A Time to Gather (9 page)
Erik said, “Having a hard time assimilating that, aren’t you? Took me awhile.”
“I always liked Felicia. Brett too.”
“Tell me about it.” He chuckled.
Lexi said, “Okay, guys, what’s next? Food?”
They both frowned at her.
Erik said, “French fries instead of vodka?”
Danny turned to him. “You’re not serious about Brett? I mean, you wouldn’t really attack him.”
“We had enough fistfights growing up, I’d know how to do it. If he were standing right here, I’d punch his lights out.” Erik’s voice went deeper than normal and he spat an expletive. All facade of cool, calm, and collected vanished. “I still can’t believe it. We played baseball together!”
Watching Erik fall apart while he was sober hurt worse than the other way. Lexi gazed down the sidewalk. They should probably just take him home and hide his keys again.
From a few yards away, a woman moved toward them. She was bundled up against the cold night and wore, like other street people, a stocking cap and long coat. She carried a gym bag.
“Excuse me,” she called out.
Erik and Danny stopped talking.
She reached them. “Excuse me.” Her soft voice carried a slight accent.
If not for the presence of her brothers, Lexi would have tensed. Even in the daytime the homeless frightened her. She never knew what they wanted from her. This woman was taller than Lexi. Something about her seemed Asian. The shape of her eyes? The ends of her black hair stuck out beneath the cap, short and straight.
“You are Mr. Beaumont?”
“No.” Obviously Erik was in no mood to sign autographs. “I’ve been told I look like him.”
“But this is television place.” She pointed to the tall building. “You are wearing same tie you wore on news tonight.”
“Sorry.”
“I believe you are Erik Beaumont. My name . . .” She paused and straightened her shoulders. “My name is Tuyen Beaumont. Your uncle was pilot in Vietnam. He shot down in 1973. He was . . . my father.”
I
n her wildest dreams, Rosie never could have imagined she’d be standing outside Erik Beaumont’s door again, and certainly not at seven a.m. wearing blue jeans and a hooded sweatshirt.
The door opened. He wore black sweats and a stone-cold sober expression of sheer confusion. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
Stepping outside into the hallway, he pulled the door shut behind himself.
She frowned. “On the phone you promised me coffee.”
“Yeah.” He finger-combed his hair, more a helpless gesture than an attempt to detangle and smooth the black mop. “In a minute, okay?”
In a minute.
All right, she could give him a minute.
Then I’m out
of here. Are You listening, Lord?
He had phoned the police station in desperate need—according to Sgt. Susie Hall—to speak with Officer Delgado. Fans
of the heartthrob- slash-newsman had been coming out of the walls since his DUI, Susie foremost among them. Once she’d deciphered that no crime or medical emergency was involved with Erik’s phone call, she told him she could pass his phone number along to Delgado.
Half asleep, half in tune with the previous night’s concern that haunted her dreams, Rosie had called him.
She rubbed sleep from her eyes now. “No more bandage on the hand.”
He turned it palm side up. The cut was still evident. “Won’t need to cover it today. No chance of it bleeding all over the news desk since I won’t be sitting at the news desk.” His chuckle sounded bitter. “Anyway, thanks for coming.”
“Sure. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”
“I don’t know where to begin.”
“Cut to the chase, Beaumont. Did you do it or not?”
“Do what?”
“Murder Ms. Matthews and/or the person with whom she’s two-timing you.”
He barked a noise of disbelief. “Yeah, right! If only it were that simple.”
“And I was going to apologize for being flippant. I’m sorry. Did they fire you?”
“Yes. No. Who knows? The suits have to sort it out.”
“So the job and the girlfriend aren’t the issue right now?”
“There’s a woman inside.” Speaking seemed difficult for him. He kept pausing, as if not sure what words to use.
Suddenly Rosie wished she had her gun. She knew better than to leave home without it. People were just plain weird, most especially the spoiled rich and famous. Why had this man called her? Why had she come?
Because she prayed for him and he asked for help.
Her dad warned that she let her faith cancel out her common sense. Someday, he feared, she would regret it.
Beaumont said, “We didn’t know who else to call.”
“We?”
“My brother and sister are here too. 911 didn’t quite fit. I told them I had met this helpful cop. I thought you’d be in uniform.” He wiggled a finger at the back of his neck. “And the bun.”
