Lies Agreed Upon (32 page)

Tess was skeptical that she would
get any useful information, but she also felt relieved to have addressed the obvious gap in her research. Her “due diligence” completed, Tess relaxed and called Christina. Her friend answered from some location with a cacophony of voices, music and clinking glassware.

“Hi, babe,” Christina shouted.

“Are you at a party,” asked Tess, unsurprised.

“You know it. It’s Friday,” laughed her friend. “Hey, I read that long-ass e-mail you sent about your family, and
—
”

“Wait till I fill you in on the latest,” Tess interrupted, and proceeded to impart her new information.

At the end of Tess’s brief update, Christina groaned, “Wow. Let me digest all this.”

“I know, it doesn’t get simpler,” Tess sympathized. “But I’d appreciate any insights from an unbiased observer.”

“I’m definitely biased,” asserted Christina, “meaning I’m on your side. So here are my conclusions about the dead people since they can’t complain: You’re mother was f-ed up by her childhood trauma. Josephine and Thérèse were bitches. Desmond and Dylan were twin brats. Elaine and Gloria Donovan are scary. And what the hell was wrong with Benjamin Cabrera? It makes no sense that he would give up marriage and his inheritance to please a nincompoop father. I gotta think he was gay, and that’s why he let a nasty punk like this Eddie Roy Haas take advantage. I just can’t get a read on your grandfather. He comes off like a 1950s movie hero but with no edge – you know, Tab Hunter instead of Marlon Brando. Noah sounds sexy as hell. I’d have chased him if I’d been around back then, except I doubt I could put up with the ‘angry loner’ stuff.”

“Well, you don’t pull your punches,” murmured Tess at the end of this soliloquy. “Don’t you think you’re making it all a little too black-and-white?”

“How else can you make any sense out of it?” sniffed Christina.

“OK, what do you think I should do with my secret garden?” Tess asked.

“It’s a no-brainer. Sell the property and enjoy the money,” said Christina. “Now, how about the hot guys you’ve been meeting? Any news there?”

“I’ll be meeting with
my two lawyer friends in the next few days,” assured Tess, “and Mac is supposed to be arriving in New Orleans today.”

“
Mac! Have you lost your mind?” Christina moaned. “I can’t believe Mac will have the gall to call you. No, wait. Of course, he’ll call you because you asked him to meet you, didn’t you? Please, please don’t try to rekindle that flame. It burned you once, and it will again.”

“Let’s forget about my New Orleans adventures for now,” said Tess, ignoring Christina’s grumbled sotto voce comments. “I’ll be coming back to L.A. next week. I’m going to move out of my apartment.
Can you help me out temporarily? I’ll put most of my stuff into storage, but I'll need a place to stay for a bit after that. I’m running on financial fumes right now. Even after the inheritance money comes, I need to find a job and get my life straightened out before I move to a new place.”

“Of course,
you can come stay here,” responded Christina. “I’ve got a second bedroom for a reason
.
Friends, relatives, and boyfriends who snore
are
all welcome to it. Stay as long as you need to.”

Tess hurriedly signed off when Christina tried to return to the subject of Mac.

As soon as she disconnected, her cell merrily tinkled. Tess almost dropped the phone in shock at how the universe made connections. Mac was calling.

“Mac?” she squeaked, breathless with excitement, her heart racing.

“Hey, I was about to leave a message. What’s going on? Are you about to party on Bourbon Street? Any reason I should be jealous?” he said, infusing his voice with his own brand of throaty intimacy. But there was a relaxed insouciance that told Tess he assumed she was spending her evening alone as a staid spinster.

“Actually, I was just about to go out for dinner. Can you join me?” she answered with
her newly acquired boldness. His pause was nerve-racking, and the old, less aggressive Tess bit her lip anxiously.

“Oh, sounds good. Let’s meet at Brennan’s for an early dinner. You know where it is?” Mac finally replied. “
I just got in today and I’m bushed, so let’s make it an early night. I’ve got some important work prep tomorrow, and I need to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. But maybe we can still stop by a club on Bourbon Street after dinner.”

