Then the man swabbed me. The other three looked uncomfortable, ready to go. Bonnie read the document he'd given her. She looked at the paper, then at the detective. She handed me a pen and pointed to the bottom of the page. "Here, sign." She sensed my resistance. "It's okay. You're acknowledging what they're removing, what's in the bag. It's a receipt, in a way. You'll get everything back…eventually." She looked at the tall man. His expression didn't change. I wanted them out of my house. The sentiment must have been mutual. As soon as I signed, they lined up and marched out, bags, tool boxes and all. Bonnie went to close the door behind them.
"Let's sit down and look through the list together. Not bad, not bad at all."
"Bonnie, what are you talking about?" I had problems dealing with the situation. I had to know what the cops collected from my house. It was my right. "If I'm not a suspect, why are they taking my stuff?"
"Relax, not much stuff taken. A bar of soap from the guest bath? That's a new one. And—"
"Wait, wait, they removed a bar of soap? Yeah, the better to wash their mouths out."
"Not funny." Bonnie's voice and attitude changed. "Damn it."
"What? What is it?" I found myself frightened, without knowing why.
"Where did you leave the disposable phone we gave you?"
"Somewhere in my bedroom. I never used it."
She turned to look at me. That old cliché "if looks could kill" floated through my head. Bonnie took a long, slow breath and the fire from her eyes subsided, sort of.
"You may not have used it, but I left a few messages and I'm wondering what there is on that phone from Larry. He'll be crucified over this." She kept avoiding my glance and shaking her head. I didn't have a clue what she meant. So I did what any Italian does under similar circumstances.
"Bonnie, how about I fix us some dinner?"
She kept shaking her head and then sighed. "Larry will have to deal with it. Let's go take a look at this guest bath. See why our friends found it so interesting."
We climbed the stairs to the bathroom. "That bath hasn't been used for months. Kyle didn't have time to take a shower the other day. He was in and out and then got arrested. I'm guessing it was the same soap that was there before I left for Italy. I have extra bars." I realized how stupid all this chatter sounded. I switched on the light. The bathroom looked exactly the way it always did. The missing bar of soap was the one by the double sinks.
"Lella, when you came back from overseas, was anything different?'
"In here? No, not really. Wait. Yes, the toilet paper. Ruby must have run out of toilet paper and for some reason decided to buy more. So silly, I have plenty of toilet paper in the other bath. She replaced it with a different brand. I noticed and was going to ask Ruby about it."
"Anything else?"
"No, of course not. The rug was a little damp. Maybe Flash had an accident and Ruby used the toilet paper to clean up. I don't know. I'm sure it's dry by now. Why all this sudden interest about a bathroom?"
"Precisely what I was thinking. Lella, can you show me exactly where the wet spot was?"
"It wasn't wet, just a little damp. Here." I put my foot on the carpet, in proximity to the bathtub, and then looked at Bonnie.
She got down on her knees, just like I did that evening. She ran her hands all over the rug, fast, her face close to the rug, smelling it. I could feel the intensity of her action.
"Nothing was missing? You're sure?"
Her questions had gone from curious to just plain annoying. My stomach growled. I'd had so little food in the last few days, I felt lightheaded. "Nothing. Bonnie, it's not like I keep a list of bathroom items. I mean, I live alone. What? Someone is going to break in to steal my toilet paper?"
Did she pick up the annoyance in my voice? She stood, pulled her sweater down to cover her hips and said, "If you don't mind, I'd like to take the list with me to make a copy. Unless you have a fax in the house. We could fax it to my office. I need to get going."
For the first time since the cops arrived at my front door, I realized Bonnie had spent the whole afternoon and evening with me, listening to my complaints, justified or not. If she billed by the hour, I owed her a lot more than I could afford. "Are you sure I can't get you something to eat before you drive back? It's a long ride. It wouldn't take much time, maybe a sandwich?"
"No, thanks. I'll chew gum. It helps me process information while I drive." That made a lot of sense, so I walked her to the door and said goodbye.
"Lock your door." Then she left.