She glared at him. “Last night was my night off. I should be sleeping right now so I can work tonight. Go call someone on duty if you want official.”
“Sorry.”
She made a show of glancing at her watch. “You’re thirty seconds over time.”
“Okay, okay. This woman says she’s my cousin. That my uncle was her father. Benjamin Charles Beaumont Jr. He’s MIA. Vietnam. Over thirty years ago.”
Rosie blinked, taking in the enormity of what he had said. “Wow. Just out of the blue?”
“Yeah. Last night, when we were leaving the studio, she approached us. I guess I was the easy one to find.”
“Well, it seems like good news. In a way. At least it makes your uncle no longer MIA. You’ll find out what happened to him now.”
“She’s got papers, but how do we know she’s telling the truth?”
“You need to call Immigration or the Department of Defense. Start with one of them. They’re in the phone book.”
“This is going to be a major blow to our grandparents.”
“That would be your uncle’s parents?”
“And our dad’s.”
“It’s closure, Erik. Closure is always part of healing, distressful as it can be.”
Nuts.
Had she really just called him by his first name?
“I suppose.” He gave her a small smile, borderline authentic. “See how helpful you are? We’ve been basket cases all night. You show up and within two minutes you’ve calmly put everything into perspective.”
“That’s a cop’s job.”
“Officer Delgado, will you come inside and calm my brother and sister and this strange person who says she’s our cousin?”
Rosie crossed her arms and looked at the floor. Meeting the family of a DUI dodger was not part of a cop’s job. Her dad would say this was when her common sense should kick in. Her partner would say the neon welcome sign for her Adopt the Hopeless Club flashed big-time. He would say it was overdue to burn out.
What did they know?
She looked up at him. “Is coffee involved?”
He grinned and opened the door for her.
B
eaumont’s living room area still had the look of a hurricane’s aftermath. The kitchen fared better. Rosie noticed a young guy at the sink, up to his elbows in sudsy water, and figured he was the reason for a semblance of order.
The scent of coffee beckoned, and she followed Erik toward it.
“This is my brother, Danny,” Erik said.
He turned with a polite smile and wiped his hands on a towel.
“Dan, this is Officer Delgado.” He looked at her. “I don’t know your first name.”
Danny shook her hand, grinning. “You’re not supposed to, dork. Nice to meet you, Officer. Can I get you some coffee?”
“Yes, please. Black.”
Erik said, “How come I’m not supposed to?”
She shrugged at him.
Ignoring his brother, Dan poured coffee into a mug. “Thanks for coming.”
“Sure.”
Her immediate impression of Dan was that he didn’t resemble his brother in the least. He was shorter and friendly without the phony charm. His shaggy hair was brown, his eyes dark.
He handed her the cup. “It’s been a long night. Did he tell you?”
“Yes. I don’t know what I can do to help, except suggest which agencies to call.”
“That’d be great.”
He filled two more mugs and gave one to Erik.
“Um,” she said, “you guys could have figured that out for yourselves. Why call me?”
Dan looked at Erik. “You didn’t tell her.”
“I was getting to it.”
Dan said to her, “Plain and simple. This woman, this Tuyen, is scared to death. She wants a police escort to meet her grandparents.”
“Why?”
“We haven’t figured that one out yet. All she says is ‘police, please.’”
A police escort? To meet family?
Rosie went to the table and sat, hoping the caffeine would deliver a heavy dose of common sense.
T
he stranger was creeping out Lexi.
There were many reasons she produced the heebie-jeebies, not the least of which were her eyes. Desert-sky blue. The exact shade as Lexi’s grandfather’s. Right there, smack-dab in the middle of decidedly Asian features.
With a shake of her head, she shut the door to Erik’s bedroom and started down the spiral staircase, hoping against hope one of her brothers had made a breakfast run. The Pit, aka Erik’s condo, had stuff crammed everywhere except in the cupboards and fridge. They were bare as Mother Hubbard’s.
Crossing the living room, she spotted a woman seated at the kitchen table with Erik and Danny.
“Lexi,” Danny
said as she approached. “This is Officer Delgado, the policewoman Erik told us about. This is our sister Lexi.”
