Two: Mystery of the Plums

~~

I shoved my Nike gym bag into the overhead compartment of the 727 and took and aisle seat. No windows for me, thank you. I didn’t need the sight of many miles of death below me. I had enough on my mind.

A John Sandford novel sat unopened on my lap after take off. I’d brought it to help pass the time, but the mysteries of Detective Lucas Davenport where nothing compared to the unfolding pieces of the present tense.

I’d only caught a couple hours of sleep last night before grabbing the earliest flight to Santa Fe, but it hadn’t been restful. I kept telling myself that my anxiety shouldn’t be this high. At least not until I had all the facts. But such was my life whenever Edward appeared lately. Usually he was the calm in the storm, the only consistent human in my life, despite his mysteries.

I’d seen him once since my trip to Santa Fe. Just once. The visit from him had raised enough questions all on its own. But now it only helped to compound and confuse current events and kept me from maintaining a clear head. I’d woken up this morning both embarrassed and angry with myself for loosing it - however briefly – the night before. But that little bit of anger felt good to hang onto. It kept me cool and rational.

Edward had taught me that. Though, he would also point out that I worked better from my gut instead of my head; that I over-thought things.
Not him – he had been the King of Cool and Rational.

…had been…

I shifted in my seat. I was still having trouble grasping that concept. Too many red flags. I tapped my short fingernails on my book, mulling over the possibilities. Unfortunately, there was really only one that made sense: Bernardo couldn’t find Edward, because Edward didn’t want to be found.

It COULD BE that bloody simple, for Christ’s sake.

Edward was a ghost; he had made it part of his job description. That didn’t mean the few of us that populated his life had to start taking it literally.

I frowned as a picture Donna popped in my head. I hadn’t returned any of her calls; not yet. I sympathized with her – really, I did – but I had to be cautious. From her point of view, she believed all of this was really happening. Ted was dead, and she wanted answers. She wanted closure.

//Didn’t we all? //

If I raised him, or whatever was in the ground, with her at my side, closure was not going to happen. The dead can’t lie. And she’d find out more than she’d ever want to about the man she’d brought into her bed.

No, Donna and the kids couldn’t know I was coming to town.

Somehow, I knew Edward would thank me.

~~

But, as I said, it wasn’t just the present tense that had me worried. Try as I might as I sat there in my aisle seat, nothing was as out-of-the-blue as it seemed -

 - with  the exception of Edward’s surprise appearance on my doorstep one humid July evening. That was a good two months ago, but the memory was still so vivid that I could feel the night on my skin.

I’d opened the door to see that blank, tanned, emotionless face looking down at me, a facetious greeting poised on his lips.

“I guess the rumors of your death are greatly exaggerated.”

I was confused – not a new feeling to have around Edward especially after my trip to New Mexico, but I figured he’d get to the point eventually. So all I said was:

“Hello, Edward.”

He tossed an old St. Louis newspaper at my feet. The photo on the front page was of me, unconscious and bleeding.

Oh. That.
 

I had the decency to look sheepish. Though it went without saying that my ‘rumored death’ had been rectified with the following issue – who knew he subscribed?

He stepped forward and let the mask slip a bit, a faint smile peeking through. “Nice to see you in good health.”

Actually, it was nice to see him too, and I carefully told him as much, adding, “It’s been a while. Don’t tell me this is an honest to God social call.”

He shrugged. “Of a sort.”

“Color me surprised.”

He stood there as if waiting for a special invite. “You alone tonight?” he finally asked. There was something cold in his tone and I wasn’t so sure I liked what he was implying.

“You know I am.”

“I do?”

I shook my head at him and managed a smile. “It’s too hot to play games, Edward. Come in where it’s cooler.” I stepped aside to let him pass – as far as I could tell he wasn’t armed, but what the hell did I know. I walked into the kitchen and left him there. “You want something to drink?”

“Water.” Then, “Where are your leopards tonight?”

“Out.” I handed him a glass. It dripped with condensation. “How’s Donna?”

“Fine.”

Ohhkay. So much for deep conversation. But I could tell from just his body language alone that something was up. I wasn’t going to press the issue, as much as I wanted to.

