Chapter 35

Chapter Thirty-Five

Jamie

I t had been a long few weeks, but everything had worked itself out.

Morrie Xavier made a full confession. He got a public defender who got him a halfway decent deal considering the circumstances—twenty-five years with no parole. If Morrie was still alive by the time he was due for release, he would be well into his seventies.

In some ways, I felt for him. I knew what he did was wrong, but I genuinely didn’t think he would be a danger to the general public. In his mind, he had a good reason for this, and he didn’t strike me as the sort of man who would turn up at a random post office, for example, and open fire on innocent people .

He likely would go after Carlotta, though. Even though he had never really blamed her for any of this, and he claimed he only wanted to kill her to make William feel his pain, whether he would have thought the same if presented with an opportunity to kill Carlotta, I really wouldn’t like to say.

I guess in the end, he got what was coming to him. As did William Alden, in some ways, although I certainly wouldn’t condone what Morrie did. And it seemed like rather an uncharitable thought to have at William’s funeral.

I didn’t really know why I came here today. To pay my respects, I supposed. And because there was still a nagging voice inside my head. A little insistent voice that told me this was all just a little bit too convenient. I wasn’t exactly saying that Carlotta had killed anyone, but something about the whole thing just felt ... I don’t know ... off somehow.

When she came to the station the day after William’s murder, she made a statement about everything that happened in her lounge, and after that, off the record, she told me how her original statement had ended. It went down pretty much how William had described it to Morrie. Candy rushed at Carlotta with the knife, and William reacted on instinct, putting himself between the two women and pushing Candy away to save Carlotta. After seeing William take a bullet for his wife, I could well believe that was how it went down. And I knew she didn’t do anything to William. I couldn’t doubt that story. I mean, I was there. No one could have stopped that.

And yet there was still a niggle. Still, something tickled the edge of my brain. On paper, Carlotta was innocent. A victim herself, even. But she inherited everything upon William’s death, and if she had planned this whole thing, it couldn’t have gone better. I didn’t seriously think she’d planned this. There were too many moving pieces for her to have pulled off something this spectacular and gotten away without leaving any trace of doubt behind.

I guess I came to William’s funeral just to silence that voice. To see Carlotta grieving for her husband and convince myself that I was looking for something that just wasn’t there. The problem was, Carlotta didn’t seem like a grief-stricken widow. I knew grief affected people differently, but she seemed almost nonchalant. Like burying her husband was just another item to cross off her to-do list for the day.

I suppose, though, in some ways, it made sense that she wouldn’t be as distraught as one would expect a person to be who had witnessed their husband murdered in front of their eyes. It would perhaps have been more suspicious if she had been sobbing and distraught. I mean, their marriage was clearly on the rocks, most likely over. I knew that almost the instant I met them. If the love had already gone, then maybe this calm indifference was all Carlotta had left to give. And it wasn’t like she had skimped on the funeral.

She had done the funeral the traditional way, hosting a three-day wake in the house before the actual ceremony. I hadn’t gone to the wake, but I had driven by and I could see even from that quick drive by that no expense had been spared. The same could be said for the funeral itself. The coffin was solid mahogany, likely a couple of thousand dollars’ worth. And the flowers. There were seemingly hundreds of them, and I knew they hadn’t been cheap.

I decided I had to let this go. The case was closed, justice had been served, and the chief was happy. That would have to be enough for me.

As the burial came to an end and the mourners began to move away, I joined the edge of the crowd and began to move away myself .

“Detective Del Rey?” Carlotta called out from behind me.

I turned around and she came toward me. I gave her a quick hug and kissed her cheek, taking in her straight black dress and the black lace handkerchief she held, although there was no sign of any tears.

“Carlotta,” I said. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

She smiled wryly.

“I think we both know that’s not entirely true, Detective,” she said. “Walk with me a while?”

She started walking away from the freshly dug grave, leading me to a bench nestled beneath a couple of tall trees. I didn’t particularly want to go with her, and I almost told her I had to get back to work, but my curiosity got the better of me and I found myself following her, grateful at least that I didn’t have to try and respond to her comment about my condolences not being entirely genuine.

“So, what’s the story with Morrie Xavier?” she asked once we were seated.

We sat side by side but with enough space between us that we had turned to face each other.

“He made a full confession, and he’s taken a deal that gives him twenty-five years behind bars with no chance of parole. We’re waiting for confirmation that the judge has accepted the deal, but both parties are satisfied with it, and it’s a fair punishment, so I see no reason any judge would reject the deal and charge the taxpayers for a long, drawn-out trial that would likely result in the same sort of custodial sentencing.”

“That sounds fair,” Carlotta said. “Detective Del Rey, do you attend the funeral of every murderer you investigate? Because while William was killed himself, he did kill Candy Xavier.”

Her question threw me for a moment. I guess I had stopped thinking of William as a murderer the moment he was shot and started to think of him as the victim, but Carlotta was right. Ultimately, Morrie was probably more of a victim than William, although his continued utterances of things such as ‘I would do it again tomorrow if I had to’ made that easy to forget at times.

“I ... no, I don’t,” I admitted.

“So, say it,” Carlotta said.

“Say what?” I asked.

“Whatever it was that you came to say to me before you changed your mind and tried to slink away.” She smiled. She turned serious again quickly. “There’s only us here, Detective, and anything we say here will remain between the two of us. Life is too short for regrets, and I won’t give you this opportunity again, so don’t leave yourself regretting not asking me whatever it is that’s on your mind while you have the chance.”

“I guess I just feel like there’s a part of the story I haven’t been told,” I said.

Carlotta smiled sadly at me.

“I think that’s a fair statement. And to answer it, Detective, I will say this. Just because I didn’t kill someone doesn’t mean I’m not glad they’re dead.”

“Are you talking about Candy or William?” I asked.

Carlotta gave me that sad smile again. She stood up and started to walk away, pausing to look over her shoulder for a second.

“Does it matter, Detective? Thank you for coming today,” she said.