Last Words Read online

  Last Words

  Angie Gomez Cozy Murder Mystery, Book 1

  Ines Saint

  Edited by

  Imbue Editing

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  Copyright © 2020 by Inés Saint 2020. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

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  eBook ISBN: 978-1-64457-225-2

  Contents

  Angie’s Unofficial Abridged Spanish and Puerto Rican Spanish/English Dictionary

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Before You Go…

  Word Games

  Also by Ines Saint

  About the Author

  A special thanks to Tomás Ruiz for all the cultural knowledge and fun conversations about our heritage, which will eventually wind their way into the series. I named the ship after you!

  Angie’s Unofficial Abridged Spanish and Puerto Rican Spanish/English Dictionary

  abuela: grandmother

  abuelo: grandfather

  bioco: conniption

  Briscas: Spanish playing cards

  chismear: gossip

  mija: combination of “mi” (my) and (hija) daughter; an affectionate term, not always an endearment

  nena: girl

  no tientes: don’t tempt

  telenovela: soap opera (in Latin America, typically last three months to a year)

  tirada rápida: quick card reading

  tostones: fried plantains

  ¿que te pasa?: What’s wrong with you? or What’s going on with you?

  Prologue

  “When life itself seems lunatic, who knows where madness lies? Perhaps to be too practical is madness. To surrender dreams—this may be madness. Too much sanity may be madness—and maddest of all: to see life as it is, and not as it should be!”

  Miguel Cervantes Saavedra, Don Quixote

  “The three-card spread is for cowards, Angie,” Abuela Luci grumbled as she held the deck of Spanish Brisca cards out to me. It was late, and her last client had canceled. I was a poor substitute when it came to fortune-telling (my reactions weren’t dramatic enough for my grandmother), but we were both bored. “A horseshoe spread would give you more answers.”

  “Next time. I promise.” I chose three cards and laid them, left to right, on the time-worn mahogany table.

  “Turn them over, one by one,” she instructed as if I were doing this for the first time.

  I turned over the first card and glanced up.

  “Seven of coins,” Abuela said on a gasp. “Turn over the next one.” I did as I was told. “Tres de bastos! Three of clubs,” she exclaimed, nodding excitedly. “The last one, Angie. Turn it over. Now.”

  “Nine of clubs,” I said as I laid the last card down.

  Abuela grabbed my hands, her eyes shimmering with excitement. I didn’t believe in fortune-telling or magic, but I smiled in anticipation all the same. My grandmother was the most perceptive woman I knew, and there was always wisdom when she spoke to me about my life and choices.

  “Many changes are coming your way, Angie. A stagnant matter will begin to move along. It all starts with a change in your professional circumstances and a new discovery about yourself.”

  If only I could believe her. I was a sculptor who could only find paid work making busts of local prominent figures, both current and historic. What possible change in professional circumstances or personal discovery could help move the only stagnant matter I cared about: my parents’ unsolved murder?

  Abuela met my eyes. “Believe, Angie.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “You managed to get a meeting with him so soon?”

  “Not quite. But he’ll see me.” I gave her the mischievous smile she said reminded her of my dad.

  Abuela winked. “That’s my girl.”

  One

  “Plow with the oxen you’ve got.”

  Puerto Rican proverb, as translated by Abuela Luci

  “I’m sorry, but Lieutenant Mahoney is in back-to-back meetings today,” the new deputy informed me, his voice laced with regret. “If you show me some identification, I’ll be happy to make an appointment for you to see him later.” The nameplate pinned to his crisp dark green shirt read Corporal Benny Rover. Snub nose, long face, prominent upper chest, and a head full of golden-orange fuzz. Trying hard to look busy but holding himself tense. Likely a deputy fresh out of the academy who imagined he was being watched and didn’t want to make mistakes. No doubt, it was why he’d been chosen to guard the new major crimes unit supervisor from people like me.

  “Who is he meeting with right now?” I asked as I handed him my driver’s license.

  “Uh…” The young corporal looked around to see if anyone was close enough to guide him. No one was. “He’s meeting with Captain Webber, I believe.”

  “Excellent! He’ll want to see me, too,” I bluffed. “Let them know I’m here. There’s no need to make an appointment for later.”

  “Right. Angie Gomez Gomez, here to see Lieutenant Mahoney and Captain Webber,” he muttered under his breath before giving me back my driver’s license. “Er… Gomez. Twice. That’s interesting.”

  I held back a sigh. A little stalling would do me no harm and him a little good. “My family is from Puerto Rico, and we’re given our father’s surname, followed by our mother’s surname there. My parents happened to have the same surname. But they weren’t cousins.” If I had a dime for every time I’d been asked if they were cousins, I could’ve hired a top private detective long ago and bypassed the sheriff’s department altogether. The department had a decent enough reputation, and a few here had been kind to me, but my parents’ case wasn’t among their successes.

