"A distant relative who was mentioned in the will has never been located. He may not even live in the United States. I only met the grandmother a few times. An interpreter was present when the grandmother was questioned. She looked like a sad, life-worn, sweet grandma. Miguel was her whole life. He would be there for her in her old age like she had been there for him since he was a little kid.
"Imagine the misery of those two souls, the grandmother trapped in her one-bedroom apartment, failing health, broken heart. All the years she'd spent protecting this child she loved more than anything in the world, and now that he needed help she found herself incapable, powerless against the system. And Miguel, confined in his own hell, fighting for his life, defending himself against forces way more ruthless and destructive than anything he'd ever experienced in his short life. How they'd both made it that far is a testament to their inner strength and their unconditional love.
"The grandmother died in her sleep, her heart probably. Miguel never gave up. He spent his time studying and praying and constantly professing his innocence. Do you realize in all these years he has been incarcerated he never, ever had a visitor? I mean a relative or a friend."
Larry's torment was real, his voice a mix of sorrow and frustration. It reminded me of a year ago in Innsbruck when he tried so hard to help his daughter, Olivia. She didn't let him. It was her way of punishing him for not allowing her to go on with her irresponsible behavior. This time his frustration was aimed at himself for not fighting harder to prove Miguel Carillo's innocence. Luckily, life just handed him another chance.
"Dennis told me the Innocence Free Project theory is that the person who killed Anton Hasan and the mysterious benefactor are the same person."
"That makes a lot of sense. Doesn't it?"
"Maybe, but a theory isn't going to set Miguel free. And if the name on the sheet of paper was meant to help find that person, then the theory of killer and benefactor being one and the same no longer holds up."
"What name? Oh, you mean the envelope that contained someone's name. Who? Do you know who it is?" I was getting more emotionally involved than I should have. Unlike Larry, I had trouble keeping other people's stories from overtaking my daily life.
Suddenly, I remembered Kyle. I never did call him back. "Oh, God. I forgot. Kyle called this morning."
Larry squeezed my arm. "He called me too. I'm not sure he believes the reason you're here." He chuckled. "He thinks one of us bribed your cat."
"I'll call him in the morning. Bribe the cat—the kid is totally clueless. Larry, you never answered my question. Whose name was on the paper?"
"The name of some small time crook, a foreigner. Meant nothing to me, but Dennis said the name had been brought up at the time of the murder because Hasan and this Valeri knew each other and had butted heads, so to speak, back in Europe.
"It seemed like too much of a coincidence that they would both be in California at the same time, a long way from home. But the police were never able to locate Valeri. If indeed he was in the country, he left before anyone started asking questions. Plus, having someone already in custody has a way of slowing any sense of urgency."
"Valeri? What kind of name is that? Sounds like the brand of a car."
"The man was from Georgia, the country, not the state."
"Wait, wasn't the dead man from Armenia? This is so bizarre. How far is Armenia from that other place, Georgia? And the two of them knew each other? What were they doing in California?"
"Sweetie, slow down. To us it seemed like they were from the same place, but the two countries are quite different. Plus we are talking, what, eighteen, twenty years ago? Just about the time the Soviet Union was splitting up. If I remember correctly there was a lot of civil unrest going on in these countries. We don't know for sure if they ever were in California at the same time. Remember, Hasan's body was found in Arizona. He could have been killed anywhere and just dumped here after his death."
"What does Detective Devin think?"
He shrugged, gave me a half smile. "Don't know. It seems too…simplistic. I tend to believe both men were in California at the same time, and if there was bad blood between the two of them, well, they may have gotten into a fight and one killed the other. But without any witness? How? They weren't familiar with the town. They must have met in a public place.
"Hasan arrived by plane from London, entry verified by Customs, all legal. Not so for Valeri. There's no proof he was ever in the United States, just hearsay. So where did he come from? Mexico? Canada? Where was he headed to?
"But that's the theory we are going with. I'll have a chance to look at all the info painstakingly collected over the last two years by this hard-working group of young people. And I want them to succeed."
