Apples, Appaloosa and Alibis

by Maria Grazia Swan

  “Monica, that’s because you hardly come to the office anymore. But the good news is that we are staying right here; we aren’t moving. They are going to use the glass office strictly for commercial sales, and I heard—and this is confidential—that Sunny and Dale are signing a lease on the building next to ours. That will nearly double our space. I peeked at some of the renderings. It’s going to be very chichi, and I’ll get a bigger reception room and an assistant.” She paused, waiting. When I didn’t respond, “Hey, girlfriend, I’m speaking to you. Why are you so gloomy? Looks like your Frenchie is about to be single for good. Cheer up.”

  I shook my head, turned around, and headed toward the bullpen and my little private cubicle. The last part of Kassandra’s conversation made me feel dirty. Was that the general opinion of my co-workers?

  My phone beeped; I had a file coming through. I remembered why I came to the office, to get Greg Coste’s inspection report, and then I remembered I still had Brenda’s Pilot. She must be so mad at me. Better call her. I went to sit in my little corner, turned on my outdated computer and waited for the inspection file to load. Perfect time to call Brenda. She answered on the second ring. “Well, young lady, I was getting concerned. Where are you?”

  “At the office. The inspection report just came in. I’m sorry about the car, I should have gone home and taken mine. Do you need to go somewhere? I was going to call Greg Coste and go over the inspection before heading back.”

  “You better wait a while, he just left. I assume you want him to discuss the report while looking at it. Right?”

  “He just left... from your house?”

  A soft, embarrassed giggle was her answer. How about that. Either they redesigned the whole kitchen of the 8th Place house or they really enjoyed each other’s company. Maybe both?

  “Yes, you heard me correctly. I’m taking Dior for a quick walk because Bob called and mentioned something about a convenient way for those detectives, you know, Adam and Eve, to talk to me about Angelique’s last few days at the ranch. I understand they are trying to establish where she was at some particular time. I hope I remember. And that poor Lois. Anyway, you should get yourself home. After all, it was your phone call that set that whole sequence of unfortunate events in motion.”

  What? I was hyperventilating. They blamed me? Seriously? I hit send on my computer and waited for the inspection report to go to the printer. Started to gather my stuff. I could call Coste from home. We had two days to fill out our list of repairs.

  Me? Setting the unfortunate events in motion by mentioning De Aguilar’s strange visit?

  Wait until I see that detective—he or she, I didn’t care. I was just tired of taking blame for something I had absolutely no control over. As I walked to the back room to retrieve my printed file, it dawned on me that perhaps all the detectives were trying to do was establish who masterminded Angelique’s disappearance. It had to have been planned.

  So, Rogelio Avondo shows up at the ranch just days before his half-sister, Silvia De Aguilar, comes to town and tries to get hold of Tristan to spill the beans about his father’s death. All while Tristan is out of the country. Then just like bowling pins in a neat row, Silvia, Lois, and Angelique are down and out of the picture, and Rogelio Avondo is left to hold the bag so to speak. It can’t get any better than that—for Angelique, I mean.

  The more I thought about it the angrier I became. Was that possible? She set up her lover to take the blame—if she was alive of course? I went back to my desk.

  While I mechanically stacked the pages of the report in the correct order, anger and sadness battled in my soul for dominance. All of this was getting to me. I heard Dale Wolf’s unmistakable laugh coming from somewhere... Sunny’s office? I looked up for a second and noticed a tall, lean young man in jeans and a soft leather motorcycle jacket walking by.

  My heart somersaulted because for an instant I’d mistaken him for Tristan. But when our eyes met there wasn’t anything similar between the stranger and Tristan. Weird. Where was this guy going? I watched him head toward Sunny’s office. What was going on? I knew Sunny wasn’t here.

  The office line rang; it was Kassandra. “Did you see him?”

  “See who?” I said. “Oh, you mean the man with the leather bomber?”

  “Leather what? Whatever. That’s him.”

  “Him? Him who?”

  “Alexander, Dale’s husband,” she whispered.

