I retreated to the balcony where I could sit and watch over the square. I didn’t want to think, but I was too awake to do otherwise. Pablo was right, of course. Yiolanda had been trying to fool the police. Either she thought they would be naïve enough to believe her, she expected Rolando to automatically cover for her, or she vainly assumed Dennis would lie for her. Maybe she’d forgotten to secure her alibi by sleeping with him.
In the building next door, a smaller apartment complex, a first-story window slammed in the face of a meowing cat that had begged for food at the wrong time. Surprised by failure, it scampered across the street and jumped onto the wall that protected St. Michael’s backyard before disappearing over the other side. I wished I could be as furtive.
A sedan cut through the silence and parked along the side street. A lone figure emerged from the vehicle and approached my building so quickly I couldn’t have crouched out of sight without giving myself away. Luckily the gait was not only familiar, but it belonged to a friend.
“Pablo!” I whispered through the darkness. “Come on up.”
I listened as Pablo trudged up the final set of stairs and down the hall. When he got to the door, he stood before me with slumped shoulders and tired eyes. “Got a minute?”
“The rest of the night. Want a beer?”
“Sure.”
I grabbed two Coronas from the kitchen. I offered him my best chair, but he couldn't adjust it enough to get comfortable.
“Old furniture,” I said.
“Yeah.” Pablo popped off the bottle lid, which flew from his hand and sputtered on the sidewalk below. “I went all the way home and came all the way back.”
Pablo lived on the other side of Noche Azul in a residential area of houses from the fifties. He was always complaining about home repairs.
“I guess you couldn’t sleep either,” he continued.
I offered him a cigarette, and then he lit mine before lighting his own. It was a normal ritual that we had performed over and over again working together at the restaurant. For the next minute, we pretended to monitor the night while instead we monitored one another.
Pablo shifted from one hip to the other. Maybe his legs were too short for the chair. He started to speak, but instead he inhaled deeply and released his breath in slow, irregular bits. His eyes were big from the reflection of the street lamps.
“Will you believe me if I say I need to ask you something and that I’m doing it as a friend?” he asked.
Despite the heat of the night I felt a chill. “Sure.”
“What the hell kind of trouble are you in?”
I let the moment pass, aware that the longer the silence, the worse it seemed. “I’m not sure.”
“What happened?” The silence deepened while Pablo’s eyes bored holes in my skin. “I’m only asking because I hope I can help you. If it’s money you need, if you need to get out of Squid Bay—”
“It’s not as bad as that.”
“I’ve never seen you so jumpy. Tonight every time I turned towards you I was afraid you were going to drop your violin.”
I wasn’t surprised Pablo had noticed. We’d played together for too long for him not to recognize a shift in my behavior. Worse, I usually depended on him to listen to my problems, usually about women, and offer his voice of experience. No wonder he was confused.
“She spent the night here,” I said.
“Say what?”
“Don’t mention it to Rolando. It won’t help him to know.”
Pablo leaned towards me and, even though we were on the balcony of a building where everyone else was asleep, lowered his voice. “You slept with Yiolanda?”
I shook my head. “Not in the way you mean. She stayed here overnight. It’s her trouble I’ve gotten mixed up in, but she hasn’t leveled with me. A couple of rough guys came to the restaurant looking for her, and I helped her dodge them. We ended up here.”
“Yiolanda in trouble. Imagine that. Anything else?”
“That’s not enough? I don't know why I can't keep away from her.”
Pablo chuckled. “Maybe she reminds you of an old girlfriend. A flirty one. The kind that stays in your dreams for the rest of your life. So Yiolanda came onto you?”
“Not in so many words.”
“Who needs words?”
I remembered the way she looked on the bed, waiting for me. I paced the length of the balcony and surveyed the square below before turning to face my friend. “I was tempted. I suppose in the back of my mind that’s why I was helping her in the first place.”
“Most likely.” Pablo sat back slowly. He picked up his bottle to take a swig, forgetting that it was already empty. Before he had to ask, I went for refills.
“I feel wrong about what happened.”
Pablo finally settled into a comfortable position. “You said nothing happened.”
“I protected her. And now I feel involved.”
“But you didn’t lie for her.”
“I’m afraid that’s next.”
“Probably.” He lit another cigarette, and I kept up with him. “After everything Rolando’s done for me … ”
“Stop beating yourself up. It was natural to try to help her. And she could be in any kind of trouble. Yiolanda dresses like a slut, and half the time she acts like one. I never have figured that woman out. Not that I’ve been trying.”
“I never should have helped her in the first place. Now I feel sucked in.”
“Forget it. You want to know the truth? You’ve been acting so weird lately that when the police came to question Yiolanda, I prayed they wouldn’t question you too.”
“She only spent the night once.”
“I get it.”
“That man in Vegas she’s accused of murdering? That happened several nights before we were together. I didn’t know anything about it.”
“All right.”
“I didn’t have anything to do with Leonard.”
Pablo held up his hand. “You’re still acting funny, but now I understand why. Actually I’m relieved.”
