“Rain!” She rose to her feet. “Rain! Oh, my poor nephew Patrick, with nobody to remember him but these two-”
“Mary,” Frank said, quietly but firmly.
She sat down and crossed her arms over her chest. She sighed. “You’re right, Frank. I’m going about this all wrong. All wrong. Irene, I apologize.”
“Me, too,” I said. “On more than one count. You’re right, Mary, I should go out there more often-”
Mary waved a hand in dismissal. “I know why you don’t, and it’s all okay by me, Irene. I need your help, and I should have just asked. I guess I just wondered how long it would take your sister to get curious about that grave.”
“Not long. You said you need my help-does it have something to do with the grave?”
“Yes. Do you remember your cousin Travis?”
I frowned, then shook my head. “If I’ve met a Travis Kelly-”
“Not Kelly. Maguire.”
My eyes widened. “You mean-”
“Yes,” she said. “Your mother’s nephew.”
“He died?” I asked, shocked. The last time I had seen Travis, he was an infant.
“No, his mother died.”
“His mother? Not…”
She nodded. “Your mother’s sister, Briana.”
It was a name I had not heard in over a dozen years. Still, I could feel my face turning red when she mentioned it.
Frank straightened in his chair, his interest piqued.
“I buried her next to your mother,” Aunt Mary said. “I was trying to right a wrong. Your father was a good man-please understand, I’m not denying that on most counts he was a very good man, Irene. But he was wrong to treat Briana the way he did. The least the Kelly family could provide her was a place to rest her bones.”
“I haven’t heard anything about Briana or Travis in so long…”
Mary snorted. “Of course not. Your father made sure of that, didn’t he?”
I shook my head. “I could have tried to look her up after Dad died. I’m ashamed to say I’d forgotten all about her.”
“I’m confused,” Frank said.
“The Maguires are my mother’s family,” I said. “Most of them are in Kansas. My mother is one of three sisters. I never knew the oldest one, Maggie. Maggie died before I was born. But the other two-my mother, Maureen Maguire, and her sister, Briana-came out to California.”
“Go on,” Mary said, “tell him the rest.”
“My mother married my father, Patrick Kelly, and Barbara and I were born. When we were little, we saw Briana fairly often. Barbara and I were very fond of her.”
“You were much closer to her than Barbara was,” Mary said.
I shrugged. “I suppose that’s true.”
“It’s undoubtedly true.”
“So what happened?” Frank asked.
“She got married, and my father never liked her husband.”
“To put it mildly,” Aunt Mary grumbled.
“I didn’t like him either,” I said.
“Do you even remember him?”
“Yes. Arthur Sperry was almost fifteen years-”
“Twelve at most,” she corrected.
“Somewhere between twelve and fifteen years younger than Aunt Briana,” I continued. “He was handsome and charming and still managed to give me the creeps.”
“You liked him at first,” she said.
“Everyone liked him at first. But not after he made a pass at my mother.”
“Hmm. You always did have big ears,” Mary said. “A child shouldn’t have heard such talk.”
“It wasn’t just talk-”
“Never mind that,” Mary said. She turned to Frank. “The upshot of this alleged pass-”
“Alleged!” I protested.
“Of this
“It wasn’t just that,” I said, turning to Frank. “My mother died not long after they were married.”
“So you were twelve when Travis was born?” he asked.
“Yes. He was born the year my mother died. I never got to know him, really.”
My thoughts drifted to memories of those last weeks of my mother’s life. At that time, hospital rules were different than they are today, and children-defined by the hospital as anyone under sixteen-were not allowed in the patients’ rooms. Barbara was seventeen, but I was only twelve, so I waited alone in the hospital lobby downstairs, while Barbara and my father went up to my mother’s room. I would write notes for my father to bring upstairs, to read to my mother as she lay dying of cancer, to let her know that I was there, too.
As it became clearer to everyone that she would not be coming home from the hospital, family differences were set aside. Still, Aunt Briana did not bring Arthur with her. The first time she came to visit my mother, the nuns wouldn’t let her take the baby up to the room, so she asked me if I would hold Travis until she came back downstairs. I was a little afraid, because I hadn’t spent much time around babies, but Travis made it easy for me. He watched me with that intense, studying stare we allow only babies to make of us. Apparently deciding I was trustworthy, he yawned and fell asleep in my arms.
Briana came back downstairs and thanked me for watching him, and said she would find a sitter next time. But I begged her to bring him back, and whether out of pity or gratitude, she told me she would. And so for three weeks, Travis and I consoled one another, his childhood beginning as mine ended. The last time I held him was the day of the funeral. Aunt Briana took my little talisman against grief away from me that day, and I had not seen him since.
I looked up to find Mary studying me, and saw that she was challenging me to tell the rest of Aunt Briana’s story.
“What is it?” Frank asked, looking between us.
“As it turned out, my father wasn’t such a bad judge of character,” I said.
“But far too much of a judge!” Mary snapped.
“Arthur and Briana weren’t legally married,” I said.
“Now don’t make it sound as if-” Mary began to interrupt.
“Arthur already had a wife,” I said. “He was a bigamist.”
One good thing about marrying a cop is that announcements like these are received with a great deal more equanimity than they might be otherwise. He merely raised a questioning eyebrow.
“Briana had separated from him before anyone else learned that he was already married,” Mary said.
“Not long before. But that’s not the worst of it. No one else learned that he was a bigamist until he was wanted for questioning in connection with a murder in Los Alamitos. His first wife-his legal spouse- was found dead. He was suspected of killing her, but it took awhile to link Arthur Spanning‘-which was his real name-with Arthur Sperry’ Once the connection was made, guess who supplied his alibi?”
“Briana,” Frank said.
“Yes, and Travis backed her up. They said Arthur had been at their home. It wasn’t hard to back up his story, because on the night in question, Travis had cut his hand and was treated at a local hospital. Arthur had carried him into the emergency room. Briana was with them.”
“Anyone else ever accused of the murder?” Frank asked.
“No,” I said. “Everyone always thought Arthur did it, and that Briana just lied for him.”
“Your father thought so, anyway,” Mary said.
“He wasn’t alone. He thought Briana was afraid of Arthur.”
“Well, it hardly matters. They separated. As far as I know, Briana never saw him after that.”
