Murder Under the Desert Moon

by Maria Grazia Swan

  "Played straight?"

  "He didn't double-cross them. All that changed when Anton was murdered. It was years before we even suspected Valeri."

  "What happened to make you suspicious?" Larry asked.

  "Time for your medicine." The blonde stood at the door, smiling.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  His voice seesawed under the weight of his emotions. He didn't look at us, his gaze steady on images conjured up by memories. We sat motionless, afraid to stem the flow of information Larry hoped would finally lead to the truth about Hasan.

  "Ah, yes, the glory days indeed," Boris nodded to himself. "After years of ruling most of Europe and Asia, the mighty Soviet Union was disintegrating. Of course the powers behind the power had seen that coming, and they were prepared. In the early nineties there was a race to move money out of reach of whatever government would be in power next. What better place to move it to than the United States of America? My father was well known on both continents, always ready to help a countryman, or a country, for a price, of course." He smiled, closed his eyes, and looked very tired.

  Part of me wanted to pat his hand, fetch him some water. The other part knew anything could spoil the moment.

  "Maxim's was Pop's pride and joy. Our clientele was varied: the front of the business was where new bonds were forged—the back was where the deals flourished. Hasan was a regular, a moneyman, as Pop liked to call him. He came from overseas every so often, looking like a Lord. He even had a pinky ring he always wore. We used to tease him and call him the Godfather.

  "He spoke enough English not to stick out from the crowd. He'd fly in via London and go straight to Maxim's to get rid of the evidence, as he smuggled very large amounts of cash for various organizations that preferred to remain anonymous. Next, he would take off for Las Vegas and from there back to his country. Gambling was his well-known weakness.

  "His last trip was his fourth visit to our home. He brought a Russian doll for my Inessa. Yes, he was so thoughtful he remembered a promise made to a little wide-eyed girl, who called him Uncle Ton. We all sat around and ate and celebrated our friend's visit. He showed us a guitar he'd bought in Los Angeles at a famous musical store, for the teenaged son of an associate back home.

  "But this time there was something different about him, an edginess he'd never exhibited before. He asked to borrow one of our cars to drive to Vegas because, unlike all the other times, he was planning to drive back and fly out of LA. He would leave the car at the airport and let us know where it was parked. The key would be mailed to us, a large check certain to be with the key. We never saw him again.

  "Four days later, on a bright sunny morning, we went to unlock the restaurant for business and found the car Pop had lent to Hasan parked in front. It looked like it came out of a showroom—it was that scrubbed clean. The keys were in the ignition. We didn't make much of it. I drove it around the back where we parked all our cars, a bit disappointed for the absence of a note, a phone call, and…a check.

  "We learned about his death the same way as everyone else, from the newspapers. By the time the cops came poking around," he turned to look at Larry, "Pop had already gone through hell with Hasan's employer. Once he was able to prove that all the transferred funds were accounted for, they stopped harassing him. I mean, why would he have killed this man who brought him so much business?"

  He sipped from his teacup that had been sitting there for hours. While Boris seemed at peace with the world now that he had finally been able to share his burden, Larry's disappointment wasn't hard to notice. I waited to see what he would say.

  "It's too bad we didn't know about Las Vegas—we could have checked hotels and…"

  "His employer did all that. Hasan was a creature of habit and superstitions. He stayed at the same hotel, in the same room, every time. Not only wasn't he there, he had not made any reservations, and since his line of credit was untouched, we assumed he'd never got to Vegas."

  "How about the car, the mileage?" asked Larry.

  "That we didn't think about. We had no reason to be suspicious. Remember, days went by before we found out he'd been murdered. By then we'd driven the car."

  The blonde nurse came in the room again. "Mr. Z. you need to lie down. Look at you—you're overdoing it." She stared at us with accusing eyes.

  I felt so guilty, and so sorry for the loss of Hasan, whom I'd never met, and for Carillo's fate, that he certainly didn't deserve. "We'll be leaving soon," I said to the woman, but my remark was really meant for Larry.

