A Pilgrimage to Death by Alexa Padgett

Author:Alexa Padgett [Cagney, J. J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sidecar Press, LLC via Indie Author Project

14

Men should be what they seem. — Shakespeare

“Why?” Sam asked, finally coming to a stop right next to Susan’s bedside.

“Donnie was his—Ernesto’s—lawyer. He delivered the sealed envelope to Miguel.”

“Why didn’t Miguel press charges?”

Susan’s face crumpled further. “He wanted to. But then . . . then his son died. And Anna Carmen died just a week later.”

“Hush killings,” Sam growled.

“What?” Cici asked, her head seeming to float a full second behind her ears.

Whatever Sam meant by that upset him. He rose, his body taut, his face set in unforgiving lines. Susan peeked up at him but dropped her gaze back to her lap.

“But . . . but he’s dead now. Ernesto,” Susan whispered as she wiped her eyes. “He died in a boating accident off the coast of Cabo.”

Sam made a deep guttural sound in his throat. This was the information he’d wanted to bring Anna Carmen’s killer to light. To have the person be dead . . .

Even for Cici, who hadn’t spent so much of the last year dedicated to this aspect of her sister’s murder, the information Susan provided was anticlimactic. Wrong.

“Before you ask, yes, I’m sure it was Ernesto. He was identified. And he left all his money, everything, to his wife. None of that money came back stateside.”

“How can you be sure?”

Susan opened her mouth. Shut it and frowned. “I guess . . . I guess I can’t. But Justin is Ernesto’s only living relative, and he doesn’t have any money. He works for the police, for God’s sakes.”

Like working for the police equated to menial labor. Cici guessed when you amassed the kind of wealth Susan enjoyed, police work did seem menial.

Cici made herself a promise—well, more of a reiteration of a promise: she would never, ever consider hardworking people beneath her.

“But the drug ring didn’t end,” Sam said.

Susan shook her head. “I guess not.”

“Susan,” Sam said, his voice holding an edge that sounded dangerous. He looked collected except for the tautness of his shoulder—the strain in his neck muscles. “Be straight with me now. This is information you’ve withheld for over a year. Enough for us to have solved this crime then.” He didn’t say the phrase but it seemed to float around the room: obstruction of justice.

“I tried to stay out of Donnie’s dealings. I just wanted the security of our lifestyle.”

Sam scooted closer, but it was Cici who spoke. Her voice was shrill and just as sharp as Sam’s had been. “My sister died. You knew who did it. Or at least who was involved. You and Donald should have stepped forward, should have made sure no one else had to suffer like me, like Miguel and Juan.” Cici dropped her voice. “Like you’re hurting now. We’ve all hurt like that. It’ll hurt forever when someone in your family’s murdered. All the way to your soul.”

Susan gripped the sheets, her knuckles white. “I didn’t know then.” She raised her wet, red eyes to Cici’s. “I didn’t know.”

More like she didn’t want to know.

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