I shrugged. "Okay." I gave her a ten for effort. Like she said, I could take it home.
"Larry, didn't you tell Lella about the homicide in Parker?"
"What homicide? About the fingerprints…"
Larry put his hand on mine, forcefully. I stopped talking.
"Do you remember the story about Aunt Millie, that Audrey was talking about? Not only was she not her aunt, but apparently, she didn't drown. She was dead before hitting the water."
"Are you talking about the visiting aunt? The one who got along so well with Ruby because they were born the same time and place?" The two of them looked at me like I had sprouted a horn on my forehead.
"You remember all that?" Larry shook his head. "By the way, no, that's also not true. Ruby Russell and Milena Forrester were not the same age, not even close. I think your friend Ruby is five years older. I don't remember the details. They don't matter." I noticed he hardly touched his drink. Neither had Bonnie. "The minute the Bernard girl said her aunt drowned I knew something was up. Parker has what? Four thousand people? You have two women drowning in the same waters the same week in a town of four thousand and it makes national news. I called my buddy, Steve, and he confirmed it. Only one woman, and it was not a drowning nor suicide like first believed."
"Now I remember. You're talking about the drowning victim back when you went fishing? Didn't you say she left a goodbye note or something?" I began to understand. "You're saying that was Audrey's aunt? How come it took so long for Audrey to find out?" Larry and Bonnie exchanged glances again. It was like a curtain falling, separating them from me.
"It may feel like a long time, Lella, but it's only been two weeks. The autopsy was done in Tucson, and then the body was returned to Parker." He stopped and looked directly at Bonnie. "Damn! If she died in California and the body got dumped in Arizona, it means the FBI is going to step in. We're screwed. You'll never get the kid's bond lowered." He drank his martini straight down—the whole drink.
"Want a refill?" I hadn't seen J.B. approach. He bent and whispered something in Bonnie's ear. She too gulped her martini, closed her eyes for a minute. I think I held my breath because I felt a sense of doom in the air.
"The neighbor has identified the woman seen leaving the parking garage at about the time the Porsche magically appeared." There was neither joy nor relief in Bonnie's voice. We looked at her. J.B. stood next to her, his hand resting on the back of her chair, a whisper from her shoulder.
"Was it Ruby?" I dreaded the answer.
"No," Bonnie addressed Larry. "It was Carolyn, the agent."
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The quiet of the room awoke me. The quiet and the dream. The room I could understand. With my own bedroom being so close to the intersection of the 5 and Pacific Coast Highway, I had become attuned to the constant humming of engines. Here, in Larry's home, high on a hill and surrounded by massive trees, all was stillness, darkness. I didn't want to move, afraid to wake him. His body spooned against mine, his arm draped over my belly, his breathing calm and steady while my mind spun endless versions of the dream. When is a dream a nightmare? In the years since Nick's death I had never dreamt of him, not that I could remember. Why now? Why here?
It had to be connected to Larry's question early in the day. "Was your husband cheating on you?" Why the hesitation in my answer? I should have said no, period. I'd been ignoring the ugliness of that reality for years, why stop now?
The digital clock sat on Larry's nightstand. I would have to look over his shoulders to see the time. If I guessed by the darkness it was the middle of the night. When we left Bonnie, Larry drove us to his house. He didn't ask me. It was like a covert understanding. He drove with his hand firmly planted on my knee, his eyes on the road, no conversation. I felt an intense sense of anticipation, a sexual craving that fueled our silence. We went from the garage to the bedroom, shedding our clothes and my inhibitions, ending up on the bed, naked and raw.
I didn't know how long I'd been awake. No matter. I didn't want to close my eyes, afraid to see that image again. There was nothing sinister in the dream sequence. It was Nick's face against a blue background. His image filled the imaginary screen, and all he did was laugh. Laugh. I didn't see myself or anyone else, yet I sensed I was the audience. The more Nick laughed, the more frightened I became. He pointed a finger at me, at the invisible me in the audience, and it felt like the finger reached out from the screen to touch me. I woke up.
