Chapter 31 – January 15, 1988: Part I

I’m reading Are You My Mother? to Alex, who’s slobbering on her own fingers when Colin walks in and drops his backpack on the couch. "Hey, you two."

"Say 'hi' to Daddy." I grin at Colin. “She was quiet and attentive while you were gone. It's a little weird, actually.”

He smiles and squats close to Alex. "Well, you have your mom, a good book, and your fingers, so you're all set, right?" He looks at me. "Still meeting Pete in an hour?"

"Yep."

"Feeling okay?"

"Fine."

The phone rings and Colin feels around on the desk until he finds the receiver. "Hello," he says with a chipper voice. He looks at me with an annoyed frown and sighs. "Hang on."

He hands me the phone. "Pete."

I set the phone on the floor and transfer Alex to Colin. "She'll feel my annoyance."

"Yeah," he says. We have already learned that Alex is more observant than her peers.

I pick up the phone. "Pete?"

"Ra'Shelle, you need to come down to the lawyer’s office. I thought I could just give you a recap, but Mr. Law School here says that he needs to see you in-person. It's 254 Park Street. When can you be here?"

I look at my watch. "Thirty-five minutes."

He sighs. "Fine. We'll wait."

I hear the phone click, and I roll my eyes. "So, I'm going to the lawyer's office, apparently. You'll be okay with Alex?"

"Yeah, I'm done with classes for the day. We'll be fine… Unless you want me to drop her off at daycare and go with you."

I pick up my purse and kiss him lovingly. "I'm sure it's nothing. I'll return in a few hours."

I kiss Alex's forehead. "Be good, baby."

***

I spend most of the short bus ride biting my lip, picking at my nails, and realizing how annoyed I truly feel. When I arrive at Lorez, Kynder, and Lowell, I scoff and walk inside with feigned confidence.

The receptionist smiles. "Can I help you?"

"I'm here to see Gene Lorez. I'm Ra'Shelle Dawson."

"Yes ma'am. Through that door and to your left."

"Thanks."

Lorez's heavy, wooden door is open, and we see each other before Pete knows that I’ve arrived. My memory flashes for a moment. His face looks familiar, and I cock my head, staring at him with narrowed eyes.

He stands. "You must be Ra'Shelle Dawson. I'm Gene Lorez."

That voice. I know that voice.

"Yes. Nice to meet you."

He gestures toward the leather chair next to Pete. "Please have a seat."

I sit straight in the chair. "Pete."

"Ra'Shelle." He takes a deep breath. "Well, you won’t believe this."

"Try me."

“Apparently, my father left eighty percent of his money to some orphanage."

I suppress a smirk. "Really?"

Lorez clears his throat. "Home for the Lost is the name of the charity."

Pete continues to stare at me. "And, pray tell, why did my father leave most of his money to them, Gene?"

"Well, his biological parents dropped him off when he was a baby. A couple of families said they would adopt him but didn't. He spent most of his childhood there."

Pete continues his stare, despite me not meeting his gaze. "And what about his rental properties?"

"The current tenants can purchase their residences for one dollar."

I look at Pete. "So, you didn't inherit any of the properties?"

He deflects my question. "Tell her about the other twenty percent of the money, Gene."

"Well, three percent goes to a local children's hospital, seven percent to another individual, four percent to the benevolent fund of the local police department, and six percent to Pete."

"Matthew Stiedbeck is the 'other individual'," Pete directs at me. "Gabriel Stiedbeck's toddler son just inherited seven percent of my father's money. Isn't that interesting?"

My heart pounds against my ribs, but I simply shrug. "It was his money. I suppose he can leave it to whomever he wants."

"Clearly."

I turn back to Lorez and raise my hands. "I don't understand why I had to schlep down here for this."

"Tell her the rest, Gene."

"Yes, well, all of his possessions… everything in the house and his storage buildings… it all goes to you."

I cough. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah," Pete says curtly. "Furniture, jewelry, cutlery, artwork, everything. All his worldly possessions now belong to you."

"He wanted me to go through all of his stuff after he died?” I ask, still in disbelief. “To go into his house and look through all the storage units?"

Lorez nods. "Yes."

"Well, I don't want any of it. I told Pete that already. I don't want anything."

"Ms. Dawson,” Lorez says, “you should really think about that before you just sign it over to Pete, or whomever. You could sell it all in an estate sale–"

"At an active crime scene," I interject.

Lorez clears his throat. "Yes, that’s unfortunate, but the police will clear the house in a couple of days."

"What about the actual house and storage units?"

"Oh, I inherited those," Pete answers. "I own the actual buildings, so I can pay the upkeep and taxes on all of that. Wasn't that kind?" he asks sarcastically.

"Well, if Pete owns the house, can't he just own all the crap in it?" I ask.

Lorez shakes his head. "Not with a notarized will that says it goes to you."

I sigh. "How many storage units?"

"Six."

"Who needs six storage units?" I ask.

"Landlords," Pete replies.

"There's one other thing," Lorez adds.

Finally, Pete turns to him. "What?"