  “Why not, um, just use one Gomez and save time?” he asked with a subtle glance at the door behind him.

  “Because my mother’s side, who all still live in Puerto Rico, would be deeply offended if I didn’t use their Gomez, too. I tried telling them that I could simply use the one and make it their Gomez and that the other side would never know, but the idea of the other side thinking I was using only their Gomez was even more offensive.” I gave him a moment to unpack that. My family dynamics could be as hard to explain as they were to understand.

  I like to think of my family’s two sides as the Practical Gomezes and the Magical Gomezes. The practical side is my mom’s side, and they are all about following tradition, unless
and until tradition becomes too expensive to follow. My mother grew up eating rice, beans, roots, and a piece of meat every single day for dinner and as next-day leftovers for lunch, going to church every Sunday, and studying diligently so she could get into a good college and follow a career path that would guarantee life-long security. Which she did. Until she met my dad. Then she became practical-ish.

  The magical side is my dad’s side. They insist that supernatural abilities run strong in our blood and that we must use these abilities for the greater good. We have curanderos (healers), brujas and brujos (witches, all good), santeros (santería practitioners, most of them good; one evil), espiritistas (spiritits), and the random strange ability here and there. Do I believe it? Let’s just say that I fully believe that they believe it.

  Magical Gomezes still live on the island, but most are spread among seven states, four countries, and three continents. My dad, who was born and raised in the Bronx, spent his summers running wild along the northwest beaches of Puerto Rico and humoring his grandmother by carving out Ouija boards from shipwrecks. He was encouraged to follow what he thought of as “instincts”, and they thought of as “psychic gifts” in finding lost treasures, without a care for his safety or the future. Which he did. Until he met my mom. Then he became magical-ish.

  I smiled at Corporal Rover good-naturedly, after giving him a minute, and signaled to the door behind him to remind him why I was here. He cleared his throat, and the way he looked at me, thoughtful yet determined, made it clear that he was about to get rid of me as nicely as possible. Before he could open his mouth to deny me, I took a deep breath and reluctantly took a different tack. “Look, I’m here because my parents were murdered twelve years ago, and not only has your department never solved the case, but they never tell me anything at all, no matter how many times I come here and beg. But Lieutenant Mahoney is new, and I have hope that maybe I can get through to him. That’s why I’m here. Let me in to see him, please.”

  Corporal Rover froze.

  I ran a hand through my hair, trying not to let exasperation mount. I got that the corporal was new, and he didn’t want to get into trouble, but what was wrong with people? Was real compassion dead? Because I was tired of the fake kind from people like Captain Webber, that only got you a pat on the head and no answers. “Just tell them that I blackmailed you into announcing me right now, without an appointment,” I said to him. “Tell them I said I’d go straight to the news again to call Lieutenant Mahoney out before he’s even begun. Reporters are only interested in my parents every three years or so when there’s a lag in sensational stories, but maybe news about how the new supervisor won’t even talk to a double murder victims’ daughter will grab their attention.”

  He snapped out of it. “No! I don’t need to tell them that. You’re right. He owes it to you to see you, and I’ll be happy to tell him that. I—I’m sorry for your loss.”

  I tried to smile, and I gave him a nod because now, no matter what happened with the lieutenant, I had a little bit of faith again. Now I really didn’t want Rover to get in trouble. “Tell him that I have new information on the case, too,” I half-lied. The Corporal turned and knocked on the door he’d been guarding, and a deep voice on the other side told him to come in. A sharp sort of shiver ran half-way down my spine, like lightning, at the sound of that voice. The Magical Gomezes would call it a premonition. I called it hope.

  Moments later, Rover, trying hard to look encouraging but looking more like a puppy who’d been scolded, motioned me in. When I turned to face the room, the first person I saw was Captain Webber, who I’d never liked. He took one look at my smile and gave Rover a nearly imperceptible eye-roll. Did he think I had flirted my way into his office?

  “Thank you, Corporal Rover,” I managed. “I know you were intent on following orders, but I was certain those orders didn’t include ignoring both a victims’ daughter for the twelfth straight year and vital information on their very cold case.”

  Rover gave everyone an uncertain look as he hovered by the door. Captain Webber heaved himself from his chair, and I stuck my hand out to greet him. “I blackmailed Corporal Rover into announcing me,” I explained, hoping it would let the Corporal off the hook.

