“I wish I could have seen that!”
“Miracle worker,” Cruz’s younger brother Miguel intoned, kneeling before Madeline clownishly. “Please tell his humble family how you managed a feat of such magnificent proportions.”
Cruz hauled Miguel up by his shirt. “Very funny. It will please you all greatly to learn that Madeline knows the location of every grease grill in the city, and she won’t rest until she drags me to all of them.”
“Good woman!”
“Way to go!”
“About time you found someone you can’t twist around your little finger,” his mother put in from the other room. “Go see your father. He should be on the patio burning the meat.”
Cruz indicated for Madeline to precede him, and, taking her elbow, he guided her through the house to the back door.
When they were out of earshot of the others, Madeline whispered, “I am absolutely not going to stay for dinner, Martinez. The joke’s over. Take me home.”
“What? And disappoint my parents? They’ve been after me to bring you over here to meet them. What are they going to think if you go running screaming in the opposite direction?”
“They’ll probably think, ‘There goes another person that Cruz has driven crazy!’” Madeline replied fiercely. “And they’d be right. I cannot believe you tricked me like this! You knew I assumed that you had an idea about the case.”
“Ah, but you should never assume anything,” Cruz counseled her wisely. “That’s the first rule of police work.”
Only the presence of his father on the patio stopped Madeline from giving Cruz a hard push out the doorway. As it was, she contented herself with an inconspicuous jab to his ribs as she passed through the door he held for her.
The twinkle in the elder Martinez’s eye as he straightened from bending over the grill told Madeline that he’d witnessed her rebellion. “Madeline, Tomas Martinez. Pop, this is my partner, Madeline Casey.”
“I’m pleased to meet you, Madeline,” Tomas said. “I hope working with my son hasn’t been too trying.”
It was easy to see where Cruz had gotten his striking good looks. Tomas Martinez was still a very attractive man. His face wasn’t as lean as Cruz’s, and he was thicker through the chest and shoulders. He must have been close to sixty in order to have children the ages of his, but he didn’t appear that old.
Madeline could feel her usual reserve with strangers thaw a bit. “I can handle your son.”
“You can? Then maybe you could give pointers to his mother and me. We could use some tips.” He shook his head with mock solemnity.
“Yes, Madeline, do tell,” Cruz invited wickedly. “What’s your secret?”
She matched him look for look. “Never let him get the upper hand,” she said in an aside to his father. “He becomes unbearable in a hurry.”
“You noticed that, too?” his father asked interestedly.
“How are you coming with that meat, Pop?” Cruz interrupted them to inquire. He stepped over and lifted the lid off the grill. “It looks about done to me.”
His father shooed him away. “Leave me alone. Never interrupt a master at work.”
“Mom!” Cruz shouted through the door. “Pop’s going to burn the meat again.”
“Don’t you let him! Why do you suppose I sent you out there? You need to supervise him.”
“Stop hanging over my shoulder,” his father retorted. “Why haven’t you offered your guest something to drink? Where are your manners?”
“Oh, I can’t stay,” Madeline protested.
“Of course you can.”
“Sure you’re staying,” Cruz added. “How else would you get home?”
The look she aimed at him promised retribution. “I really hadn’t planned to be gone long.”
“And I know how important planning is to you. What would you like to drink, Madeline? A beer? Soda?”
Seeing no other way out of the situation, Madeline gave in with as much grace as possible. After all, it wouldn’t do to make a scene in front of his family. It wasn’t Cruz’s parents’ fault that their son was the most maddening, manipulating man she’d ever met. She would deal with him later. He wouldn’t be allowed to continue walking in and out of her personal life at will.
Cruz went to the kitchen, leaving her alone with his father. Tomas immediately engaged her in conversation. “Cruz tells us that you recently transferred to the Southwest District.”
She immediately grew tense. Never in her worst nightmare would she have dreamed she’d have to make polite conversation with the father of a man she was investigating.
“I’ve been with the department for ten years.”
“And already you’re a Detective Sergeant. That’s quite an accomplishment at your age. I know how hard Cruz worked for that rank.”
Madeline was nonplussed. There was no mistaking the admiration in the man’s tone. It struck her as incongruous that a man she’d just met displayed more respect for her career advancement than her own father ever had. Of course, she could be named chief and she doubted it would win her Geoffrey Casey’s respect. He’d always disapproved of her job-and, she feared, of her. She’d long ago given up the hope of ever doing anything that would elicit the amount of respect from him that she’d just received from Tomas.
“We were surprised when we learned Cruz would take the test for sergeant,” the man went on. “He’d never seemed interested before. At one time we thought he would stay in undercover work forever. His mother was greatly relieved when he went back to plainclothes detail. She worried about him constantly.”
“And his father?” Madeline dared to ask softly.
The dark eyes so like Cruz’s caught hers. “I worried, too,” he admitted. “A man’s family is the most precious thing in the world to him. Police work is always dangerous, and when Cruz was shot, we were afraid we would lose him.”
Cruz rejoined them then, and handed Madeline a diet soda. Tomas opened the grill and inspected the roast again. “I think it’s ready. Cruz, hand me the platter.”
As he obeyed, Cruz peered over his father’s shoulder. “I think it was ready twenty minutes ago. You burned the edges again.”
“Everyone’s a critic,” Tomas grumbled good-naturedly. “I like my roast that way.”
When they went inside, the family was milling around the dining room, seating the youngsters at card tables and the adults at the dining table. His sisters were still bustling back and forth from the kitchen, helping Mrs. Martinez carry in the food.
When all were finally sitting down and grace was said, the din began anew. Plates and bowls were passed, accompanied by several noisy conversations. The atmosphere was as alien to her memories of family meals as it was possible to be. Mr. and Mrs. Martinez were in the midst of it all, praising, admonishing and joking with their family. Yet Madeline was not given time to feel out of place. She was kept busy passing dishes and answering questions thrown her way. Cruz was seated next to her, and it was several minutes before she caught him placing more vegetables on her plate.
He grinned when he was found out, unrepentant. “Madeline loves green vegetables. She can’t get enough of them.” He spooned another large helping of broccoli onto her dish. “Go ahead,” he invited. “There’s plenty more where that came from.”
“Someone should have taken you in hand a long time ago,” she informed him narrowly. “You’re too funny for your own good.”
“Go ahead and try,” Cruz’s sister Shannon invited her. “He was barely tolerable when we were kids and we could gang up on him. Now that he’s bigger and taller than anyone else in the family, it’s a little harder.”
“There is one way to keep him in line,” Madeline said slowly, her eyes sparkling with remembrance. “He was almost meek while I was driving his-”
“More milk, Madeline?” he interrupted her quickly.
But his sister gasped. “He let you drive his car?”
It seemed to Cruz that his sister’s voice pierced through every other bit of noise in the room. An uproar ensued.
“Hey, no fair. When I asked, you said no one drove it but you.”