Lorez hands me a sealed, white envelope. "He left you a note."

"With what? A million-dollar treasury bond?" Pete snaps.

"No money,” Lorez says. “Just a letter."

I take the envelope from him and turn it over in my hands, reminding myself of flipping my mother’s letter in my fingers not long ago.

"Ms. Dawson, legally you can do what you want with the possessions, but I would advise you to read that before you make a decision."

"Make a decision…" I mumble to myself, feeling Pete's eyes on me as I turn the envelope in my hands. "Make a decision…" I look at Lorez. "You have a decision to make."

"Excuse me?"

I point at him, my memory returning in waves of slow static. "You were there that night. February 29, 1976."

"I'm sorry,” Lorez says. “That date doesn't mean anything to me."

"I bet it doesn't."

Pete sighs with exasperation. "Ra'Shelle, what are you talking about?"

I look at Pete. "You were there, too. I'd forgotten that."

Almost imperceptibly, Pete shakes his head. It’s so subtle that I can’t tell if he means that he doesn’t remember, or he’s warning me to drop this. The energy between us feels off, like something’s caught on the line.

"Lassio came to my house late that night and he brought both of you. I guess he was still taking you everywhere, Pete. I was eight, about to turn nine in a few months, so that would have made you, what? Almost twelve?"

“Yeah.”

"I’m in bed, but I haven't fallen asleep yet, and I hear voices downstairs. I creep to the second step, and Mama is crying on the couch, her head in her hands. Lassio’s standing close to her and you, Lorez, you’re standing next to him. I thought it was weird because it was late at night, and you were still wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase.

"Lassio’s holding papers, and saying 'you have a decision to make,' and Lorez, you’re saying, ‘It’s just a coincidence, Florence; it’s just a coincidence.’ But it wasn’t a coincidence was it? Something happened. Something triggered this change, this decision.

“Pete’s sitting in the corner, pretending to look interested in the art or something." I turn to him. "And you saw me, remember? Our eyes locked, and I thought you might tell on me, but you didn't. You just looked at me for a few seconds and then looked away. Remember?"

He shakes his head, and I still can’t tell if this is disagreement or an effort to stop me.

"Right." I turn back to Lorez. "She hadn't paid her rent in months, maybe? You were there to serve eviction papers, maybe? Lassio wanted his lawyer with him to show her how serious he was… Or to intimidate her, I guess, depending on how you want to interpret those events.

"What was her decision? Pay the rent or face eviction? Or was it some other type of agreement?" I turn my head and look at Lorez from the side. "Did you know… about the arrangement?"

He furrows his brow. "What arrangement?"

"Hmm." I take a breath. "She says fine. She agrees to whatever it was, and Lassio hands you the papers. I didn't see her sign anything, so maybe they were just notices or something? I go back up to my room and I hear the door close, so I think everyone’s left, but a few minutes later, Lassio…"

I look at Lorez. "You left. You maintained plausible deniability. Did you take Pete with you?"

I look at Pete and back at Lorez. "Well?"

"No."

I turn to Pete, shaking my head. "You stayed downstairs with my mother? I assume she was drinking or stoned or whatever she was that night."

I wait.

"Pete."

He looks at me with an equal mix of sorrow and fury. "What?" he asks curtly.

"Answer me," I demand in an unsettlingly calm voice. "Were you downstairs the whole time?"

He clicks his tongue. "Now, who's the puzzle master?"

I sigh heavily. “Oh, Pete, no wonder when you saw the pads–I’m sorry, Pete, really.”

He raises his eyebrows. “You are?”

“Yeah, of course. What a horrible experience. What was happening in your brain?”

Pete sighs. “A lot.”

“I bet.”

I unseal the envelope and unfold the letter. "Handwritten and multiple pages. Fantastic." I refold it and stuff it back into the envelope. I place the envelope in my purse and stand up. "Well, I'll almost certainly sign all of Lassio's junk over to Pete, and he can do what he wants, but I’m going to read this first."

I squat so that I’m eye-level with Pete; my voice is soft and warm. "I feel really bad for kid Pete. I can't imagine what it was like to be you, and I'm sorry about whatever happened. I really, really am."

His expression softens. "Thanks."

I stand tall. "But adult Pete needs to stay away from me while I make a decision. If you invite yourself into my suite again, I'll call the police."

Lorez looks at Pete. "You broke into her house?!"

I snap my head toward Lorez. "No, and you're in a glass house right now, so maybe be careful who you accuse of things. You didn’t want to know what he was doing? You wanted plausible deniability? Well, congratulations, you have it. But you have no idea what Pete went through, what I went through. You can’t even imagine how bad it was for us. Instead of helping to uphold the law, you looked away while it was castrated. You have no right to judge either of us!"

I look back at Pete and instantly calm my voice. "Give me your number in California and at the hotel."

Pete leans forward and writes the numbers on a sticky note before handing it to me.

"I'll call you, okay?"

"Yeah."

I click my tongue. "That ‘forgetting one another’ thing isn't working out so well, is it?"

He snickers. "Not really."

I pivot on my heel and walk out the door. "See you boys later."