“Why are you here, Edward?” Okay. So maybe I was.

“I’m in St. Louis on business.”

“Does that business involve me?”

He watched me for a long while. Finally he looked away and shook his head. “No. It’s Ted business.”

He was wound up and tight-lipped which was a tad scary since I hadn’t heard from him in a while. Usually I didn’t volunteer to help diffuse the situation when he was like this – normally, I stood back and let it blow over.

But I was feeling brave.

“I was just about to eat. You wanna stay for dinner?”

I’d shocked him. I could tell. It made me smile. It was contagious – I saw him relax, one yellow eyebrow arched in curiosity.

“Since when do you cook?”

“Shut up. It’s take-out.”

We really didn’t talk about much of anything – who knew there was such a thing as idle chit chat with Edward – just this and that over a table full of Chinese food containers, and Angelo Badalamenti playing on the stereo. It took me half of the evening to realize he might have something in his personal life to discuss – not business – and that I was still the only one he could come to with that kind of stuff. And it only took me a little longer to realize that I had missed him.

Who could miss Death? I had. And suddenly it didn’t matter where the leopards were, or how hellish my life had been up until I’d beat the ardeur – he probably wouldn’t want the details anyway, and I didn’t think I could explain it if I could.

And had Death missed me? Naw.

I was so full I could barely move, but the table wouldn’t clear itself. As I began to pull all the little paper pagoda containers my way, I unearthed the old newspaper article starring me, and I saw Edward eye it.

“You know, that has got me wondering…” His voice was idle and relaxed, and as he pointed to the paper, I was afraid to ask.

“Oh yeah?” I didn’t meet his eyes. “About what?” My foot hit the pedal on the trash bin and everything went in. I’d have loved to toss that damn newspaper in too – that night had been horrible – but he was fingering it absently.

“Have you made any special arrangements if something like this were to happen for real?”

A little morbid, but not an unrealistic question, not in our line of work. To tell the truth I was relieved. Somehow, I didn’t think this was what he’d come knocking on my door to talk about, but if he wanted to let his personal problems lie, so could I. He had dropped his shields a little for me tonight, and I was just fine with that.

He was human, male and had no expectations of me – none that I knew of – and that was somehow refreshing.

I set a bowl of fresh plums on the table between us and answered his question.

“I have a will, if that’s what you’re asking. So, yes...Haven’t we discussed this before?”

We reached for the same plum, the big dark one on top. I smiled. “Guest gets it,” I said and he picked it up with an amused nod of acknowledgement.

“Oh, yes,” he said, turning the ripe fruit in his capable hands. “You want to be cremated. I remember.”

I took a bite out of mine and watched him with curiosity. “Planning my funeral already?”

His laugh was deep and very male. It was a wondrous sound, like he didn’t get to do it too often.

“Hardly, Anita.”

He took a long, slow bite from the plum, exposing that deep sunset red flesh underneath. There was something so sensual about it that it stopped me. I looked away. What was wrong with me? I wasn’t exactly deprived of male contact. But scarier was the thought that Edward was letting me see a side of him I never had. Or he just didn’t care.

It made me forget myself and study him more closely.

“What about you, Edward. Don’t you want cremation?” He shrugged and took another bite, watching me as I echoed him. “Oh, that’s right. You don’t care what happens to your body. Isn’t that what you told me? Stupid, Edward.”

He smiled, showing the tanned crow’s feet around those blue eyes of his, but the smile was tired around the edges. “Yeah, maybe.”

“You’re agreeing with me??”

“I’ve had to make some changes recently, including Ted’s will.” I stared at him, but he went on. “I remembered what you said. The reasons you gave. Now cremation sounds reasonable…considering…”

I don’t think he liked my scrutiny because he stood and walked over to my stereo in the darkened living room, taking his plum with him. I followed him. Damn, him for being cryptic. I didn’t like his tone. Either he was toying with me, or something was really wrong.

Or both.

The soft percussion of the music filled our silence, but just barely.

When I said his name, it sounded like a warning. “Considering what, Edward… Is Ted in trouble?”

Now his laugh was cold and dead. I knew his face was too, although it was turned away from me.

“That’s my girl. No bullshit. Right to the point.”

