"Don't be silly, I wasn't the only man there. And I hardly slipped in two words. Maybe she knows one of the lawyers. Where's she from?"
"Some old country from Russia."
"The neighbor with the ferret is Russian?"
"No, no. I meant her family is originally from somewhere around Russia." I paused. "Okay, I have no idea where she's from. But she was a flight attendant for American Airlines. And for all I know she could be from Phoenix."
"I don't think I've ever met a Phoenix native, seems like everyone here is from somewhere else."
"Regardless of where she's from, I think she lives here, in the complex all year around."
"What were you doing at her place?"
"She came knocking at the door and invited me over with the excuse of a chilled bottle of Prosecco." To his credit, he didn't snicker. "While we spoke, Flash took off for her patio like a maniac. I figured since I'd have to go get the cat I might as well have an early happy hour. I thought you'd be doing the same thing. Imagine my surprise when I saw you there at the press conference. How did that happen? Were you told about it?"
"I knew of the conference, had no idea I would be part of it, or I would have brought my makeup artist with me." He stroked the back of my neck.
"What?" I punched his arm. "You're sooo bad. At least you're smiling. So, who was thanking you and for what?"
He turned off the light while keeping me close. "I'm told that Carillo wants to thank me personally. We never got to the why he wants to thank me. A commercial break had priority." Just then the AC kicked in. The vent was right above the bed so I felt the need to pull the covers up to my neck. What a crazy place to live, either too hot or too cold…I missed California.
"When I was asked to come and testify it sounded like a ten-minute job on the witness stand while the defense lawyer had me recall everything good and positive I had to say about Carillo. Then the judge would nod and say, 'Yes, of course, let the innocent young man go free.'
"Go ahead, say it—I'm delusional. After having been a Homicide Detective for nearly twenty years I know no retrial is ever simple, unless the corpse walks in under his own power." In the dark I felt him shrug. "And even then there would be the naysayers."
"Are you saying that coming here was all a waste of your time?"
"I hope not, Lella. From day one I felt in my guts that the kid didn't do it. Maybe I should have worked harder trying to prove the point. Back then Olivia was a little kid, and my career was finally taking off. Who am I kidding? There is never a perfect time. It's up to us to find the way, and we do, when we really, really want something badly enough."
"Larry, this is getting under your skin. Aren't you a little too hard on yourself?"
"Am I? I will have more answers after the meeting. This time I'll ask more questions—I'll find the way. Besides, Carillo won't get another chance. It's now or never." He kissed my forehead. "Let's get some sleep."
In the morning, Larry decided to take his jacket with him. So, I wasn't the only one who'd noticed how most of the public places kept the temperature barely above freezing point. The better to make you feel like you've stepped into Satan's den once you went outside?
Flash was back to her regular self, busy biting my ankle because I didn't feed her fast enough. The fact that I didn't wear footwear in the house made it even easier for the demanding little monster. Neither the excessive heat nor the constant blowing of cold air seemed to disturb her daily routine, but she did pace with an eye to the front door a lot more than I could remember. Then again, at home she had a pet door for her outside whims.
Maybe today would be the day I finally checked out the pool, if even just to look at it. My cell phone vibrated on the table, so close to my cup that the coffee splashed a little.
"Hello." So annoying. Whoever invented mobile phones should be shot.
"Mom?"
Shoot…my son. "Hi, Kyle." My forced cheerfulness wouldn't fool a stranger, so how did I expect to get a free pass from my only child?
"Mom, are you home?"
Ouch. "Why?"
"What? What do you mean, why? I'm five miles from your house, and if you're home I can stop by to say hi."
Double ouch. "I'm—in Arizona."
"Arizona? Yuma?" He still remembered that trip to Yuma so many years ago?
"Noooo, I…I'm in Phoenix. You know? The state capital of Arizona?" This had to be the most idiotic statement I'd made in at least ten years. Okay, maybe five…three?
Silence.
"Kyle? Are you still there?"
"What are you doing in Phoenix, the state capital of Arizona? Mom?" He sounded pretty upset. He had a right to be. I should have called him.
