Murder in the Air

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Murder in the Air Page 23

by Marilyn Levinson


  Sol gave her a pained look. “Lydia, I wish you wouldn’t use that expression.”

  “‘Under control?’” she asked in feigned innocence as they started up Evelyn’s driveway.

  “I mean ‘going to kill us.’”

  Lydia pressed the bell. “What’s the problem? Daniel’s murderer’s in custody. Everything’s under control.” She cast him a dirty look. “For real this time.”

  Sol groaned. “I said another drug dealer killed Stefano. That much was true.”

  “You also insisted you were satisfied that Stefano killed Daniel. Case closed.”

  He sighed, exasperated. “For the fourth time, I admit that I lied. I couldn’t let you in on the fact that we were closing in on Bennett, now could I?”

  “Sorry,” she whispered, and reached up to kiss his cheek. She didn’t mean to be argumentative tonight, the first time Sol would be attending a party with her friends.

  Evelyn greeted them in a chef’s apron. She kissed them both then started to scold. “Why did you bring all this? I’ve enough food for an army.”

  Lydia followed her into the kitchen, drinking in the aroma of baked chicken and mushrooms. Evelyn stored the whipped cream, wine, and strawberries in the refrigerator and the ice cream in the freezer. Then she turned to give Lydia her full attention.

  “How are you, my dear?”

  Feeling Evelyn’s keen eyes studying her, Lydia opted for the truth.

  “I’m okay most of the time, though I get these bouts of nerves. The worst is when I wake up in the middle of the night, my heart pounding so hard I’m afraid it will burst out of my chest.”

  Evelyn rubbed her arm. “It will pass.”

  “The table looks lovely,” Lydia said, admiring the fine china and crystal settings in the dining room.

  “We’ll be nine,” Evelyn said. “Polly and Matt might stop by for dessert.”

  “How’s Nicky doing?” Lydia asked.

  “She’s alert and beginning to speak. Asking lots of questions, which the doctor says is a good sign.”

  “Thank God! I was so afraid he’d succeeded.”

  “I know. Good thing the nurse heard the scuffle and came in immediately to reconnect the tubes.”

  “And had the sense to dial 911.” Suddenly dizzy, Lydia leaned against the wall. She was grateful when Sol appeared and wrapped an arm around her waist.

  “I’m fine,” she insisted, but didn’t resist when he walked her into the living room, where he set her down on the sofa as carefully as if she were a porcelain doll. I’m fine. She took a deep breath as she sank back against the cushion. Her harrowing ride with Bennett had knocked the stuffing out of her, and there were moments when she wasn’t quite herself. The doctor said they would pass. She certainly hoped so, as she intended to return to work on Tuesday.

  The doorbell rang, and Evelyn went to welcome Ron, Bella, Mick, and his wife. Hearing a woman’s Irish lilt among the voices, it occurred to Lydia that she’d yet to meet Mrs. Diminio.

  The sight of Mick in a wheelchair brought the sting of tears to her eyes. She blinked them away as he wheeled toward her, a broad smile on his pale face. Lydia kissed his cheek. Mick gave her the once over.

  “You’re feeling better these days.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “I am.”

  Mick winked. “I must say, Ms. Krause, you look absolutely fetching tonight.” He cast Sol a meaningful glance. “I hope your lad appreciates all of your attributes.”

  “Let’s say I appreciate most of them,” Sol said.

  Mick reached out, and his wife took his hand. She was petite and birdlike, with white hair and bright blue eyes that lit up her face. “This is my Caitlin,” he said. “Caitlin, meet Lydia and her swain, Sol Molina. Detective Lieutenant Molina.”

  Caitlin offered Lydia an impish smile. “I finally get to meet Mick’s Wonder Woman.”

  Wonder Woman! Lydia blushed at the compliment as Caitlin extended her hand to Sol. “And it’s a pleasure meeting you, too, lieutenant.”

  “My pleasure,” Sol said.

  He and Caitlin drifted away as Ron approached. He patted Mick’s back and enveloped Lydia in a hug, then sat down beside her.

  “Feeling better?”

  “Much.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  Lydia glanced from Ron to Mick. They were bursting with news. “Okay. Spill it.”

