Chapter 22

I made a point of getting to the Golden Nugget at five fifteen. If Daniel and I had any hope of patching things up, I really couldn’t be late.

When we arrived at the vicarage, my dad was drinking bourbon in the kitchen, and Michael was doing a bad job of fixing dinner. Dad immediately struck up a conversation with Daniel, and before I could ask where Sierra was, my mother spirited me out the back door.

“Copper, I need to use your computer again,” she said, closing the kitchen door. “I need to send some email.”

“Mom, I—”

I couldn’t bring myself to let her make another email mistake.

“What’s that?” my mother interrupted. She was pointing to the far side of the yard, where some obvious action was taking place under a dense boxwood hedge. We watched as Sekhmet emerged on her belly.

“She’s carrying something,” Mom said.

It was pretty dark, but there was no denying the cat had something white and furry hanging out both sides of her mouth.

“What is it?” Mom asked. “Is it alive?”

Oh, God, I thought. What if it’s some poor kid’s bunny?

I crossed the lawn to see.

“It’s not alive,” I said, pulling the thing out of Sekhmet’s mouth. “It’s a muff, I think—no wait—it’s a cuff!”

Yes. It was a white rabbit-fur cuff lined in satin. It even had a large rhinestone-studded cuff link.

The cat complained loudly as my mother and I examined it.

“I wonder where she found it,” I said, turning the thing over in my hands. “It certainly doesn’t look like something from a garbage can.”

“She’s a very odd kitty,” my mother said. “Yesterday, I had to stop her from stealing a bra out of Sierra’s laundry basket.”

“Yeah, she’s weird, all right,” I said. “She’s been leaving me strange gifts ever since I started feeding her.” Like men’s briefs, I was thinking, and maybe Sierra was right about the cinnamon roll. The only pervert in the neighborhood was my own cat.

“Well, anyway, may I use your laptop again?”

“Mom, I’ve got to tell you something first,” I said. I took a deep breath. “The last time you used it—”

“I broke something? I’m sorry!”

“No! You didn’t break anything. You just—” I looked at her. “You left a copy of your message in my outbox, and a reply came to my inbox.”

“Oh.” She was silent for a minute or two. “Copper, there’s something I should tell you.”

About time, I thought.

“You know Patrick.”

“I do?”

“Yes. Patrick Cluff.”

“Mr. Cluff? From St. Mark’s?” Mr. Cluff was an old dude who taught Sunday school at our church and planted rosebushes in the Memorial Garden every spring. At least I always thought of him as an “old dude” because his wife had died and he seemed kind of grandfatherly. He was nice enough, but the thought of the freckly old guy getting a boner for my mother was unsettling. I actually preferred the mental image of her getting nailed by a virile young potter.

“Are you and Dad splitting up?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Mom said.

Wait a second! I wanted to shout. You’re getting it on with another man, and you aren’t sure your marriage is on the rocks?

“It really depends on how things go with Graham,” she continued.

“Graham? Who’s Graham?”

“Your father’s boyfriend.”

What?

I couldn’t have been rendered more speechless if she had kicked me in the stomach.

“Patrick’s getting me through this,” she said softly.

I just stood there.

“He was a friend. I didn’t expect to fall in love with him.”

I still didn’t know what to say. A lifetime of training in silent denial hadn’t prepared me for a conversation like this.

“I better go in and help Michael,” I said at last. “Does he know about—you and Dad?”

Mom nodded. “I told him today. Sierra knows, too.” She brushed a curl off her forehead. “I was going to tell you, too—the right way. I’m sorry you had to find out by—”

“It’s okay, Mom.”

It wasn’t, though. I could only hope that someday it would be.

“Where’s Sierra, anyway?” I asked, following family tradition and changing the subject.

“She called earlier. She’s held up at work.”

I headed inside.

“I’ll be right in,” Mom said. “Give me a minute.”

I left Sekhmet’s fur cuff on the washing machine on my way through the laundry room. In the kitchen, my father was engaged in animated conversation with Daniel. I couldn’t help staring at them. God! Fifteen minutes ago I would just have been happy they were having a good time. Now, I couldn’t help noticing how my dad was standing. Weight on one foot, hip thrust out, and he touched Daniel’s arm when he laughed.

For a fleeting second, I felt like grabbing the frying pan on the counter and smashing him on the head. Damn it, Dad! Did you have to make our whole family history a big fat lie?