Officer Delgado smiled and shook her hand. “Hi.”
“Hi. Guys, is there any food yet?”
Blank stares met her question.
“Guess not.”
“Help yourself to coffee,” Erik said. “Where is she?”
“In the shower.” She poured coffee. They all seemed to have difficulty saying her name.
Tuyen.
It didn’t easily roll off the tongue.
“Well.” Officer Delgado cleared her throat. “This so-called cousin wants a police escort, but none of you know why?”
“Nope.” Lexi sat at the table.
Wearing blue jeans and a navy-blue sweatshirt, the woman did not look like a cop. Her hair was dark brown with reddish highlights and pulled back in a bouncy ponytail. Although she was obviously Hispanic, her speech pattern was not that of a recent immigrant. She spoke with authority, too, in a no-nonsense tone. A wrinkled sheet of paper and a pen lay before her. Not exactly professional tools of the trade.
Delgado eyed each of them in turn. “Do you mind telling me the story from the beginning?”
Danny described their meeting outside the studio the previous night.
“And why were you all three there together?”
“Uh, well—”
“She saw it,” Erik said, referencing his TV performance. “It’s a sibling thing, Officer. Dan’s been watching my backside since I was in fifth grade. A baseball coach yelled at me. My pip-squeak of a brother told him where to stick it. Lexi stood right behind him, frowning with her hands on her hips.” He smiled at the memory. “They’re twins; they travel as a twosome.”
“So, Dan and Lexi, you went to the studio to . . . ?”
“Chew out the powers that be.” Danny shrugged. “Don’t know if it helped any.”
“Okay. Then you all went outside and this woman approached you?”
“Yes. She blew us over with her announcement. Man, we had no idea what to do. But we sure didn’t want to wake Nana and Papa up in the middle of the night with that bit of information.”
“Nana and Papa?”
“Our grandparents. Ben and Indio Beaumont. They live outside of Santa Reina.”
“Where the fire was last fall?”
“Yeah. The Rolando Bluff Fire almost destroyed their estate. Our parents live there now too. It’s called the Hacienda Hideaway. They’re reopening it soon, a retreat center.”
Delgado took notes as he spoke.
Lexi said, “Not that she wanted to go there. That was why she found Erik first. She said it would be rude to show up at her grandparents’ unannounced. They would feel like they’d been pounced on by a tiger. Or something to that effect.”
“Her English is good?”
“Pretty good. You have to listen closely. She said she’s been in San Francisco for a couple years.”
“Doing what?”
“She didn’t say.”
“So she made it clear she didn’t want to go to the grandparents yet, and you brought her here.”
Erik said, “She didn’t want to go to a hotel. She seemed frightened about losing us. My place was the closest.”
“What’d you guys do all night?”
Lexi exchanged glances with her brothers. It had been an incredibly, indescribably long night. Danny had suggested she call Zak. Maybe a fireman’s uniform would fill the woman’s odd request for a police escort. Lexi hadn’t told Danny about her split-up with Zak. There were no words to explain how they could split up when they’d never been together. She told him Zak was out of town.
Now she said to the policewoman, “We got a pizza. Mostly we talked. She insisted she wanted the police to go with us today. Finally Erik promised to call you. I convinced her to use the bedroom upstairs. We sort of crashed in the living room. It was just totally weird.”
Erik said, “She had papers. She knew all the right stuff. The year Uncle BJ disappeared in Vietnam, that he was a pilot. Our dad’s name. Nana and Papa’s names. She said she was born in 1980, which means . . .” He paused.
They’d all agreed, it was the worst point of her story.
“Which means,” Erik continued, “that he would have been there for a long time.”
“And where is he now? And her mother?”
“They’re dead.” He shrugged. “No clue when that happened.”
“Didn’t the U.S. pull out of ’Nam in seventy-three or so?”
“Yeah. BJ was shot down in January, days before the signing of the Paris Peace Accords. Of course things didn’t end overnight, but still, the timing stinks.”
Delgado winced. “I’m sorry.”
No one said anything. Lexi was used to such silences. They occurred whenever a conversation went to Uncle BJ, even with total strangers.
“Yet,” Erik said, “we don’t know whether we can trust her or not. We decided to call in the pros. What do you think?”
“A crime hasn’t been committed.”