"If Carillo is innocent, then…the killer is still out there. Whoa, I didn't even think about that."
"Now, Lella, this has nothing to do with us, okay? I was a reluctant witness for the prosecution, unwillingly on the killer's side."
He looked exhausted, the exhaustion of a man trying so hard to right a wrong.
I collected the dishes and brought them into the kitchen. When I dropped the take-out containers into the trash something fell out. A fortune cookie. It suddenly seemed important that the fortune cookie forecast an auspicious omen. I split the cookie open and munched on it while reading the message:
"A ship in harbor is safe, but that is not why ships are built."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I will go to the pool.
I had been repeating it to myself since Larry left for another day of meetings with Dennis and other people involved with the retrial. With the original prosecutor, now retired and in poor health, a lot of the old paperwork was being re-examined.
But, oh, damn, I had to clean Flash's litter box first. Flash had been hiding and totally ignoring me since I'd brought her back from the neighbor's place two days earlier. Too bad. I didn't know if the cat litter should go out with the rest of the garbage or not. I would take a chance.
My cat must have been eating at night, while we slept. The coward. Either that or a ghost liked gourmet tuna and turkey giblets in a can, a pooping ghost, judging by the stinky litter box. Phew! The first litter box cleaning in Phoenix, Arizona. Yippee…the thrill of it.
I bagged everything and wore a long cotton shirt over my bathing suit, my hat in one hand and a large bag with sunscreen, water bottle, tissues, phone, and a towel in the other.
"Bye Flash—Mommy is going to the pool."
Nothing.
I locked up and left. I had to walk by the neighbor's patio to get to the trash bin. I moved fast, without looking in that direction, hoping Vivian wouldn't call out to me. She didn't. Good. I quickly unloaded the garbage, and then made a large loop toward the pool through the guest parking lot.
Brilliant. I congratulated myself, then hated myself, for being so petty. Vivian was probably a lonely soul. After all, how many meaningful conversations can you have with a one-pound ferret?
The pool area was deserted. The vibrant blue water filling the pool was clear and inviting. I made myself at home, spread the towel on the most visually inviting lounger, and tilted the nearest umbrella so that only my legs would be exposed to the full sun.
Perfect. Maybe. The phone chimed. Of course. I dug deep into the bag, the sunscreen on my hands rubbing off onto everywhere I touched. Maledizione.
"Hello."
"Mom? You sound…pissed at the world."
Ouch. Kyle. "Ah-ha." I tried to laugh it off. "I'm not. I'm at the pool. Might as well enjoy it while I can."
"Why? What's wrong with Doheny Beach?"
"Nothing except for the small detail that it's in Southern California and I'm in Phoenix, Arizona."
"True. You are, you are." Silence.
Uh-oh. Something was up. I knew my son well enough to recognize when he was warming up for some serious request or announcement. Which one would it be? I waited.
"I'm thinking of stopping by your
place to make sure everything is okay, since you took off in a hurry and all that."
"Great, that's so nice of you. When you get there call me, and I may have you water a few plants—if you don't mind."
"I don't mind. I have a couple of days off—I might drive over your way."
"My way? What way? Here or there?"
"Hey, it sounds like a song, here or there?"
I had a funny feeling about this conversation. So much for relaxing by the pool.
"I'm talking about Arizona," he said.
"Oh."
"Mom, remember Audrey?"
"Audrey…Hepburn? The actress?"
I heard him snicker. "No, no. Audrey Bernard. Your neighbor, remember?"
"The name sounds familiar. Is that why you're going by the house? Because of my neighbor?"
He sighed, and I sensed his frustration. "She was your neighbor, Mom. She moved back to Parker. Don't you remember?"
"Oh, yes, there was a little boy. What was his name? David. His name was David. He liked to hang around my front door. Strange little thing."
"Yes. That's them. Well, she called me. Can you imagine? She kept my phone number all these years, and she happened to call from Arizona at the same time that my mom's there. How about that?"
