Murder Under the Desert Moon

by Maria Grazia Swan

  "We have company," I whispered into the phone, just like they did in the movies.

  When the voices came closer I recognized Rico's voice, and apparently someone carried a flashlight, a powerful flashlight. An instinctual reaction made me squat behind the massive freezer.

  "Here we are, bitch. Satisfied?"

  Who was Rico calling a bitch? I couldn't see without being seen, but I could follow the beam of light from the flashlight. I heard footsteps coming closer. Oh, my God. Did they know I was there? My phone was quiet, and I kept it next to my chest to hide the glare, but my heart was thumping so loudly they were bound to hear it.

  "Calm down. It's just my annual check," said a woman's voice. Then a laugh—the laugh of a smoker.

  Shannon. It had to be Shannon. Chills ran up my spine. What was she checking in this storage place? Someone touched the quilt. It moved. I bit my lip, so scared I could hardly breathe. I closed my eyes, praying Larry wouldn't make noises that could be heard.

  "Point it this way," she said. "I can't see the numbers."

  The narrow flood of light slid from the wall to what I assumed was the front of the freezer. I heard a grating noise, some clicks, more clicks, and then the top of the freezer came up. From my hiding place it looked like a wall was about to fall on me, but it stopped in the upright position, and I thought for sure I would die right then and there.

  "Oh, hello again."

  Who was she talking to?

  "I see you're still enjoying our complimentary stay."

  I made myself smaller. She laughed. The freezer cover slammed shut, shaking the whole metal box. I felt the quilt being pulled back into place.

  "I'm always concerned about these blackouts." She sounded businesslike now.

  "Why? You think he'll thaw out and walk out of there?" Rico said.

  "You're a sick son of a bitch."

  "Me? I'm only a spectator, the guardian of the evidence."

  "The hell you are. Your job is to make sure my investment is safe until I can collect, and you'd better not forget that."

  The voices moved away.

  "Otherwise?" Rico's voice had no hint of fear.

  The next sound I heard was the massive door being locked. Nooo. I was locked inside.

  "Larry," I whispered into my phone. "Larry?" Nothing.

  Either we got disconnected or…or I didn't know what else to think. I had to find a way out. I tried to stand up, but my right leg had gone to sleep. I instantly grabbed onto the closest thing—the quilt. It fell on top of me. All the dust on the thing made me cough and spit, and I really, really didn't want to touch it because I had no doubt that inside the freezer it had covered there was a dead body.

  I was next to a dead body.

  Suddenly I was a little girl in the cemetery, but there was no one to hold my hand. The fear paralyzed my brain, my body. I stood there in the dark, shivering and wishing to die.

  A clap of thunder sounded. I saw a window. Windows open from inside. Yes. I could do that. I tried to use my phone as a flashlight to manage my way to the window, my ray of hope. The whole time I hummed an old lullaby my Nonna had taught me. She'd convinced me that no harm would come to me while I sang. If only it were true.

  I made it to the window and held up my lifesaver phone to find the handle or the lock, whatever it was I needed to turn to get it open. It was a very, very old window with a metal frame, small square glass panes, four of them, and a crank. I could crank it open by standing on my toes, but I would need to step on something to reach the actual opening if I wanted to jump out.

  I kept on cranking, but nothing moved. I felt around the window frame with my free hand. Some genius must have painted the frame without opening it, and the dry paint kept the window from opening. If only I had a knife.

  Hum, Lella, hum.

  The key. I had the key to the laundry. It wasn't as sharp as a knife, but it would have to do. I painstakingly worked the tip of the key up and down, scraping thick layers of paint…while humming. Tears ran down my face, warming my cheeks. I wasn't going to think about the frozen body in the freezer. No siree.

  Scrape Lella, and hum.

  I tried the crank again, and the window began to move. Yes! Little by little it opened until I knew that if I could lift myself up I could get out. No screen and no more rain. Good. I could use the boxes as a stepladder, unless they were empty.

