Disclaimer: See Chapter 1
A/N: Contains minor spoilers for Blood Brothers and The Oath.
Chapter 7—Deep Within My Soul
For just a few minutes, Horatio and Cal Barber looked on as the lady gently held Yelina's hand and watched her with those eyes. She seemed to speak volumes without saying a word.
"Officer Caine, I was sort of wondering whether you and I could get a cup of coffee downstairs" Cal said deliberately. He nodded toward the hospital bed. "I get the feeling Addie would like to be alone with your sister-in-law for a little while."
Horatio sensed the tone in his voice immediately. Experience told him Cal wanted to discuss something. Away from curious ears.
"Mr. Barber, I'd like that. Yelina, why don't you stay with Mrs. Johannsen for a while? We'll bring you some café cubano from downstairs."
Yelina nodded with a polite smile. "That would be fine. Mrs. Johannsen, would you like anything?"
With weak, tired hands, Mrs. Johannsen gestured as though she were writing. Cal instinctively pulled a pen and yellow pad out of his folder and handed them to her. Slowly and deliberately she scrawled while her guests watched. She then handed him the pad.
It's been a long time since I've had a double cappuccino.
The attorney nodded. "A café cubano and a double cappuccino. You got it. Ladies, we'll see you in a few minutes."
Satisfied that they were well out of earshot, Cal Barber lowered his head. "Okay, Officer Caine. I'd know that look anywhere."
"What look, Mr. Barber?"
"Talk to me. Do you think something might have happened?"
He narrowed his eyes. "Was this case ever investigated? Thoroughly?"
The lawyer opened his mouth while putting his hands in his pockets, telling Horatio he wasn't completely sure. "The local fire department investigated and said that the fire was caused by a crack in the chimney." He looked up and down the hallways. "Except…."
"Except what?"
"Officer Caine, I-"
"Horatio."
"Horatio, I always had this nagging suspicion. The chimney in that house should have been fine. Steven had it inspected every year, inside and out. See, in Minnesota, you want your chimney in good shape, because God knows you're gonna use it eight months out of the year. We all figured the inspector missed something or it cracked later."
"Did the Johannsens have any enemies?"
He sniffed. "Horatio, he was a brand new young senator, a dark horse. Took the nomination by storm and won by a landslide that year. Now, in politics you always have enemies."
"In my field, Mr. Barber, we call that motive."
The young attorney looked at him for a few minutes. "You know, Addie isn't just my charge. Like I said, my father worked with Steven on the campaign. I knew Josh and Lizzie. We went to the same school in Oakley. Steven had a job for my dad as a senatorial staffer. We were all going to Washington. But when they died, it's like the whole town died." He looked down the hall toward the open door. "Since the official ruling was an accident, nobody investigated it further. Saw no reason to."
"Can you get me the case file?"
"No problem. Gonna take some time, though. The case was closed in 1987."
"Mr. Barber, we have forensics technology that wasn't available in 1986. And you know there's no statute of limitations for murder. Yelina is a private investigator. I need the names of everyone on Steven Johannsen's staff as well as who he ran against in that campaign. I'll also need the names of the other candidate's staff."
Without another word, the young attorney took out his cell phone and hit the speed dial. "Dad, it's Cal. Yeah, I'm in Florida. Look, we can discuss all that later. I need you to do something for me."
Horatio held his hand out. "Give me the phone."
Cal Barber watched his determined blue eyes as he handed him the cell phone.
"This is Lieutenant Horatio Caine with the Miami-Dade Crime Lab. Whom am I speaking with? Yes, Mr. Barber, I was talking with your son, and I was hoping you could contact the police department in the town where the Johannsen fire occurred. Oakley, Minnesota? Something just doesn't seem right. I agree. Perhaps you can contact the Minneapolis Forensics Lab. I'll have my A/V tech set up a video conference. There's a lady here in Miami who might like to know the truth about what happened that day."