Perspiration trickled from my throat to my belly. Long-forgotten details of Nick and Ruby—late-night office meetings and out-of-town conferences—flashed in my mind. I'd learned not to think about it. I wasn't going to revisit that place of sadness.
Nick was dead. Nothing could change that reality. I caught the droplets of sweat with my fingers before they reached Larry's arm. He moved and his hand covered mine, like a shield. I closed my eyes and drifted back to sleep.
I awoke to the flirting of Larry's lips on my earlobe. "Wake up, sweetie, it's a beautiful morning." He called me sweetie? I smiled before opening my eyes.
I rolled over to face him. He wore a white terry robe. His hair, still damp from the shower, fell to cover part of his forehead. I recognized that clean aftershave smell I had come to link to him. "Good morning," I mumbled, thinking I wanted to brush my teeth before getting too close, but not ready to hop out of bed nude in the light of day. I remembered the time before. "Where did you shower?"
Larry looked at me like I came from some alien planet; then I watched his expression change. "Very observant, aren't we?" He sounded amused and attempted to turn my question into a joke. I wasn't going to let him get away with it.
"Well?"
"When you were here before I showered in the guest bath, wanting you to have a perfectly clean shower. But all that special treatment stuff is over, sweetie, so you can use this shower. Or it would be your turn to use the guest bath." He smiled with his voice and his eyes. "I made coffee. Let me go get you some. Wait, don't say it. I know how you take your coffee." I watched him get up from the bed and fought the urge to grab him, pull him back, hug him tight.
"Oh, almost forgot." He stepped into the bathroom, came out holding a white robe similar to his and threw it at me. "Here, sorry. I couldn't find slippers with rhinestone initials on such short notice." Now his eyes and his face openly laughed. I flung the pillow at him and missed.
"Bad aim." He started walking away. "Hold the thought. I'll teach you when I get back." I could hear him laugh on his way to the kitchen.
What a perfect way to start the day, if not for a sense of guilt in the pit of my stomach. Would be perfect had Kyle been released. The poor kid couldn't seem to catch a break. I started to sound like Larry and Bonnie, lawyers and cops. Okay, enough. I grabbed the robe and went to turn on the shower, changed my mind and brushed my teeth first.
I was stepping out, wrapped in the bath sheet, when Larry rushed in. "You've got to see this. Hurry. Be quiet or we'll spook it."
I didn't have a clue what he meant. He dripped enthusiasm on my wetness. Before I could say a word, he grabbed me around the waist and carried me, towel and all, into the bedroom, in front of the large, round window. He placed a finger on my lips. "Shhh…" Then pointed to a small, adorable Bambi, a baby deer, munching on a tree's lower branches. I had heard of deer living in some of the canyons surrounding Laguna, but in all the years of living in Orange County, this was the first time I ever saw one. A living Disney vignette. We kept still, watching this gift of nature, until a black bird landed on the tree. Bambi leapt back and hopped away. The sight of such a joyful creature had me think of Flash and her empty food dish. I sighed and Larry let go of me and of my towel. I stood frozen, my back against his chest. I felt his fingers caressing my hips, his hands gliding slowly upward to cup my breasts. He stroked the hardness of my nipples. By the time his tongue found my throat, I became a shameless, lustful beggar.
It was after eleven when we got dressed and ate breakfast in his white kitche
n. I knew I had to get going, get back home, maybe take a little detour to say hi to Kyle on my way south. Of course, I depended on Larry's goodwill. He was my ride.
I was about to ask when his cell rang.
"Hi, Bonnie." He looked at me. He listened to whatever Bonnie was saying and nodded a few times. It seemed to me what was being said must have been good, because he'd nod and look at me with a smile in his eyes. "I will. I'll let her know as soon as we hang up. Thanks, Bonnie."
I knew they were talking about me. I couldn't believe Bonnie didn't know I was right there, next to him.
"Well?"
"How well do you know Carolyn, the agent?"
I looked at Larry. Carolyn?