  “Oh,” a little louder, “I get it. Interesting. Is it the first time he has come to the office?”

  “No, he was here last week. Of course I didn’t know who he was. He’s so, so... I swear I nearly had an orgasm just listening to his British accent. Crap, all the best ones are always taken.” She sighed and hung up.

  I found myself smiling. Kassandra had a funny way of keeping things real. Might as well head home. Someone tapped softly on my hand.

  “Hi, Fiat.” Tristan’s breath—a whisper away from my temple.

  I couldn’t find my voice. I think my eyes nearly popped from my sockets. “I—how did you get here? Oh, my God, are you okay?” I grabbed his hand and couldn’t let go.

  “Alexander was chatting on the phone with Dale, and I found out you were at the office. What better way of saying hello without an audience? We made a slight detour, and here we are.”

  I brought his hand to my face, my whole being trembling. I wanted so bad to hold him and be held. Valerie walked by. I didn’t glance at her, but I swear I felt the look of her disdain searing my skin. How easy we are to misjudge others.

  “Tristan, did you talk to the detectives about...”

  “Shhsss,” —his finger on my lips— “not now. We only have a few minutes, let’s not waste them on deplorable evil souls. Can I walk you to your car?”

  I nodded and got up from my chair. Tristan put his arm around my shoulders, and we walked out of the office, barely nodding at Kassandra as the front door closed behind us.

  TWENTY-ONE

  I SAT IN the Pilot checking myself in the rearview mirror. Would they know? Could they tell? My hands shook a little, as did my whole being. And while I made it home safely, the drive was all a blur.

  Did it really happen? I ran my fingers through my hair, right where he had stroked my head and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear before he kissed me. We stood between Brenda’s Honda and Alexander’s Jag in the parking lot of Desert Home Realty. Cars zoomed by, barely an annoying whisper against the thumping of my heart. His eyes were soft and tempting, and mine yearned to dive into the amber haze of his.

  I had waited so long for this moment, I wanted, no, needed to take it all in, breath by breath, heartbeat by heartbeat. He found my lips and kissed me with such tenderness, my knees buckled.

  But he had his arm around me and spoke into my hair. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since the first time I ran into you on the trail.”

  The huskiness in his voice set my soul on fire. We knew we had stolen an unforgettable moment from the chaotic reality of the present.

  He walked me to the driver’s side of the Pilot just as we noticed Alexander coming our way.

  “I’ll do the proper introduction at a more convenient time.” He smiled. Kissed me quickly while closing the car door. “Buckle up and be safe.” He waived and headed toward the Jag.

  And now I had to face Brenda and who else? Why? I looked around and made sure I had collected all my paperwork and personal items before getting out of the Honda. My rental car was parked on the other side of the shared garage, just as I left it hours and hours ago. I walked around it and heard Dior barking. That big goofball... couldn’t fool him.

  Tucked in a corner, against the back wall of the garage was a motorcycle. Tommy’s Harley. What the hell was he doing here? Well, Brenda was his aunt, which is why, we were sort of related. Being Tommy’s ex-wife didn’t discourage Brenda from considering me family and vice versa.

  I let myself into her home through the back door. Dior whined and scratched the bottom par
t of the Dutch door that kept him in the kitchen while allowing him a good view of us in the living room. Us meant Brenda, Officer Bob, Detectives Adam and Eve and me. No trace of Tommy. Good. A chorus of hellos welcomed me.

  “Wow, is Brenda’s house becoming a satellite police precinct?” I joked.

  Only Bob smiled. Brenda pointed to a spot beside her on the couch. “Get yourself a glass of pinot if you want,” she said, “The detectives are working, so they are drinking sparkling water.”

  I shrugged and sat. “What’s going on?” I asked, hoping to shake the need to think about Tristan.

  “We are trying to make a chart of who was where and when to see if we can get a better idea of the succession of the events as they unfolded,” Eve explained.

  “Oh, and by events you mean...” I fought hard not to sound angry, but deep down I was. And I wasn’t sure why.