  Praying my phone battery wouldn't quit on me, I bypassed the boxes and, instead, carried one of the broken chairs up to the window. I climbed on the wobbly thing and straddled the windowsill just as I heard the massive door being unlocked.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  From my perch on the windowsill I could see the door opening cautiously. The person with the key also had a flashlight.

  I had to get off the window. Had to!

  The beam of light grazed the room, the odds and ends, the boxes. It paused on the freezer, now blatantly exposed. The tattered quilt in a pile on the concrete floor where I'd dumped it. Then in an instant the flashlight turned directly on me, shining so brightly on my face that I tried to shield my eyes with my arm. I jumped down and hit the ground outside the window just as a voice called my name.

  "Mrs. York?"

  Damn it. Rico?

  I had landed safely, minus one sandal. I didn't care. I took off running. There was only one way out, the narrow passage between the buildings, and Rico was waiting there, blocking my escape. I stopped before him and pretended to search for my footwear in the dark.

  One thing had become crystal clear, caretaker Rico was no dummy. His English was better than mine, and his mind seemed to be functioning well and fast…who was he, really? Besides a killer, that is. He held the flashlight in one hand and—the towel I'd left on the stacked chairs on the other!

  "Oh, you found my towel," I said, wanting to sound unruffled by his presence, chirping the words more than saying them.

  Did he have a gun under the towel? Would he kill me?

  "What were you doing?" he asked.

  He had to have a gun. I'd read somewhere that everyone in Arizona had a gun.

  "Doing? Oh, you mean on the window?"

  "No, I know what you were doing on the window. What were you doing in there?" He pointed into the storage room with the freezer with the dead body in it.

  "You'll think it's sort of funny, but the truth is, I locked myself out and was looking for you to see if you could unlock my door."

  "Must be your lucky day. You found me."

  I wasn't sure, but I thought he must be smiling, one of those sarcastic smiles killers flash at their victims before they kill them.

  "Is this where you shoot me? Because if it is I would be grateful if I could wash up first. It was awfully dusty in there, and I'm sure I am a mess." I'd made my case, now I waited.

  "You sure are a funny lady," he said. "Let's go before you catch something."

  "What? A stray bullet?"

  "What's this obsession with guns? Here, let me point the flashlight so you can see where you're stepping. Don't you want to look for you other shoe?"

  "She lost a shoe?"

  Larry! He also had a flashlight.

  "Must have fallen off her foot when she jumped off the window," Rico said.

  "What…Lella?"

  This was not happening. There was a dead body only feet from where we stood. I knew it, Rico knew it, he may even be the killer, and Larry was about to find out, if I had my say—and I had to watch those two exchange small talk? Anger grew inside of me. Before I could say anything Larry walked to where I stood, removed his jacket, and put it around my shoulders.

  "You look cold." Larry turned to Rico. "This place is about to become a circus. Any spot we can talk?"

  "Let's grab some chairs and sit on the pool patio."

  "Good idea." Larry put his arm around my shoulders. "Okay with you?" he asked.

  I batted my eyelashes. Who was this man I thought I knew? Somewhere up in the sky changes had happened, and a few s
tars appeared. We walked past the massive door that was wide open. I forced myself not to look back inside, to not think about the body starting to thaw. Was it a man or a woman? Did he or she die with open or closed eyes?

  "Sweetie?"

  That would be me, Sweetie.

  "We should pack and spend the night in a hotel after Rico and I have our talk. Without power it's bound to get hot in the condo."

  We reached the pool area. The gate wasn't slamming, but then the wind had subsided.

  "This way," Rico said.

  Suddenly the power came back on, and to my surprise Rico and Larry looked as they always did, well, except for the flashlights and the wet towel in Rico's hand. Oh, and the gun Larry had tucked inside the belt in the middle of his back. They looked at each other, Larry much taller, better dressed. Something wasn't right. I just didn't know what.

  "Want to do it here or go back to Vivian's place?" Rico asked.

  Do what?

  "Talk fast. You have maybe five, ten minutes."

