him in the veranda; sometimes, in the lobby where a huge portrait of her mother hung. When he thought no one about, Tomaso talked to the picture; something he’d been doing as long as Qui could recall.
She thought her father lonely, a man who’d never healed from the loss of his wife, his beloved Rafaela—her mother. He’d never dated and while he had an active social life, there was no special woman in his life. Whenever she questioned him, he’d smile sadly and say he loved her mother too much, that it wouldn’t be fair to another woman as he would always compare her to Rafaela. Qui had often wondered what her mother had been like to inspire such devotion, from her father and now too, it seemed, from Benilo. But that devotion over time had deepened into an inner isolation her father thought well hidden but painful for Qui to watch. By steady increments, she’d distanced herself from him, leading her own life and living in her own quarters within the bed and breakfast. They were still close, and she worried about him as he’d grown older, as he’d slowed down at every activity, save conversing with her mother’s portrait and maintaining her garden.
She opened one refrigerator and found it stuffed full; thirsty, she grabbed a cold can of coconut water and popped the lid.
Her father’s sudden words startled her. “I want you to drop this case they’ve assigned you, Qui.”
His voice came at her from the gloom of darkness in a corner shadow where he’d been sitting in the dark. She almost dropped the can.
“Damn, you scared hell outta me! Why not give a warning?”
“I mean it, Qui. This is some sick vendetta, putting you on a triple homicide. You’re not ready for this.”
“First Montoya and now you!”
“I tell you it is insidious!”
“I’m not a child anymore, and this is my big chance, Papa.”
“It’s a scheme to harm the both of us, this family, this place!”
“I’ll go to hell and back before I give it up!” she countered. “So save your breath.”
“I tell you, there’re people in government who’ve for years wanted my property, and my reputation disgraced.”
She’d heard this for years. “This is not about you or this old house!”
“I still have enemies who—”
“Papa, please!”
“—enemies who harbor evil thoughts about me. This case places all of us in jeopardy—you, me, Maria Elena, Yuri, possibly even Montoya. You must turn this over to…to someone like Peña.”
“Peña, that pea-brained clock-watching rum-sucking ass-kissing suckup? Papa, have you gone senile?”
“You’re so stubborn, just like your mother!”
“Papa, if I find out you’ve interfered, I swear I’ll move out completely! Now not another word. I’m going back to bed. I have to get up early to see what your old friend Benilo has uncovered.” She started back toward her apartment.
“You’re making a bad choice, Qui.” He’d taken a step toward her, then stopped, shaking his head, his voice softer, he added. “Just know this, if you need help, I am here and so is Yuri. With his background, he could be a good ally.”
At his comment, she turned and walked back to him. “I know you mean well, Papa, but you have to let me succeed or fail on my own. You’re right about Yuri, thanks for the reminder.” She gave a thought to Yuri, a Soviet ex-patriot who’d arrived in Cuba along with Soviet missiles, now a family friend, working for her father. She hugged him saying, “Good night, go to bed, and stop worrying about me.”
Watching her leave, Tomaso wondered how bad the mess was that she had been handed. “No good will come of this,” he muttered to a shadow in the darkened corner. Yuri leaned forward, his face coming into the light. “Quiana’s no one’s fool. She may surprise us all.”
13
The following morning…
Having gone in early to work on her case, Qui anticipated leaving soon for the morgue.
She thought her father lonely, a man who’d never healed from the loss of his wife, his beloved Rafaela—her mother. He’d never dated and while he had an active social life, there was no special woman in his life. Whenever she questioned him, he’d smile sadly and say he loved her mother too much, that it wouldn’t be fair to another woman as he would always compare her to Rafaela. Qui had often wondered what her mother had been like to inspire such devotion, from her father and now too, it seemed, from Benilo. But that devotion over time had deepened into an inner isolation her father thought well hidden but painful for Qui to watch. By steady increments, she’d distanced herself from him, leading her own life and living in her own quarters within the bed and breakfast. They were still close, and she worried about him as he’d grown older, as he’d slowed down at every activity, save conversing with her mother’s portrait and maintaining her garden.
She opened one refrigerator and found it stuffed full; thirsty, she grabbed a cold can of coconut water and popped the lid.
Her father’s sudden words startled her. “I want you to drop this case they’ve assigned you, Qui.”
His voice came at her from the gloom of darkness in a corner shadow where he’d been sitting in the dark. She almost dropped the can.
“Damn, you scared hell outta me! Why not give a warning?”
“I mean it, Qui. This is some sick vendetta, putting you on a triple homicide. You’re not ready for this.”
“First Montoya and now you!”
“I tell you it is insidious!”
“I’m not a child anymore, and this is my big chance, Papa.”
“It’s a scheme to harm the both of us, this family, this place!”
“I’ll go to hell and back before I give it up!” she countered. “So save your breath.”
“I tell you, there’re people in government who’ve for years wanted my property, and my reputation disgraced.”
She’d heard this for years. “This is not about you or this old house!”
“I still have enemies who—”
“Papa, please!”
“—enemies who harbor evil thoughts about me. This case places all of us in jeopardy—you, me, Maria Elena, Yuri, possibly even Montoya. You must turn this over to…to someone like Peña.”
“Peña, that pea-brained clock-watching rum-sucking ass-kissing suckup? Papa, have you gone senile?”
“You’re so stubborn, just like your mother!”
“Papa, if I find out you’ve interfered, I swear I’ll move out completely! Now not another word. I’m going back to bed. I have to get up early to see what your old friend Benilo has uncovered.” She started back toward her apartment.
“You’re making a bad choice, Qui.” He’d taken a step toward her, then stopped, shaking his head, his voice softer, he added. “Just know this, if you need help, I am here and so is Yuri. With his background, he could be a good ally.”
At his comment, she turned and walked back to him. “I know you mean well, Papa, but you have to let me succeed or fail on my own. You’re right about Yuri, thanks for the reminder.” She gave a thought to Yuri, a Soviet ex-patriot who’d arrived in Cuba along with Soviet missiles, now a family friend, working for her father. She hugged him saying, “Good night, go to bed, and stop worrying about me.”
Watching her leave, Tomaso wondered how bad the mess was that she had been handed. “No good will come of this,” he muttered to a shadow in the darkened corner. Yuri leaned forward, his face coming into the light. “Quiana’s no one’s fool. She may surprise us all.”
13
The following morning…
Having gone in early to work on her case, Qui anticipated leaving soon for the morgue.
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