Since I couldn’t exactly shout out the question without ruining the evening entirely, I tried to concentrate on helping my brother make spaghetti sauce. With luck, he wouldn’t bring the subject up. I needed time to get my head around our new family dynamic.

“Sierra should get here any minute,” Michael said as he tried to slice a mushroom. The knife slipped, almost costing him the end of his thumb.

“Here, let me do that,” I said. “Spaghetti sauce is a lot better without blood in it.”

Michael happily relinquished the knife and turned over the sauce-making project to me.

“Sierra had something a lot fancier planned, but when I asked her how to get started, she changed the menu.”

Wise of her, I thought.

“Did you meet with Julia on Saturday?” I asked.

“No,” Michael said, slightly surprised. “Why?”

“Just wondered,” I said.

“I was supposed to, but I put her off until today. I was about to leave for her office when Sierra called. Told me to use any excuse to get out of the meeting. I don’t know what’s up, but Julia was pretty upset when I told her I couldn’t make it.”

Just as Mom came in from the backyard, Sierra called from the living room. “Michael, are you here?”

“Yes!”

Michael headed out of the kitchen and a second later called out, “Copper! Come here!”

I joined them in their bedroom. Sierra was sitting on the edge of the bed hyperventilating.

“I’ve got it all,” she said, patting a file folder on her lap. “Copper, you were right.”

“What?” Michael said. “Will somebody tell me what’s going on?”

“Julia’s a crook,” Sierra said.

“What?” Michael said again.

“Look, we’ve got to do dinner with your parents,” Sierra said, her voice beginning to return to a more normal pitch. “Once they’re gone, I’ll explain everything.”

“Dinner’s just about ready,” I said. “Just have to boil the spaghetti.”

“Thanks, Copper,” Sierra said. “I’ll set the table.”

Doing our best to appear calm and normal, the three of us headed back across the living room.

“What the freaking hell is this?” Sierra’s voice shrilled from the laundry room, where she’d gone to retrieve some clean napkins.

“Oh! I forgot to tell you,” I said. “It’s another cat trophy.”

“Damn!” Sierra said. “Do you have any idea where she got it?”

“Copper and I saw her drag it through the back hedge,” Mom said. “I thought it was alive.”

“God,” Sierra said. “Do you have any idea … ?”

“What’s the big deal?” I said. “It looks like something a Chippendales dancer would wear.”

“Look at this.” Sierra held the cuff out, and we all gathered around. She pointed to the rhinestone cuff link. “That’s an ‘L,’” she said, “See it?”

She was right. The capital cursive L traced out in glittery stones was plainly visible now that I was seeing it in brighter light.

“A rhinestone ‘L’ means only one thing in this town,” Sierra said. “I think this belonged to Liberace.”

“Really?” my dad said, suddenly much more interested. “Is that possible?”

“You’d be amazed what I’ve seen in people’s houses around here,” Sierra said. “Lots of people collect memorabilia—they go to auctions any time a show shuts down or an old casino’s going to get imploded. Hans and Dustin—the two gay guys down the street who got burglarized—that’s how they built their collection. I’m going to call them in the morning. If this is theirs, maybe our kitty knows where to find more.”

Sierra set the cuff down on the little phone desk, and soon dinner was on the table. I’m not sure I talked much while we ate. All I remember is my mind jumping back and forth between my parents’ crazy relationships and whatever Sierra had in her manila file folder. And what was happening between Daniel and me? Was my whole world on the verge of disintegration? How could that be, when everything seemed so smooth on the surface?

After dinner and Greek coffee in the living room, my parents began getting ready to leave. They had an early flight the next morning, and a rental car to return.

“You never sent your email,” I said to my mother as she pulled on her sweater and picked up her purse. “Want me to send a message for you?”

“No, that’s okay, darling,” she said. “I’ll call from the hotel.” She hugged me. “I’m sorry things are tough, Copper, and I’m proud of you.”

Proud of me? What for?

“Just take care of yourself, Mom,” I said. I picked up the tray of demitasses and headed toward the kitchen.

My father was standing alone near the little phone desk. His right arm was stretched out in front of him, and on his wrist was the Liberace cuff. He was looking at his reflection in the window.