Shadow jumped on the rail between balconies and arched her back at me.
“Do you think Yiolanda could have murdered someone?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t care. It’s you I’ve been worried about. Rolando leaves for a week, and you act guilty as sin.” He tapped me on the shoulder. “I’ve been losing sleep for nothing.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I kept meaning to.”
Pablo stood. “It’s not the kind of thing that comes up in a conversation. I wouldn’t have mentioned it either. But now I can relax. If you really had been in trouble, I would have tried to help you. You know that, don’t you?”
“Sure.”
He paused, his tongue at the lip of the bottle. “Just the same, I’m glad it was nothing serious.”
***
By the time I crawled out of bed, the pedestrian traffic had reached its morning zenith. My cheek was still bruised, and my head was sore from where I knocked into the stairs, but at least I still had all my teeth. I was contemplating whether I wanted French Roast or Vanilla Twist when the phone rang. A small voice questioned my name.
“Yiolanda? Where are you?”
“In jail. They dragged me all the way to Long Beach.”
I reeled around the room, wondering if my hearing were right. “Why are you calling?”
“I need you to post bail for me.”
“Me?”
“Rolando won’t do it.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“I’m not!” Between sobs she coughed up a few complete sentences. “I didn’t do what they accuse me of, but now Rolando doesn’t trust me! They say they have evidence, but it’s false!” Her voice sounded hoarse.
“What kind of evidence?”
“I may have my faults,” she said, “but they’ve got it all wrong, and now they’ve brainwashed Rolando. I’m lost if you won’t rescue me.”
“I don’t ha
ve that kind of money.”
“Well, get it!”
A fly buzzed past my ear, and I nearly dropped the phone. The moment’s pause gave me enough time to reason things through. “Even if I could get the money, I can’t go behind Rolando’s back. You’d be out a husband and I’d be out a job.”
“Then you’ve got to convince Rolando to listen to me.”
“How am I supposed to do that?”
“How do I know, Andy? Don’t you think I would have convinced him myself if I could have?”
“I don’t see how I can help you.”
“Come down here and see me. I’ll explain it to you in person.”
The phone went dead before I could formulate an excuse, but Yiolanda’s voice clung to the air.
CHAPTER TWENTY
After Joey and I raided Super Souvlaki, we sat on an isolated bench where no one could overhear us.
Joey unwrapped the top of his pita. “Her fingerprints were on the murder weapon?”
I swallowed. “The gun was recovered near the crime scene yesterday afternoon, and evidently her prints were all over it. Rolando said they wouldn’t even discuss letting her out on bail although that’s not what Yiolanda said.”
“Díos mio. Does Yiolanda have any idea how much trouble she’s in?”
“I don’t think so. But Rolando does. He’s nearly in shock. I had to tell him who I was three times before he responded, and then he kept asking if I knew any good lawyers.”
“You called him at home?”
“As soon as I hung up with Yiolanda.”
Joey nodded slowly. “How did she sound on the phone?”
“She was so scared I could hardly recognize her voice. Not that I blame her.”
Joey set down his Coke can so that he could eat with two hands. “Personally I’d let her tough it out in jail, but I suppose you could go talk to her.”
“Nothing adds up.” I bit into a pork cube, spilling sauce on the side of my bare leg. “All we know for sure is that she did go to Vegas, and she lied about whom she went to see.”
“Would she tell you the truth?”
Conflicting images flooded me. There was Yiolanda at the restaurant, haughty, flirtatious. Yiolanda running over the rooftop of Noche Azul. Yiolanda in my bed, stretched out, asleep. “I don’t know.”
“Is there any chance she’s innocent?”
“I don’t know that either.”
“As far as we know, she had no reason to kill Gutiérrez, let alone either of those guys in Vegas. Why are you reluctant to go see her?”
Joey offered me the remaining souvlaki stick, but I could tell he was hoping I would decline, and he was pleased when I did. I was neutral to food because my stomach was churning.
“I don’t want to get sucked into something bigger than I am,” I said.
“So don’t go.”
“I’m afraid to ignore the small chance that she is innocent.”
I shifted to get my leg out of the sun. I didn’t like to bake until I was close enough to the ocean to cool off. The shoppers walking past us weren’t overheated; they merely zipped from one air conditioned department store to the next.
“What if I go to see her, and Rolando is there? He’ll think I’m going behind his back.”
“What if you don’t go, and she decides to tell Rolando about your evening together?”
A short-skirted woman caught Joey’s eye. He watched as she passed us and continued down the street, but at the moment, I had no use for cute, short-skirted women.
“Rolando might assume she’s lying.”
“He might assume you’re lying if you tell him you haven’t slept with her.”
“I know. Any advice?”
He squashed a French fry into a pile of salt he’d made on a napkin. “There’s not much you can do except keep your eyes open. Jealousy causes people to do all kinds of desperate things whether their actions are justified or not.”
“I know.”
He stuffed two more fries in his mouth and chewed while he talked. “Why do you think she tried to seduce you? Was she scared or was she planning ahead?”
