“Now where’s that little brother of mine?” he asked as Joanna ushered him into the house. And with that, Thomas Montoya went wandering off in search of the groom.
CHAPTER 12
About the time Butch stepped outside to grill the steaks, Frank’s ritual roasting began in dead earnest, and for the most part it was good clean fun. Old and new colleagues alike teased him about trading in one short red-haired woman for another, taller model. (Frank’s fiancee, LuAnn Marcowitz, was a good six inches taller than Joanna, and her hair-a wild tangle of bright red curls-was a good six inches longer than Joanna’s hairdo as well.) Joanna was glad no one mentioned that both she and the bride tended to be bossy at times.
People pulled Frank’s leg about his going for an “older woman.” LuAnn was four years older than Frank, and there were plenty of people who were ready to assure him, jokingly or not, that, as a longtime bachelor, he would soon regret stepping into the middle of a ready-made family.
That thought had occurred to Joanna as well. Frank was used to the peace and quiet of living by himself. She wondered how he’d manage with a new wife, two teenage stepchildren, and a mother-in-law, all living under the same roof. On the other hand, Joanna knew he’d been lonely for a long time. Even so, a sudden dose of that much togetherness, combined with a stressful new job, might be challenging for anyone to handle.
But Tom Montoya had the final word on the family situation. “My mother had given up on Frank’s ever having children a long time ago,” he told them. “I can tell you she’s thrilled to have a new set of grandchildren, no matter how she gets them.”
For the time being, his comment carried the day.
A while later, Butch enlisted Tom’s help in bringing the steaks back into the house. They brought in separate platters loaded with mouthwatering grilled rib eyes on Fiesta Ware platters. Steaks on the red platter were rare. The ones on the peacock-blue platter were medium, and the few scrawny steaks on the black platter were well done.
Before Carol left, she had set out stacks of plates, silverware, and napkins that would make serving easy. The platters of cooked steak took the place of honor at the top end of the counter, next to the plates and cutlery, but they were soon joined by the rest of the abundant feast: a huge bowl of mixed-greens salad; two kinds of potato salad, hot and cold; a steaming crock of cowboy beans accompanied by a vat of fiery jalapeno-dotted salsa. At the far end of the counter was the bread-and-butter station, which boasted two loaves of freshly baked and sliced sourdough bread and several pie plates of corn bread.
Joanna waited until the guests had loaded their plates before she filled her own. Then she wandered into the family room and took one of the few remaining spots at one of the tables-a chair that happened to be next to Jaime Carbajal’s. He had come to the party because he had said he would be there, and he was clearly having to make an effort to be part of the festivities.
“How’s it going?” Joanna asked.
He shrugged. “Okay, I guess,” he said.
“You don’t sound very convincing,” Joanna told him. “Did you talk to Luis about his father and about the locker situation?”
“Yes,” Jaime said.
“How did it go?”
Jaime shrugged. “He was pretty mad at first and stormed off into the bedroom. But I think you’re right. He’ll get over it and come around eventually. It’ll take time. He and Pepe were still in their room talking when I left to come here. I could hear their voices, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying.”
Pepe, Jaime’s son, was only a few months younger than his cousin.
“I suppose Luis had already told Pepe about what had happened to his father.” Joanna’s comment was more a statement than it was a question, and Jaime shot her a sidelong glance.
“How did you know that?” he asked.
“You’ve told me before that Pepe and Luis are close, more like brothers than cousins. Since they’re also kids, it stands to reason that if Luis had confided in anyone, it would have been Pepe. That’s a good thing, Jaime. Give Luis some credit. He was smart enough to realize he couldn’t deal with this crisis by himself. We should all be thankful that he had someone to go to with his troubles. We should also be glad that he was smart enough to go looking for help.”
“You’re right,” Jaime agreed. “I am glad about that, but what about Pepe? My son knew all about this for a long time, but he never let on to me. That hurts, boss. It really hurts. Pepe and I have always been close. I don’t like finding out that he’s been keeping secrets.”
“Of course he’s keeping secrets,” Joanna told him. “Why wouldn’t he? Pepe may be your son, but he’s also a teenager. Keeping secrets goes with the territory.”
Even as she said the words, Joanna couldn’t help wondering what secrets her almost-fifteen-year-old daughter might be keeping from her. On the surface, Jenny was a joy. She helped around the house, adored her little brother, and had a part-time job helping out at a local veterinary office. She was also within months of having her learner’s permit. Joanna knew only too well the kinds of secrets she had kept from her own mother at that age. The possibility that Jenny might be doing the same thing and pulling the same stunts was disturbing. Joanna didn’t want to go there. On the other hand, it turned out that at the time Joanna’s mother had been keeping quite a few secrets of her own.
“The boys will be all right,” Joanna assured him. “Both of them.”
“I hope so,” Jaime said.
Joanna waited for a moment before she went on. “With all the turmoil at home, I don’t suppose you had much time to work on the Action Adventures video enhancement problem.”
“I made some calls,” Jaime said. “I’ve got an appointment at the DPS crime lab in Tucson tomorrow morning. I’ll hand over what we’ve got and see what they can do with it.”
I dropped Mel off at the restaurant parking lot where she’d left the Cayman, and we drove back into town in the throes of afternoon traffic. I know, I’m always griping about the traffic here, but I can’t help it. There are too many cars and not enough roads, and when I see one of those signs that say construction is coming and drivers should find alternate routes, I know it’s a joke. For a lot of roads around here there are no alternate routes.
Once back at Belltown Terrace, Mel went out for her daily run while I worked my way through several crossword puzzles. After that, we set out on foot to find some dinner. Even on rainy days, the late afternoons and early evenings are often clear and warm. And that was the case as we walked down Second Avenue.
When I first moved to the Denny Regrade, the streets had been lined with tiny sticks of newly planted trees. Now they’re fully grown, complete with root systems that play havoc with the smooth surface of the sidewalks. Still, I enjoyed our walk along beautiful, tree-lined Second Avenue with bright green leaves softening the hard-scape lines of surrounding buildings.
We walked as far as Mama’s Mexican Kitchen, where we managed to score an outside table. That gave us a chance to watch the varied denizens of the Regrade-from the homeless people wheel-ing their possession-laden grocery carts to the high-flying BMW drivers jockeying for free parking spaces.
But we also talked shop. While Mel sipped her Dos Equis and downed a combination plate and I nursed a root beer along with my order of taquitos, we picked apart everything we had learned about the timeline of Marina Aguirre’s disappearance and death. I had just popped the last bit of taquito in my mouth when the phone rang.
“Bingo,” someone said in my ear.
I didn’t recognize the voice, and I didn’t recognize the phone number, either. For a moment I thought maybe it was one of those annoying solicitation calls where the Knights of Something or Other want me to buy a ticket to their annual charitable auction.