Murder Under the Desert Moon

by Maria Grazia Swan

  What now?

  I wasn't going to let such a small detail stop me. Using some aluminum foil I fashioned a lid for my sun tea container and put it on nice and tight, then went back into the house to sit by the window and admire my great accomplishment. Flash joined me for about five minutes, but must have gotten bored, so she went to eat as if she was starving.

  I remembered that I hadn't eaten a thing since my morning yogurt. Back into the kitchen, this time to feed myself. A whole shelf was taken up by cat food, for that ingrate pet of mine, who was busy grooming herself.

  "Hoping to go visit your best friend?" I asked. "Forget about it."

  Flash kept on licking and wiping as if I didn't even exist.

  We didn't have much of anything in the pantry. It was never my intention to get settled in. That sounded like such an unromantic statement. Nothing beats spontaneity when it comes to relationships. With that in mind I decided to settle for some leftover Chinese. The only thing I didn't throw out the evening before was a lonely egg roll. I popped it in the microwave.

  Kyle called as I took the first bite.

  "I'm here. What plant do you want watered?"

  "Oh, good. I'd be happy if you could take care of the two geraniums outside on the patio. I never let the gardener touch my plotted plants, and since I'm not sure when I'll be back…this way I won't have to worry about it. The rest of the plants will be fine."

  "When I'm done I'm hitting the I-5 and heading to Arizona."

  "With the way you drive you should be in Phoenix by evening." I was getting excited at the idea of Kyle's visit. "Do you want me to see if there's a suite available here? How long are you staying?"

  "Whoa, no, no. I'm not coming to Phoenix. I'm heading to Sedona."

  "Sedona? First of all, I'm pretty sure you have to drive through here to get there, and second, I mean…you haven't really spoken to or seen this woman in like five years, and you jump in your car and rush over because of a phone call?"

  "Mom, we've been chatting, and besides, what's the big deal?"

  "Chatting?"

  "Yes, I'll explain it to you the next time I see you. You need to get up to speed with computers and things. Maybe Larry should get you a new cell phone."

  "I can get my own new phone if I want, thank you very much. I can't believe you're driving all the way to Arizona and not stopping to say hello to your mom."

  "Come on—don't start the 'poor mom' song. I had dinner with you, what, ten days ago? And I didn't say I'm not going to stop by Phoenix for sure. I like to have options, but right now I want to hit the road. Ciao."

  Well, that went well. Might as well take a shower, get dressed, and go grocery shopping.

  I was in the mood to pack up and go home. What did Larry want me here for anyhow? He was never around. I sat on the sofa and found myself staring at the blank wall like Vivian and Larry had done before me. The seat must be cursed. I got up and went to turn on the shower.

  The idea of walking outside and getting into my hot Mustang wasn't appealing. Although I'd deployed the silver windshield shade-maker, newly purchased, I was dubious it would make a difference. Oh, and a towel to sit on. This was ridiculous, twenty minutes planning for a quick trip to the store.

  I thought of that poor pregnant Susan and wondered what she had to pack to go anywhere in this town during the summer months.

  That reminded me of my tea. I walked to the window with Flash in tow, no doubt hoping to find her way out of the house. The water in the vase had just started to change color—it looked an anemic yellow. I had plenty of time to go shopping and get back here before that would even begin to look like tea.

  A couple of lemons could come in handy. What else? Crumpets? Get a grip, Lella. This isn't the time or place to play lady-of-the-manor. Flash rubbed against my ankle.

  "Sorry, Flash, I can't let you out—you're spending more time at the neighbors than here."

  Flash and Kyle. Who would be next?

  I grabbed my purse, checked myself in the mirror to make sure I looked modest without having to smolder in my clothes. How do people manage? Vivian had the perfect solution, light, breezy caftans. You hardly needed undergarments with a caftan, and it can go from the washing machine to the dryer to the closet.

