“I do, and I’m sorry about that. It’s a long story.”
“Well, I’d like to hear it, but I think we should talk someplace a little more private.”
I shake my head. “Sorry. I’ve… had trouble with that.”
His brows shoot up. “You okay?” He pauses and then shakes his head. “Dumb question. You’re wanted for murder. You are definitely not okay.”
“True. While a private talk makes sense, I accepted one with Tiana earlier today, and she notified the cops before I even arrived. After we spoke, she warned me, and I got out of there, but I’m being extra cautious.”
“Tiana…” He shakes his head again and eases back, long legs outstretched. “When I was with the band, I was the ‘nice guy.’ That was my role, and not just in public. I was the one who made friends with every sound tech and roadie and superfan. There was this one roadie, though, an old-timer who decided he just didn’t like my face. Or maybe the color of my face. Whatever his problem, I made it my personal mission to win him over. Never did, but I kept trying, like a puppy determined to get a pet from the one person who hates dogs. These days, that’s me and Tiana. Even if she wasn’t Izzy’s kid, I’d like her, and she used to like me fine… until she found out about me and her mom.”
“I’m sorry.”
“And I’m sorry she pulled that shit on you. At least she came around in the end. Ti is complicated, like her momma. Only, with Ti, there’s a prickly fence wrapped around that complicated interior, and most folks can’t breach it.” Another look my way. “You did, once upon a time. Which probably makes this harder on her.”
I sigh, and he bumps his shoulder against mine. “That’s not an invitation to a guilt trip.”
I look over at him. “I didn’t kill Isabella.”
“If I thought you did, we would not be having this conversation. You’re being set up. Any moron can see that. Someone murdered…” He takes a deep breath and then says, in a low voice, “I’ve never wanted to kill anyone before. Never even wanted to hurt anyone. But when you find out who did this, you’d better make sure they’re arrested before you tell me. Or they won’t be the one going to jail for murder.”
“I’m sorry. I know…” I swallow. “You won’t want to talk about this. I know that.”
“Won’t want to talk about it.” He enunciates the words, rolling them out. “Lucy, you have no idea howmuchI want to talk about this. I want to stand on this fountain and shout it to the world. I love Isabella Morales, and she loved me, and what we had…”
He rocks back. “Shit, this isn’t going to help.” He puts on his sunglasses and glances over. “I don’t remember ever not loving Isabella. When she invited me to that beach party, I thought…” A small laugh. “I was young, and hopeful, and dumb enough to think she might be inviting me to herweddinganniversary party because she felt something for me, too. Turned out I was there…”
“For me,” I say.
“Yeah, I wasn’t sure if you knew that.”
“Isabella told me.”
“Of course she did. So she invited me as companionship for you. Maybe even a hookup for you. Which told me I didn’t have a hope in hell of getting with her. It changed nothing. When that bullshit hit with you and Colt, I totally took advantage. I was there for Izzy. I wanted her to see me as more than a kid. And she did, eventually… she saw me as a friend.” Another laugh. “That’s all it was for years. Me, pining after her and making do with friendship. Then…”
He shrugs. “I don’t know what happened. Maybe I hit the magic age where she wouldn’t feel like a dirty old lady – her words, not mine. We got past the age barrier, and I got my dream woman, and she was everything I wanted and more. We were waiting for Jamie to get out of rehab, and then Isabella would divorce Colt, and we’d get married. I’d already given her the ring.”
He folds his hands. “I have no idea where it is now. Probably hidden in a drawer, where no one will ever find it. Just like us – a secret no one will ever know.”
“I’m so, so sorry. I really am.”
“I always considered myself an excellent judge of character, and I remember the girl I met at that beach party. From the start, I told Izzy my theory about what really happened. Turned out, I was dead right. At least I got a chance to say I told you so.”
He tries for a smile, but his lips quiver. He runs a hand over them. “We had five years together. I keep reminding myself of that. For five years, I got to hear Isabella Morales tell me I was the love of her life. I got all of her for five years, and I got her friendship for nine before that, and that is more than most people will ever have. More than I thought I’d have.”
He looks at me. “Isabella died knowing the truth about that night, and she died forgiving you, and she died hell-bent on a mission to make things right. To tell your story – yours and hers. Circe and Penelope speaking out over the voice of Odysseus, that’s what she called it, and it meant so much to her. She died with a fire in her belly, Lucy, with her dignity restored and that amazing mind set on a mission, and that’s something. It’s really something.”
I tentatively reach for his hand, and when he takes mine, I squeeze, and we sit in silence. Then he straightens and says, “So you have a story for me.”
“I do.”
I tell him the timeline of the morning of the murder. Nothing in that surprises him. I suspect it’s like when Isabella told him what really happened fourteen years ago. It only confirmed what he’d already figured out.
“You were in New York that night,” I say. “I know you were.”
He nods. “I didn’t see her, though. We talked for over an hour that night. We were going to meet up for breakfast. She planned to sneak over to my hotel. I expected her at ten. Instead, as I was waiting, I found out what happened.”
“Tiana didn’t notify you, I take it.”