  Mick said, “Tell her, Ronnie.”

  Ron cleared his throat. “Mick and I took a ride down to the police station and told them our tale. We got a tongue lashing, and then the captain disappeared. He was gone for a good half an hour. We were worried. Pictured ourselves behind bars. But it looks like we’re getting off.”

  “With a slap on the wrist,” Mick said. “For the sake of a dying legislator.”

  “An eighty-five-year-old legislator who served his county well,” Ron added, not missing a beat.

  Mick wanted no sympathy, and not turning soppy was the least Lydia could do for her friend. “Does Sol know?”

  “Of course,” Ron said. “We had our little chat three days ago. Station house news spreads even faster than it does in Twin Lakes.”

  “Sol never mentioned it,” Lydia murmured.

  “Better that he doesn’t,” Mick offered. “And don’t bring it up, or he might ask some questions you won’t care to answer.”

  The doorbell rang. Ron turned around and whispered, “It’s Allen and Rochelle.”

  Mick tugged her arm. Lydia leaned toward him so he could whisper in her ear. “Turns out he didn’t kill his boss. The police figured it was the guy’s estranged wife and her boyfriend who did the deed, but they didn’t have enough evidence to go to trial.”

  “I’m glad Allen didn’t do it,” she whispered back. “Or Rochelle.”

  As though by tacit agreement, they separated and moved in three different directions as the others came into the living room. Lydia greeted Bella, Allen, and Rochelle, then linked arms with Sol.

  “Your debriefing session finished?” he asked as he kissed her cheek.

  She nodded, feeling her ears burn. He knows everything, and has chosen to be amused instead of angry.

  Evelyn called them to the dining room, and they took their places around the elegantly set table. There was little conversation as her guests served themselves from the two enormous salad bowls and proceeded to eat their first course.

  Rochelle turned to Sol. “Did you know all along that Bennett was the person you were after?”

  Lydia cringed. She’d brought Sol into a social situation where people felt free to ask him about the murders, but he seemed unperturbed by the question.

  “We had our suspicions from the start. Bennett had a record for dealing drugs. At work, he had access to legal drugs.”

  “Did he kill Stefano for dating his mother?” Mick asked.

  “We can’t factor that out. Denise and Bennett had one weird relationship. Also, we figured Stefano was killed by the guy he worked for, and that turned out to be Bennett.” Sol looked at Lydia. “Bennett took Stefano’s red pickup truck the morning you drove Evelyn to the airport. It was his way of showing Stefano that he could have him thrown in jail if he wanted, and he’d better stop stealing from him. Stefano ignored the warning, so Bennett killed him.”

  Evelyn sighed. “It would have pained Daniel so to know the depth of his grandson’s depravity.”

  For a moment, silence reigned. Determined to change the subject, Lydia said, “I’ve a bit of news I’d like to share with you.” She waited until everyone’s attention was focused on her, then said, “I’ve decided to take the position of executive manager of the Carrington House Suites.”

  Cries of congratulations filled the room. Ron raised his glass.

  “To Lydia. A woman of the twenty-first century.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” Sol seconded, and downed the rest of his wine.

  Later, as they walked back to her place, Sol asked, “Does this mean you’ll be working
nine to five, five days a week?”

  Lydia shook her head. “Only at first. I made it clear I’d set everything up, hire the right people, then step back and make it a part-time job.”

  “I hope you can get some time off this summer.”

  Lydia looked at him. In the darkness, she couldn’t read his expression. “I suppose that can be arranged. Why do you ask?”

  “I thought we’d take a trip somewhere.”

  Lydia stared at him. “Really?”

  “Really. Time rushes by and I don’t want to waste any of it.”

  Lydia grinned. “That doesn’t sound like ‘let’s-go-slow Molina.’”

  He grabbed her and held her close. “The fear of losing you shoved the other fear out the window.” He stepped back to gaze into her eyes. “Besides, I need a break from work.” He took her in his arms again and kissed her, slowly and deliberately.

  When she could speak, Lydia said, “Let’s go to a place where people are kind to each other, and homicide is something they read about in books.”

 

 

 


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