  I opened the front door, watching out for my sneaky cat. All clear, then—no, no. A brown furry thing was on the patio table, busy ripping off the foil lid I'd made for the tea. A ferret? Maledizione. I threw my purse at it, missed it, but hit the glass vase. It tipped over and began to roll, water spilling out. I ran, screaming, and caught the glass container just before it spun over the edge. The furry creature scampered up a tree and disappeared.

  What a disaster! I had yellow water spots all over my open-toed sandals, which now looked like my cat had peed on them. Where was the cat? Up the tree, too? I didn't know. My front door was wide open, and I stood there looking at the soggy tea bags stuck to the inside of the vase.

  Well, scratch the lemons from my shopping list.

  "Is everything all right?" An English-accented male voice came from the wall separating our patio from Vivian's. I looked up, and a man in his forties with black hair and tanned skin looked at me. He had to be standing on something—he couldn't be that tall.

  Of course, everyone to me was tall. It's part of the short person's perception in general. It doesn't matter how old you are, you always feel shorter than the rest of the world.

  "All right? No. Look at the mess that ferret made." I pointed to the empty vase and the ripped foil.

  "Mrs. York, that wasn't a ferret. It was a squirrel."

  He knew my name? Who was he, and what was he doing on my neighbor's patio?

  "You're sure? You saw it?"

  He shook his head, still looking down at me from his perch. "Had you read your book you would know ferrets cannot survive temperatures over ninety degrees and they're strictly carnivores. And they don't live in trees."

  I blushed. He knew about the book Vivian gave me?

  "We have a few squirrels. They nest on the roofs, and they have been known to steal food, but I assume the shiny foil attracted the squirrel's attention. I doubt it will be back. Squirrels are known to have excellent hearing." He smiled.

  Was he poking fun at me and my screaming? I couldn't hold my tongue any longer.

  "Who are you? Have we met?" As I said that I glimpsed his long-sleeved shirt. Damn. Rico, the caretaker. I felt mortified. I didn't wait for his answer. "Uh, better get going."

  I looked around to see if Flash was anywhere near.

  "Your cat is here—she's inside playing with Lucy." He waited.

  Another mind reader? What now? Did I want to go over to get my cat? Not really. All I wanted was to disappear and like in Groundhog Day get a chance to relive my day in a more positive way.

  "If she isn't a burden, I'll get Flash on my way back from the grocery store. You think Mrs. Kurtis would mind?"

  He shook his head. "That would be fine. Mrs. Kurtis is resting. The heat is not her friend. I'll see you later, then. Don't be concerned about Flash. I like cats—and ferrets." And with that he disappeared from view.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  I cooked. It was my way of unwinding.

  I refused to check on Larry's schedule or Kyle's itinerary. Instead, I put some chicken breasts and rosemary potatoes to roast in the oven. The aroma of the food roasting slowly filled the compact kitchen and made me feel like I'd accomplished something worthwhile. Plus, that was the kind of dinner that could keep. All I had to do was cover it with foil after I turned off the oven, and it would stay warm and moist for hours in case either of the men in my life decided to show up.

  I poured myself some Pinot Grigio and sat on the sofa to give a glance at the famous book about ferrets. But my mind wandered…

  How come Rico, the yardman who spoke better English than I did, knew so much about Vivian and me? She obviously was his employer, if she was the landlady and he was the caretaker…unless he was a husband or
a business partner.

  When I'd stopped by her place to get Flash, Rico had opened the door ever so slightly so that I couldn't see much inside. The room appeared dark in the fading sunlight. He handed me a loudly objecting Flash, nodded politely, and quickly closed the door.

  Very strange.

  Could they be lovers? He seemed at least ten years younger than she. That didn't mean much, especially if she had a lot more money than he did.

  Oh, God, when did I become so cynical?

  Nothing to do but worry. My specialty. I needed to find something to occupy my mind, something positive. I couldn't just sit there waiting for a phone call from either Larry or Kyle, and I wasn't going to call them. I was through being needy. Okay, maybe I was needy, but I didn't have to act on it.

  Flash jumped on the sofa and snuggled against me. Well, that was a nice change of attitude. I scratched her ears; she purred.

