He hesitated. Make a pledge like that to someone whose face he couldn’t see? He was fairly sure he knew who she was, and could guess at her reasons for wanting secrecy, but he wasn’t willing to offer that promise to a stranger. “I don’t know if I can guarantee that under every circumstance—”
“My name is Seth Lefebvre,” the boy announced clearly. “I’m not ashamed of it! My father was a hero. That’s what everyone said. I’m proud to be Seth Lefebvre.”
“Seth?” Frank said, startled.
“Seth,” Matt Arden said at the same moment, but in a pained voice. “Of course you’re proud, but what you just did is dangerous. You should have let your mother decide.”
“He knows,” Seth said, looking up at Frank. “You said ‘your nephew.’ I didn’t even tell you. You knew the day you helped me catch My Dog, didn’t you? You tried to call on the phone.”
“Yes,” Frank said. “I wasn’t certain, though. Mr. Arden is right, your mother is only trying to protect you from danger.” He turned to her. “Elena Rosario?”
“Yes,” she said quietly, but not lifting the veil.
“I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”
“And I’ve been wanting to talk to
Yvette Nereault was the only one of the group besides Seth who was smiling. “You know, Seth, I would not need to use DNA testing to know you are my brother’s child.” To Elena, she said, “He will decide his own course, you know, just like his father. And God help anyone who tries to sway him from it. If you don’t mind, Elena, I think it would be best to invite Detective Harriman back to the condo. We should not allow Seth to have his important discussion here in the open.”
“It seems I don’t have any say in the matter.” Elena held out a hand to her son. “All right, let’s go, Seth.”
Seth didn’t budge. “You promise?” he asked his mother.
“Yes, I promise. Now please…”
Seth started to move away from Frank but looked up at him and said, “You can come to my house?”
“Yes, I’ll be there in a little while,” Frank said.
“You know where it is,” Elena said acidly.
Frank let that go by. “Yes.”
“Good,” she said. “Try to make sure you aren’t followed.”
“Elena,” Arden protested, “there’s no need to insult the man.”
She stiffened, then walked off. Seth called to her and ran after her. Yvette sighed, then followed.
Arden extended a hand. “Don’t have much time, and you seem to know who I am, so I won’t bother introducing myself. I hear good things about you, Harriman.”
“Likewise,” Frank said. “No one works Homicide without hearing of the legendary Matthew Arden.” He saw that it pleased Arden to hear him say so, and although he wanted Arden to feel at ease with him, he had told Arden nothing less than the truth. He had often heard Pete and the others in Homicide mention Arden’s name with near reverence. Most of the current veteran detectives had been trained to do homicide investigations by Arden. But then Frank’s last conversation with Bredloe came to mind. They had argued about Arden — argued over Arden’s lies about Lefebvre while agreeing that he had lied. “Will you be at the condo as well?” he asked Arden now.
“A little later on. I’m going to try to stop by the hospital, see your captain, if they’ll let me. They say he can’t talk or anything, but still — Jesus, I hope Bredloe’s going to be all right. I knew him when he was in uniform, for God’s sake.”
“When do you head home?” Frank asked, not wanting to talk to Arden about the captain. He wasn’t sure how many details of the attack had been leaked to Arden through his cronies in the department, but he wasn’t going to be a source of further information.
“I’m taking Yvette to LAX this afternoon, then driving on from there.” He glanced at the others, who were waiting for him. “I’d better get going. Tell that little shit Pete Baird that I said it was good to see him today, even if he is twice as bald as the last time I saw him.”
“Arden—” Frank said, as the old man began to step away.
Arden looked back at him.
“We need to talk before you leave Las Piernas.”
Arden scowled in disapproval. “You youngsters are too damned impatient. Christ on a cracker! We’re in the fucking cemetery, Phil’s casket’s not even in the ground, and you tell me we need to talk!”
Frank waited.
Arden stared fiercely for a long moment, then gradually his features softened and a small reluctant smile emerged. “Maybe not so damned impatient after all.” He sighed. “Yes, we’ll have our talk, Detective.”
“Thank you.”
Arden laughed and walked away.
Frank watched as they drove past the cemetery gates and onto the road beyond, but didn’t see any other cars pursuing theirs.
He took a moment to look at the cards on the remaining flowers, writing down names. There was one completely white spray without a card on it. His love of gardening helped him identify the flowers in it, which were mostly gladiolus interspersed with white roses and baby’s breath. He frowned; then, taking a small camera from his pocket, he used the last of a roll of film to take photographs of the arrangement. The cemetery workers watched him, their expressions a mixture of disapproval and impatience, as if he were a new brand of ghoul. No, he thought, an old brand. He watched as they lowered the coffin and began the actual work of burial.