  "Bring me some warm tea please—this one is cold."

  Boris glanced at us, but we didn't want anything. Well, I wanted to use the bathroom, but I was determined to hold it. The nurse left to fetch some hot tea.

  "Valeri had shown up just before Hasan's body was discovered. This was his first time doing business with Pop. He was also moving money, on a much smaller scale, and he came in through Mexico under the radar. He had a partner from a Mexican cartel. My father refused to do business with Mexican mafia because of a family tragedy; an illegal ran over our cousin's child and never went to prison for it because he skipped bail and went back to Mexico.

  "Valeri seemed in a great hurry. Hasan and Valeri were both known gamblers back in Europe. They played in private clubs until Hasan caught Valeri cheating, and after that the man from Georgia was banned for life from those clubs. My father was relieved the two of them didn't bump into each other at his place—it could have gotten ugly.

  "Valeri's partner waited outside for a while. Then he decided to take a ride. When he showed up to pick up Valeri, he said something like, 'It's done.' Then they left. When my father went to put the money in the safe, he found a receipt stuck between the stack of bills. It was from a gas station not too far from our place, and it was dated the same day that Hasan had left for Vegas."

  The nurse brought Boris his hot tea, and then she left. Boris took small sips, studying Larry between drinks.

  "That's it?" Larry sighed.

  "I told you we didn't have any proof. Now you understand? It's very possible the man with Valeri dumped the gun and the guitar in the trash bin where Carillo found it a few days later. As for the receipt, well, Valeri wasn't driving, but that didn't matter. Three years later, when Valeri disappeared from the face of the Earth, the wrath of his employer fell on us. He couldn't kill Pop—that would have upset too many powerful people. Instead, he burned Maxim's and made it look like an accident. My father never recovered."

  "Why would this person be mad at your father for Valeri's disappearance?"

  "When Valeri disappeared, all the cash he'd carried from Georgia to California disappeared with him. Nothing has ever been found."

  "Huh." Larry tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair in serious contemplation.

  All I could think was how to get out of there to use a bathroom without breaking the spell. I had to do something to keep from thinking about bathrooms.

  "Mr. Boris," I said, "we're staying at a place owned by a lady you may know."

  "Who is she?" He didn't seem too interested.

  "Vivian, Vivian Kurtis. She was a flight attendant and—"

  "Vivian? Of course I remember her, such a milaya."

  "A what?"

  "Milaya, a sweetheart, you know, a Russian expression. She always came by to pick up pastries and Russian bread for her dad. Back then there wasn't any Yasha or any other Russian deli in Phoenix. You should ask her to come and visit me. I'll be here one more week. How's she doing? I haven't seen her since her dad passed. Poor thing. She had such a hard life."

  "She did?"

  "Well yes, with her mom being, you know," he touched his head.

  I nodded. Vivian's mom was not right in the head.

  "She had to give up her job; I heard she got very depressed."

  "I'll make sure and let her know you're here." I looked at Larry, my bladder about to explode.

  "Did Vivian and Hasan know each other?" Larry's question hung in the air. />
  Boris cocked his head, looking at us. "That's a bizarre thought. How could they? Just because we come from the same side of the ocean? Vivian used to come by between flights. Her crazy friend would drive her, a tall woman, as tall as a man; they worked together."

  "Oh, you mean Shannon?"

  "That's it, Shannon. I haven't thought about that crazy woman in a long time. But yes, they would run in and out. Always during the day. Hasan was a man of shadows. He came when the sun went down and would leave before the moon reached the zenith."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  "Are you disappointed?"

  Larry had been silent since we'd left the assisted-living place, the kind of silence that's full of unsettling thoughts. What-ifs, all the questions he could or should have asked back when the murder happened, but didn't, the things we tend to find so obvious in retrospect.

  "Still thinking Vivian has something to do with Hasan's death?"

  "I don't know what to think." He patted my leg absentmindedly. "Would you like to stop and grab something to eat?"

  "I was going to suggest we make sandwiches with what we bought at Yasha from Russia, but you're probably tired of sandwiches, huh?"