  Webber raised an eyebrow and showed me his teeth (his attempt at a smile). In all the years I’d known him, I had never seen the corners of his eyes crease. “You’re confessing to a serious crime, Angie.” The last time I’d seen him, he’d squeezed my shoulder while ordering me to let the adults handle everything. I hadn’t been allowed in to see him since. Instead, he always sent the message that the department was on the case. “But I’ll let it slide since it seems you’ve got friends in high places nowadays.” I gave him a curious look, and he explained. “You did a great job with the mayor’s bust.”

  I couldn’t tell if he was joking or being patronizing with the ‘friends in high places’ bit. Everyone knew Mayor Sandberg. She was one of the subjects I’d sculpted that I liked as a person. I focused on the tip of his hawkish nose and tried to look appreciative.

  “Thank you. The mayor has such beautiful bone structure that she was a pleasure to sculpt.” It was through Mayor Sandberg that I learned Webber was about to be promoted again. He had once sat behind the very desk Brian Mahoney was leaning against now. I knew it was the same desk because I had carved my initials into the side of it once when he wasn’t looking, so he wouldn’t forget a thirteen-year-old girl was waiting for answers. It had been an impulsive move. My glance skipped past Lieutenant Mahoney to see if they were still there.

  They were—right under the spot where Mahoney was resting his fingers.

  My attention was brought back to Rover when he asked, “Are you a plastic surgeon?” It took me a moment to understand. “Oh. Um, no. Bust as in statue. I’m a sculptor.” Rover turned pink yet again, and Captain Webber ushered him out of the door and took his leave.

  When the door closed shut, I turned to face Lieutenant Mahoney. Our eyes met and held. A curious sensation rushed through me. It was as if everything inside me lurched forward, then fluttered around without knowing where to settle again. And I felt like something in me was being mirrored in something in him. Which was a decidedly magical Gomez thought. The second of the day. One a week was the norm. Abuela Luci would be ecstatic.

  Right now, though, she’d say, “Mueve la colita,” which literally meant shake your tail and figuratively meant either shake your booty or get going, depending on the context. And that’s what I did. Get going, that is. Not shake my booty. I stuck out my hand and introduced myself. Only the handshake lasted a smidgeon too long, and there was no reason for our eyes to lock again, but they did.

  Maybe he recognized me? Brian Mahoney had been three years ahead of me in Chaminade-Julienne, a local Catholic High School, and his older brother, Sean, had been one year ahead of him, and his younger brother, Patrick, one year behind.

  We dropped each other’s hands. “Angie Gomez Gomez,” he repeated, before asking, “Was this you?” He motioned to the side of the desk where his fingers swept across the “AGG” I had carved.

  Again, my spine shivered. I straightened to stop it. “Yes. I carved it with a sharp pen once when Captain Webber was called to the door. I wanted him to remember that a thirteen-year-old girl was waiting for answers.”

  He nodded. “Corporal Rover explained why you’re here. I know everyone must always say the same thing, but I’m deeply sorry for your loss. I can’t imagine what it was like. I’m also sorry we haven’t solved the case. I’m glad you came to see me.” To his credit, he seemed sincere. Our eyes met once more, but thank the stars, whimsy was gone, and I was feeling practical again.

  “Thank you,” I said. It had taken me years to be able to discuss my parents’ murders without becoming emotional. Time had allowed me to develop coping mechanisms and to accept that the dull, throbbing ache behind my heart would always be there, even when my heart continued to beat and allow me to live. It was only when the sheriff’
s department ignored me (and sometimes at night, and often during happy events) that grief and frustrations came back and struck me hard. Right now, I was holding on to the little bit of faith that Corporal Rover had gifted me.

  The lieutenant leaned back against his desk and motioned for me to sit. “I remember when your family first moved here,” he continued. “It was exciting that a renowned treasure hunter would be moving here, of all places.”

  That surprised me. Though it had made local news when my parents came here, nothing stayed an event anymore. Information overload made the world move on too quickly for that. I gave him a cautious nod and looked out the window, where the fall sky was more gray than blue. ‘Of all places’ was right. Too many things had never made sense to me…

  “And Corporal Rover mentioned you have new, vital information?” he asked, bringing me back.

  I turned from the window and took a moment to study him the way I’d studied Corporal Rover. Wavy, obsidian hair, Atlantic blue eyes, set deep, a near replica of Michael Angelo’s David’s nose, and thin lips that quirked in a good-humored sort of way. Despite this, his expression gave nothing away. “Have you looked over the file?” I asked, doubting it.

  The Mahoney’s were well known and regarded in the region. His older brother was now District Attorney, his dad was a respected state representative, and his mom was one of four hosts on the daily noon show, Life in Dayton. Each took their standing in the community seriously. His younger brother was in med school, and I’d heard his mom somehow managed to mention this fact on air at least once a month. Brian Mahoney had moved away after high school and had been away for years, so it remained to be seen how serious he was, either about his position, his standing in the community, or both.