  "What do you say? Should we see what's going on around the world? I'll bet the news is on."

  I grabbed the remote and turned on a local channel. That was another difference between California and Arizona: the late evening news came on at 10:00 here, while it was on at 11:00 in California.

  The glass of wine wasn't helping my mood—it made me feel even more lonely. It was just after 6:00. The local news was in progress. What did I miss? Did I really care?

  Suddenly a name caught my attention: Anton Hasan. That was the name of the murdered man Carillo was serving time for. I raised the volume.

  "In a strange twist of fate…" The newscaster was a lovely woman with long dark hair and an interesting mixed-race face, so exotic looking. "…today, the day the start date for Michael Carillo's retrial is being announced, would have been the fifty-ninth birthday of Anton Hasan, the victim."

  God! Life must be a vengeful bitch. Might as well brand Michael Carillo's forehead. Talk about bad timing, out of the three hundred and sixty-five days in a year? Damn.

  I heard the front door being unlocked. Larry. I turned off the television and went to greet him. He looked drained. I promised myself not to mention what I'd just heard on the news and not to ask possibly painful questions.

  After handing him a glass of wine, I announced dinner would be served in five minutes. He kissed my cheek and disappeared into the bedroom. When he reappeared he'd changed from shirt and tie into a polo shirt, and he was barefoot.

  "Do you mind?" he asked. "I like feeling the coolness of the floor against my feet. It has been a long, long day."

  "You're fine. Let's eat. I've had hardly any food all day but my legs are tan…sort of."

  "Lella, you went swimming. Good for you."

  I cleared my throat. "I went to the pool. Met a neighbor. Let me get you up to speed."

  I gave him the short version of my day, starting with Kyle's first phone call, ending with his last, and mentioning everything in between except for the five minutes of news I'd seen before he came home.

  He didn't talk much, but made appropriate sounds between chewing and looked at me with what I would definitely call an attentive attitude.

  "And with all that you still managed to cook this wonderful meal. Thank you. You have no idea how much it meant to me to find you here, waiting for me after a day like today. I tell you I don't know how lawyers can do what they do. I guess it's different if you know for sure your client is guilty. Then you can justify the sentencing as a just punishment. But, I mean, they work with people for months, maybe years, so they can't avoid forming some kind of a bond."

  He sipped his wine and attempted a smile.

  "So our ferret-loving neighbor is also our filthy rich landlady, how about that? Dennis's son had lunch with us today; he spoke with great enthusiasm about Mrs. Kurtis. She inherited the property from her parents.

  "According to Logan, the parents were refugees from Hungary, and when they fled Budapest during the Hungarian Uprising, her mother had just found out she was pregnant. They were able to bribe the right people so they arrived in the United States a few weeks before Vivian's birth. That, of course, helped push through the parents' request for asylum.

  "Oh, another thing I learned from Logan, Vivian's family had ferrets in Europe and supposedly kept ferrets here, in the United States. That would explain Vivian's strong attachment to her pet—she reminds her of her childhood."

  He seemed to wait for my reaction, then changed the subject. "I'm getting a new Mercedes, courtesy of the wannabe pilot's dad. And we'll need to discuss what would make you happy, dollar-wise I mean."

  "Larry, I don't want to talk money right now. You don't find it strange that the caretaker man, you know, Rico, is acting like he lives next door, or something?"

  "Maybe he does. Why's that bothering you?"

  "I don't know—there's something about the man that creeps me out. I can't quite explain it. He even knew that Vivian gave me the book about ferrets."

  Larry reached over and stroked my hand. "I've never seen this man so it's hard for me to give you an opinion. But he creeps you out? That's a pretty strong statement. I need to spend more time with you. I feel terrible about the way this is turning out, not as I'd anticipated at all." He fidgeted with his glass. "I'm setting the phone on mute and will not take phone calls unless it's from family."

  "Well, I'm keeping my phone on. I don't want to take a chance of missing Kyle's call."

  He gave me a furtive glance, but said nothing.