  "That, and tea." I sensed the smile in his voice. "I'm not very hungry, but once we get back to our place I'd like to sit and make some notes. It's easier for me to concentrate once I have it all in front of me, spelled out."

  "What are you trying to do?"

  He took a long time to answer. "Connect the dots? Or try to."

  "I see. I'm wondering what Kyle's doing in Vegas. I don't even know if he's still there. How about if I make you some risotto?"

  "Risotto? Doesn't that take a long time?"

  "I have to stir the rice for a long time, but it's a simple task that doesn't require brain exercise. Actually that sounds like a good plan—rice and mushrooms with some of the homemade bread?"

  "And a glass of wine to wash down the tea? Sweetie, we need to reschedule Logan's appointment, and don't forget I have to pick up the Mercedes tomorrow, too."

  "I should wash clothes," I said. "I wonder if they have a laundry room in the complex. I'll go exploring in the morning."

  "Alone?"

  "Larry, honestly, I don't think you're handling the heat very well," I joked.

  After our meal Larry lingered at the dining room table, a notebook in front of him. "You said that Vivian was a flight attendant, right?"

  I nodded.

  "Do you remember the airline company? The route?"

  "I don't think she ever told me, but Shannon said she was the purser. Yes, that was the word she used. She, Shannon, was the senior flight attendant on American Airlines, mostly first class. And I would like to tell you she mentioned overseas flights, but I can't swear to it. Since Vivian and Shannon used to work together, I guess American Airlines should be it. No?"

  "Makes sense, thanks. I need to make some calls."

  "Let me guess, you're calling Bob, again. While you do that, I'll put the leash on Flash, grab my phone, and we'll go walk around to see if we can find a laundry room on the premises. Okay?"

  I wasn't sure he'd heard me, but I wasn't going to repeat it. My cat must have understood either leash or walk because she suddenly appeared, all perky and ready to please.

  The complex's outdoor lights came on when I closed the front door behind us. What a lovely evening. Either it was cooler or I was getting used to the weather. Might as well take the long way around as I had no idea where there might or might not be a laundry room.

  We walked by Vivian's patio, and to her credit, Flash barely slowed down. No pulling on the leash, no fighting to jump over the gate. From the guest parking lot I could see the top of Camelback Mountain bathed in the purple hues of the setting sun. We circled around the lot, walking leisurely. I tried to decide what direction I hadn't taken before in order to find out if indeed there was a laundry room on the premises.

  Could it be the back building inside the pool fence? The one where Vivian was sitting, crying that evening when she was dressed as a bride and got drunk? Well, I didn't have the keys to the pool so it didn't really matter.

  There wasn't a soul around. No flight attendants' party, only expanding shadows and a light breeze. From time to time Flash would slow down and nuzzle around. We reached the pool without having found a laundry room. Might as well circle back and go see what Larry was up to. Connecting the dots. Interesting expression.

  I turned the corner leaving the lights by the pool behind me. I didn't like the feeling of aloneness. I tightened my grip on my phone and quickened my pace. Another corner, and I nearly collided with—Vivian?

  "Hi Vivian, what are you doing? You lose something?"

  She turned up her face to look at me, but remained stooped, so I squatted down, next to her. This was the first time we'd seen each other since the wedding dress incident. "Can I help you look?" I offered.

  Her eyes bored into me yet I could swear she didn't recognize me. Flash, oblivious to human drama, rubbed against Vivian's leg, or what I assumed was her leg. It was hard to tell. She was hunched over, and her caftan covered her body. She responded to the feline friendliness and scratched Flash's back.

  Maybe she hadn't heard me? I repeated, a little louder, "Vivian, have you lost something?"

  She nodded yes and ran her hands over the concrete path and on the dirt under the bushes. By now it was dark, and in the pallor of her gaunt face her eyes were but black pits of grief. I felt helpless. What was so important for her to be out there at night, alone, searching?

  "Maybe we should get a flashlight," I suggested.

  "No." A firm denial, no hesitation. "No flashlight. He would see me."