"I came to get Flash." Great Lella.
"Flash is in Phoenix?"
"Yes, I just told you so."
"How did Flash get to Phoenix?"
"It's a long story."
"I'm sure it is." Had sarcasm been a tradable commodity, everyone in the York household would be a millionaire by now. "Take your time. Since you aren't home I'll make a detour to the Marina, grab a foaming cappuccino, and listen to you telling me how your cat ended up in Phoenix. This ought to be good."
"I would have told you, but first I figured it would be just a day trip, you know…I drive to Phoenix, grab the cat, drive back home. The end. Instead—"
"Whoa. You drove to Phoenix? Alone? That's what? Over four hundred miles?"
"No, it's only three hundred and seventy-five miles." The minute I said that I realized just how silly the whole conversation was getting. "Look, I'm sorry. I should have told you, but I really, really thought I was going to be back home within twenty-four hours. And with you in England, why bother you?"
"England? What would I be doing in England? Nooo. Mother, have you been reading the tabloids again? I am not chasing after some English royalty I met at Mardi Gras. If I were, I would have told you. Did we not have this conversation once before? Mom, Carolyn's new assistant is the 'gossip leak.' They have this notion that every time I make the front page of some trashy paper my value goes up. Don't ask.
"But it seems to be working. The agency received an interesting script from a renowned director—why am I telling you all this? You're the one who needs to explain. From now on, if you want to know who I'm dating or pretending to date, call Carolyn, my agent. Now, tell me how Flash got to Phoenix."
"We think she sneaked into Larry's car—"
"Wait, wait. Who is we and…is Larry in Phoenix with you?" Was it relief in my son's voice? He had more faith in Larry than me? Men.
"Yes, Larry is here, something to do with a trial, and he couldn't drive back so I came to get the cat, but then because of the incident—"
"Incident? Do you mean accident?"
"Kyle, are you going to let me talk or not?"
"Sorry, sorry. I should come to Phoenix."
"No, you should listen. Some kid dumped about fifty pounds of fast-setting concrete on the sunroof of Larry's Mercedes, but since I was driving, I'm part of the lawsuit. So you see—"
"No, I don't see, but I will. Where are you staying?"
"We rented this place—"
"Rented? A place? And you never said a word to your only son?"
I was tempted to remind him about all the times I did have to call Carolyn, his agent, to find out if he was dead or alive, but hey, what are mothers for? Before I could say something I would regret there was a knock at the door. "Kyle, someone's at the door. Probably the nosy neighbor. Are we good, then?"
"Good? Golden. Catch you later." That sarcasm again.
I was still in my flimsy nightie and barefoot, the coffee in my cup cold by now. Vivian was turning out to be such a nuisance. Better see what she wanted.
Knock, knock.
"I'm coming," I found myself yelling. All Kyle's fault. "Flash, don't you dare try to get out. You hear me?"
I yanked the door wide open and found myself staring into someone's baby blue eyes. The eyes belonged to a yo
ung man looking back at me with such an amused glint in those baby blues that I felt blood rushing to my face with the force of a geyser.
"Huh…hi. May I help you?" I noticed his linen shirt, his fancy tie. In this heat? What was he selling? We stood, staring at each other.
"Mrs. York?"
I nodded. He knew my name. He handed me a business card and waited while shifting his weight from one foot to the other. I had no idea what the business card said as I wasn't wearing my reading glasses. Could it get any more embarrassing?
"May I come in?" he asked.
I didn't know what to say, what to do. I felt something brushing my leg. Flash. "Maledizione" slipped out of my lips before I could stop myself. "Damn cat," I said to the black tail turning the corner.
"Mrs. York, if this a bad time…"
I'd had enough. "Who are you? What do you want? I can't read your card because I don't have my glasses."
He cracked a smile, offered his hand. "Logan, Logan Thompson." He seemed to wait for my reaction. When none came he stepped back a little. I knew he was puzzled. I could see it on his face even without reading glasses. He cleared his throat. "You know my father, Dennis Thompson?"