I did.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I overslept. Not by choice. The minute I swallowed the sleeping pill I knew I'd made a mistake. The effects would linger into the morning. I slept ten hours straight, and while my face looked rested, my brain was full of chaotic thoughts. By the time I showered and went downstairs to get the daily paper from my front door, it was close to 10:00 a.m.
Lucky for me, Kyle called before I went to bed, so I didn't have to worry about missing him. He sounded a lot more together.
"Carolyn visited with great news." The story of his arrest had created a buzz in the entertainment industry. I didn't want to burst his bubble by reminding him that making the news from jail was hardly something to brag about it, but I was no expert on the subject. I told him about the search warrant, and he said his place had been searched, but nothing removed. The fact that he hadn't been home for about six weeks was probably factored in. His laptop was in the Ferrari when they arrested him. God knows he kept everything, important or trivial, in that piece of electronic wonder. That bit of news put an end to my theory of Ruby hiding out in his condo.
I went to get the newspaper and felt warm and tubby in my shocking pink chenille robe, shuffling my fuzzy pink slippers with rhinestone initials—Kyle's version of Christmas glam for Mom. Flash had acted restless since I got out of bed, probably because she wasn't used to my sleeping in. The minute I opened the door and bent over to pick up the paper, she bolted and was gone. Shoot. I was in no mood to chase a mercurial cat. She could find her way home when she was ready to come back.
I noticed the brown slip-on first. I knew without looking up whose feet these were. No. Why me? Why now? I couldn't spend the rest of my morning hunched over, on the threshold of my house. I had to get up, do something.
"Good morning, Lella. How are you today?" Blood rushed to my head when I straightened myself a little too fast. Larry stood in front of me, all smiles, a matching Styrofoam cup of coffee in each hand. He seemed amused by how scarlet my cheeks turned, and was not doing much to hide it either. He handed me a coffee and I robotically took it. He placed his free hand under my chin, tilted my face up and kissed me softly. Ah, the temptation to dump my cup on his head. I closed my eyes and counted to ten, or at least tried to.
Voices came from the path leading to the guest parking. Voices and cops. The tall, dark suit from yesterday walked toward my place. A female with short hair and a cute face trotted next to him, attempting to keep up with his pace. They were at my front door before I could count to seven.
"Hey, Devin, what's up?" Yesterday's cop patted Larry on the shoulder. They were about the same height and obviously knew each other. He then turned and smiled at me, in my silly, juvenile bathrobe, a smile that told me he knew things about me today that he didn't know yesterday. I felt more heat reaching my face. I glanced at the young woman and found that same smile, a smile full of unspoken awareness. I wondered if they saw Larry kissing me. This was so awkward, so embarrassing. Why must I be in a bathrobe and rhinestone slippers, so late in the day? What were they all thinking?
Larry addressed the woman. "Morning, Florian." He sipped from his cup. "Is Bob treating you right?"
"You know he is, and if he wasn't, would I be telling?" She had nice teeth, and when she smiled little wrinkles formed just above the bridge of her nose. Now that we were close, she wasn't as young as I thought. "We miss you, though," she added, winking at Larry.
"Let's go in." Larry
put his hand on my elbow and coaxed me inside. He acted as if he'd expected these two to show up, and his body language left no doubt about our degree of familiarity. I felt clueless and nervous—pretty much the same way I'd be feeling ever since I came back from Italy.
"Hummm." I cleared my throat. "I—how about someone tells me what's going on?"
"Sorry, Mrs. York, we should have phoned." Bob looked at Larry, and I had the feeling he was counting on Larry to say something. That didn't happen, so Bob spoke to me again. "It's about the bathroom. We understand something was missing when you came back from your trip."
Bonnie? Bonnie told them about our conversation? Why? Whose side was she on anyway? "Nothing was missing." I found it hard to talk around the sense of outrage flooding my brain. "The toilet paper had been replaced. Maybe Ruby ran out of it and didn't know I kept extra in my own bathroom. Not a big deal."
"Was it just one roll? A package of four? Do you know?"