  Once again she turned her head to look at me, and I noticed she wore some kind of turban on her head. Had she just washed her hair? Who would see her? Rico? Boris's voice echoed in my brain: Vivian's mom was not right in the head. Aye. Maybe it was genetic? Maybe Vivian wasn't well either?

  "Okay then, let me help. What are we looking for?"

  "The ring, of course."

  "Of course." Just agree with her, play along. "I'm not sure I remember what it looks like. You know, I get confused," I said.

  "It's okay. It happens. It's nice of you to help." Her hands kept on moving, scraping the surface. "Do you live around here?"

  Oh, Mio Dio. The poor, poor woman. "I do, Vivian, I do. So, whose ring are we looking for?"

  "Well, my wedding ring. What else?"

  Wedding ring? How? She told me she'd never married.

  Flash had had enough of the evening walk, and since Lucy wasn't there with her owner, my cat decided she was going home. She started to pull on the leash, and I nearly ended up on my butt.

  "Vivian, what about me helping you get home, and then in the morning we come back to look again? I doubt there will be much traffic around here until morning, you know." I kept my voice calm and steady.

  She shook her head. "No, I need the ring now."

  "Why now?'

  "In case I go tonight."

  "I see…I forgot…where are you going again?"

  "To join him. He's waiting. I need the ring, so he'll know it's me. It has been a very long time." She let out a small sob and hunched over even more.

  I couldn't stand it; it broke my heart. I put my hands around her and forced her up. She didn't put up any resistance. She felt so thin I could detect her bony shoulders.

  "Vivian, let's walk. I promise you we'll find the ring as soon as the sun comes up. I'll be out here looking. I promise."

  She didn't answer, but let me guide her toward our condos. I knew she was crying by the quivering of her body at every sob. When we cleared the last corner I could see that both patios were lit up.

  Larry must have been sitting outside waiting, because he was at our side in a split second. "Your friend Rico was looking for you," he said to Vivian.

  She didn't answer and kept crying quietly.

  Rico appeared at the gate of her patio
just as we approached. "There you are, Vivian." His forced cheerfulness was hard to miss. "That was a long stroll you took." Turning to me, "Thanks for walking with her." He reached for Vivian's hand.

  I watched them disappeared into the condo before I followed Larry home. By the time I'd removed Flash's leash Larry had handed me a glass of wine. I didn't argue. I felt drained. And I'd promised Vivian I would be out there first thing in the morning to search for the ring. I had no idea what it looked like.

  "Rico is Filipino," Larry said.

  "Huh?" Had not expected that.

  "Yeah, I had a nice conversation while we waited for you two." He kept his eyes on me, as if watching for a reaction. "That would explain his English, and he's here legally. He was Vivian's mom's caregiver, stayed with her while Vivian worked. Now he takes care of Vivian."

  I grabbed a tissue and blew my nose. He came over and hugged me. His chest muffled my sobs.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Why go out searching for the ring? There was no wedding ring, according to Rico. Lucy from time to time would steal and hide anything shiny. The missing ring belonged to Vivian, and it was bound to show up as soon as they did a good house cleaning. It always did, he assured Larry.

  Or maybe the ring was imagined. But Vivian's pain was real. I felt it, and it clung to my very being, and I couldn't shake it.

  Larry's phone kept ringing. He was in the bedroom getting dressed and taking his calls. I was the one who'd got out of bed first and made coffee. I put some bread in the toaster, which would be the extent of my breakfast efforts.

  I didn't want to go to the Mercedes dealership. In all honesty I wanted to go home. I'd come to the decision while Larry slept, and I tossed and turned and couldn't stop thinking about Vivian. I felt her loneliness, her despair. I wanted to make it go away, but I knew I couldn't, so I'd gotten up in the middle of the night and read the book she'd given me about ferrets.

  The book didn't just look worn. It was worn. Perhaps it had been passed down from her parents? I couldn't possibly keep it. I would return it to Vivian and explain I was going home, and it would do me no good in California, where ferrets weren't allowed anyhow.