I froze as realization hit me like a truck. My father was gay. He’d been gay all his life. Oh, my God, I thought. What’s it like to be locked in a closet for more than half a century? I couldn’t imagine. I remembered what he had told me about his mother the day we went to the Liberace Museum. “For her, being homosexual was simply not an option.” Oh, Daddy. What you really meant was that it wasn’t an option for you.

The cuff was off, and Dad was facing me. Our eyes locked. He knew that I knew. I set the tray down, walked over and kissed him on the cheek.

“Think it’s real?” I said.

“I’d like to believe it,” my dad said. “I—” he paused, and our eyes met. He reached out and ruffled my hair. “I love you, kiddo.”

“I love you, too, Daddy-o,” I said, and I ruffled his hair back.

:: :: ::

Sierra was all business as soon as the door closed behind my parents. “Daniel, if you’ll excuse us, Michael, Copper, and I have got to have a little meeting. If you want to watch TV—”

Thank you, Sierra! I’d been dreading telling Daniel myself.

“You can go up to my place,” I said. “You can have my laptop.” I turned to Sierra. “Let me go set it up, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Daniel followed me up the stairs. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” I said after I’d made sure Daniel had Internet access.

“Whatever,” Daniel said, sitting down at my desk. I didn’t like his tone. It almost made me wish he’d said, “We’ve got to talk” again. I sighed.

“I won’t be long, I promise.”

Back in the vicarage, I found Michael and Sierra at the dining room table. Sierra had spread out a bunch of papers, and Michael had a tragic look on his face.

“So what’s the deal?” I said.

“After you called, I pulled all the background on the Alliance’s transactions,” Sierra said. “And it all looked perfectly fine. Landmark Properties owns the Bluebird Motel, and it still looks like a perfectly good property for the Alliance. But since you seemed so convinced Julia’s up to something, and I was so sure she wasn’t, I did a little more homework. I pulled the background on Landmark.”

Sierra moved some papers to the top of the pile.

“Again, everything looked good. Landmark is a limited liability corporation, and the partners are Jasper Cutler and John Kusick. The officers are people whose names I didn’t recognize except for one that seemed familiar: R. Taylor Higginbotham. Recognize that name, Michael?”

“Maybe … ”

“The ‘R’ stands for Rachel.”

“Julia’s assistant,” Michael said slowly.

“Yeah,” Sierra said. “And that wasn’t a good sign. So I got the whole file from the Office of the Secretary of State. Took a couple of hours, but it turned out to be worth it. Guess who another director of Landmark Properties is.”

“Julia Saxon.” Michael and I both said it, and Sierra nodded.

“It gets worse,” she said. “As long as I was checking, I figured I might as well see what was happening with the original property—Willow Lake.” She riffled through some more papers. “It’s nice to have friends at title companies. I found out that another limited liability corporation has made an offer on it.”

More paper shuffling.

“This one’s called Triple J Ranch Partners. I checked out who the officers are and didn’t recognize any names, but I got the full list of directors anyway. Sure enough, the three Js are there. Jasper, John, and Julia.”

“If it was that easy to find out what was going on,” Michael said, “how come nobody noticed before?”

“Nobody bothered,” Sierra said. “Julia obviously thought they didn’t have to work very hard to pull this off.”

“What’s the real crime, though?” I said. “What do they get out of it that they couldn’t have gotten above board?”

“I was wondering that myself,” Sierra said, “and I think it comes down to two things. One is, the Bluebird property probably has some major defects they’ve neglected to disclose. Hazmat, if I had to guess. Old leaky gas tanks are common up there, and it costs a fortune to clean them up. But that’s just a guess.”

“It’s a very good guess,” I said, remembering the articles Ed Bramlett had given me.

“Yes, but it could also just be a run-down property they’ve managed to get some inflated appraisals on. What I’m almost positive about is that they want to buy the Willow Lake property for the price the Alliance was going to pay. Now that it’s been rezoned for multi-family units, it’s worth a lot more, and if they move fast they can swoop in before any other offers come in.”

“There’s still something bothering me,” I said. “A reporter at the newspaper was convinced that somehow you were going to ‘get screwed’ by all of this, Michael. And—just a minute. I’ve got something you’ve got to hear. I’ll be right back.”

Julia’s tape recorder was in my car. I glanced up at my apartment as I retrieved it from the glove box. The lights were still on.

