Forgive Me(102)

“Loaded question,” Angie said. “I’m not sure you want the answer.”

“Try me. Though I might have to interrupt you if the phone rings.”

Angie gave Bryce an information dump and he didn’t interrupt her once.

He fell silent for a time, and then said, “I’m reeling here, Angie. II don’t know what to say.”

“Say that you’ll help me,” Angie replied.

“Help you how?”

“Get into the records. I want to know everything about the DeRose identity. We’ve got to be in there someplace.”

“I’m sure you are,” Bryce said.

“I want to know who my father was, what he did, what kind of deal he struck with the Feds. There’s no mention of his big Ponzi scheme anywhere, or any of the mobsters he stole from for that matter, or how his information allegedly brought them down.”

“FYI, that’s a fast track to the unemployment line for me if I get caught.”

“I’d understand if you won’t help,” Angie said.

“It’s not a question of want to help. Of course I want to help. It’s more like, holy crap. Really?”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

“Look, maybe there aren’t any news reports because the information was used by the Feds, not for any trial, but just to get a sense of how these guys operated. That’s worth handing a low level Ponzi schemer a GET OUT OF JAIL FREE card. No disrespect to your dad.”

“None taken, and I like your theory.”

“Good. Then we’re all set.”

“Will you look for me, Bryce?”

He made a heavy sigh. “I have to check with my guy, but okay. No promises here. A lot depends on our pal Markovich. But I’ll do what I can. What are you going to do in the meantime?”

“In the meantime, I’m going to talk to someone who might be able to shed some light on my dad’s mysterious past.”





Angie had open-door privileges at the Odettes’ home, same as the Odettes had at her father’s place. She rang the doorbell anyway. It felt like the right thing to do because she hadn’t done a popover visit since her high school days.

Louise Odette opened the front door with a bright smile on her face. Her silver hair, cut just above her shoulders, wasn’t styled for public viewing. Even without the benefit of makeup, she had aged gracefully, and the striking woman Walter had married more than fifty years ago was easy to see.

At eleven o’clock in the morning, she was still draped in her floral patterned bathrobe—the perfect attire for a lazy Saturday morning. Angie wore her Lands End outfit—jeans and a white long-sleeved jersey with a fleece vest. She’d already had three cups of coffee, which in hindsight wasn’t wise given her level of agitation.

“Angie, sweetie, what brings you here?”

“I was hoping to speak with Walter if he’s at home.”

Louise stepped back and invited Angie inside. The Odettes’ home was tastefully furnished, bright and airy, very welcoming, but not at all extravagant. The color palette was whites and blues mostly, with plenty of collectables throughout—sea glass in mason jars, old watering cans, flea market treasures—all artfully arranged in wooden cases and displayed on wall-mounted shelves.

Walt was careful with his money (her dad’s influence perhaps) and spent it on experiences (and grandchildren), but not things. He enjoyed traveling and it wasn’t uncommon for him to be gone for months at time, sometimes with Louise, but sometimes without. The Odettes did retirement the right way, but given Angie’s tax returns, she was not on pace for such adventurousness. She had better odds chasing down adulterers at seventy-five then she did taking off for a few months to soak up the Bora Bora sunshine.

“Everything all right with your Dad?”

“Yeah, fine. Thanks.”

“Walt’s down in his workshop,” Louise said, tightening the tie of her robe as she led Angie into a spacious kitchen, the heart of most any home. “Do you want some coffee?” She glanced at the kitchen clock and noticed the time. “Oh goodness me, you probably want lunch. We’re not always this slow getting started, dear.”

“I’m just going to have water.” Angie helped herself to a glass. She knew where everything was.

“I’ll go grab Walt.”

Moments later, Angie and Walt were seated across from each other at the round kitchen table.

“Talk to me, Angie,” Walt said.

She glanced out the window and made sure Louise was still in her garden, watering plants in her bathrobe. Angie wasn’t sure if Louise was in on the secret.

“I know,” Angie began. “About my mom and dad . . . and me. About our being in witness Protection all these years.”

Walt didn’t look as shocked or surprised as she had expected. “Did your dad tell you or did you somehow figure it out on your own?”

“My dad,” Angie said.

Walt returned a grim nod. “You must be in a state of shock. Look, I’m sorry, kiddo. Keeping the secret wasn’t easy, but it was the job. I hope you understand.”

“I do, and I don’t blame you. Honest I don’t.”

Walt gave Angie’s hand a squeeze. “Thanks. That’s a huge relief. You know I love you and I’d never do anything to hurt you.”