Murder Under the Desert Moon

by Maria Grazia Swan

  "He's probably busy bang—I mean—"

  "I know what you mean, and I'm sure you're right, but he has to eat and…never mind. He's a big boy. At least he texted me."

  "Lella, did you say texted?"

  "Yes, he was answering my text."

  I felt pretty smug saying that. I had yet to tell him about my new friend, Shannon, who was my age but knew a lot more than I did about smartphones and probably a lot of other things too. I was still digging in my purse for the phone when it chimed, and lo and behold, it was Kyle.

  "Hi, Mom. What you doing?" He didn't sound too happy.

  "Going back to our place. We just had dinner at this beautiful restaurant—it's round, and it moves. You would love it."

  "Maybe so, but I'm driving back, already on the road."

  "Kyle, it's dark, and it's late. You should really stop by our place. I can make you a cozy sleeping—"

  "I'm on my way to Vegas."

  Noooo. Oh, my God. Was he going to marry that girl he hardly knew?

  "Mom?"

  "Yes?" I felt like I'd swallowed a frog, and I sounded like that too.

  "What happened, you—no. You think I'm going to Vegas to get married, don't you?" He laughed.

  I kept quiet because he was right. Larry glanced at me and at the phone. He shook his head questioningly.

  "Mother, I'm not getting married. Do you have any idea how little faith you have in my common sense? No, I'm meeting some friends who're playing in a poker tournament. I thought maybe Larry might like to join us?"

  I didn't say a word and handed Larry the phone. For the next twenty minutes I listened to the two men in my life discuss the latest innovations in the motor world in general and German cars in particular. After that, they said good night, and Larry returned the phone to me.

  "I don't think you have to worry about Kyle and—what's her name again? Audrey. He never mentioned her once. I doubt he intends on seeing her again."

  "Oh, is that the way you behave?"

  "I won't call that behaving, and this isn't about me. It's just the way men are, in general. How about women?" He gave me a sideways glance.

  "Speaking of women, I met one very interesting one today." I told him a short version of my meeting with Shannon, leaving out the part about the smartphone. "So tomorrow we'll go visit Vivian, and I'll take my new phone with me and maybe take pictures and all that. Okay?"

  He squeezed my knee with such enthusiasm I felt like I was really helping what I liked to call the investigation.

  I was in bed and almost asleep when I realized I had no idea what unit Shannon was in, nor did I know her phone number. Well, I hoped she would keep her word and come get me so we could call on my neighbor. Then it dawned on me that Shannon had never mentioned Rico. If she had been friends with Vivian for such a long time, and even knew of Lucy, how could she not be aware of the strange relationship between Vivian and Rico? Caretaker? Ha!

  Larry left in the morning, promising me he would take me along when he visited the Mercedes dealership. This had started out as a one-week trip to Arizona, but now it seemed to have taken on a life of its own. What was really going on? A week or not, it was time to do a little house cleaning before Shannon showed up. I went to get the vacuum from the walk-in closet.

  By noon I'd decided that maybe Shannon had changed her mind. I made myself a sandwich, and ten minutes later there was a knock at the door. The woman knew how to dress for the weather. She wore a white crinkled cotton dress that didn't bind her anywhere, and a wide-rim white raffia hat. I had an aunt in Italy who always wore similar hats. I found them very elegant.

  "Your place looks very nice," Shannon said.

  "Don't all the units look alike?"

  She shrugged. "Not sure. I don't go snooping around, plus, most people don't stay long enough to start a conversation let alone a friendship."

  We were friends?

  Flash came out from under the bed long enough to sniff around, then went back into hiding.

  "So that's Lucy friend? How about that, a black cat and a white ferret. We ought to take a picture of them playing. What a striking combination."

  Twenty minutes later we—I mean Shannon—was knocking on Vivian's door.

  We waited for what seemed like forever. Then Rico opened the door. I felt Shannon's body stiffen, and without actually budging her feet, she pulled back. A spontaneous reaction? Did they know each other? I was behind Shannon. I could only interpret her body language, but I could see Rico's face, and for someone who always appeared phlegmatic, the furious twitching of his eyelids was a sure sign of stress.