"Dennis Thompson," I echoed. "Oh, Dennis, the lawyer?" I heard noises from the patio next door.
Time to take the conversation inside.
CHAPTER EIGHT
What do desert dwellers offer to unexpected morning guests? "Coffee?" I asked.
The blue-eyed young man shook his head and smiled.
I had to find a way to get some clothes on. I felt worse than naked, I felt—exposed. "Mr. Thompson, Larry Devin isn't here. I believe he's with your father—"
"I'm not here to see Mr. Devin. I'm here to talk to you."
That smile again. Now what? Think, Lella.
"Then make yourself at home while I get dressed."
I was so tempted to remind him about phones having been invented a long time ago. Instead, I marched into my bedroom with as much dignity I could muster, closed the door, quickly changed into regular clothes, and brushed my teeth.
I was back out in about ten minutes, and I wasn't very happy with the way my day had started because now that I looked at his business card with my reading glasses on, I could see it said: Logan Thompson, Attorney at Law. Must be a family affair.
"Well, here I am." I sat across from him and stared, on purpose.
"Thank you for making time to talk to me, Mrs. York."
Was he mocking me?
"Look, I don't know what this is about, but the only reason you're sitting there and not in your car on the way back to the office is because of your dad, so I suggest you state your case and make it quick. I need to go find my cat before she runs away from home with her newfound love."
He laughed a spontaneous, carefree laugh. "Your cat's in love?"
"With a ferret."
"Ah, ah, with a ferret. That's too funny. Wait, you're serious. There's a ferret around here?"
"Belongs to the neighbor. I assume the ferret is a she—the neighbor calls the rodent Lucy."
"Contrary to popular belief, ferrets aren't rodents." He sounded like a young professor explaining to the uninformed student. "They're meat eaters from the weasel family. I haven't seen one in a long time. What color is Lucy? Is she a Marshall ferret?"
"Have no idea. The only time I happened to be anywhere near her was in the evening, on the patio next door, and she looked like a white rat. I confess, it rattled me, I'd never heard of ferrets before. According to Larry, ferrets are illegal in California."
He paid close attention to my every word. What a strange young man.
"I'm sure you didn't come over to discuss ferrets," I said.
"Oh, right, right. I apologize. All these memories came back to me—I hadn't realized how much I missed my poor pet ferret. Do you mind if I walk over to the neighbor with you when you go to get your cat?"
Was he for real?
Did he sense my disapproval? He fidgeted in the chair, adjusted his tie. "I came to talk to you about the…um…incident with the Mercedes."
Nooo. "The Mercedes belongs to Larry." I kept my eyes on the poor guy. He must be new at this. Maybe he should have become a veterinarian instead of a lawyer—he seemed a lot more at ease discussing ferrets than pending lawsuits.
"Yes, that's true, but since you were the driver when the concrete fell—I mean—dropped, and perhaps you suffered mentally if not physically…" He was obviously trying to remember what he must have been instructed to say.
Time to cut short the misery.
"Logan, look, I understand you're doing your job, either you represent one of the young fools or the insurance company. I don't know which, and frankly it doesn't matter. You need to come back when Larry is around, or you can contact him directly. I trust his decisions. Okay? By the way, we already spoke to a lawyer, Patrick Smith? Yes, I'm pretty sure that's the name. So why this unexpected visit? Did your father send you?"
He opened his mouth, changed his mind, and shrugged. "No, nothing to do with my father or with Smith. I'm with a different law firm. We represent the other two boys—the unfortunate plane passengers that eve—"
I shook my head and rolled my eyes; he may not be a skilled lawyer yet, but he could play the sympathy tune pretty good. Must have something to do with his age. Chances were that his own failed teen adventures were still quite vivid in his mind.
"Save the sad story for Larry. Come on—let's go see what Flash and Lucy are up to. And Logan, it's nothing personal. I think you're a nice young man. You'll be fine."
I figured he was probably only a year or two younger than my son, who wasn't a lawyer, but who had played one years ago in one of his movies. That was the year I met Larry, if I remembered correctly. How time flies while heat parches your skin and splits the ends of your hair. Damn.
