sometimes for late mass. It's a very beautiful church.'

The man gulped and nodded.

‘Look,' Calvano said. ‘We're not Immigration. We're not asking to see your papers.'

I thought the man might faint. ‘Papers? I have my papers,' he said quickly, pulling documents from his jacket pocket.

Maggie held up her hand. ‘No, no. We're not asking for papers. No. We just want to know if Arcelia Gallagher was here last week.'

The man nodded reluctantly.

‘Why?' Calvano asked.

The man looked away, as if he found the books on the shelves fascinating.

‘You do know she is missing?' Maggie asked the man.

The gardener looked up in surprise. He had not known Arcelia Gallagher was missing. ‘Missing?' His eyes darted from Maggie to Calvano.

‘For over a day now,' Calvano explained. ‘We need to know why she was here. It may be related.'

The man shook his head vigorously. ‘No, not related,' he said. ‘Not related at all.'

‘Well, what was it? Why was she here?' Maggie asked. Her voice had hardened. She was not above using intimidation to find out what she needed to know.

‘I cannot tell you,' he stammered. ‘You must ask the priest. I cannot tell you.'

Calvano and Maggie looked resigned. They both knew what priest the gardener meant – and Father Sojak had said nothing about Delmonte House.

‘Did you talk to her while she was out here?'

The gardener nodded solemnly. ‘Yes. But she was fine when she left. It was last Thursday. She drove herself out here even though her child is not far off. I saw her leave myself.'

‘You saw her leave after she did what out here?' Maggie tried again.

Rodrigo looked even more uncomfortable. ‘It was something to do with religious matters. It is a private matter that I do not wish to speak about.'

‘And you know nothing else that might help us find her?' Maggie asked.

‘I am sorry, I do not,' the man said mournfully. I think he really wanted to help them.

‘Do you know of other people we could talk to about her?' Calvano asked. ‘Perhaps some people she is counseling?'

The gardener looked nervously at the door. ‘I think maybe you should talk to Father Sojak about these things.'

Maggie sighed. She was losing patience with him. ‘Is there anybody else here who might know something?'

The man shook his head vigorously. ‘We have only the old man and the old woman who look after the house and kitchen,' he explained. ‘And a girl who comes in to help Mr Romero's wife. Ms Wylie is with child, you know. And sometimes people are hired to help me with the grounds.'

‘Why don't you send in the maid?' Maggie said calmly. ‘You can go.' She was determined to get through the questioning without losing her cool.

As the gardener left the library, Maggie gave Calvano the kind of stare he had not seen in at least half a year. ‘I thought you talked to the priest?' she said sarcastically.

‘I told you I thought he was hiding something.'

‘There is no way that one gardener is taking care of the grounds on his own, so we know there's at least one other person working here and we're never going to get to talk to him unless Father Sojak makes it happen.'

‘Let's just see what everyone else has to say and then we can talk about the priest.'

Maggie looked skeptical and I couldn't figure out if it was his faith or his incompetence she was holding against him. Apparently, neither could she. ‘You believe in some odd things for a grown man,' she finally said. ‘I can't decide if I envy you or pity you, Adrian.'

The air in the library grew suddenly cold and there was an odd smell lingering in the corners, like the Easter egg I hid behind the washer one year when I was a boy. My brother discovered it six months later and when we opened it up, it stunk up the house for days. Now, the same smell permeated the library. The flowers in a vase on a table behind Maggie and Calvano fluttered, as if a wind was passing through them. I was the only one to notice.

Calvano was trying to be gentlemanly but he had smelled the odor, too. He glanced at Maggie.

‘Don't look at me,' Maggie said grimly, shooting him a glare.

‘That's not me,' Calvano said, looking mortified.

While neither had seen the flowers, they could not miss what happened next. As if in slow motion, a book high up on a shelf, nearly to the ceiling, tumbled off and spiraled downwards to the floor, hitting it with a crack as loud as a gunshot.

Maggie and Calvano were instantly on their feet, hands on their guns.

‘What the hell was that?' Maggie said. ‘This place gives me the creeps.'

‘That is because it is full of bad spirits,' a voice said timidly from the doorway. ‘I say over and over that something lives here, but no one will believe me.' A young Mexican girl no more than twenty entered the room, clutching papers in her hand.

Maggie could barely hide her skepticism as she settled back into her chair, but Calvano was too busy gawking at the maid to respond. I didn't blame him. She was absolutely beautiful, with thick black hair that framed her oval face and hung straight to her waist. Her skin was the color of caramel.

Calvano decided to be a gentleman. He led her to the chair across from him and took her papers, bringing them back to Maggie to examine.

‘I am in this country legally,' the girl said. ‘My papers prove it.'

‘I'm sure you are,' Maggie agreed. ‘If you weren't, we would not be looking at you right now. I find it curious that so few of you manage to take care of this huge house.'

The girl did not blink. ‘We work very hard,' she said.

Her name was Lupe and, apparently, her sole job in the household was to help the lady of the house, Dakota Wylie, dress each day. Which wasn't hard, from what I could tell, because it sounded like the lady of the house never actually got out of bed to get dressed.