  Why?

  "Hello," Shannon's voice was as smooth as sand through an hourglass. "We're here to say hello to Vivian."

  Silence lingered.

  After what I considered an eternity, Rico, whose hand never left the door handle, and whose feet never stepped off the threshold, said, "I'm sorry—Mrs. Kurtis is not well. Perhaps you could come back some other time."

  Mrs. Kurtis? What happened to plain Vivian?

  "Too bad." Shannon let out a sigh. "Come on, Lella—let's go explore Carefree." She turned around, grabbed my arm, and we left.

  "Shannon, if we're going somewhere I need my purse and my water and—"

  "Sure, no problem—get them, and then I'll drive you to Carefree so you can see what Arizona was like before the so-called civilization smothered Mother Nature."

  I was still too stunned by what I'd just witnessed next door to object to anything. What in the hell was going on? And Shannon seemed to be in a hurry to get far away from the Camelview Suites. The short time that it took me to gather my things she stood by the front door. I had to remind her to make sure Flash didn't get out.

  We settled in her Jeep Cherokee. It smelled of new car. I didn't see the back of it, didn't know if it had Arizona plates. Of course she could have rented it. I had to say something, something about Rico and Vivian. This anxiety felt worse than when going to confession as a teenager.

  "You know, it may be true that Vivian isn't feeling well. A few nights ago she was wandering around and—"

  "Wandering around? What do you mean? Was she lost?" Her concern rang true.

  "No, it was more like…" Ouch—I'd walked right into that one. "I think she had a little too much to drink and…well, we found her sitting on the ground, and she didn't make much sense, so we helped her home."

  "Who's we?" Her voice had a bite I didn't like.

  "My boyfriend and I, we were coming back from the pool." Mention Rico. Come on.

  "The pool," she repeated, her fingers drumming on the steering wheel. "The pool," she sighed. "Oh, well, we can try again in the morning. She may have slept it off by then."

  Suddenly she was the other Shannon, the friendly and carefree one taking me to Carefree. And she was not good at hiding her emotions, I thought.

  I knew we were driving north, and she was right, the vegetation had begun to change although we were still in an urban area. The houses became bigger and sparser, built in ways to blend in with the surroundings. No shopping malls, not even gas stations, just cacti and low shrubs, and Mesquite trees, but also boulders baking in the early afternoon sun.

  "You were right—this is quite different from everything I've seen so far. I mean, I drove through the desert to get here from California, but this desert is so much more…I don't know how to say it…groomed?"

  She laughed and slapped the steering wheel. "You're probably right. Big money owns the houses, celebrities. I'm confident the town of Carefree makes sure the beauty of the desert remains intact, at whatever cost. It's too hot to stop and walk around. Let's drive to the Spanish Village Shopping Center. I'm told there's an old-fashioned tea room that we shouldn't miss."

  "Oh, you've never been there before?"

  She didn't answer right away. Was she revisiting in her mind what she'd told me when we met, that she knew the town so well? Okay, to be fair, this was a different town.

  "No, not much of a t
ea drinker, but I like European sweets." She added, "When Vivian was still working, every time she flew through Los Angeles she made it a point of getting some Russian pastries for her dad. I forget the name of the shop, Max something. Well, it was part of a restaurant, then the restaurant closed, but the deli stayed open. And that was the only place she could find them. She was such a loyal customer that if she couldn't drive there to get them they would deliver them to her at the airport…I miss those times."

  After our tea, I decided to purchase some scones to take home. The place was decorated like an English tea parlor, and they had celebrations posted to mirror British holidays.

  We walked around and admired the sixty-plus-foot-tall sundial smack in the center of the so-called village, which was really a string of shops designed to resemble a small, quaint village from the past. I asked Shannon to take a picture of me by the sundial, and then I took one of her, for practice, I told her.

