by Lee Strauss
Miguel glanced at Rosa and offered a subtle congratulatory smile.
“In any case,” Raul continued, “Florence got in some argument, and when I got back onto the stage, I saw her wander out onto the pier. It was about twenty-five minutes after she’d drunk the poison, so I suspected she would die out there—possibly even falling into the ocean, which would make the cause of death even harder to discern.”
“How was Rod Jeffers involved in all of this?” Miguel asked.
“He wasn’t, really. He was very close to Juan, they were good friends, and I did confide in him early on. He was in favor of killing Flo, at first, but as we got closer to the evening, he chickened out. I told him as long as he kept his mouth shut, he didn’t have to help me in any way.”
“That still makes him an accessory,” Rosa interjected. “He also tried to cover for you by giving you an alibi the night of the Brewster murder.”
Mr. Mendez shrugged. “Yeah, I suppose.”
“Why did you then kill Jason Brewster?” Miguel asked, leaning slightly towards the microphone.
Mr. Mendez palmed his shirt pocket subconsciously as if looking for a phantom pack of cigarettes, then let his hands fall to his lap. “That was regrettable, but he threatened to go to the police, even though I told him that was stupid and would implicate him. Brewster had quite a thing for Florence, you know. I didn’t know this when I contacted him. He also didn’t know that she was the reason I wanted the poison.”
“So, you slipped it into his drink,” Rosa said.
Mr. Mendez snorted again. “I went over to try to calm him down, talk some sense into him, ya know, but he was a mess. I couldn’t risk him ratting me out, ya know? It was easy to slip the same poison into his orange juice when he wasn’t looking.
“How did you know about Onvocyn?” Miguel asked. “That’s a scarce drug.”
“It took me a long time to find it; long hours at the Los Angeles Public Library studying poisonous substances. I wanted one that would bring about the desired effect with about a half-hour delay.
“I knew Jason Brewster was supplying cocaine to Flo and had some connections to the black market. He supplied a lot of drugs to others here in the area, although I wouldn’t know who. Even with his considerable connections, it took months for him to get just a few capsules of the stuff and it cost me over a thousand dollars, but in the end, it worked.”
The room went silent, the last sentence hanging ominously in the air.
20
In bare feet and dressed in high-waisted, print shorts and a white T-shirt, twisted into a knot at her belly, Rosa ran down the long hallway of the Forrester Mansion. She headed toward the large study which had formerly served as Uncle Harold’s personal office and library when he was still alive. She dragged a long string with the little cloth mouse dangling on the end.
Giggling like a schoolgirl and slightly out of breath, Rosa collapsed on the leather sofa and peered back down the hallway. Diego had slowed down and lowered to a crouch with his belly an inch from the carpet, his tail thick and fluffy as if he had suffered from an electric shock. His eyes were intently focused on the toy mouse as he slowly crept down the hall towards the stuffed creature. Rosa pulled the string slightly to make the mouse wiggle. Diego froze for a moment, and then crept forward again. Rosa put a hand to her mouth to stifle another giggle.
Suddenly the kitten jumped high in the air and landed on the mouse. He grabbed it with his forepaws and lay on his side as he bit and kicked it with his back claws.
“Diego!” Rosa lost hold of the string but watched him proudly. “Aren’t you the little hunter?” Diego stopped chewing on the mouse, looked up at Rosa, and coughed. He rose shakily to his feet and after a few more deep coughs, vomited up a hairball onto the expensive Oriental rug.
“Oh no!” Rosa jumped to her feet. “Not on the carpet.” She scooped up Diego and stared down at the small gray wad on the rug. Ugh, she thought. I’d better clean this up before—
“Rosa!”
Rosa cringed at the sound of her aunt’s voice.
“What on earth has that animal done to my Chobi Oriental?” Aunt Louisa, with her hands braced on pointy hips, glared with narrowed eyes. “That rug was imported from India!”
“I’m so sorry, Aunt Louisa, I’ll have it cleaned for you right away.”
Before her aunt could continue with her scolding—or worse, ban Diego from the house—Bledsoe, thankfully, appeared in the doorway. “Excuse me, ma’am, but a Detective Belmonte is on the telephone for Miss Reed.”
Rosa knew her aunt was loathe to put on any display of familial disunity in front of the staff and used that to her advantage to scurry out of the room with Diego under one arm and the toy mouse in the other hand.
She whispered to her cat as she walked down the hall, “Vomiting on a lady’s carpet is not a way to her heart, Diego.”
The kitten, utterly unfazed by the event, purred softly in her arms.
“Hello, Detective Belmonte,” Rosa said as she pressed the receiver to her ear. Her pulse picked up at the mere idea that she would hear Miguel’s voice across the line.
“Hiya, Rosa. I just want to thank you again, officially, on behalf of the Santa Bonita Police Department for your assistance on this case. I quite honestly don’t think we could’ve done it without you.”
Rosa blushed at the praise. “I’m certain that’s not true,” she returned politely, “but thank you for saying so.”
“I’m out a bass player, so I guess finding another one is next on my agenda. What about yours?”
