Spiral

him.”
    ”Where does David live?”
    ”Here.”
    ”He came home to be with you?”
    ”What?” said Helides, another look of confusion replacing the pained one.
    ”After your granddaughter died, your son came here to be with you?”
    A tone more tired than any so far. ”David never left home, Lieutenant.”
    Before I could ask why, Nicolas Helides shivered. ”It’s chilly here. Let’s go back to the library.”

    Afternoon sunlight slanted through the big window opposite the fireplace, near where Justo Vega was speaking quietly into the telephone, his shoulders rolling a little with his internal music. Tranh repositioned the Skipper’s chair so that the rays from outside fell across the old man’s torso without shining in his eyes. Even so, a plaid stadium blanket materialized from behind another chair, Tranh spreading it over Helides’s legs.
    The Skipper waited until he was finished, then motioned me to the brass-tacked couch. ”The party was on January eleventh, a Sunday. Because my pool is indoors, we held it here so people could enjoy themselves despite the cold weather. The television forecasters say this winter’s so lousy because of El Nino. You getting any consequences of that up by you?”
    ”Yes,” I said, trying not to show any further reaction. Helides just nodded. ”Well, we’d had a fine time. Wet bar, buffet, a lot of people playing in the pool. Veronica even sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to me, sitting on my lap, before everybody else joined in for a verse.” The Skipper shivered again, as he had in the pool area, then cleared his throat. ”The house was teeming with guests who all knew each other. Nobody could have gained access past Umberto without being noticed as a stranger.”
    ”Who’s Umberto?”
    ”The security guard at the gate. Cuban despite that blond crewcut. He arrived during the Marielito boatlift, enlisted in the army, and came out an MP, too. Made something of himself, and a good man.”
    I glanced at Justo, but he didn’t give me any signals. ”Umberto’s last name?”
    ”Reyes,” said the Skipper. ”He’s Delgis’s brother.”
    ”Dellas?”
    Justo spelled it for me. ”She was the au pair for Veronica, John. Delgis lives at Spiro Held’s house.”
    I thought about the granddaughter being thirteen. ”Wasn’t Veronica a little old to need an au pair?”
    ”I didn’t think so,” said Helides.
    Topic closed, I guessed. ”And Delgis was here for the party?”
    ”Yes.”
    ”Umberto the only security?”
    ”My other security man—Jack Byrne, also an ex-MP— had moved to Tampa, take care of his aunt.”
    ”That’s been verified?”
    ”By the police here and there,” said Justo. ”No way Mr. Byrne could have committed the crime.”
    ”And his being away was known to the people you’d invited?”
    The Skipper nodded. ”We’d talked about Jack having to leave for—oh, a few weeks, anyway.”
    ”Who actually attended the party?”
    ”Spiro and his wife, Jeanette. The other members of his band.”
    I tried to dredge up what little information I’d retained about Spiral from twenty-some years before. The couple of hits the band had enjoyed. Some crazy drummer, and ”Spi Held” as lead singer. ”I never knew he was your son, Colonel.”
    ”While I was overseas, Spiro ran away from the housekeeper I’d hired after his mother died. He was only fifteen, but it was the late sixties, remember, so a lot of kids just disappeared into the hippie/rock culture.” Helides seemed able to speak about it without any bitterness clinging to his garbled words. ”Spiro came to South Florida and changed his name—supposedly to distance himself from me and the ‘establishment’ I represented, but more I think to make him marketable as ‘Spi,’ founder of ’Spiral,’ rather than the offspring of Greek immigrants.”
    Some irony in the voice now, but still no bitterness. ”Anyone else at the party that we haven’t talked about?” Justo said, ”I can give you a list, John, with names, addresses, and telephones. But the band’s manager was also here. And Mrs. Helides.”
    I looked at the Skipper. ”You remarried?”
    ‘Yes. You may as well know now, Lieutenant. My wife’s name is Cassandra, and her tennis instructor came to the party as well.”
    Some bitterness now. ”This tennis pro—”
    ”Lieutenant?” said Helides, but not to me.
    Justo seemed uncomfortable. ”His name is Cornel Radescu. From Romania, originally.”
    I didn’t say