I touched his arm and he turned to me then, his handsome face – yes, it was as handsome as it was plain – was like a plaster mask. Suddenly it cracked a little and I saw the smirk hidden there. Before I knew what was happening, he’d reached toward my face and touched the soft pad of his thumb to my cheek. It lingered only for a second and then he put it to his lips, tasting. It took me a strange moment, but I finally realized I’d had plum on my face.

He watched my reaction to all of this until his face turned unreadable. I stepped forward, but he was unreachable. We were so close that we might as well have been dancing. But it would have been like dancing with a ghost. He was already gone. And all the strange intimacy went with him.

“Anything I can do?” I asked. I didn’t know what I was offering – levity?

Slowly he shook his head. “Nothing.” His blue eyes finally left mine and seemed to focus on something in the room that wasn’t there.

He cleared his throat and backed away, so fast that I had to steady myself.

“I have to go.”

“Back to Santa Fe?” I asked, but he was already at the door. He turned back with a hollow attempt at a grin, which surprised me.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” And he was gone.

~~

I sat there, rubbing at my heart through my t-shirt as if I could get to it through my breastbone, and the airplane came back into focus around me. There was a rather worried looking stewardess hovering nearby as if she’d been watching me for a while. I had zoned out.

“Are you okay, Miss?”

I dropped my hand. “Fine. Fine. I don’t like to fly.” This comment didn’t seem to clear her conscious, but she wandered away.

It was no wonder I hadn’t gotten any sleep last night with confusing memories such as that. It just seemed to darken the whole situation rather than shed any light, and I knew it would haunt me the rest of the day.

Hell, probably the rest of my life.

~~

Bernardo was waiting for me, leaning back against his black jeep, arms crossed, when the plane touched down. He was hard to miss. Tall, well-sculpted, with long Native American black hair in a loose braid down his back. The man would never be wanting for a date, no matter what his profession, which just happened to be assassin; body guard a la carte.

Despite the coming autumn, the heat still simmered here in New Mexico and I found it a touch odd that he wore a long sleeved white shirt over his black tank top, which was untucked. The shirt fluttered as he pushed himself away from the curb to greet me, his eyes giving nothing away, and I caught a glimpse of his holster. It was also a good bet that he was wearing knives sheathed on his forearms. It didn’t surprise me. Hell, I was packing, too – airports tend to allow that when you’re a Federal Marshall. But the reality of him fully armed helped bring me back a little further into myself.

“Anita.” He saw my evaluation of him and smiled in that cocky way that only he could.

“Bernardo. Dressed to the nines I see.” He knew what I meant. He shrugged gracefully despite the extra weight. Very noncommittal-like.

“I have the info you asked for.”

It was my turn to shrug, the small shoulder suitcase and gym bag weren’t light, but he knew better than to offer any help. Looking at him now, I wasn’t so sure I wanted him giving me a ride to my motel. I had just walked into the lion’s den by coming here. Who knew what kind of trouble Edward had felt floating around. I’d test the waters first.

“Can we talk about this someplace else?” I asked, patting myself on the back for having it together enough to keep suspicious.

“You wanna ride somewhere?”

I looked around. “How about a bite to eat. Somewhere discreet.” It was the best I could think of on short notice. Besides, I hadn’t eaten yet.

Bernardo’s smile broke into a grin, and something in his posturing visibly relaxed. Not that much, but I noticed.

“Is this a date?” Again, he knew the answer to that, but the fun was in the asking.

I shook my head noncommittally, my smile bland, my voice even cooler. “Don’t get the wrong idea, Bernardo.”  We were talking like I was just here to help Edward on a case, and I’d keep it that way until I knew better.

 “As the lady wishes.” He bowed, slightly mocking me I think, and left me to get my own door. At least we still understood each other.

~~

He headed to a small diner on Guadalupe Street called Diego’s, and in doing so, passed two local cemeteries that were on the same strip. The first one, the Santa Fe National Cemetery, was large, polished, well kept and military. The other, Rosario Cemetery, was smaller, older, and was set from the main drive. As we passed this one, Bernardo slowed the jeep.

“This is the one.”