I opened the front door, and it felt like stepping into a pizza oven on football night. Nothing moved in Vivian's patio. Logan inspected the Plexiglas sealing the wrought iron gate.
"Clever," he mumbled. "Very clever. Had I had something like this, my ferret would never have run away."
As tempted as I was to ask about his ferret, I called out to my cat instead. "Flaaash, here kitty." Nothing. "Maybe I was wrong. Maybe my two-timing cat went looking for company somewhere else."
What now? Where should I look?
"Woo-hoo." Vivian stood by her front door wearing another pastel caftan. She looked older than ever, but her hair appeared perfectly done. She waved us in. "Hi, neighbor, your cat is here. I couldn't let Lucy out—ferrets don't handle the heat well. And who is your young friend? Come on in—don't be shy."
Why was she so perky when she looked so tired? Before I could reply, Logan unlocked the gate and pushed it open. I could see my meandering pet peeking from behind the fluttering edge of Vivian's caftan. That rascal. We ended up in Vivian's living room, and she graciously offered iced tea.
Iced tea? Why didn't I think of that? Probably because I was a confirmed coffee drinker like most Italians.
No one paid much attention to me. Logan was all oohs and aahs about Lucy. Flash avoided me with a great display of disdain. And Vivian seemed thrilled to have found a young man genuinely interested in ferrets.
I made myself at home and studied the ferret, the owner, and the surroundings. Regardless of what anyone may have told me, Lucy did look like a big rat with a fancy tail. I never heard the thing make a single sound. How odd.
"Vivian, how come the ferret is so quiet? Is she mute?"
"No, she isn't! What a mean thing to say! She makes plenty of noises when she plays with your cat." The woman darted some ugly looks at me.
My question was innocent. "I didn't mean it the way you think. I know absolutely nothing about ferrets. I'm honestly trying to educate myself. Sorry if I offended you. I think I'll let you two talk, and I'll be going home. Come on, Flash, let's go." I grabbed my cat before she could leap over the sofa and disappear in some back room. I had to fin
d a way to keep her in the house. "Say hello to your dad for me, Logan." I left.
I locked the neighbor's gate very carefully behind me and headed to my place carrying Flash, who wasn't happy about it and who didn't mind letting me know.
I cleared the corner and nearly collided with a short man wearing a frayed straw hat. The hat covered part of his face, and I couldn't see his eyes. He was shabbily dressed. The long-sleeved shirt seemed odd in this heat. The Hat Man carried something, and he turned his back to me and started the motor of the thing. Oh, the gardener, with a leaf blower. Must be the same yardman Vivian had greeted the other day.
Why did he make me so nervous?
Silly me. I needed to get out, find something interesting to do with my time. Maybe I could go to a matinee, away from the sun and the neighbor. Good idea. I closed my gate.
"As for you, Miss Flash, you are now grounded. Even Kyle is mad at me and all because of you."
The minute I let her go she darted into the bedroom and disappeared under the bed with a loud meow.
The movie idea was losing its appeal, mostly because I had no idea where to find a movie theater, and even if I did, I didn't know what feature was being shown. And just like that I started to feel sorry for myself. Not a good sign.
Enough.
I grabbed my purse, the keys to my Mustang, and a bottle of water, and I left. I didn't even bother to put on lipstick. I had the feeling the only useful beauty product in this hellish town would be sunscreen.
I made a mental note to find a drugstore.
Was Logan Thompson still visiting with Vivian Kurtis? Not that I cared. They were both strange human beings, both ferret-lovers. How about that? Coincidence? I wasn't too fond of coincidences.
I had my answer when I arrived at the parking area reserved for guests. A white Lexus was parked next to my Mustang. I was willing to bet that was Logan's vehicle.
After sitting in the full sun for two days my poor Mustang felt like a hot branding iron.
"Ouch, ouch."
I sat on the leather seat and scorched the skin on the back of my legs. I was probably going to get blisters.
Murder Under the Desert Moon Page 5