  By the time we drove into the Camelview Suites' parking lot it was close to happy hour, and I didn't know if Larry was back already. In my hurry to get out of the car, I dropped the bottled water on the floor of the Jeep.

  "Oops, sorry." I bent down to get it and noticed a shiny, glossy brochure of…Carefree stuffed under the driver's seat, the kind tourists get when they visit a place for the first time.

  I headed up my path while Shannon took the way I'd used to get to the pool when avoiding Vivian's patio. Today I walked right by the patio and saw it was deserted.

  I'd just unlocked the low gate to our patio when I heard a pathetic "Meow." I glanced around, no cats. Flash was inside the house—that was the last thing I'd checked before Shannon had closed the front door behind me. Was there a new cat in the neighborhood?

  "Meow."

  Damn. It sounded like Flash, a distressed Flash. I put my purse on the patio table and opened the front door, calling out, "Flash, where are you? Mommy's home."

  The meowing that answered my call came from behind me. No, more like from above me. Oh, my God, Flash was up the tree where I'd watched the sun-tea-drinking squirrel disappear.

  "Flash, what are you doing up there? How did you get out? Can you come down baby?"

  Maybe Larry had stopped by the house and let her out? I hoped she could climb down on her own. She did, leaping from the branch, landing safely, and zipping past me into the house without giving me so much as a glance. I could hear my phone going off in my purse. I grabbed it and walked into the living room while answering.

  "Hello?" It was Larry. "I just got in. Did I miss you?"

  He laughed. "I don't know—did you?"

  "No, seriously. Did you come by while I was gone?"

  "No, not since I left this morning. Why? What's wrong? What happened?"

  Suddenly the whole place turned cold, cold as the granite slabs in Italian cemeteries.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Twenty minutes later Larry was home.

  When I heard the key turning in the lock, my heart leapt into my throat, until he called my name. He found me in the bedroom changing into something comfortable. A concerned look on his face told the story. Without much fanfare he took my hand and walked me into the bathroom and turned on the faucet.

  "Are you okay?" He hugged me for a very long time.

  While I loved the hugging part I wasn't sure why he was so worried.

  "Can we go grab something to eat and talk? I'll have to get someone over here to sweep for bugs," he said when he let me go.

  Whoa, this was serious. He was afraid someone had installed listening devices while I was gone? Maybe he knew something I didn't?

  I nodded yes, and went to put back on the dress I'd just taken off.

  We ended up at a place called the California Pizza Kitchen. I wondered if in California it was called Arizona Pizza Kitchen, but Larry was not in a laughing mood. We talked, and we ate, and the food was quite good. We had some wine, and we lingered.

  I showed him the picture I'd taken of Shannon, which he forwarded to his own phone. He even made notes about the Russian pastry shop. He was convinced he'd been there before. At some point I wanted answers from him.

  "Larry, I'm confused. What does all this have to do with Carillo? Or maybe I'm totally off and something else is bugging you. What is it? And when is this court date going to be? We've been here a week, give or take a day…"

  He held my hand and nodded, but no smile. I was willing to bet he carried around enough stress to get a bungee cord to snap.

  "You think that Vivian is tied in with this dead man, Hasan, don't you?" And as I said that I remembered the little detail I'd caught the day before from watching the news, the one about Anton Hasan's birthday. Damn.

  He felt my change of mood and tightened his grip. "You just thought of something." His eyes beamed into mine.

  Double damn. No escape. Now what?

  I told him. I tried to play it down, a lot. The whole conversation took the tone of conspiracy, secrecy. What was happening here? I felt guilty and had done nothing.

  "Certainly you don't think she killed him? And where does Rico fit in? What, she kills the Russian man, and Rico sets up his cousin for it?"

  Larry relaxed and sat back into the cozy booth we were in, but he didn't let go of my hand. "No, I don't think any of that, and Hasan wasn't Russian any more than Rico is from south of the border like Carillo."

  Oh?

  "One thing, though, if the Russian restaurant is the same one I'm thinking about, it's only a few miles from where Carillo claims to have found the guitar case. I need to make some phone calls."