Please be patient, Daniel, I prayed. You were right. We really do need to talk.

Back in the dining room, Sierra and Michael were still poring over all the papers.

I set the recorder on the table and clicked it on. This time, as I listened to Julia chat with her accomplices, everything made perfect sense. They were angling to get the Willow Lake property, and Julia had set it up so—if nobody looked very closely—it would be “all clean.”

But there was still one troubling problem. What did Julia mean when she said Michael had been “taken care of?”

“Isn’t it great to have God on our side?” Sierra repeated as I clicked the recorder off. “That bitch! How could she?”

“But what does it mean?” I said. “I know it’s underhanded of them to take the Alliance’s property deal, but how does Michael get hurt?”

“That bitch!” Sierra said. “That fucking bitch!”

“I think I know,” Michael said, and we both looked at him. His face was the color of a hospital sheet. “I’ve got something to show you.”

“That fucking, fucking bitch,” Sierra said.

Michael came back with an envelope in his hand and sat back down.

“Julia sent this to me by courier today. She said the courier would wait while I signed it.” He opened the envelope and slid something out. Sierra and I leaned across the table. It was a cashier’s check for $300,000.

“It’s made out to you!” I said.

“Yes,” Michael said. “Julia told me somebody at Landmark screwed up and had the check made out to me instead of to the Alliance. It’s supposed to be a donation—it was part of the deal. So she wanted me to endorse it. I asked her why Landmark couldn’t get a new check, and she said this would be a lot faster and accomplish the same thing.”

“That fucking bitch,” Sierra said.

“I asked her if I should endorse it over to the Alliance for the Homeless, and she said, ‘No, it’s going into an escrow account. Just sign it.’”

I waited for another “fucking bitch,” but Sierra seemed to have run out.

“Yeah,” she said. “‘Just sign it, and later if I need to, I can show the world you got a personal kickback of $300,000 for guiding the Alliance away from a valuable property and into a bad one with an artificially inflated price.’”

That fucking bitch!

“But I didn’t sign it,” Michael said. “I was about to, though.”

“Why didn’t you?” I asked.

“Well, I had only stopped by St. Andrew’s to meet the courier, but any time my car’s parked in front of the church, it guarantees activity. Mrs. Carrington showed up with the latest dire news about the altar guild. When I got her taken care of, my cell phone rang.”

“Me?” Sierra said.

“Yup.”

“I’m going to be a lot nicer to Mrs. C. from now on,” Sierra said. “The old bat can show me as many photos of her neurotic dachshunds as she wants.”

“I kept the check, sent the courier away, and called Julia. She was pretty upset, but I told her everything would just have to wait until tomorrow. I guess I dodged a pretty big bullet,” Michael said. “Thanks, sweetheart. Julia may think she’s got God on her side, but I’m happy to have you.”

Sierra didn’t say anything for a minute.

“Actually,” she said at last, “you should be glad you have Copper.”

Sierra looked at me, and I realized I had just heard the biggest apology ever to emerge from her mouth.

“It took us all,” I said, “and we’re not through. I think we’ve avoided the screw job, but there’s still the property deal. Wouldn’t it be better if the Alliance got Willow Lake?”

“Yeah,” Michael said. “I was willing to make the best of the Bluebird property, but the location’s not nearly as good.”

“Willow Lake’s a far better investment,” Sierra said, “even if Bluebird isn’t an outright liability.”

“This tape,” I said, tapping the recorder, “gives us the leverage we need to make Julia set everything straight. Let’s pay her a visit tomorrow.”

“I already told her I’d show up at ten,” Michael said.

We spent some more time working out the details, and by the time I was on my way up to my apartment again, I had agreed to go with Michael to confront Julia the next morning. He wanted a witness, and Sierra thought it would be better if the witness weren’t his wife.

“I’m his sister, though,” I said.

“I know,” Sierra said, “but you’re also the press.”

Had I heard right? Sierra was calling me “the press?”

“She’s got a point,” Michael said. “I’m glad we have the press on our side.”

And my pompous big brother was, too!

Before I left, I almost asked them what they thought about Mom’s revelations. No, I told myself. There would be plenty of time to dissect my parents’ issues after we got Julia Saxon, Esquire, taken care of.