  Did he talk to Kyle? Did he know something I didn't? Don't go there, Lella.

  "I have an idea," he said.

  "Oh."

  Was he sensing the instant rejection forming in my mind?

  He got up from the chair, walked over to my side of the table, and whispered into my ear, "There's going to be a full moon tonight—let's go to the pool, skinny-dipping."

  I shook my head no.

  He wasn't giving up. "Okay then, I swim, and you sit and pretend to love every minute of it. Or we can bring along a drink and sit in the spa for a while? Yes?"

  I sighed. "Okay, but I need to do the dishes."

  He didn't let me finish. He started to clear the table. Whoa, for a man who hired help for everything domestic, he wasn't half bad.

  Twenty minutes later, after making sure our highly insulted cat was settled in the house, we walked out. I convinced Larry to take the long way to the pool, but I didn't confess that I was dying to snoop on our neighbor. We strolled by her patio, and all seemed dark and quiet. No Rico. Darn.

  Next, I dragged poor Larry through the guest parking lot where we were almost stampeded by a group of giggling women, three to be exact, wearing the same uniforms and pulling carry-on suitcases on wheels. The flight attendants had arrived. Let the party begin!

  The pool area was as quiet as Vivian's patio, and as dark. Fortunately, Larry found the switch for the underwater pool lights, and it was quite a sight, all lit up and shimmering.

  "What happened to the full moon you promised me?" I asked.

  "Patience, my dear, patience." He removed his shirt and dove into the water wearing his black Gucci swimming trunks.

  I sat comfortably in the same lounger I'd occupied earlier, and I couldn't stop smiling. Even the heat was forgotten. If I felt hot I could sit on the edge of the pool and splash in the water.

  Larry swam laps, back and forth, back and forth, with the intensity and determination of someone swimming to get to a distant shore. It looked so effortless that it made me wish I could join him. Maybe I should have tried harder when Mom sent me to swimming lessons?

  Faint engine sounds came from Camelback Road, but all and all it was a perfect evening.

  Until…

  The first sound that broke the silence came in the most unexpected way. Fingernails scraping on a blackboard? Make that a giant dinosaur's nails lacerating a blackboard the size of a football field.

  "What the hell was that?" Larry held on to the edge of the pool and looked quite perplexed, not an expression he displayed often.

  "I'm guessing
it's party time at the flight attendants' place? Susan said they tended to get wild especially if their male co-workers stopped by."

  "Wild women? Susan? Who's Susan? Oh, oh, got it. The expectant mother of Emily. See? I was paying attention."

  Now the noise changed into sounds, pleasant sounds. Yes, sounds of music and laughter. And just like that the clouds parted, and the moon appeared in all its distant splendor.

  A night to remember.

  All the surroundings put on a layer of moonlight for our personal pleasure. Larry seemed relaxed and now swam on his back with light strokes, barely rippling the water's surface. Next, we would sit in the spa and simmer in hot water.

  Better be prepared and not be a party-pooper. "Be right back," I said to Larry.

  I got up and walked toward the building with the bathrooms and showers. I found the door, but it was locked. I assumed the key we used for the pool gate would work there too, so I went to get the keys Larry had left on the table next to his drink in a plastic glass. He was still floating, eyes closed. The stress of the day letting go of him?

  The party at the girls' condo seemed to heat up, and I could tell there was at least one man in the mix. I quietly walked back to the bathroom door, trying not to disturb Larry's temporary state of bliss. But while the key seemed to be a perfect fit, the lock wouldn't budge. Suddenly it was very important that I used the bathroom.

  Damn.

  Maybe there was another way in, like at rest areas on the freeways, one door to go in and one to get out. Yes, made sense. I headed to the back of the building only to find myself in a very dark place. I've never been the daring type so this dark space between two squat buildings gave me the willies. I remembered noticing the second building when I'd walked by the pool the first time—it looked like some storage place. Maybe they kept the pool equipment and gardening tools in there?

  Whatever, I was done searching for bathrooms.