His voice was low and made me turn to him. He kept his eyes on the road almost as if looking at the stretch of headstones actually made him uneasy. Understandable, since Edward’s fabled demise should make any good little assassin in the trade uneasy; Edward had been Death personified.

I looked out over the cemetery as it flowed by and took in its hodge-podge of upright stones and dense trees and was thankful; more cover to do what I had to do tonight. I wasn’t sweating any legalities.

My stomach turned suddenly and I absently put a hand on the dash to steady myself. I never got squeamish when it came to raising the dead – it was, to me, as natural as breathing. But if Bernardo noticed anything peculiar, he kept his mouth shut.

//What are you trying to tell me, Edward? //

When we made it to Diego’s and slipped into the back booth, I ordered water.

“I thought you were hungry?” he said, removing his sunglasses. When I didn’t respond, he picked up a menu and slipped me a sheet of paper. “It’s marked,” was all he said.

It was a plot map of the Rosario Cemetery. I glanced it over briefly, noting the little red ‘X’, but it didn’t mean anything to me. I folded it and slipped it into by back pocket.

“This is all so ridiculous.” I sighed and ran my hands through the thick mass of my hair trying to tame it, as if I could tame my thoughts.

Bernardo set the menu down, prepared to humor me until he got a look at my face.

“You haven’t talked with Donna yet, have you?”

“You know I haven’t. And you know I can’t. She shouldn’t be involved in this.”

“Agreed,” he nodded, “but, she could have clues and info she’s not even aware she has. Maybe you should ask her about the night the body was found.”

“Why haven’t you talked to her if you think it’s so damn important?” I asked. He had a point, but my voice held how tired I was.

He looked at me and before he even opened his mouth, I had a guess.

“Edward hasn’t called me in on anything in a long while, Anita. I’d barely spoken to him since you left. It’s not really my place to hold his misguided fiancé’s hand.”

It wasn’t mine either, but I let that go. “So why’d you bother calling me? If you’d paid all debts to Edward, you owe him nothing. Why are you involved?” My tone was low and careful and I think he took it as a warning, although I never moved an inch toward my gun.

He sat back and let the silence play out. He knew I was suspicious of him.

“He asked me to call you.”

I had my gun out now. It was pointed at him under the table.

He stiffened, yet there was something like surprise in his eyes and it made me think better of him.

“I don’t like being the messenger boy, Anita.” Now whose voice sounded tired.

“Where is he?” I’d better not have come all the way down here just to be fucked with. My heart was pounding, but I ignored it and made my face as dead as possible.

Anger was growing out of his surprise. “I. Don’t. Know.”

If he were trying to stare me down, it wouldn’t work.

“You said you BARELY had contact with him. Explain.”

“Put up your gun and I will.”

I remembered his reaction when we had driven by the cemetery. I didn’t pretend to know Bernardo any better than I did, but I knew that that hadn’t been an act. It made me believe him. I put the gun away. I even put my hands in plain sight. Yay for me.

“Jesus, Anita -”

“Just tell me what you know.”

He stared at me for a long time, gauging my demeanor. “Like I said, after your last visit I didn’t hear from him, although I kept my ear to the ground like I usually do. Ted’s name seemed to pop up a lot. Just here and there, nothing specific. But it made me wonder if Edward was slipping up. He’s always been so good at the low profile, even as Ted. Then, out of the blue, I got a strange phone call from him.”

Everything turned quiet and I could hear my own blood rushing. I had this terrible feeling of precognition. Or maybe I was just remembering. There was something I hadn’t faced yet about Edward’s last visit…

“It was brief and to the point,” he continued. “I didn’t even think very much of it until recently -”

“When did he call you, Bernardo?”

“It was a month ago at least, maybe more. He said he wasn’t calling for backup. But if something where to ‘happen’ to him, he wanted me to contact you.”

I stared at my glass of water, my voice quiet. “Did he say why?”

Bernardo’s face scrunched up at the question. “That’s what was so strange. I don’t even think he knew why. He just said, ‘She’ll know’.”

We made eye contact with that one loaded statement.

“Don’t you see, Bernardo? I DON’T know.” At least, I didn’t think I did.