That was a loaded question, and Rosa was surprised that Miguel even asked it. He must be as curious about her and she was about him.
“I’m not sure,” Rosa answered truthfully. “I need a bit more time to work that out.”
“Well, all the best to you. Maybe I’ll see you around.”
Now that this case was solved, Rosa saw no reason for their paths to cross again.
“Yes, maybe.”
Gloria was lounging by the pool when Rosa held up a magazine with a lovely photograph of Audrey Hepburn on the cover.
“Isn’t she just so glamorous?” Gloria lowered her sunglasses and stared over the rims at Rosa. “She reminds me of you, actually. You both have striking eyebrows.”
Rosa blinked, not sure what to make of what was surely meant as a compliment. “Thank you?”
“Why couldn’t I look like her? She’s deliciously sophisticated.”
“You have a very appealing look, Gloria,” Rosa said. “But it’s the inside that counts in the end.”
“Oh, boo. That’s what attractive people say about the plain.”
Rosa blew a loud raspberry at her cousin before settling into the lounge beside her. Diego curled into a ball on her lap and purred.
Gloria stared forlornly. “Grandma Sally says it’s a waste of good effort for me to go to acting school.”
Rosa gave her cousin a stern look. “Gloria, if you want to go to acting school and become an actress, then that’s what you should do. No one can stop you, except yourself.”
Gloria pushed her sunglasses along the ridge of her nose. “You don’t know what it’s like to live with two powerful Hartigan women.”
Rosa laughed. “Actually, I do.”
“Oh, right. High school. I forgot. But your prison sentence was only a few years. Mine’s been my whole life.”
“I repeat, Gloria. If you want to do something, do it.”
“You’re right, Rosa, thank you.” Gloria’s pale, slender legs lifted off the side of the lounger. “I’m going to make a call to the college right now and register.”
Rosa smirked as she stroked the top of Diego’s head. Aunt Louisa and Grandma Sally wouldn’t appreciate her interfering in Gloria’s life, but what did it matter now? Rosa would probably go home in a couple of weeks anyway.
The thought left her feeling bittersweet. She missed her family, but somehow, returning to London made her feel like she was going ba
ckward.
And then there was Miguel.
“No, Diego, there’s no Miguel. He belongs to Charlotte. Or was it Clarice?”
Rosa lifted Diego and pressed her face into his furry body. She knew Miguel’s girlfriend’s name was Charlene. Charlene Winters. And one day, Rosa would turn on the telly and see Miss Winters’ beautiful face on the screen.
Because Miguel’s girlfriend would be beautiful.
“That’s enough of that, Diego,” she said hoarsely. “I’ve got my own problems to figure out, but not right now, right? I’m on holiday.”
Rosa must have dozed off in the shade of the patio umbrella because no sooner had Gloria left, than she’d returned, dressed in striped capri pants and a blue fine-knit top.
“I’ve done it, Rosa!” Gloria’s cheeks were rosy with excitement. “But it doesn’t start until September, so boo. But still, lots of fun left of summer. You know the fair came to town today?”
Rosa was having a hard time keeping up with Gloria’s wide-awake exuberance. “No, I wasn’t aware.”
“Oh, it’s a lot of fun, with rides and clowns and cotton candy.”
None of those things sounded fun to Rosa.
“I don’t know—”
Gloria grabbed Rosa’s hand and tugged playfully. “Oh, come on. You can’t sit around here all day, and I’m bored. Please, come to the boardwalk with me.”
A grin tugged on the edges of Rosa’s lips. Gloria’s energy and zest for life were hard to resist. And her cousin was right. She couldn’t very well spend the rest of her holiday sitting around the Forrester mansion. Besides, what could go wrong at the boardwalk?
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Eager to read the next book in the Rosa Reed Mystery series?
Don’t miss MURDER ON THE BOARDWALK.
Murder's such a shock!
When Rosa Reed—aka WPC Reed of the Metropolitan Police—and her cousin Gloria decide to spend a fun-filled afternoon in 1956 at the fair on the boardwalk in Santa Bonita, California, they're in for a shocking surprise. After a ride assistant's death by electrocution is determined to be murder, Rosa finds herself entangled once again with her high school sweetheart, Detective Miguel Belmonte. Should she catch the next flight to London before she becomes the next victim?
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Did you read the PREQUEL?
Rosa & Miguel’s Wartime Romance is a BONUS short story exclusively for Lee’s newsletter subscribers.
How it All Began. . .
Like many British children during World War Two, Rosa Reed’s parents, Ginger and Basil Reed, made the heart-wrenching decision to send their child to a foreign land and out of harm’s way. Fortunately, Ginger’s half-sister Louisa and her family, now settled in the quaint coastal town of Santa Bonita, California, were pleased to take her in.
By the spring of 1945, Rosa Reed had almost made it through American High School unscathed, until the American army decided to station a base there. Until she met the handsome Private Miguel Belmonte and fell in love. . .
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Afterword
Invented “science” is a common ploy in all kinds of fictitious works including books, film and television.