"Yeah, I was going to say the same thing. Keep in mind, Parker is closer to California than to Phoenix. And then, you two only spoke, what, once? Four or five years ago?"
"I forgot, my mom, Miss Negativity." Long sigh. "She isn't in Parker. She's in Sedona, and I always wanted to visit that place. Lots of show business people have homes in Sedona and—"
"Sure, the retired and broke show business people." Damn, my son was right. I was Miss Negativity. "Sorry, don't pay any attention to me. I'm bored and annoyed because I should be doing something different, like going to Sedona or some other places of interest. Instead, yesterday it was the mall and today it's the pool. Plus, Larry is pretty concerned about this trial or whatever it's called. I'm just not good company. Wait, I need to move my legs before I burn."
"You're using sunscreen, right?"
"I was trying to, when you called!" I didn't mean it that way. Good Lella.
"Well carry on, dear mamma. I'll let you know if I decide to take my Porsche for a spin in the desert." He hung up.
How about that, now my cat and my son were upset with me. Too bad. I was determined to get a tan on my legs. I found the sunscreen and resumed the task Kyle had interrupted.
I heard shuffling and giggling, and sure enough, a child was at the pool gate, waiting. A little girl with a hot pink bathing suit, pigtails, and enormous yellow goggles. Must be the same one I'd seen yesterday. A very pregnant woman followed close behind. She pulled a red wagon filled with towels, toys, and what looked like large bags of snacks. When she reached the gate she unlocked it and let the little girl in.
The child ran to the table next to mine. She lost a flip-flop while running, stopped, picked it up, and rushed to one of the sun loungers, plopping herself down. "Mine, mine."
The pregnant woman, who I assumed was the mother, walked slowly, dragging the little wagon. She noticed me, nodded, and smiled.
"Hurry, Mommy, hurry," whined the pink suit.
Was I ever thankful I didn't have little ones to care for. It must be exhausting. Poor woman—pregnant, with a pain-in-the-butt kid and in this heat, I sure didn't envy her. Apparently the child wanted the floaties strapped to her arms so she could get into the water.
The mother was searching through the stuff in the wagon. "Emily, be patient—I'm looking."
Emily, what a nice, old-fashioned name. I had an aunt named Emily, from my mother's side. Zia Emilia. Why was I thinking about that now? I lowered the hat over my forehead and closed my eyes. The last thing I wanted was to start a conversation with strangers. Too bad I didn't bring along some reading material, like—the ferret book. I smiled at the idea.
Mrs. Preggers must have assumed I smiled at her. "Hope Emily isn't annoying you. She'll stop fretting once she's in the water."
"It's okay, really."
The instant Emily had her pink floaties on she rushed to do a cannonball into the pool, in spite of her mother warning her not to. Water splashed all the way to my chair, but it was not a bad trick for such a little kid. I would never, ever have had the nerve to jump in like that, floaties or not.
What was I thinking? I didn't even know how to swim.
"Sorry," the mom said.
"Forget it. Kids."
I shrugged, dismissing the whole thing, but that was the opening she was probably looking for. She moved her chair ever so slightly in my direction.
"Are you visiting?" she asked.
"Um, sort of. I'm with a friend—he's here on business."
She nodded and drank from a large Styrofoam cup. "We're in-between houses."
In-between houses? I had a mental picture of this pregnant woman squeezed between two tall buildings. It must have shown on my face.
She laughed. "Sorry, I'm Susan, Susan Delgado. We flip homes and…you don't know what I'm talking about, do you?"
"Flip, like pancakes?" I handled an imaginary pan.
She laughed.
I got up from the lounger, stretched, and introduced myself, "Lella York, and I'm dying to find out how you manage to flip a house, pregnant and all." I sat on the chair next to her. I had a good view of Emily frolicking in the water and also of some of the condos on the other side of the pool. I didn't realize there were more units. The large trees shielded them from view.
