Francesca Hairston glanced around the festively decorated room with a feeling of discontentment. Her brother Matthew had married into a large and loving family. Every weekend heralded someone’s birthday or anniversary, the christening of some child or the birth of another. Although Frankie had a standing invitation to all such events, she mostly eschewed these gatherings, as she could barely keep straight in her mind anyone’s name, age, marital status or relationship to anyone else.
Tonight she’d come with several cards, one of which would hopefully fit the evening’s occasion, tucked in her purse, as well as a fifty-dollar bill that would smooth any feathers in the event one didn’t. She’d come tonight because she knew he would be here, though so far he was nowhere to be seen.
And she would have known it if he were here, conscious and accounted for. Nelson Santiago, now her cousin-in-law by marriage, was a man of commanding presence. That is, when he showed up.
Frankie made her way from the crowded family room, to the hallway that led to the room that served as a library. She needed a moment to regroup and recover from her disappointment at not finding him here. She didn’t begrudge the family its happiness, but she didn’t belong among them, not in her present mood. She needed a moment to decide whether to leave or to tough it out and hope he’d still show up.
The door creaked slightly as it opened. Otherwise the room was silent save for a low, persistent buzzing she couldn’t place. She closed the door behind her and flicked on the light. She saw him then and frowned. Nelson Santiago was stretched out on the sofa lining the opposite wall. If he’d been wearing a jacket when he arrived he must have removed it. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up to the elbows. One hand rested on his stomach. The other arm hung straight down over the edge of the sofa. Four glasses rested on the coffee table in front of him. The first three were shot glasses, facedown, as if someone had drained their contents and upended them as proof. The fourth glass was a tumbler of what looked like Scotch in which all the ice had melted.
She crossed her arms and canted her hips to one side. Great! The man to whom she’d chosen to entrust her life was probably a lush who couldn’t hold his liquor.
But she couldn’t let that deter her. She moved farther into the room, letting the door close softly behind her. She’d had half a mind to let it slam. That would probably wake him, but she didn’t want to make any noise that would draw others’ attention. While she had Nelson Santiago alone, she wanted to keep it that way. What she needed to ask him demanded privacy, at least a little bit of it.
She crossed the room to stand beside the sofa. For a moment she simply stared down at him. Asleep or passed out or whatever he was, she wondered what his reaction would be to being awakened by her and her renewed request for his help. She couldn’t dwell on that too much ? certainly not enough for her to change her mind. She leaned down and shook his shoulder. “Mr. Santiago, Nelson. I need to talk to you.”
She straightened, waiting for a reaction from him. He shifted a little and the arm hanging over the sofa came to life. It rose, grazing the back of her leg as it traveled upward. She froze, her body chilled by his unexpected touch. Gathering her wits, she leaned down and shook his shoulder again. “Nelson,” she said in a sharp voice.
He opened his eyes then and looked up at her with sleepy curiosity. “What can I do for you, sweetheart?”
Disgusted, Frankie rolled her eyes. “For starters, would you mind taking your hand off my butt?”
His fingers flexed as if to confirm what they rested on. Then his hand descended the same lazy way it had gone up. “Now what?”
If he’d gotten any satisfaction from groping her body, it didn’t show on his face. If anything, he seemed to still be half asleep. Now that his restraining grip was off her, she took a step back. “I need to talk to you.”
He squeezed his temples with his thumb and middle finger, probably what he’d been trying to do when she got in the way. When he focused on her again, his gaze was more lucid, but not much more. He blinked again and, without warning, swung himself up to a sitting position. She had to back up quickly to avoid getting in his way. He sat forward, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes.
“Rough night?” Frankie ventured, more than a little sarcasm in her voice.
He didn’t say anything to that, only cast her a short, sharp look. “You’re Matt’s sister, right?”
“Guilty as charged.” She suspected there was disapproval in that brief look he cast her and in the tone of his voice. That she couldn’t fathom, considering that apart from her attire, she was exactly the same. The last time she’d seen him, she’d had on the one good dress in her closet here in New York, the one pair of heels she possessed, and she’d worn her shoulder-length hair free, not tucked up under a cap as she did now. Maybe he looked at the jeans, boots and T-shirt and viewed her with the same disdain her mother did ? as a woman too lacking in femininity to recognize that she was a girl. Even if he did, so what? She didn’t care what he thought of her except in relation to his willingness to help her.
She sat in the chair perpendicular to the sofa, licked her dry lips and screwed up her courage. “What would it take to change your mind about what I asked you before?”
