A few days later I got a call that the yellow crime scene tape was down, so I hustled over to the Peacock house to start work. When I arrived, I was surprised to see two cars already in the driveway. The first I recognized as Hugo Jurado’s old junker. An Olds 88, it either had a custom paint job or all the rust spots had finally connected to give it an eerie, radioactive glow. The other was a baby- blue Caddy, the type favored by Floridian retirees who wear those flattering plaid pants and white belts. I knew who owned that one, too.
I walked around to the back of the house and saw Hugo and Felix Ontivares standing together, talking. They walked toward me.
“Buenos dнas, amigos. їQuй tal?” I asked, brandishing my high school Spanish. “Something tells me you talked to Babe.”
“Yes. We couldn’t find your card, so I just brought my cousin Felix to meet you. It may be at odd times because of other jobs, but we can each work fifteen or twenty hours a week until the job is done,” Hugo said.
“That’s wonderful. I wondered if you two knew each other. There’s a ton of work to do here. If Felix is as good as you are, you won’t need a lot of supervision either, so you two can be here even if I’m not.”
I felt obliged to deliver the bad news sooner rather than later. “You do know I can’t pay you much,” I said to Felix.
“Babe told us. I can use the experience, though. And Hugo said you were a decent person to work for. We can do it.”
I couldn’t believe my good luck. “Once the business gets going, things will be different. I’ll need full- time help and for three seasons, not just spring and summer.” I mumbled some more stuff that I hoped sounded attractive, but I’d already made the sale.
We walked around the property, discussing the work. Hugo and I quickly fell into our shorthand way of speaking, half English and half Spanish, and I breathed a sigh of relief, thinking I might actually be able to tackle the Halcyon job.
Because of the body, I hadn’t gotten beyond the planning stage. Our first week would be all cleanup; the area near the herb cottage would be our base of operations. Behind it, out of sight, we’d build a frame for our compost piles. All the dead plants and garden debris, unless diseased, would be recycled. Downed branches and those I planned to prune would be chipped and used as mulch. When Hugo said he could have the frame built by the end of the day, I had to restrain myself from doing a little fist pump.
“It’s quite a coincidence you two are cousins.”
“Well, we’re not exactly cousins-that’s just a figure of speech, like paesani in Italian. We come from the same town in Mexico, and our fathers know each other,” Felix explained.
Hugo smiled and remained silent, but I thought I caught a flicker of surprise in his expression.
“I don’t mean to be nosy. It’s really none of my business.”
“No, no, it’s quite all right,” Felix said. “You’d be surprised how many people wouldn’t even ask. Or don’t really listen when you tell them.”
Clearly he was pleased that I did, but he didn’t volunteer any more information, so I didn’t press.
When we reached the white garden, we all fell silent. Hugo crossed himself. I didn’t have any bright ideas for the space. I knew I wanted to memorialize the child that had rested there, but not to the extent that it turned into one of those morbid roadside shrines that sometimes mark fatal traffic accidents.
Just then, Guido Chiaramonte came out of the hemlocks.
“Every good garden has a toad,” I muttered.
Guido strode toward us like some padrone coming to inspect the peons. Happy to avoid him, Hugo volunteered to start on the compost frame, and before I had time to say anything, he and Felix were gone.
“Mr. Chiaramonte, how are you?”
“I’m good, I’m good. My men are doing some work next door at Mrs. Fifield’s. I came here earlier to see how my competition is doing.”
“I’m hardly competition,” I said, shaking my head. “Is that Congressman Fifield’s home?”
“His mother’s. Dina Fifield. She’s a lady friend of mine,” he said, making sure I didn’t miss the implication.
Guido pointed to my helpers. “Are those muchachos working for you?”
“They’re helping me, but it’s not an exclusive arrangement. Hugo is a friend.”
“If you need anything, you should let me know. I’m always happy to help my lady friends. I see your girl Anna waiting for the bus. Sometimes I try to give her a lift.” He cackled. “So far she says no, but one day she’ll say yes.”
Not if she’s smart, I thought. “That’s very kind of you, Mr. C. As a matter of fact, there is something you can do for me.” Just one little old, teensy-weensy thing. “We won’t have much of a bud get for equipment. None, in fact. The Historical Society, and I personally would be very grateful for anything you’d care to donate or lend. I’m sure they’d publicly acknowledge your generosity.” I added that last bit because philanthropy was not one of Guido’s strong suits. He’d need every incentive to part with the smallest dibble free of charge.
“I should be angry with you. You were a cattiva-a bad girl-for underbidding me on this job. But if it wasn’t you, I suppose it would have been someone else. Getting money out of Stapley is like trying to get into Anna’s pants. Difficult but not impossible.”
I still needed him, so I said nothing.
“And I couldn’t have asked for a prettier bad girl to be so close by. Come and see me,” Guido said. “I’m sure we can work something out.”
“Would this afternoon be possible?” I suggested. “If you’re not too busy?” Fiddle- de- dee. And I promise to eat barbecue with you at Twelve Oaks! I didn’t have much experience batting my eyelashes-I probably looked like my contact lenses were bothering me- but Guido bought the Scarlett O’Hara routine. And he promised me everything but a backhoe. He’d be pissed when Felix and Hugo picked up the tools instead of me, but I’d think of some excuse.
He hitched up his pants and stood a little straighter, like some 1980s lounge lizard who had just scored big. He bent down to kiss my hand, and it was a good thing I had five inches on him, otherwise he’d have seen me roll my eyes. Then he flashed a gold- toothed smile, his version of courtliness. It took all my willpower to suppress a snort. Guido waved his hand dismissively at Felix and Hugo, then swaggered out to his Caddy, no doubt planning this afternoon’s seduction scene.
Felix and Hugo were speaking back and forth in rapid- fire Spanish; I couldn’t understand much. Something about trees, money, and Guido. When I heard his name, I broke in.
“I worked for Chiaramonte last season,” Hugo explained. “There’s a small matter of some unpaid salary.”
“That’s terrible. I have a few slow payers, too. Would you like me to speak with him, Hugo?”
“No, gracias. I will handle it. Perdуname,“ Hugo said. “A Mr. Chappell from the Bulletin was here earlier. We told him you weren’t here.”
“Good. I’m never here for Mr. Chappell, okay? I’m already as famous as I want to be.”
We spent the rest of the day planning, deciding what to rip out and what was salvageable. Then I sent them off, with my apologies, to Chiaramonte’s, where Guido would probably be waiting in a satin smoking jacket with a bottle of Asti Spumante on ice and Dean Martin on the CD player. I almost wanted to see it. Almost.