"I gather you aren't from Phoenix? Flipping is pretty common here. We—my husband and I—buy homes in need of work. We rehab them and then sell them for a profit. We do about one a year. We closed the last rehab, and the house we'll be moving into isn't ready, so we're staying at the Camelview Suites in-between houses."
"Oh, you've stayed here before? You mean flipping houses is your official business? You make a living at it? It must be hard moving every twelve months, no?"
"It's fun when everything turns out just right. We own a large storage place where we keep our things so we can pick what works best for each house. I feel like I'm playing decorator, and we usually move before we need to repaint the walls or change curtains. You ought to try it."
"Oh, I'm too old for that. Plus, I live in a townhouse—it's a little different. I don't know how you manage to look so comfortable in this heat and…when is the happy event?" I pointed to her belly.
Emily called out, "Hi Rico. Wanna come swimming? We can play the Polo game."
Who was the child talking to? I looked around and noticed the man I had assumed was the yardman, long-sleeved shirt, straw hat—no leaf blower today. He stood outside the pool fence, smiling back at Emily. I still couldn't see his eyes, couldn't tell his age.
"That yard man sure spends a lot of time around here," I said to Susan.
"Rico? Oh, he's the caretaker. He lives here."
"Here? Where?"
She pointed toward the row of condos I'd just discovered. "I'm surprised you haven't met him yet. He takes care of the pool and the yard, and he sweeps the front patios. He's the one to call if your sink is plugged."
By the way she mentioned the sink, I had a feeling she'd already called Rico about that.
Emily was done swimming, so she came over and asked for a snack. I figured this was my cue to get out of there. I started to gather my things, wanting to make it back to the coolness of the condo before Kyle called back.
I felt hot and sticky, and the water in my bottle tasted like kettle water for tea. That's it, I would go back and make sun tea—the instructions were printed on the back of the tea box—then I could offer iced tea to visitors.
"It was nice meeting you, Susan. We'll be here for about another week. Maybe we'll run into each other again."
"Sure, or you can come by. We're in the end unit, the two-bedroom one." She pointed in the same direction Rico had gone. "We're so lucky it's off-season. There's always a waiting li
st during the winter months.
"I'm surprised the girls aren't around. One of the units is rented to a group of flight attendants year around. It's a two-bedroom like ours, and since they don't layover on the same days, there's a whole slew of them coming and going. They can get pretty wild especially if their male coworkers show up. But it's been very quiet this past week.
"By the way, the baby is due end of August." She patted her belly, her eyes brimming with tenderness. "How about you? Where are you staying?" she asked.
"Oh, we're on the opposite side, also end unit, one bedroom and—"
"Oh, you mean you're next to Vivian Kurtis?"
"Yes, exactly. You know her?"
"Know her? Of course. She owns the whole place."
I looked at her, my mouth gaped open like a fish on a hook. My kooky neighbor owned Camelview Suites.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Four tea bags and two quarts of water in a glass container. Let it sit in full sun for up to four hours. I could do that. No problem.
I rummaged through the kitchen, finding plenty of pots and pans, even plastic containers, but except for drinking glasses there wasn't much glass around. Too bad. I was determined to make sun tea, and I wasn't going to give up. Even a vase would do. Clear glass, it could be washed and dried. After all, vases were for flowers, and I intended to make tea. Flowers and tea both belonged to the plant world. So?
I kept opening and closing cabinets and drawers so much that Flash came out of hiding to see what I was up to. Thank God the kitchen was opposite to the wall we shared with Vivian's place. I still couldn't get used to the fact that she was…our landlady.
Wait until I tell Larry.
I found a clear glass vase in the cabinet on which the television stood. Maybe the previous guests had had a birthday or anniversary and received flowers. By the time they moved out, the flowers had probably wilted, and they'd forgotten about the vase.
Good for me.
I soaked it in hot soapy water until I was sure it was clean and germ free. I followed the instructions, and soon my sun tea was brewing in the sun, on top of the patio table. Too close to the tree…what if a leaf fell or a bird…I couldn't even think about that. I had to put a lid on it or some kind of cover.
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