"It was a pack of four, generic brand, one ply, white. Anything else?"
Larry moved closer to me and put his hand on the small of my back. "Lella, it's okay. Why don't you show Bob the toilet paper? Would that be better?" I wasn't sure who he was talking to, but I found myself nodding and moving toward the stairs while seething inside. Larry and Bob followed.
"No one has used that bathroom since I've been back." I held up my robe, which was now dragging on the stairs. "I mean, no one was here and Kyle was in and out, so aside from Flash and me—"
"Who's Flash?" Detective Bob asked.
"My cat." We stood in the bathroom. I pointed to the roll on the paper holder, went to the small closet and handed him the pack with three rolls in it. He accepted with some hesitation. Maybe he should have been wearing rubber gloves. Incompetent. I almost said it out loud.
"Can you think of anything else, Mrs. York?"
"No, but you're welcome to look around. I'm going to get dressed. I'll be right back, gentlemen." Finally, I had my brain back.
I walked away and overheard Larry say, "She's Italian." He sounded pretty pleased with that statement. I wasn't sure if it was because he'd never met an Italian woman before or if he liked Italians in general. Either way, I decided to take it as a compliment.
I pulled on some knit pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt and went right back downstairs. The three of them were chatting. I decided to play along. "How about some coffee?" I offered. I had forgotten about the coffee Larry brought.
Bob shook his head. "No, thanks, we should be going."
"Mrs. York, are you into the metaphysical?" Florian addressed me. I looked at her a little puzzled. I had no idea what she meant.
"The metaphysical? You mean like talking to the dead or something?"
"No, I was thinking more about tarot cards."
"I like astrology." Visions of the chart of the dead woman flashed in my mind's eye. Then I got it. "You found Ruby's chart?"
A big smile lit Florian's face. "Yes."
"I had it done in Florence, the last day I was there. It was going to be a surprise, a present for her. A chart hand-written. In Italy. How did you know?"
"It was in your trash." She spoke in a low voice, apologetic. "It was part of the things we removed yesterday."
"Mrs. York." Bob's voice came from behind me. "We thought you were into Satanic rituals, but Florian here figured it out right away." He didn't sound amused. Neither was I.
I turned to look at Larry, hoping to get his reaction to all this, but just then something peculiar happened.
A soft bing. No, two separate, yet similar bings. A buzzing and two bings. Three hands grabbed for cell phones and three pairs of eyes looked at them. It was so perfectly timed, it seemed rehearsed. Florian reacted first. She let out a happy "Yes!" and raised her fist holding the cell phone. Larry and Bob high-fived each other. And me? I stood there looking at them as stumped as before, but at least now I had clothes on.
This was the kind of scene you see in the movies, brotherhood or fraternity, or something, of the police force. All for one, one for all? These people were celebrating, but what? The fact that Larry wasn't even an active detective didn't seem to matter, they were in this together. I felt invisible.
"This changes things." Florian smiled.
"What changes what things?" I asked.
The three of them exchanged glances. Larry finally spoke. "I'm walking them to the car. I'll be right back and explain." I watched them quickly step out the door. Simply by habit, I locked it behind them.
While I waited for Larry to come back, I mentally listed questions I must ask him. I would start with wanting to know about the guilty remark Bonnie made. Followed by what just happened. Then we would move on to the trip to Parker. The coffee he brought me was still there, untouched and now cold. My first impulse was to dump it in the kitchen sink, but bringing coffee after I hung up on him the day before was a nice gesture. I poured it into my favorite mug, added some milk and put it in the microware.
It was almost noon, Flash had skulked back and was licking her paws on the kitchen floor, and my stomach growled. I decided to have some peanut butter on toast. All my plans were sinking. I wanted to go visit Kyle after I went to the Return of the Swallows planning meeting at the mission, and then there was Larry and getting to the bottom of what he knew. I toasted the bread, spread peanut butter on it. By the time I was done munching it became apparent that Larry wasn't coming back. I looked around. He'd left behind the empty Styrofoam cup and a list of unanswered questions. Damn him, anyway.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
All the peanut butter and toast in the world couldn't fill the emptiness at the pit of my stomach. I went upstairs to ease the tension and to stop listening for Larry's footsteps.
