Beneath Forbidden Ground (34 page)

“I understand this is asking a lot, Mr. Brand, given the circumstances. But Carlos is very remorseful, not only for your pain, but for the other families too. I’m usually good at reading people. I’m convinced he’s an honorable man, one who’s made a terrible mistake. If I didn’t believe that to be true, I would certainly never propose such a thing to you. He’s been charged as an accessory after-the-fact for the earlier killings, but the D A seems willing to grant him limited immunity, based on the same reasons I’ve given you.”

Brand was quiet for a moment, his mouth hanging slightly open, as if he wanted to speak, but was unable to. Turning away from the detective, he spent a long minute rubbing a hand over his chin. It seemed an eternity to Scallion, who stood wondering if it was possible for grief and understandable disdain to be trumped by compassion and forgiveness.

The silver-haired man finally turned back, staring intently at the detective. “You know, you
are
asking a lot?” The ache was still evident in his voice.

“Yes, sir. I know that very well. And if it’s too much, I’ll...”

Brand waved a hand to quiet him. “You say he’s here now?”

“Yes, sir. Up front, in the snack bar.”

“What was his name again?”

“Carlos. Carlos Valvez.”

“Tell him to come on back. We’ll talk. No promises though.”

“Understood.”

36

Fulfilling a pledge he had made to himself weeks earlier, Scallion took advantage of a relatively mild—by Houston standards—Saturday morning by treating Marti to an excursion. The days following their visit to the oncologist had been filled with renewed hope and optimism, allowing them both a reason to view life through rosier lens. And after a week involving more depressing matters, he thought a return visit to the Forbidden Gardens would do them both good. He had another motive for the outing, hoping to have a chance to find James Truluck, and give him the results of his phone tip.

His assumption Marti would be impressed by the display proved to be correct, having to stand patiently by while she peppered the guide with questions. World history had been a favorite subject for her in school, and she knew enough about the period exhibited to ask a few the guide couldn’t handle. The guide wasn’t Truluck, but instead a young college-age student. During a walk from one talking point to another, Pete inquired, and was told the man he wanted to see was handling the gift shop that morning.

Whispering into Marti’s ear, he broke off from the group, finding Truluck behind the counter, wrapping up plastic terra-cotta soldiers for a customer. The man shot a look of recognition at the detective.

Scallion browsed while he waited, having no intention of making a purchase; souvenirs weren’t his thing. The customer paid and left, and Truluck approached.

“I remember the face, and who you are, but I’m having trouble with the name,” he said, adjusting his glasses.

“Scallion. Pete Scallion.”

“Right. Detective Scallion. Welcome back.”

“Thanks.” He pointed his thumb toward the door. “I brought my wife out to see your layout this time.”

Truluck’s wide grin showed he was pleased. “I trust she’s enjoying it?”

“Oh, very much so. She’s giving your guide a workout.” Scallion paused for a second. “Listen, Mr. Truluck, I wanted to tell you in person that we’ve been able to make an arrest in the Becker case, thanks to evidence found in the harmonica you provided.”

The grin grew wider. “Why, that’s amazing! How wonderful!”

Letting the man enjoy his excitement for a second, Scallion continued. “The trial’s still a couple of months away, but it shouldn’t be hard to get a conviction. Sheriff Howorth also wanted me to extend his thanks to you, on behalf of Harris County. We wish there were more folks like you who would take an interest in helping law enforcement.”

“I was glad to be in position to do it. My son will be pleased too, since he found it.”

“That’s right. I’d forgotten that. Thank him too. Unfortunately, Mr. Truluck, this is not one of those cases with a reward involved. If it were, you’d definitely be in line for it.”

Truluck washed away the thought with a wave of his hand. “Don’t fret about that, Detective Scallion. You’ve just given me my reward.”

“We’ll have to hang on to the harmonica until the trial is done. After that, if no appeals are lodged, I’ll do what I can to see that it’s returned to you.”

“Fine. No hurry. But it would make a good conversation piece for the family.”

Scallion shook hands, said his goodbyes, then went in search of his wife. The group had made it to the tomb housing the subterranean soldiers. She was hanging on to every word the guide spoke, still wanting to engage him in discussion.

When the tour ultimately came to an end, Scallion was convinced the only person happier than him was the guide, who had earned every penny of his pay. Marti was gushing over the whole experience while she reluctantly followed her husband to the car.

“This was incredible, Pete. It really makes you want to see the real thing, doesn’t it?”

“Sure does, “ he answered innocently. Finding the car was actually the only thing on his mind.

Looking back at the exhibit, she suddenly wrapped an arm around his. “Let’s do it,” she said.

“Do what?” he replied with a dumb smile, although he knew
exactly
what she was suggesting.

“Let’s plan a trip to China. We need to see the
real
Forbidden City. And the tomb, too. Can we put it on our list?”

He stopped, pulling her tightly to him, staring directly into her sparkling almond eyes, seeing the glow of a hopeful future in them. “Absolutely,” he said. “ It’s already on there.”

23

© Black Rose Writing