“Anita -”

“No. Listen. It’s not just because I don’t want to raise him. HE wouldn’t want to be raised. To him, the thought of being one of the undead, even momentarily, disgusted him. Don’t you see? It makes so much more rational sense to exhume the body and follow the will. Maybe that’s what he really wants.” It felt like a lie even as I said it.

He sat back, his body relaxing out of resignation. He looked at me as if he realized something I had not. He smiled darkly. I didn’t like it.

“But then you won’t be able to raise him with your questions, Anita,” he stated softly. “And I know you have plenty of questions. They’re written all over your face.”

It was easy to keep the flush from my cheeks, because I had turned cold with his accusation. “Curiosity killed the cat, Bernardo.”

“You’re just afraid of what he’ll tell you.”

Yes. I was.

“Again. You sound so goddamn sure he’s dead…”

“I think he is, yes.” His deep brown eyes clouded and turned dark. He didn’t want to be right on this – I could see that plain as the desert around me. It’s what kept me from accusing him of murder. He wouldn’t have called me, otherwise.

All day I’d been debating on whether I’d want him at my back if I went ahead with the raising. It would be nice to have backup in a strange cemetery after full dark. But, on the other hand, he’d be a liability just as Donna would be. If I was right on what Edward wanted me to do, then he trusted me to raise him, or whatever was there in his place. For that, I’d need privacy.

But, by the look on Bernardo’s face, I needn’t bother uninviting him, - he didn’t want to go.

Couldn’t blame him.

Finally, I said, “Even if he’s not dead, what difference would it make. He wouldn’t want to be found.”

Bernardo crawled back to the daylight of the diner and out of his own dark thoughts and stared at me as if I’d done something interesting. Had he caught onto the sad thread in my tone? Bernardo was good at reading people, but not that good.

“You got a phone call, too…Didn’t you.” He wasn’t asking.

Okay. So maybe he was better than I thought. I kept my face completely blank, which was all for nothing since my next question sort of gave away my intentions:

“So, where could a girl round up some chickens?”

~~

The Bluebird of Happiness Motel was where I’d made my reservations. I hadn’t picked it so much for the name, but because it was close to the Rosario Cemetery. It was one of those places that you checked in and drove around to your room, so the clerk hadn’t seen the two chickens in their small wire crate.

I had trusted Bernardo enough to give me a ride, which had been given mostly in silence. I guess there wasn’t much left to say.

“You have my number…” he trailed off as I got out of the jeep.

I smiled at him, but it didn’t reach my eyes. “Thought you didn’t want to get involved?”

He gave me a rather reprimanding, brotherly look. “Just use it if you have to.”

I shut the door and nodded at him.

“Be careful,” he added and drove off.

The motel room was a dusty blue with heavy curtains and all in shadow. I left it that way. If I could, I’d sleep until dusk, and then get my equipment prepared before full dark.

I sat heavily on the bed and stared around the room, trying my best not to think of Edward’s last phone call to me. It had been hiding at the back of my mind, behind other memories, all day.

It had come a mere couple of days after his visit to my house that night – just enough time for our strange interlude to have sunk in and have me confused about our friendship.

I remembered being surprised that he would call me so soon, and it made me instantly uneasy. The call had been brief and to the point.

I could still hear his voice, a memory that was soft and faded and far away. “Listen…I won’t be coming back…”

Jesus. I wasn’t even sure what that meant anymore. There had been more to the short conversation than that, but that was the only thing that I could remember with any clarity.

So for the last couple of months, I’d been forced with the possibility that our relationship was over. He’d straight up ended it. Because he had shown too much of himself? Had gotten too close? Who knew? Maybe he did it just to keep me out of his life. I knew there had to be more to it than simply not returning to St. Louis. But I hadn’t wanted to deal with the implications of it. Not then.

And especially not now.

Edward may have harbored some secret death wish, living the way he did. But he would never take his own life.

//Listen…I won’t be coming back…//

And when he had appeared on my doorstep, he’d already known that. I was sure of it.

My gaze fell on the vanity next to the bed and to the complimentary fruit basket that sat there.

Fresh plums.

Across the room, one of the chickens cooed. Although I promised myself I wouldn’t, I put my head in my hands and cried.

~~