I sat on my custom-made bed in my girly bedroom with a view of the ocean and asked myself, "Is this it? Is this the preview of things to come? Will I be spending the rest of my life waiting on a man? I am not going to fall into that trap again, never."
What I felt for Larry was so different from what I had with Nick. Not because I was married to Nick. Our relationship had always been more stable, and even in times of conflict we could find common ground with neither of us ending up emotionally bloody. Plus, over the years I learned to let things go, look the other way; it made life easier.
Larry, with his unreadable eyes. Larry, with the laissez faire of a Swiss guard. Larry, who lit the bonfire of passion when I had resigned myself to a life of celibacy.
Was this fiery turmoil an age thing? How would I know? Underneath the battered ego, I wanted him so bad I would run to him if he called out to me.
The phone rang and hope crashed the gate of my self-control. "Yes?" I sounded hoarse, even to myself.
"Lella? Are you okay?" Sabrina, from the mission.
"Yes, sure." I cleared my throat. "I'm fine, and I didn't forget about the meeting."
"About the meeting." It was Sabrina's turn to clear her throat. "We were thinking, you know, with your son and all that's going on…" She paused, and I didn't like where she was going.
"We? Care to tell me who we is?" That didn't sound grammatically correct, but grammar wasn't high on my list.
"The committee. It's because of all that publicity about Kyle. If you're at the mission, the media will be after you instead of the swallows."
"The invisible swallows?" Why did I say that? A good docent never mentions the fact that the swallows stopped coming back to the mission years ago. "Never mind, I get it. I'm persona non grata. Thanks a lot. I've been a volunteer for nearly ten years, and this is the thanks I get. Have a good Fiesta de Las Golondrinas." I hung up. Misplaced anger? Maybe.
I felt sick. Mad as hell and sick. Never mind that given a chance to visit Kyle over the meeting, I would have canceled the meeting without a bit of guilt. That was not the point. I splashed my face with cold water, hoping it would help. I turned off the faucet and heard what seemed to be a pounding sound. I stood still and listened. Maybe it was someone working outside. No, I
heard it again, louder. It came from downstairs. I didn't know what to do. I grabbed my phone; I figured I could always call 911.
Call 911? Crazy, I was losing my mind. Halfway down the stairs I heard the thumping and this time I had no doubt; someone was pounding on my front door.
All the pent-up anger and disappointment must have fueled my arm's strength, because the way I opened it, the door slammed against the side wall.
Larry looked at me, and I sensed curiosity in his eyes. "Hello. Are you that happy to see me or is it a caffeine overdose?" He sounded cheerful. Did he know he'd been gone for over forty-five minutes? His calm and pleased attitude made me feel petty and small. Maybe he was a great guy and I was a demanding bitch.
"Wait." He stood on the threshold. "You thought I left, didn't you? Was I gone that long?" He put his hand under my chin like before, but instead of kissing me, he forced me to look him in the eyes. "You are angry. What? You thought I drove all the way here to deliver coffee?" No more cheerfulness in his voice.
I kept quiet, observing his eyes narrowing, a furrow forming on his forehead. I could almost hear the wheels in his brain turning. He was getting closer to the ugly truth, and I had no place to hide that cloud of suspicion I carried with me like a second shadow. I felt his fingers under my chin release.
He knew. He took a step back and stood outside my door. The expression on his face wasn't one of triumph for outing my mistrust, nor of anger for my judging him. I read sadness and thought, He's leaving. He isn't going to stick around to find out why I thought that he left. Panic filled my heart and my brain. I didn't want him to see it, and there we stood, without speaking, without touching.
The midday sun over us burned my eyes when I looked up, so I couldn't see his face anymore. I watched him move toward the door, hesitant at first, then he stepped over the threshold and put his arms around me and held my face against him. All I could think was that a lot more than a threshold was crossed.
Murder Under the Italian Moon Page 11