"I don't know what you mean by 'know' her. I met her once at a cocktail party Kyle took me to. I spoke to her occasionally when she called the house looking for Kyle. Why?"
"Apparently Carolyn has a drinking problem and lost her driving privileges due to some DUIs. That's the good news."
Again I had to look at him, not sure where this was headed. "What's the bad news?"
"To the point, aren't we? Carolyn had nothing to do with the Porsche being left in Kyle's parking spot. She arrived there by cab, went to the condo and got in with her own key, picked up the papers she needed and left in the same taxi. All that in under twenty minutes. That's great."
"Why is it great, and what's the bad news? Or is it good news? How is this affecting Kyle?" Impatience had me shaking.
"With Carolyn out of the picture, Ruby is becoming a more likely suspect. She had the car, she's familiar with Kyle's place—all that according to Kyle, of course."
"Of course."
"How do you think Ruby could drive there, leave the car, disappear and no one sees her? How is that possible?" He asked me. I felt like I had been accepted in the Bonnie-Larry team.
"Maybe she had a friend waiting for her. Maybe she paid someone to drop the car there." None of this made much sense, but I had to keep on talking, hoping I would remember some details or some names. Anything.
"Don't make yourself crazy over this. Every cop in California knows what your friend Ruby looks like. If she is alive, it's—"
I pushed the stool away from the counter, "What do you mean if? She's alive, I know it." The chart of a dead woman. I remembered Nick's laugh and his pointing finger. A cold shiver ran along my spine, like a gust of icy wind. I fidgeted, avoiding Larry's glance.
"What just happened here? Did you remember something? A place, a person Ruby may go to for help? Lella, look at me."
"I need to get home." I didn't look at him. He didn't answer. We sat, waiting each other out. After a long silence, he got up.
"Fine. Let's go." His voice felt as distant and unforgiving as his eyes.
CHAPTER TWENTY
We reached the 5 South without exchanging a word.
What was wrong with me? One minute I soaked in happiness, the next I drowned in anxiety. No, more like I was being drowned. This had nothing to do with Larry; it was all my doing. I couldn't handle emotions, and at the moment emotions ruled every aspect of my life. Better learn how to deal with it. In a hurry.
I talked out loud to myself. "What a week of accomplishments! My son's in jail, more or less accused of killing my best friend, I got fired from my volunteer position at the mission and I managed to anger my lover three times in less than twenty-four hours. Whoa! A record performance, although I can't take full credit for my son's arrest." My brain switched gear too late to stop me. The whole mea culpa came out of my mouth in a very civilized way, almost joyful. I kept my eyes on Larry, hoping for a smile, a change of expression, anything that would give me an opening. At one point, he looked like he sucked in his chest, held his breath. Maybe he fought the urge to talk to me? No, that was it, end of show. Maybe not. Larry sucked in his chest because he was fighting—laughter?
"Are you laughing at me?"
"No. I'm laughing with you."
"But I'm not laughing."
"You crazy Italian…" He kept on laughing. I wanted to hug him, but I wasn't going to push my luck just yet. "It's bad enough I have to take second place to your son. But I'm not going to be pushed around by a cat."
I had to think a moment to understand what he was saying. I told him I needed to get home to feed Flash. I tapped my fingers on his knee and probably would have done it again, but he grabbed my hand and held it in his. He squeezed it gently, then opened my fist and kissed the center of my palm. I knew our relationship had reached more solid ground.
His cell phone went off. I guess he recognized the number because he mumbled some apology, let go of my hand and answered the phone. "Hey, Steve, what's up?" He sounded happy and friendly, yet his face looked tense. "Yeah, well, comes with experience. No kidding. You get what? An average of two homicides per year? Glad I could help. What's going on with the Bernard girl? She did? Interesting."
I assumed Larry was talking to his fishing buddy from Parker. The one who was also a detective?
As soon as he hung up I voiced my curiosity. "Were you talking about Audrey?" I could have asked a dozen of other pertinent questions, like, "Were you speaking to your friend Steve?" But no, I had to bring up Audrey first.