“I thought she was trying to thank me.”
Joey threw his napkin inside the empty paper sack and crumpled it. “We can probably rule that one out.” He stood as he looked at his watch. “I should get back.”
We started walking. “Lots of clients?”
“Lots of problems with the clients I have. Mrs. Jenkins insisted on ordering a kitchen counter made in Italy.”
“She wanted a certain kind of marble?”
“A certain color. But the dimensions she ordered were completely wrong, so when they delivered the piece—you know the kind of problem.” I knew exactly. We both enjoyed the creative part of design, but Joey spent half his time troubleshooting the everyday technical problems that should have been resolved at a different level.
“I’ve got another problem. Stefani keeps calling me.”
“Andy, I thought she was mad at you.”
“That’s what I thought. But by the time I got home last night she’d left three messages. She wanted me to call as soon as I got in, but I wasn’t up to it. The problem is that I don’t know what to tell her.”
Joey wiped a drop of sweat off his temple. “Are you sure you don’t want to see her anymore?”
“Right now I don’t know anything.”
“You’re too messed up in this business with Yiolanda to think straight. Stall Stefani until you’ve had more time to think things through.”
I wasn’t sure time would help where Stefani was concerned, but when we reached Joey’s office building I thanked him and assured him I wouldn’t make any more decisions.
I headed to Squid Bay Beach, where I sat watching the waves.
***
In the late afternoon I swung through Costa Mesa and stopped at California Airways. Stefani sprang from her desk, shuffling waiting customers to a co-worker and signaling that she was taking a break. I waited for her outside, letting the sun bite my toes. Stefani looked uncomfortable as soon as she stepped outside her temperature-controlled office.
“I didn’t mean to cause you trouble at work.”
“You didn’t!” She kissed me on the mouth so quickly I couldn’t stop her. “Shall we go for a coffee?”
I let Stefani lead me next door. We took a seat at an outside table under the shade of a large umbrella.
Stefani immediately started chattering about the day’s events: the man who was livid because he couldn’t make reservations to San Francisco at the last minute, the lady who claimed they’d lost her luggage. All the usual.
“Then the boss got mad because customers had to wait too long on the phone! All these problems, and—”
“Stefani, we need to talk.”
“I’m sorry I got mad at you the other day. I overreacted. You wouldn’t hold that against me, would you? I mean, everybody has off days, and—”
“No, I mean we really need to talk.”
She’d sucked in a gust of air to give me the next flood of information; now the air was trapped in her cheeks and she looked like a bloated fish.
“But we are talking,” she said. “Isn’t that exactly what we’re doing?”
I took her hand, realizing that despite shorts and a muscle shirt, I was the one with sweaty palms. “It’s not that I don’t want to see you. I care for you a lot. But I told you from the beginning that I didn’t want a serious relationship.”
I knew she wouldn’t like my explanation, so instead of looking her in the eye, I stared at her hands. She’d used a silky pink fingernail polish that was the wrong color for anyone past high school. Yiolanda always kept her own nails dark red.
“You don’t want to be serious with me?” A strand of hair fell in her face, but she didn’t bother to discipline it.
“Not you, not anyone. It’s not the right time in my life.”
She raised her voice. “You are thirty-nine years old! When is the right time goin
g to be?”
I was relieved she was starting to steam up. Anger I knew how to deal with, and in a public place next to her office, she’d hardly start swearing.
“I’m selfish. I’m not ready to think as a unit. My life—” I threw my hands in the air to avoid having to invent something to say.
She sipped her latte, trying to compose herself. “You’re not selfish. Not deep down.”
Instead of responding, I studied the clumped sand that was lodged between my toes.
“You’re merely weak. I saw it the other night at the restaurant.”
“When I felt like shit?”
“When I saw how you looked at that woman. And how that woman looked at you.”
“What are you talking about?” I knew she was referring to Yiolanda. Everything boiled down to her.
“I’m always there for you, prepared to care of you, but she’s who you want to be with.”
“Don’t be absurd. She’s married to Rolando.”
Stefani straightened her sleeves by pulling them past her wrists and letting them bounce back into place. “I saw her signaling you. I‘m not as unconscious as you think.”
“Yiolanda is self-absorbed. She wants everything that happens at the restaurant to be about her.”
“When you look at her, something happens. More than it does with me.”
Stefani’s accurate words stung my ears.
“Yiolanda doesn’t care anything about me. She only cares about herself.”
“She wants you. I could see that too.”
I stirred my last drops of coffee. Since I was drinking an espresso, there weren’t that many drops to begin with.
“Yiolanda glared at me with fire in her eyes,” Stefani continued. “There’s only one reason for that. She’s jealous because she knows that I could make you happy while she can only make you helpless.”
“Yiolanda glares at everyone. She’s not the issue.”
“No, of course not. I’m simply not good enough for you.” She stood, fishing bills from inside her purse.
“Stefani—”
She threw a five on the table and stormed off while I sat, immobile.
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