  Rico nodded and let the towel drop to the ground. He set out three chairs, and we sat down.

  "Ask away. It's easier."

  "The body in the freezer?"

  "I'm guessing it's the man you were inquiring about, the Russian."

  "Valeri?" I found my voice.

  Rico nodded again. Larry patted my hand. Any minute now I would wake up and find out this was just a bad dream.

  "When they brought him he'd been dead for at least twenty-four hours, and rigor mortis had set in. The three of us just lifted him from the suitcase and dropped him into the freezer just the way he was, fetal position. I never once looked at him again in the fourteen, fifteen years he's been here.

  "Shannon, the mastermind, locked the freezer, and she keeps the combination and comes around whenever she feels like it, to check on what she calls her investment. That's it. Neither Vivian nor I have ever opened it up. We had a big scare a few years ago when the freezer stopped working. We had to call Shannon, and we were able to get it going again."

  "And you don't know who killed him or how? Why not go to the police?"

  Rico shrugged and stared at the ground. "I don't like confrontations. At first, Vivian's mother was still alive, and then Vivian got sick. I figured I'd go to the authorities as soon as she passed. She's already suffered so much. They aren't going to arrest her, right? You promised."

  "Well, isn't this a lovely picture. Don't move."

  Oh, my God! Shannon, gun in hand, stood just feet from us. Where had she come from? Had she been there the whole time?

  "Put the gun down, Shannon." Rico's face looked paler than the moon playing peek-a-boo above our heads. "What do you think you're doing? It's over. They know all about it. The police are going to be here any minute."

  Larry sat facing her. Did she know he had a gun?

  "I knew you were going to be trouble," she said to Larry. "I sent this clown to check out your place, and he couldn't find a thing. I should have done it myself instead of taking your girlfriend for tea."

  What? The irony wasn't lost on me. She'd had Rico check our place to see if maybe we had, what, listening devices directed at Vivian's place, or evidence? And Larry thought they had installed bugs in the condo? Both were wrong. Did Larry know all this? And if he did, why didn't he tell me?

  "Get up," she said, staring straight at me. "Get up. We're going for a ride."

  I pointed a finger at my chest. "Me? You want me to go for a ride? I have no shoes."

  "I'm counting to three, and if you're not up and walking I'm shooting your boyfriend. One…"

  "No, no. I'm coming." I jumped up.

  Larry tried to hold me back, but he grabbed the jacket instead, and just like that, I was next to Shannon.

  "Let's go." She pointed at the pool gate.

  I was shaking, partly due to fear, and partly due to the weather now that I didn't have Larry's jacket. I knew Larry well enough to worry he would do something. I preferred he didn't—Shannon's eyes looked like burning coals. She turned me around with the muzzle of her gun then waited for me to go and open the gate. I heard tires squealing in the night.

  So did she. "Hurry up, stupid bitch." She pushed me.

  I crossed to the gate, catching a side glimpse of Larry rising from his chair. I stretched out my bare foot so that when Shannon stepped forward I spun and threw myself against her. She stumbled over my foot and went down. I heard bones cracking. Ouch. She must have landed on her face on the concrete edge of the path.

  Larry had actually taken her gun away before she even knew what had hit her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  With the uniformed cops, Homicide Detectives, crime scene and evidence recovery, and forensic specialists, Larry hadn't been far off when he'd predicted a circus. They'd taken over both parking lots. Uniformed policemen stood by the front gate to keep out the news media and the curious onlookers.

  No one had asked my opinion before they'd set up camp in our living room. Flash and I retreated in the bedroom, and I headed straight for the shower, hoping it would help my bruised foot.

  It was only when I went into the closet to get dressed that I remembered my laundry was still in the dryer. Damp and smelly? Well, I would wait until everything calmed down before going back to get my clothes and look for the key.

  An irrational thought crossed my mind: would they appropriate my laundry as evidence? Images of my intimates being passed around from expert to expert put a whole new kind of fear into me. I needed to ask Larry, but not in front of all those people in suits and uniforms.