“
Sure,” said Tess, her throat so full of bubbling joy she could barely choke out a good-bye.

She lay back on the high hotel bed and closed her eyes. They would dine, listen to mellow music and come back here in a relaxed sensual haze. He would take her clothes off slowly and strip his off eagerly, and they would entwine on this bed. He would join himself to her slowly, in rhythmic thrusts
. No, he would piston feverishly to make up for all the days apart. She would arch and cry out in ecstasy—

“You’re nuts. He said an ‘early night.’ That’s code for ‘
no time for sex.’
“

“I don’t believe that,” mumbled Tess.

“Desperation does not become you.”

Tess bathed and dressed with great care for her outing with Mac, keeping her mother’s cynical comments firmly at bay. She was tired of pleasant interludes with
new acquaintances like Remy, Jon and Tony. She wanted—she needed—intimacy.

She was humming as she donned earrings
that Mac had given her two years earlier for her birthday. She hoped it would remind him of their light-hearted celebration then, and the sexual rewards that followed. Suddenly, her mobile phone tunefully announced an incoming call. Tess tensed. “Please don’t let it be Mac calling the whole thing off,” she pleaded to the Fates. But a glance at the phone showed an unknown, local number.

“Hello? This is Dr. Lepore,” said a bass voice. “Am I speaking with Tess Parnell?”

“Oh, yes, this is Tess Parnell. Thank you so much for getting in touch, Dr. Lepore,” she exclaimed, relieved and surprised by her success in connecting so quickly with the old doctor. “I’m amazed you called so promptly when it’s your day off. I hope it’s no trouble.”

“Well, it was quite a shock to hear the name Guy Cabrera again.” The deep voice had a slow, reassuring cadence. In the background, Tess could hear a television, male conversation and clinking glasses. The old man was probably in a golf course clubhouse enjoying a cold beer. “Are you some cold-case detective like I see on TV, Ms. Parnell?”

“I’m afraid not. I am Guy Cabrera’s granddaughter. I’m in New Orleans regarding an inheritance from the Cabrera family. I only recently learned about my grandfather’s murder. I guess my parents, who have both passed away, didn’t want to upset me with the details. But I’m naturally curious about it. In a news article I read, you are quoted as one of my grandfather’s friends and colleagues. Would you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

“Oh, so you are the daughter of Guy’s posthumous child, Joanne. I knew the name Pa
rnell sounded familiar. Your mother Joanne talked to me on the same subject last year. I’m so sorry to hear she’s passed away. I’m afraid I’ll have to tell you what I told her. I can’t solve the mystery of Guy’s death any more now than I could in 1958. It was a terrible, inexplicable shock then and still is,” said Dr. Lepore.

“My mother talked to you last year?” marveled Tess. Her mother seemed to have been r
eturning to her New Orleans roots in ways that went beyond a renewed interest in her property. “I didn’t know. I’m afraid she didn’t share with me what you discussed, so you’ll have to forgive me if I ask the same questions. I was wondering if you can think of any patient or patient’s family member with a grudge against my grandfather. Even a talented doctor might have an unhappy patient,” Tess pointed out.

“Well, Guy was very talented in a medical sense, and he was also a very caring, person
able young man. I remember wishing that his bedside manner came as naturally to me. There was no problem related to any patient as far as I know,” the doctor said.

“How about co-workers? Did he have run-ins with anyone?” Tess pressed.

“No, and I told the police the same thing at the time. And before you ask, let me add that there was no hanky-panky with nurses or married women or anything of that sort. The police asked about that, too. Guy barely had time to sleep. Between the hospital and a pregnant wife at home, he hardly had the energy for an affair,” rumbled the old doctor.

“There must have been some trouble somewhere. I can’t believe he died
in a random shooting,” said Tess in frustration. “Did he ever say anything to you that would make you concerned for his safety?”

“As I told the police, Guy did tell me
there was an ongoing family dispute. He made it sound more annoying than dangerous. I believe the police looked into it but ruled out any suspects. I wish I could be more helpful,” sighed Dr. Lepore. “It was a very long time ago, but I do remember my time with Guy more vividly than I might otherwise because of his untimely death.”