  “Monica, we are going back to that Wednesday when you said you told Angelique about Silvia De Aguilar’s visit at the Dumonts’ residence. We found no calls from your phone to hers. Can you explain?”

  “Are you talking about the phone conversation between me and Angelique?”

  Both detectives nodded.

  “That’s easy. I was at the office, waiting for a call or something. Don’t remember, but I called the phone number Silvia De Aguilar had written on the back of my business card. Sort of checking, you know, if it was a real number? Got her voicemail. Didn’t leave any message.”

  More nodding.

  “Then I dialed Brenda’s cell. She was down at the ranch, and I chatted a little. I mentioned something, can’t remember the exact words, but it had to do with Angelique. Brenda said, ‘She’s right here.’ And handed her the phone. So I told her about the strange woman coming by the Dumonts’ house while I was getting the mail and the phone number she had left for Tristan.

  “Angelique must have written the phone number while insisting she had never heard of Silvia. She said the woman was probably an old friend of Tristan. That was it.” I noticed that Detective Ross, AKA Adam, was taking notes. “You know, I think that was the last time I spoke to Angelique. Yeah, because when I called Brenda back, after I saw the Escalade parked by the house, I asked her where Angelique was, and she said something like... she’s here somewhere or having lunch with the Avondo dude, except Brenda didn’t mention his name.” I turned to Brenda. “Do you remember?”

  She nodded. “I told the detectives the same thing.”

  “Avondo said he drove to the Dumonts’ house with Lois Thomas,” Detective Ross said. “According to the Escalade navigation record, they arrived at the house close to one p.m. The car left twenty minutes later and drove back to the Tucson ranch without a single stop.”

  I nodded, chasing away the memory of Tristan’s lips on mine. Must focus. “Yes, it was shortly after one when I drove by and noticed the car, but not the passenger. Are you saying Lois drove back to the ranch alone? Why?”

  “Avondo insists the instructions came from Angelique. Remember, Lois was employed by Mrs. Dumont. Avondo remained in the house waiting for Silvia De Aguilar to show up.”

  “Oh. But who called Silvia? I mean, according to her letter she didn’t trust her half-brother. It seems like everything happened so fast... how?” I asked.

  The two detectives looked at each other, Bob yawned, and Brenda sipped from her glass. And all I could think about was Tristan and the scent of his skin against mine.

  “The poor idiot sits in jail waiting for Angelique Dumont to come and bail him out.” Detective Adam shook his head. “That woman has him bamboozled. He said she paid a large sum of money to get him released from the Mexican prison two weeks ago, so he could come to Arizona. I can’t help but think she had a plan in place and needed Avondo to help her carry it out.”

  I watched everyone around nodding, but all I wanted was to go home, take care of Greg Coste’s inspection, and cuddle in bed to replay the kiss over and over... until I could talk to Tristan again. I could call him on his cell. That’s when it hit me.

  “The phone,” I said out loud.

  “You forgot your phone?” Brenda asked.

  “No, no. That’s why Angelique sent Avondo to the house. If he called Silvia De Aguilar from the house phone the caller I.D. on her mobile phone would show Tristan Dumont’s I.D. The landline is under his name. The woman never spoke to Tristan, she didn’t know what he would sound like, how hard could it be for Avondo to pretend to be Tristan and ask her to come over to see him? Oh, you probably already checked all that, right?” I got up from the sofa and walked over to pet Dior’s head.

  The two detectives were leafing through papers and checking their phones. “Are you sure there is...was a landline in the house?”

  I nodded. “It was one of those old wall phones from... gee, like the 70s. It came with the house, and the Dumonts had decided to keep it as a memento or something. And I know it was connected. Ok, it was months ago when I was delivering something... before Christmas, and it rang, pretty loud. I thought it was the doorbell.”

  The silence that followed put me on edge. “Did anyone check calls to and from the landline?” Officer Bob asked.

  “No.” The two detectives looked at each other. “Any idea if Cox services their house?”

  Now it was our turn to say a unanimous, “No.”

  “Why don’t you ask Tristan? His cell phone should work. I assume you have his number, correct?” I don’t know why, but it gave me great satisfaction to say that.

