“I know I should wait until I serve you some coffee and something to eat, but I can’t,” she said. “You must tell me now. I know that’s why you are here. It is either bad news or worse news, so tell me.”

Reverend Iordani looked at me. He was there with me, but he clearly indicated to me with his look that he thought it was my responsibility to tell her what my findings were. He was right. I had made the ID, with Chris’s support, and it was my job to tell her.

“Irini, I have finished the work. Before I finished it, I had Chris Nakis come and check what I had done and give me her opinion. Her opinion matched what I thought. Irini, CILHI has found Teddy.”

She stood before us for what seemed like minutes, but I know it was only two or three seconds. Then she clutched Reverend Iordani’s shoulder and cried out with the pain she had held for all those years. It was the sound that reflected what we all had known was true, but it was also the sound of hope at last abandoned. She sobbed and Reverend Iordani held her and comforted her. I moved in behind her and put my arm around her shoulder. The three of us stood there in a huddle and there was no sound between us all, except for Irini’s crying and her mumbled Greek that I didn’t understand. I don’t know how I did it, but somehow strength and composure was mine-or at least God let me believe that it was mine.

Chapter Fifteen

It was another day of rain and gloom. The rain was actually pleasant, soft and steady and much needed if the bluebonnets were going to flourish this year. Without the thunder, lightning and high winds of a typical Texas storm, this was actually soothing, and I needed soothing. I stood at the back French doors with hot chamomile tea and watched the rain nourish every green and budding thing in the backyard.

The question of Ted’s death was solved. It still saddened me, and all that sadness was compounded by the unresolved murders of Addie Waldrep and Brian Ferguson. I reflected on my conversations with Drew and hoped that his connections and his efforts could yield a warrant to search the Gunther place.

It was time to focus on something other than death. I put on some jeans and an old navy blue T-shirt with my black pointy-toe boots. I got into the Mustang, fired it up and headed over to Daddy’s.

Daddy was eighty-three. He was a mechanic and welder, and just a guy who could fix or build anything. His name was Michael Kennedy-yes, I named my son after him-but the world called him Red because of the color his hair used to be. Like mine, the gray had come into his hair and rendered it more the shade of pink champagne. Mine wasn’t quite that extreme yet, but I was on my way there. Mom was gone to the other side and had been for years. Daddy lived alone, but kept himself busy with friends, automotive work and the Mustang club and classic car restorations.

When I pulled up into the driveway, the garage door was open and Daddy was where I expected him to be-under a car. He heard the rumble of my Fastback and rolled out from under the car to see me step out. He got up off the creeper and headed for the Go-Jo canister to clean his hands. The Go-Jo having successfully removed all the grease, Daddy came to greet me, wiping his hands on a red shop rag.

“Little Red!”

“Hi, Daddy.”

He gave me a big hug and said, “Where’s my grandson?”

“He’s working, Daddy.”

“Boy’s always on duty. He comes by a lot, but he’s always on duty. Can’t get that boy out of a suit long enough to change a spark plug.”

“It’s his job, Daddy, and it’s not an eight-to-five gig.”

“I know, I would just like to spend some time with him, that’s all. Never mind all that, my Little Red is here. What’s happening with you, kiddo?”

“Well, Daddy, Irini called me a few weeks ago, and asked me to do a reconstruct on some remains CILHI found in ’Nam.”

“Know that already. Mike told me.”

“Oh, didn’t know you had talked to Mike lately.”

“Like I said, he comes by. He don’t ever stay, and he don’t ever help me out here, but he comes by. Chews the fat with his old grandpa-you know.” Daddy beamed as he got back down on the creeper and rolled under the car again.

“Hand me that light, Little Red.”

I handed Daddy the light.

“So, then, what’s up with all that CILHI stuff?”

“I had Chris come over and check my work when I was almost through. Still needed a nose, eyes and hair on it, but she checked everything over and drew me a rough sketch.”

“Hand me that grease gun, Toni.”

I handed him the grease gun.

“So, how’d Chris’s drawing turn out?”

“It was him, Daddy.”

“I’ll be. Did you finish it all up, then?”

“Yes, sir, I finished it yesterday, and called CILHI to tell them.”

“That’s good, Toni. You tell Irini yet?”

“Yes, sir, I went with Reverend Iordani and told her yesterday.”

Dad rolled out from under the car far enough to look me in the eye. “She take it all okay?”

“As well as anyone could take that kind of news, I suppose.”

He rolled completely out from under the car with the grease gun in his hand. He got up off the creeper and hung the gun back on the hook on the wall. He turned around and put his hand on my shoulder.

“You tell her my prayers are with her.”

“I will, Dad,” I said with my eyes turning misty.

“Now, listen here. I know what you did was real hard, but it was necessary. You got Chris’s help, which was smart. I know you did a good job, and you relieved that poor family’s mind. Sometimes doing the right thing is real difficult. Pfui, what am I talkin’ about, most of the time doing the right thing is difficult. That’s why so many people these days take the lazy way out.”

“I know, Daddy.”

“Craziest war I ever heard of. Now, World War II-that was a war worth fightin’. Hitler, Mussolini, Japanese military-all a bunch ’a nuts trying to take over the world. We had to stop ’em. By golly, we did stop ’em, too. But, Vietnam, what a terrible waste. Send all our best young men over there, and some of our best young women, too. How many of ’em killed and still missing?”

“Over 58,000 killed, over 1,900 still missing.”

“Terrible-over 58,000 killed. Craziest war I ever heard of. Wasted all those lives, ruined all those families, totally messed up our country’s values-even to this day.”

“I know, Dad.”

“Okay, I’m talkin’ too much. Just gets me upset thinking about little Irini and her family-and then I start thinking about all the other families just like hers,” Dad sighed. “Tell me about your other case instead. What’s going on there?”

He walked around to the front of the car and stuck his head under the hood.

“Hand me that light again, Toni.”

I picked up the light off the floor and handed it to him.

“And that spark-plug wrench over there on the bench.”

I handed him the spark-plug wrench.

“Well, we found bones down on Red Bud Isle…”

“I know that part. Mike told me some and I saw some of it on the news. Details, I want details.”

I smiled and then I told him about Doug Hughes and Addie Waldrep. I told him about Jimmy Hughes and Lori Webster. I told him about Dody. I told him about Brian Ferguson and his mother, and what his friends in Hempstead had said. I told him everything Leo had said. I told him about Drew getting involved. I told him about Doris and the famous pie.

“Well, that all sounds real interesting-especially the part about that pie. You gotta take me up there, Little Red, introduce me to Doris and her pie,” he chuckled.

I laughed, “All right, Daddy. When this case is over, I’ll take you up to Viola.”

“So, has Drew gotten the warrant yet?”

“Haven’t heard from him, but I imagine it’s going to be real hard to get, if not impossible.”

“Some justice system,” he said, pulling his head out from under the car hood. “Some nut with a shotgun holds up the whole works, while another nut gets by with murder.”