“Investigating some old rummy down in Atlanta?”
Frankie shook her head. That’s what he’d gleaned from the information she’d given him? No wonder he wanted no part of her. “An old rummy named Harlan Jacobs accused of raping and killing several young women on the Excelsior College campus where I used to teach.”
She watched his face for any sign of reaction to her correction, but there wasn’t any. “So what do you say?”
“No.”
She blinked, surprised by his terse answer, though she probably shouldn’t have been. It was the same answer she’d gotten last time. But then she’d simply been convinced the wrong man was in custody. Now was different, and if he were the slightest bit astute, he should have picked up on her desperation. “Why not? Isn’t that what you do?”
“Yeah, but most of my clients offer me something you haven’t.”
“What’s that?”
“An explanation, some reason other than idle curiosity for wanting me to get involved.”
She bit her lip. She couldn’t argue with him there. She’d told him what she wanted but not why she’d wanted it. She’d hoped to keep her motives to herself. She’d kept silent when he’d asked her, figuring he’d ferret everything out of her before he was satisfied. And she wasn’t prepared to tell him everything. She might not ever be. She sighed. At least now she had some reasonable explanation she could give him.
“I’ve been called by the district attorney to testify at Jacobs’s trial, which starts in two weeks. I saw him running from the scene of one of the crimes.” That last part of it wasn’t exactly the truth, but it would do for now.
“Then what’s the problem?”
“I’m not sure the man I saw running away was Jacobs. That man, whoever he was, wore a mask. You know, one of those plastic thingies that distort the features. It could have been any white male of average height for all I know. Campus police picked up Jacobs for whatever reason and they expect me to help them put him away.”
“Again, what’s the problem?”
“How would you feel about putting away a man you weren’t sure was guilty?”
He tilted his head to one side, apparently considering what she said. Hoping to sway his decision in her favor, she added, “I can pay you whatever you ask.”
His jaw tightened. “I don’t need your money, lady.” Was there anything worse in the world than a man with his macho showing? “Don’t get Cro-Magnon on me. I only meant that I didn’t expect a family freebie. I know this is your living.”
“No.”
Frankie’s head dropped down to her chest in frustration. The first question she’d asked him was what would it take for him to change his mind, and she was beginning to wonder if there was nothing. That didn’t mean she’d give up, but maybe it was time to come up with another strategy, whatever that might be. She lifted her head and her gaze snagged on a framed photograph hanging on the wall ? Nelson’s grandmother surrounded by several of her grandchildren, including him.
She sighed dramatically. “I wonder how your grandmother would feel knowing I came to you for help and you turned me down?”
But before he could respond, the door pushed open and said grandmother came in.
“Nels ? ” Both her words and her advance into the room stopped abruptly. “Francesca, I didn’t know you were here.”
Frankie gritted her teeth at the use of her given name and the effusiveness in the older woman’s voice. Frankie stood to receive the older woman’s hug.
“It’s been a long time,” Luz said.
Frankie recognized the chastisement in the other woman’s voice. Everyone in this crazy family thought everyone appreciated family and family gatherings; its matriarch being the chief proponent. Maybe she should invite them to a few more Hairston family gatherings. That would cure them. Still, Frankie liked the older woman and didn’t want to displease her. “I’m making up for it now.”
Stepping back, Luz settled an assessing gaze on her, then shifted her gaze to Nelson. “Or maybe it’s my grandson that interests you today?”
Frankie offered her a tight smile. Seeing Nelson was what brought her here today, but not the way Luz appeared to mean. Frankie couldn’t blame her for jumping to that conclusion, since the last family event she’d attended ended with Nelson taking her home. Even her brother, who should have known her better, had jumped to the same conclusion. She hoped this evening ended on a more successful note than that one had.
To Luz she said, “Actually, I got a craving for some home cooking that wasn’t cooked by my mother’s cook.”
“Then come.” Luz linked her arm with hers. “We’ve got plenty of food out back.”
No match for the older woman even if she had objected, Frankie allowed herself to be led from the room. She doubted Luz was as interested in feeding her as in finding out what she and Nelson had been up to all by their lonesomes. Too bad Frankie had no intention of telling her. But Frankie did cast one last glance over her shoulder at Nelson. He was basically where she’d left him, except he’d sat back against the sofa and draped an arm along the back of it. His deep black eyes were on her and his face bore the expression of a man who’d just won a battle. Let him think what he wanted. He really didn’t know her if he thought she was done with him already.
She let a smile wander over her lips. Ding ding. Round number two was on.