In Murder at High Tide, the drug Dihydroboldenone is an actual substance while Onvocyn is a creation of the authors’ imaginations.
Rosa & Miguel’s Wartime Romance
PREQUEL - excerpt
Rosa Reed first laid eyes on Miguel Belmonte on the fourteenth day of February in 1945. She was a senior attending a high school dance, and he a soldier who played in the band.
She’d been dancing with her date, Tom Hawkins, a short, stalky boy with pink skin and an outbreak of acne, but her gaze continued to latch onto the bronze-skinned singer, with dark crew-cut hair, looking very dapper in a black suit.
In a life-changing moment, their eyes locked. Despite the fact that she stared at the singer over the shoulder of her date, she couldn’t help the bolt of electricity that shot through her, and when the singer smiled—and those dimples appeared—heavens, her knees almost gave out!
“Rosa?”
Tom’s worried voice brought her back to reality. “Are you okay? You went a little limp there. Do you feel faint? It is mighty hot in here.” Tom released Rosa’s hand to tug at his tie. “Do you want to get some air?”
Rosa felt a surge of alarm. Invitations to step outside the gymnasium were often euphemisms to get fresh.
In desperation she searched for her best friend Nancy Davidson—her best American friend, that was. Vivien Eveleigh claimed the position of best friend back in London, and Rosa missed her. Nancy made for a sufficient substitute. A pretty girl with honey-blond hair, Nancy, fortunately, was no longer dancing, and was sitting alone.
“I think I’ll visit the ladies, Tom, if you don’t mind.”
He looked momentarily put out, then shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He joined a group of lads—boys—at the punch table, and joined in with their raucous laughter. Rosa didn’t want to know what they were joking about, or at whose expense.
Nancy understood Rosa’s plight as she wasn’t entirely pleased with her fellow either. “If only you and I could dance with each other.”
“One can’t very well go to a dance without a date, though,” Rosa said.
Nancy laughed. “One can’t.”
Rosa rolled her eyes. Even after four years of living in America, her Englishness still manifested when she was distracted.
And tonight’s distraction was the attractive lead singer in the band, and shockingly, he seemed to have sought her face out too.
Nancy had seen the exchange and gave Rosa a firm nudge. “No way, José. I know he’s cute, but he’s from the wrong side of the tracks. Your aunt would have a conniption.”
Nancy wasn’t wrong about that. Aunt Louisa had very high standards, as one who was lady of Forrester mansion, might.
“I’m only looking!”
Nancy harrumphed. “As long as it stays that way.”
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Murder on the Boardwalk Sneak Peek
Chapter One
Sunshine soothed the soul.
Lines of gently swaying palm trees and stucco Spanish mansions set against a cloudless sky would never get old. Miss Rosa Reed, known in rainy London England as WPC Reed of the Metropolitan Police, strolled away from the Forrester mansion in Santa Bonita, California, with her cousin Gloria on her arm.
“We need to find you a fuller crinoline.” Gloria playfully nudged Rosa with an elbow as they neared one of the Forrester vehicles, a two-tone yellow Chevrolet Bel Air parked in the driveway.
Not once in her life had Rosa been criticized for her wardrobe while in London. With a mother who owned one of London’s highbrow Regent Street dress shops, Rosa had grown up under the influence of stylish and quality fashion, the kind that certainly turned heads in the United Kingdom. Apparently, the California coast was a different story as Rosa had been encouraged more than once to wear something a little brighter, a little tighter, or today, a little pouffier.
Then again, those suggestions had come from Gloria and may say more about Rosa’s spirited cousin than they did about California fashions. Already, Rosa regretted giving into Gloria’s pleas to accompany her to the fair recently set up at the boardwalk. She preferred the quiet of her room, a good book, and the purring of her kitten, Diego, compared to the cacophony sure to come.
Not wanting to face Gloria’s wrath if she changed her mind, Rosa determined to be a g
ood sport. Gloria looking adorable and rather youthful—seven years Rosa’s junior, Rosa often felt ancient at twenty-eight in Gloria’s presence—in her pink poodle skirt and flat black and white leather saddleback shoes. Gloria stood with one hand on one tiny hip and the other stretched out, palm open. “Keys?”
“Why?”
“You’ve driven it all week. Besides, you have Diego to concern yourself with.”
Rosa peeked into her tapestry handbag, or satchel, as she liked to call it, where her kitten slept soundly. She’d chosen the satchel more for Diego’s comfort—a stray kitten Rosa had recently rescued—than she had for how it complimented her sky-blue swing dress—the one without a large enough crinoline, apparently—and matching Juliette cap.
Diego had an adventurous personality and didn’t, for the most part, cause Rosa any concern when she took him along. A rather fortuitous discovery, since Aunt Louisa had insisted that Rosa keep the kitten with her and not leave “that scraggly thing” behind unless either Gloria or the Forrester housekeeper, Señora Gomez, was available to watch him.
Rosa suppressed her strong feelings of apprehension as she handed over the coveted keys. “Drive carefully!” With an exaggerated shudder, she added, “The way you command a car reminds me of my mum.”