  "Now? Here?"

  He looked around. "Not here, but tonight—don't want to do it from the condo either. Let me think. I can call from the car once we park in our assigned parking lot."

  "Great, in case someone comes by we can pretend we're making out." I must have had one glass of wine too many.

  He kissed the palm of my hand. "Pretend? Why pretend?" Larry winked at me and with his free hand motioned the waitress for the bill.

  We drove down Camelback Road. The evening was quite spectacular, not a cloud, and all the stars out and sparkling, paying homage to the full moon.

  "I've been thinking," Larry said, "it may be better if you go back to California. It's obvious that this heat affects you more than it should, and it's selfish of me to force you to stay here when I'm never home anyway." He patted my knee and waited.

  I played with the fingers of his hand and hummed. Let's see how long he's going to wait.

  "Lella, did you hear what I said?"

  "You mean about the heat and you never being home or the part about you forcing me to keep you company?"

  His hand on my knee tensed. I knew he was shooting me quick glances. I kept humming some silly tune about some saints marching in, and I looked at the streetlights as we zoomed by.

  "You're mocking me, aren't you?" he said.

  "Not any more than you're mocking me. I'll go back to California when I'm ready. And if you're concerned about the neighbors attacking me, forget it." I sighed. "I'm not a big fan of conspiracies."

  We'd just entered the front gate of the Camelview Suites. Larry parked in our assigned space and shut off the engine. Before I knew what was happening he'd reached over the center console, cupped my face in his hand and kissed me, sort of like the first time he did that, in Dana Point, when he was driving me home after dining out. The memories of it were so wonderful that they still gave me goose bumps. He said my name in the dark with that husky voice that set my heart on fast track. He was fiddling with the seat, trying to get it to recline when we heard voices.

  "Shush," he whispered in my ear. I could tell he didn't want to move so as to not give away our presence to whomever was out there.

  Two people stood close to each other. Lovers? I couldn't tell. They were clearly arguing, taking a few steps, stopping. Under the moonlight I could figure out their body movement was not of a loving or friendly nature. One was taller than the other. They moved away
from where we were parked, toward my favorite path to the pool. They stopped not too far from the only lamppost in the parking lot.

  Larry seemed as fascinated as I was watching the two shadows arguing and walking. When they stopped the taller one raised a fist as if to strike the short person who pushed back with both hands. They passed under the light, and I recognized the tall one. It was Shannon. I had no idea who the short person was. I couldn't see the face, and since they both had short hair, I didn't even know if she was arguing with a man or a woman.

  A woman with a long-sleeved shirt? No, Shannon was arguing with Rico. It had to be him. Two minutes later they turned the corner and disappeared up the path.

  "Oh my God, oh my God," I could hardly contain myself. "That was Shannon and Rico."

  "You're sure?" My excitement must have been contagious. Larry's voice was an octave higher. "Sweetie, I must make some phone calls. I don't want to run the air conditioning in the car because I'm trying to remain unnoticed, do you mind? Is it too hot?"

  "Forget too hot—this is by far more exciting than going into the air-conditioned house and watching television. Come on, call," I urged him.

  He picked up his cell phone that was in the cup holder. First, he called someone he knew from the local sheriff's office about getting the condo checked out. Next, he called an old buddy in Southern California. He must have had him on speed dial.

  "Hey, Bob. Can you talk?" Bob was his former partner in Homicide. "I need you to pull some info for me, may not be in the computer, too old. Yes." He paused.

  I knew Bob was talking.

  "Maybe, maybe not. I need to go with my gut this time. I'm talking around 1991, if you could get the exact location of the Dumpster where Carillo claimed to have found the guitar case. I'll send you a photo and a name and if you could run some history on that. I could get someone here to do it, but I don't want to add to the already busy schedule. Make sense? Yes, my cell. I didn't bring much with me—it was supposed to be a quick trip. Come on, man, you too? No, I did not kidnap or bribe the cat. Of course, something always comes up… Hey, watch it. Lella is sitting next to me." He laughed.