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He’s grasping for straws. And I’m about to say just this when Mama Santori comes over with our pizza.
“Xander, my sweet boy. So glad to see you.” Clark called down earlier and asked Mama and the rest of the staff to refrain from speaking about our relationship. She’s a smart woman and knows Clark and I are more than old friends. Can we even say we’re old friends when we hated one another?
“Who your friend?” she asks in her broken English.
“This is my half-brother, Nicolas.”
She stares at him, then at me, and back at Nick. “Fantastico, you have a brother. Ah, familia…”
He cuts her off. “We aren’t family, no matter how hard you try, we won’t be. I want what I want, and I won’t stop until I get it.”
He pushes from the booth and circles around Mama Santori. I offer her a sad smile. “Satana. Cattivo. Oribile.” With both hands, she cups my cheeks. “Stai meglio senza di lui.” Thanks to my father I know Italian, and I’m able to reply.
“Yes, you’re right, Mama Santori. I’m better off without him.” And it’s time to accept it. Nicolas doesn’t want anything to do with me. I have Clark and at the end of the day, he’s the only one I need.
* * *
I extended my stay,flying out on the eight a.m. flight to Minneapolis. I’m in the office by ten a.m. and find the auditors from SEC have made themselves at home in this location, too. I’m working closely with my in-house legal firm and Turner, Nash, and Soren have lawyers from each office working in-house until this is resolved.
I walk past reception and toward Nina for all my messages. She’d texted me after I landed and told me I had a detective waiting for me in the lobby. She hands me a couple items I’d asked her for, along with an internal memo from the board of directors, stating it’s important.
“Detective Elmeno is waiting for you over there.” She points to the man as he stands to greet me.
“Detective, I’ll be with you. If you can give me five minutes to get settled.” I have no idea what this is about and wonder if I need to call a lawyer up during the questioning, only to laugh at the idea. I am, after all a lawyer.
I read the internal memo and groan at this parade of sorts. The board and the city of Minneapolis are honoring both my mother and father this Friday in a public ceremony for my mother’s volunteer work and my father’s contribution to the job market. One thing I can say for the man, he did give back to his community. It’s the second time in two days I’ve come up with something somewhat nice to say about him. I wish I had other memories like this to remember him by.
The only way I can fathom getting through Friday night is with Clark by my side, but I can’t ask this of him, not yet. The press will have a field day with him.
“Nina,” I ring the intercom, “can you please contact my tailor for me? I’ll need a new suit for this event. Please send the invitation to Nicolas Starling in the New York office. Reply to them with my intention of being there and what’s expected of me. And can you send Detective Elmeno back please?”
“Yes, Mr. Lynol, I mean, Xander. Right away.”
The door opens and Nina escorts the male detective into the room. He’s too young in my opinion to have made detective already. However, if it weren’t for Clark, I’d find the man almost irresistible. But that ship has sailed in a short amount of time.
“Mr. Lynol, Mateo Elmeno a detective with the Minneapolis Police Department. I have some questions for you regarding the accident of your parents. I know it’s only been three weeks and I hate to rehash the memories.”
I push back in my chair and he sits in front of my desk, my new desk as my father’s was removed last week when I was in New York.
“Why is the police department investigating this any further?” My uncertain tone comes out without permission. “I’m confused, my parents were driving home from an event, my father had too much to drink and swerved into the oncoming lane, killing them both instantly.” As I say this out loud I begin to hyperventilate. It’s one thing to hear it and another to say it in my own words that my father is the reason my mother is dead. Of course, that part they kept out of the press at the urging of the board of directors and their deep pockets.
“I know this is tough to hear, but it’s standard practice in this situation of drunk driving to do an autopsy. We have to determine cause of death, but what we found is your father had no alcohol in his system, but fentanyl. We tested his blood within twenty-four hours. It typically doesn’t test well after forty-eight hours, so we tested your mother, with a hair sample and she, too, had lethal doses of the drug in her system.”
I stand instinctually, and as it hits me, I fall back in my chair. My legs can’t hold my weight any longer.
“Mr. Lynol, are you okay?”
“Detective Elmeno, are you telling me that my parents were murdered?”
“Yes, Mr. Lynol, that’s exactly what I’m telling you.”
31
CLARK
“Mr. Farmer,” Liza interrupts our weekly merger meeting when we typically discuss what projects are moving along, stalled, new, or almost finished. “I’m so sorry, but it’s an emergency.”
Jim Soren gives me a bob of his head, and I push out of my seat. My office is several floors down from the large conference room, and I don’t speak until the doors shut, affording us privacy.