Yelina sat quietly with the lady, both of them with their eyes on the open door. Finally Mrs. Johannsen reached up with weak, tired hands and made a gesture.
"What is it?" Yelina wanted to know.
She weakly held out her bandaged, burned arm, motioning for the pen and pad. Yelina handed them to her. Slowly and weakly she scrawled on the pad and showed it to the P.I.
What's going on between your brother-in-law and Cal?
She looked at the message and then at Mrs. Johannsen. "I don't understand."
She held her hands out. Yelina handed the pen and paper to her again and watched as she scrawled again and handed the pad to her.
Just because I have trouble speaking doesn't mean I'm an idiot.
"Nobody here thinks you're an idiot. Can you speak?"
Weakly she waved her finger over the purple scar on her throat. Yelina looked carefully. Mrs. Johannsen had a faint scar about two inches long. She then held out her hands again. Yelina now instinctively handed her the pen and pad. This time she merely leaned over and read what Mrs. Johannsen had written.
My vocal chords were damaged in an accident.
"I see."
I noticed how your brother-in-law looks at you. How you look at him. There's more there than just a familial tie, isn't there? If it's not too bold of me to ask, where is your husband?
Yelina simply dipped her head. Those sad, desperate brown eyes were now probing. Thoughtful. Reading her like a book. She wrote again.
You're widowed as well, aren't you?
She nodded with a sadness about her as she looked into the lady's eyes.
Mrs. Johannsen didn't have to speak or write. Those eyes just somehow seemed to read her soul. Yelina felt as though this sad, quiet, eccentric woman could just look into her eyes and download sympathy or the deepest thoughts into anyone's mind. For some odd reason, Yelina didn't feel embarrassment or resentment when she spoke to her. It was almost like kneeling in the silent church with her great aunt again. Someone was listening.
Have you told your brother-in-law how you feel about him?
"Many times. The problem is, well, I'm still his brother's wife, and I just don't think he'll ever go beyond that." She paused. "You know, one day he told me that if Raymond and I hadn't met, then we, well….."
Mrs. Johannsen didn't answer. Those brown eyes just kept probing her soul, downloading a strange sympathy.
Yelina dipped her head and let her curls fall around her face. "You know, I loved Raymond Caine, Horatio's brother. And then when I thought he was dead—" She looked back into the brown eyes. "He was an undercover cop. It's a long story. I knew that Horatio was looking out for family. He always does that. He's been there for my son, and he's been there for me." She looked away. "Have you ever been mad at someone and done something?" She smiled a little now. "I think in America we call it 'cutting off your nose to spite your face'? Well, I did that when Horatio still wouldn't be with me. I dated a co-worker of his that was his rival."
Fear, anger and resentment cause smart people to do things they wouldn't ordinarily.
"I guess you're right. It turned out to be a big mistake. When I found out Raymond was still alive, we went to Brazil. But then Raymond died for real. Now I'm back with my son. I'd like to start a new life with Horatio. But I'm still his brother's wife and always will be, I guess. While we were in Brazil he married his co-worker's sister. But she was killed the day they were married."
That's horrible.
"Yes it is." She looked down. "But now that Raymond's gone, I'm back in Miami. I'm working as a private investigator." In spite of herself, she sighed and looked away. "I'm behind on the bills. Ray Jr. is lonely." She smiled sadly and shook her head. "I really don't know why I'm telling you all this."
Yelina didn't understand why this once fearful, guarded, sad woman who had surrounded herself with her last moment of happiness in 1986 had now taken a strange interest in her. It was almost as though she felt instantly comfortable with her and Horatio. Like she knew they could be trusted after they saved her life. But those eyes just begged her to be comfortable with her. To feel comfortable with her deepest, darkest secrets. She paused while the lady wrote again.
Yelina, we ladies are notorious for letting our feelings get in the way of rational judgment. That's why I say that fear, anger and resentment sometimes make us do foolish things.
"Yes, I know."
But be careful, Yelina. So can self pity.