:: :: ::

The only light on in my apartment was the night-light in the bathroom. Daniel was sound asleep on the bed. As quietly as I could, I slipped off all my clothes and slid in next to him. He moaned softly and turned. His arms slipped around me, and his body curled around mine. I sighed. Oh, Daniel. This is so good. You and me together, sleeping like spoons. This is how it’s supposed to be.

My mind whirled with thoughts of Julia and the face-off Michael and I had planned for tomorrow, but Daniel’s rhythmic breathing soon slowed me down. And just before I fell asleep, I felt the soft thump of a cat’s paws landing on the end of the bed. The whole family’s here, I thought as I drifted off. My parents might be philanderers, and my brother a stooge. My cat might be peculiar, and I myself may have my priorities mixed up. But right that very minute, and for a few more hours, everything was perfect.

:: :: ::

Tuesday, December 27

It stayed perfect, too. Daniel and I woke up before dawn and we made love.

“I love you, Copper,” he said as we lay there in the dark. “I miss you.”

“I love you, Daniel,” I said. “And you can’t miss me because I’m right here.”

But the truth was, I missed him, too. What had happened to us?

“All I wanted was to spend a week with you,” he said. “But right now, I’d settle for a day.”

“Daniel—” There was no point in postponing the inevitable. “I wish I didn’t have to but—”

Daniel pulled away from me and sat up.

“Let me guess,” he said. “You’ve got an appointment with a pimp at Kmart.”

“Come on,” I said.

“Come on what?” he said, standing up. “Come on, let’s go get some breakfast? Somehow, I bet not.”

“This won’t take long,” I said.

“Oh, you mean like last night,” Daniel said.

“Do you want to hear what it’s about or not?” I asked.

“I’ve done a lot of listening lately, Copper,” Daniel said. “When does it get to be my turn to talk?”

“My brother’s in trouble,” I said. “I have to help him.”

“Well, that’s a step up from a dead hooker, at least.”

Right then, my phone rang. I looked at the number before I answered.

“It’s Heather,” I said.

“Oh, great. The live hooker.”

I sighed and took the call.

“Copper, a detective was here last night asking Richard a bunch more questions. He’s a mess this morning. Have you gotten anywhere with Julia?”

“No, but I’m seeing her this morning.” I didn’t see any point in telling Heather my meeting had nothing to do with Victoria.

“Good. I think I’ve found a ranch school in California that will take Jason, but I’m going to need at least ten grand to get him settled. Tell her that, okay?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Daniel pull his cell phone out of his jeans. He retreated across the room and made a call.

“I’ll do what I can. Any idea what the cops suspect?”

“Richard’s afraid they might think he killed Victoria.”

“Oh, no!”

“They asked questions about Marks, though. And American Beauty, so who knows?”

Daniel finished his call before Heather hung up.

“Want some coffee?” I said.

“You have time?”

“Yeah,” I said. But unfortunately, my cupboard was bare. It had been a while since I’d done any grocery shopping. “I’ll have to go borrow some coffee from Sierra.” I was about to add, “I’ll be right back,” but I restrained myself. No reason to reignite the war just yet.

Sierra was in the kitchen pouring a cup of coffee from a full pot.

“Oh, hi, Copper, “she said. “I’ve been thinking things over, and I think we should—”

“May I borrow some coffee?” I said. “It’s kind of an emergency.”

“Beans or already made?” she said. “Are you okay?”

“I’m not sure,” I said, not even sure which question I was answering.

“Is everything okay with Daniel?”

“No.”

Without another word, Sierra pulled two mugs from the cupboard above her and filled them from the pot. “Sugar?” she asked. “Cream?”

“No, black’s fine,” I said. “Thanks.” I picked up the mugs. “I’ll be back soon,” I said. God, it was becoming my favorite lie.

I was halfway across the driveway when a taxi pulled up at the curb. Daniel appeared at the top of my stairs. We met at the bottom, and I kept up with him as he walked purposefully to the curb.

“You’re leaving?” I said.

“Yeah.”

“Leaving Las Vegas?”

“I’m not sure yet. Thought I’d have breakfast and think things over.”

“Will you call me? We really should talk.”

Daniel made a gulping sound. A laugh? Or was it a sob?

“I love you,” I said.

Daniel looked at me, but he didn’t say anything. Then he opened the taxi door and disappeared inside.

The cab pulled away, leaving me standing there at the curb in my bathrobe holding two rapidly cooling mugs of black coffee.