  When would they leave? Hard to guess. It was the middle of the night. They'd set up powerful spotlights everywhere. I heard snippets like removal of the body, contamination, chain of custody, and all other kinds of unsettling mumbo jumbo.

  Now I knew the body in the freezer was that of Valeri. I remembered Rico mentioning fourteen, fifteen years ago…could they actually keep a body in a freezer for that length of time without it crumbling?

  But what really, really made me angry was the sense of camaraderie between Larry and Rico. It wasn't Larry's snake charmer side either. It was genuine. How did that happen? Where was I while they had meetings, conversations, whatever it was that went on?

  Now I understood why Larry kept urging me over the phone to get out of the storage place. He knew about the dead body. Oh, my God! Larry, how could you?

  And Rico wasn't going to shoot me. They probably had a good laugh about that. About me. I should pack my stuff, my cat, and drive back to California pronto.

  What about my wet laundry? Damn it. There was always something. I sat on the bed running my fingers through my damp hair. I was due for a haircut and coloring. My roots were showing, and the monthly meeting at the Mission was in a week. I was running out of trivial things to think about. It was time to face reality.

  Was the dead body connected to Carillo? In a good or bad way? The party in the living room seemed to wind down—fewer doors slamming, chairs scraping, voices fighting for attention. I heard a knock at the bedroom door.

  "Lella? You okay in there?"

  "Yes, Larry, I'm hiding."

  "You can come join us. Logan is here."

  I opened the door. "What does Logan have to do with this?"

  "How about you ask him yourself?"

  I swear Larry looked ten years younger. Whatever they were drinking in the kitchen I was entitled to some too. When I limped into the main room, I saw that the only liquid being served was black coffee.

  Logan, sitting on the sofa, drank from our largest mug. I supposed one had to, in order to look so chipper at two a.m. He stood when he saw me, and I prayed he wouldn't spill coffee on the couch.

  "Hello…"

  He couldn't remember if we were still at the Mrs. York stage?

  "You can call me Lella." Poor kid. "How is Lucy?" I asked.

  "Lucy is good, really good. I'm so happy that Vivian is letting me keep her. I set up a comfy little bed for her—"
<
br />   Larry was giving him the look.

  "Oh, yeah, I need to explain to you about the ring."

  "The ring?" A sense of dread came over me. "Please don't tell me you've lost it."

  For an instant he looked like he didn't understand a word I'd said. "Lost? How can I lose something I don't have?"

  It was my turn to feel confused. Then I remembered that he'd given the ring to Larry and Co. Larry's fingers tapped on the table. Something was annoying him. What?

  "Oh, Vivian called this afternoon," Logan said. "She was feeling better and asked how Lucy was adapting and," he sipped from the mug, "one thing lead to another and I—accidentally—let slip about the ring."

  The finger tapping stopped. This was a setup. People don't make house calls to get a cup of lousy coffee at two a.m. without a reason.

  "I see," I said. "And you're telling me this because?"

  He opened and closed his mouth, then turned to Larry like a child to his teacher. Really?

  "What Logan is trying to explain," Larry said, "is the way we went from you two finding the lost ring, to Homicide solving the Hasan case. Well, sort of," he added.

  "I'm getting a glass of ice-water from the kitchen. When I get back I will sit on that chair and expect the whole story from when we found the ring—to the frozen body. Don't leave out anything. Not one thing." I walked to the kitchen and began to drop ice cubes into a glass, as loudly as possible without shattering it. When I finally returned to the living room, Logan began his account.

  "When Vivian heard I…we…had found the ring, she became emotional and asked if I would be so kind as to bring it to the hospital. I broke down and told her the truth. The ring was with the authorities, being examined by experts. I didn't know much about the Russian named Boris, so I kept it vague. That's when she started wailing, and it went downhill from there. Rico got on the phone and swore at me and asked for Larry's phone number, got it, and then hung up on me." Logan looked at us plaintively.