St Kilda Consulting 01 - Always Time to Die

Anglo, Hale Simmons, but it was too late. The shared land had been lost to Quintrells. But Simmons proved as adept in his own way as the first A. J. Quintrell. Using Castillo and Sandoval family connections, Hale set up a caravan trade down into Mexico. Since he never paid duty, he did pretty well for the family.”
    “Wait,” Carly said. “Where did the Sandovals come from?”
    “Spain and Mexico, just like the Castillos. They were here before the Rebellion.” Winifred put Sylvia’s leg beneath the blankets, pulled out one wasted limp arm, and began massaging it firmly. “Lots of marrying back and forth since then. The border doesn’t mean spit to families.”
    Carly thought about the weary Sandoval woman she’d talked to last night and wondered if Lucia was somehow related to the Senator’s spoiled grandson.
    Cousins under every bush.
    “So the Sandovals are part of your family,” Carly said.
    “Don’t waste your time and my money on them. I’m only interested in Castillos. María Simmons was my mother. Sylvia’s mother.”
    Carly felt disoriented, like time was rushing around her, calling out names and memories. In one breath Winifred was talking about the settling of Mexico by Spain four centuries ago and the coming of the Anglos after the Civil War. In the next breath she was talking about her mother, as if history ran through her family as surely as genes.
    “My mother, María, had two living children.” Winifred bent Sylvia’s frail arm to a four-count beat and held the position. “Sylvia was María’s first child. I was her last. There were two miscarriages and a stillbirth between us.”
    Before Carly could ask a question, there was a knock on the door. Josh walked into the suite without waiting for permission to enter. The expression on his face reminded Carly of how she’d felt when Winifred had first opened the pot of vile-smelling cream and gone to work on her sister. Carly’s nose had finally stopped noticing. Josh wasn’t that lucky.
    “God, what a stink,” he said through his teeth.
    Winifred ignored him.
    “Good morning, Governor Quintrell,” Carly said quickly, getting to her feet.
    “Family photos?” Josh said, glancing at the various stacks.
    “Yes. Miss Winifred has been—”
    “Airing all the dirty laundry,” he cut in. “It’s what she does best.”
    “What do you want?” Winifred asked. “I’m busy.”
    Josh glanced at the pale, slack flesh held between her dark hands. “My wife, son, and I are leaving this afternoon.”
    Carly thought she heard Winifred say “Hallelujah” under her breath.
    “I take it that you’re going through with your so-called family history project,” Josh said, gesturing to the photos.
    Winifred focused on him with hard, dark eyes. “You take it right.”
    The skin on Josh’s face tightened. “You can’t delay even a few months?”
    “I’m in my late seventies. The Senator’s finally dead. I’m through waiting.”
    Carly eased toward the door. She’d write about the quarrels of the dead and the living, but she’d really rather not have a front-row seat to the harangue.
    “Excuse me,” she murmured.
    “Stay where you are,” Josh said.
    Carly froze more at his curt tone than at the order itself.
    “My aunt won’t listen to reason,” Josh said to Carly. “For your sake, I hope you will.”
    She looked up at Josh and saw the Senator all over again in the ice blue of his son’s eyes and the hard, impatient line of his mouth. This was a man accustomed to power. To getting his way.
    “I don’t know what you mean, sir,” she said evenly.
    “Turn off your recorder.”
    Her eyes widened and her hand went to her waist in a protective motion.
    “Please,” Josh said.
    She prayed that the governor didn’t know anything about her high-tech machine. Her thumb depressed the pause button. The status lights flickered and went on standby.
    In five seconds the recorder would come back on.
    “It will come as no news that I’m running for president,” Josh said, “but until I make a public announcement, I don’t want a recording of my intent.”
    Carly relaxed. “I understand. I won’t say anything. And congratulations, sir. It’s an honor to be chosen by your party for the highest office in the land.”
    He smiled automatically. “Thank you. I haven’t been chosen yet, but I’m confident I will be.”
    Winifred dipped more salve and began working the smelly stuff into Sylvia’s other arm. Despite the new