He took my hand, set it on his knee and kept it there. His eyes focused somewhere, past the road to Dana Point, past the distant horizon. "Aunt Millie was dying." His voice came softly, part storytelling and part sad human being. "Brain tumor, few months left to live. She came to town to say her goodbyes. Who would want to kill her? It was a matter of time."
"I'm so sorry." I meant it. I felt sorry for Larry because he felt sorry for Aunt Millie. "How did she die? I mean, how was she, you know…"
He turned his head to look at me, then went back to his driving. "Blunt force trauma to the head." His voice still sounded far away. "She lost her hair during chemo. At first the coroner assumed her wig fell off when she jumped into the water and hit her head on a rock. Once her body got to Tucson, and to the Pima Medical Examiner, it became clear the trauma occurred at least twenty-four hours before she landed in the river. They never did find the wig."
"Is that important? The wig, I mean."
Again he turned to look at me, briefly. I could tell his brain was on overdrive.
"Hair was found in the Testarossa and the Porsche. The hair wasn't human, but synthetic. The missing wig may be the link."
"Why would someone go through all that trouble to steal a—oh my God! That's not what you mean. You think the dead aunt was in both cars? How? What would Kyle want with Audrey's aunt? Wait, Kyle didn't even meet Audrey until the day he was arrested. The aunt was dead before you and I went to dinner at Cannon." I felt my throat closing on me. I knew it was an illusion, but a powerful one. None of this made any sense and yet everything seemed to follow a twisted logical pattern.
"Welcome to the world of homicide investigations. By the way, real aunt or not, Audrey is the only heir, and according to Steve she'll be up in Parker for a while trying to take care of things."
We were approaching the Ortega exit, where the wire fence is painted sea-foam color and metal silhouettes of swallows in flight remind tourists and locals alike that this is the way to the beloved Mission San Juan Capistrano.
"They're getting ready for the parade of the return of the swallows. Wonder what time they decided to ring the bell tomorrow."
"Wait, when you said you got fired from a volunteer job were you serious?" I could tell by his voice he found the idea amusing.
"I've been helping with fundraising for the mission for over nine years, but tomorrow I won't be there."
"Why? What did you do? Besides, what's the big deal? Any organization would be happy to have you."
"I didn't do a thing. The head of volunteers is concerned my presence could be disruptive because of Kyle and the whole nonsense story of Ruby. Makes me sad even if I agree it's better this way. You know what I mean. I'd rather go visit Kyle."
He patted my hand. "I think I understand how
you feel. I spent many Saint Joseph's days running around the mission when I was a kid. Lots of fun, especially looking up in the sky and pointing to the imaginary swallows."
We both laughed, thinking about the crowds traveling for miles to see the return of the migratory birds. So many years since anyone spotted a live swallow around the mission. Word on the street said that they nested at the Mission Viejo Mall because accessibility to water and soil was no longer available in the manicured gardens of the mission. The birds needed those two elements of nature to build their mud nests. But I didn't know for sure if the swallows nested at the mall.
"So, what would happen if you showed up anyway? They'll call security and get you thrown out?"
"I don't know. I never thought about it."
"Maybe you should go and see what happens? I could go with you, borrow a badge to flash around?" The mental picture of me showing up at the mission with a police escort made us both laugh again.
We were still laughing when we drove through the gate to my house. I felt welcomed even if only my cat was waiting for me. A lot can be said for familiarity and habits.
I unlocked the front door and went straight to the laundry room, calling Flash.
"So, where is my competition?" Larry followed me.
I stopped. I sensed Larry's body heat close behind me. The travertine floor of the laundry room was littered with dry cat food.
"Looks like your cat decided to feed itself."
Flash was nowhere in sight. I walked over to the cabinet where I kept the dry food; found the bag exactly where I left it the day before, but now it was empty. There would be no way for a cat to do that, even if it was a genius, which I never imagined Flash to be. I reached for the bag.
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