Cavanaugh Fortune. Marie Ferrarella
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had gone missing all this time, but that’s just splitting hairs.”
“Gone missing?” he asked. She had picked up speed as she talked, and at this point her train had jumped the rails and she had completely lost him. He remembered hearing something, but since it didn’t affect either him or his work directly, he’d just ignored the rest of the details as they came out.
He was beginning to realize that he shouldn’t have.
His partner obligingly filled in the gaps in his education. “It seems that my late grandfather was the former chief of police’s younger brother. Their parents split up when Grandpa was about eight. His mother took him while his father had custody of Shamus—Uncle Andrew’s father,” she threw in to help Alex keep things straight. “She apparently took off for parts unknown with Grandpa. Time passed and Shamus lost track of the family.
“About a year ago, Shamus decided to find out what happened to his brother before any more time had gone by. Uncle Andrew did some digging—”
“And out you popped,” Alex deadpanned.
If she thought he was being sarcastic, she didn’t show it.
“Not exactly, but close enough,” she allowed.
Valri knew when someone wanted to draw a subject to a close and she was aware of the fact that there were people who claimed to be overdosing on Cavanaughs. She, on the other hand, was thrilled to submerge herself in the family’s history, learning all she could about the various members.
But it was all still very fresh and new to her, despite the fact that she had never lacked for family in any manner, shape or form in the first place. She and her siblings numbered seven and there was nearly a triple-pack of cousins, thanks to her two uncles and one aunt, so family gatherings had already become practically standing-room-only affairs. With the influx of this heretofore “hidden” branch, the current number of family members was all but overwhelming.
And Valri got a tremendous kick out of that, out of there being, according to one observer, “Cavanaughs as far as the eye can see.”
“How many in your family?” she asked Alex.
He thought he’d put her off that trail by asking for details about hers. How had this come full circle back to him?
“Not nearly as many as yours,” he replied, adding a silent “thank God” at the end of his sentence.
The “thank God” wasn’t in reference to the fact that he found the number overwhelming, but to the fact that even though there were only three members doing something illegal at any one time, he couldn’t allow his mind to even imagine more people working his family’s business. Even three were too many in his opinion.
Yet it was the only way of life his family had ever known.
“So what is that?” Alex was asking. “Five? Ten? More?” She continued looking at him, waiting for his answer.
Damn, but she was like a pit bull, clamping down on something and refusing to let go. And he wasn’t comfortable discussing his family even in the vaguest of terms.
Determined to steer her clear of this sensitive topic, Alex tried to divert her again. “Are we almost there?” he asked. After all, she was the one who professed to know the man.
Valri glanced up, focusing on the street sign they were just approaching. “Waverly,” she read out loud, then pointed to the residential community’s entrance. Bird of paradise plants flanked both sides like colorful, welcoming guardsmen. “You turn in at the end of the block.”
He’d already assumed that, but pretended that this was news to him. “Thanks.”
Valri studied his profile for a moment. His jaw, she noticed, was all but rigid.
“But you already knew that, didn’t you?” she said. When he glanced in her direction, trying to look puzzled, Valri started to explain her thought process. “You’re the native, right?”
“If you mean California, yes,” he qualified. “But I’ve only lived in Aurora for the last ten years.” He’d gone to college here and then just decided to stay. Aurora seemed to be as good a place as any to begin a new life. A life where he wasn’t related to con artists and art thieves.
“What made you become a cop?” she asked him, feeling that turnabout was only fair play.
Alex smiled to himself. For him, becoming a police officer had been a matter of atonement. He’d started out to make up for the rest of his family’s sins. At the time, he hadn’t thought that he would like the work as much as he did, or get such a feeling of satisfaction out of it. That was a bonus.
“Same as you. I wanted to do something that mattered,” he told her, thinking that would be the end of it.
But after a few minutes, it seemed like only the beginning.
“Why homicide?” she asked. It seemed to her that having to deal with seeing people on the worst day of their lives would be hard on a person, certainly not something that someone would volunteer for. Yet Brody obviously had.
“I think your twenty questions are up,” he told her. “And just in time,” he realized. “That Wills’s place?” he asked, pointing out the rather quaint-looking single-story slightly weather-beaten house to his left.
She leaned toward his side of the vehicle, looking at the house he’d pointed out. It had been a while since she’d moved in those circles, but she recognized the house.
“That’s it,” she told Alex.
Alex slowed his car, taking a closer look. The house appeared to be in good condition, although the front yard had been neglected. The building itself resembled a hacienda and there appeared to be a fresh coat of light gray paint on the stucco.
“Pretty nice,” Alex commented. “Wills must be doing well.”
She debated letting him think that, but there was no point in it. “It’s his mother’s house. She left it to him in her will so he wouldn’t wind up living in a cardboard box under some bridge after she was gone.”
He took another long look at the residence. Closer examination had him picking up on the chipped paint at the corners, and there appeared to be a couple of tiles missing from the roof.
“You’re telling me that he’s not doing so well, then.”
“What I’m saying is that Wills had a tendency to come in third or fourth in the competitions that did have a payoff. He lives for the game and the glory.” Her mouth curved in an ironic smile. “Money is something that he borrows, not earns.”
That sounded like a philosophy that was dog-eared for extermination. “That could get old fast,” Alex commented. “Didn’t he run out of ‘friends’ to tap?”
“He did,” she told him. “That’s why he liked hanging around Rogers. He got the spotlight that he craved by being in Rogers’s sphere and Rogers liked being the big man and tossing Wills a scrap or two, something he never did quietly.”
“Meaning?” Alex asked, wanting to have everything as clear as possible before going in.
He pulled up in the driveway.
“Meaning that Rogers would make a big deal out of whatever so-called good deed he did so that everyone knew that he was being ‘magnanimous’ and keeping Wills afloat.”
Well, that certainly went along with what he was thinking. “Not much of a stretch envisioning Wills killing Rogers for revenge and whatever pocket money the other had.”
But Valri wasn’t buying it. She shook her head. “Don’t think so. Wills loved being in Rogers’s spotlight. I think he hoped some of Rogers’s skills, as well as his luck, would rub off on him. But I could be wrong,” she allowed. This was just another theory she was formulating.
“Well,