  Five minutes later the two detectives had left the house, and Brenda asked Bob if he would like to join us for dinner. To my surprise he said yes. I went to get a third stem glass and poured some pinot grigio for the three of us. Brenda headed for the kitchen, and Dior was finally free to join us in the living room.

  “Want me to set the table?” I asked.

  “Sure, it’s a bit early for dinner, but I figured we all have commitments, and to be honest I missed our suppers together.”

  “All I have to do is go over the inspection with Greg Coste,” I said a little louder than I should have, keeping my eyes on Brenda to see if there was a reaction.

  She stopped what she was doing and turned to look at me setting placemats on the table. “Nice man. I’m going to help him redesign the kitchen.”

  Maybe I was reading too much into it. Maybe I was still under the influence of the kiss, but something told me that Brenda’s voice had a little unusual sweetness in it when she said, “Nice man.” I could have pushed the subject if not for Bob’s presence. Better to wait for a more appropriate time.

  “Is that Tommy’s Harley in your garage?” I asked.

  “Uh, yeah,” she mumbled. “He needs me to store it for him. I have the feeling he owes money to someone, and he’s just afraid they’ll take his bike. You know Tommy.”

  I sighed. “Indeed, I do.” I folded the paper napkins next to the plates.

  Bob sat there, sort of staring into the wall. “Bob, am I watching too many TV cop shows, or should the phone call from the Dumonts’ line have shown up on Silvia De Aguilar’s cell? If there was one, of course.”

  He nodded. I could tell the subject made him uncomfortable. “Mistakes happen,” he said. “Frankly, all of this couldn’t have just happened. No one asked for my opinion, but I doubt this Rogelio Avondo is smart enough to have set up this scheme. Plus, whoever is behind it had to be familiar with Tristan’s travel schedule. Too many coincidences.”

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking—that Angelique is the brain behind the killing of two innocent women? Why?”

  “Monica, in all my years with the police, one thing never changes—people kill for two motives—money or sex. In this case I’m guessing the answer is money as she apparently was having sex with Avondo while prepping him for the murders.”

  All I could do was nod. Officer Bob made perfect sense.

  “God knows where she is hiding,” I sighed.

  “The rental car she got using Lois Thomas’s
credentials was found abandoned in the long-term parking lot of the John Wayne Airport in Orange County.”

  “In California? Seriously? I would have never guessed that.”

  “That’s probably why she took that route. No one was really watching. All eyes were on flights out of Mesa or San Diego. Like I said, this is not an amateur or last-minute decision. I have the feeling Angelique Dumont has been planning this for a long time. What she hadn’t planned was Silvia De Aguilar coming to warn Tristan Dumont. The poor woman may have saved his life.”

  “Enough talk about depressing things,” Brenda called from the kitchen. “You two go wash your hands or whatever you need to do. We eat in ten minutes.”

  Bob’s last comment had somehow killed my appetite. Deep down I knew that what he said made sense as motives went, but was it even possible that Angelique would have inherited the Dumonts’ estate if Tristan died before the divorce? Certainly he would have made other provisions in his will?

  Will? He was what? Thirty-five? Thirty-five and trusting? I could hardly stand it. I had to talk to him. And say what? If you die, will Angelique inherit your money? How was that for a romantic conversation starter?

  “I don’t know what’s going on in your head, kid, but you’re not going home until you eat some dinner. Got it?” Brenda said, putting a platter of chicken breast fillets resting in heaps of scalloped potatoes right under my nose. I was caught totally off guard, and before I could think, I had scooped up some potatoes.

  With Brenda back home and Bob sitting at the table with us, it felt like the good old days. And at least for the duration of the meal, we managed to avoid talking about Angelique Dumont.

  TWENTY-TWO

  ANGELIQUE DUMONT. THE missing wife of the man who held my heart captive. Even when gone, she managed to control my thoughts. Damn.

  I unlocked my door.

  “Hi.”

  I jumped back. Tommy Baker, my ex, stood feet behind me, and I had no idea where he’d come from.