“Well, thank you for speaking with me anyway,” said Tess. She paused, reluctant to end the conversation after gleaning so little. At least Dr. Lepore could shed some light on her gran
dfather’s life if not his death, she decided. “I understand you are a radiologist. You know, I don’t even know my grandfather’s intended area of specialization. What was it?”

“He was very interested in immunology and contagious diseases, both improved preve
ntion and treatment. The 1950s were a period in which vaccinations worked wonders against old scourges like polio, and antibiotics were saving people who earlier would have died of simple strep infections.”

Lepore paused and then added, “
I remember that, at the time of his death, he was helping with a hospital research project on the use of antibiotics for improved treatment of syphilis, for example. Charity had been a pioneer in treating congenital syphilis back in the ’30s.

“Even though Charity Hospital was segregated, Guy did not distinguish based on race or income. And if anyone had the ability to handle frightened, despairing patients, it was Guy. Just the day b
efore his death, I remember seeing him reassuring a poor fellow who was distraught to know he had been infected by a prostitute. It was all the more devastating because it was a male prostitute. The fear of discovery was probably greater than his fear of the disease. AIDS is not the first sexually transmitted plague to pull the veil off sexual taboos. If he were alive today, I know Guy would be on the forefront of the fight against HIV, too. He was impartial and compassionate. I admired him.”

“Do you know why my grandfather went to medical school in Texas first and then came back to finish his studies in New Orleans?” Tess asked. “Was it because of some special pr
ogram?”

“Guy was a bright guy and quite driven. He had finished his pre-med undergraduate studies at Tulane in
only three years. He could have gone to medical school at Tulane, but Guy told me he chose the Baylor College of Medicine in Texas because he wanted to get away from New Orleans. I think he was escaping some unhappy situations at the time. I believe his father had just passed away, and Guy expressed disillusion over things he had learned about his father’s character after his death. (Tess drew a blank on this point and resolved to ask Sam Beauvoir, Roman’s contemporary.) He also said something about an old affair that had gone sour. (Lillian, concluded Tess.)

“
He said going to Texas was the best thing he ever did because he met his future wife there. But he missed this city too much. New Orleans has a peculiar hold on its natives. So after two years, he came back to the Tulane School of Medicine and graduated in May of ’58. He had just begun his residency that fall at Charity Hospital when he was murdered,” explained Lepore’s mellifluous bass.

“He must have had some faults,” remarked Tess, “even if only minor ones. I really would like a more realistic portrait of my grandfather. Can you add a wart or two?”

“I don’t mean to imply he was perfect,” laughed Lepore. “None of us are. His faults? Well, he was quick-tempered and sometimes overly judgmental
—
but also swift to apologize. And he was proud and oversensitive to insults, yet sometimes insensitive about the pride of others. I think his worst behavior actually resulted from his many personal assets. He was a charming, attractive man who was unused to being disliked or disrespected or even ignored. When that happened, he was shocked and angry, and sometimes lashed out. Is that enough negativity about a nice person?”

“Thanks, Dr. Lepore. You’ve been very patient. If you think of anything more, please give me a call,” said Tess.

“Certainly. A parting word, young lady: I believe you said your name is Tess. Can I assume that is short for Therese?” he asked in his slow, solemn voice.

“Yes,” said Tess. She wondered wher
e the old doctor was headed.

“As I thought. Did your family tell you why you are named Therese?” he asked.

“No, not really,” Tess answered. She resigned herself to confirmation that she was named for Thérèse Cabrera, a woman about whom she had mixed feelings.

“Ah, perhaps I know the answer
,” said Dr. Lepore. “When your grandmother named her daughter Joanne, I was surprised. You see, your grandfather told me that, if he had a daughter, he planned to name her Therese after his great-grandmother, Thérèse Cabrera. He explained that he and his wife were restoring a beautiful rose garden on the old Cabrera estate. It made him want to honor Thérèse because she had created the original garden.