Larry shook his head.
I got up and patted poor Logan's arm. "Logan, why don't you go home, play with your ferret, and tell her Flash misses her, and then go to sleep? I'm sure Larry can pick up the story from here."
A relieved Logan left. We were finally alone.
"Do I tell you the rest of the story here," asked Larry, "or can we talk in bed? And will you stop looking at me as if you want to kill me? Everything happens for a reason."
"You get that quote from the same book that says there are no coincidences in life?"
He started to laugh. "Let's go to bed, and I promise to tell you everything I know."
When we were settled under the covers Larry explained, "Turns out the ring was a gift Vivian gave to Hasan. Their intertwined initials are engraved on the inside."
Star-crossed lovers. How sad. "When she saw Valeri wearing the ring, Vivian knew he was the killer." I fluffed my pillow.
"Yes, very good. Someone already told you?" he asked.
"No. Stop stalling. Where and when?"
"A couple of years after Hasan's death, according to Rico. Vivian went to work for Southwest Airlines, short flights to Las Vegas. Her dad had just died, and her mom wasn't well. When in Vegas, she shared a room with Shannon who was with a different airline. Vivian got to the apartment one night and found Shannon and Valeri in the room, drunk. They'd met at a poker table where they'd both lost a lot of money, and they were…comforting each other.
"Vivian recognized the ring and went nuts. This is where it gets fuzzy. Shannon claims Vivian hit Valeri with a heavy crystal vase, he fell back, and never got up. Vivian says it was Valeri who started to punch her when she called him a murderer, and Shannon hit him with the vase. He fell, hit his head on something sharp, and never got up.
"At that point they panicked. They stuffed the body into a suitcase and drove a rented car all the way to Phoenix where they asked Rico to get rid of it. He refused. Vivian, who had to work the flight back to Phoenix the next day, drove back to Vegas, turned in the rental car, cleaned up the room, and resumed life as usual. But now she had her ring back.
"Shannon went out, purchased a lock, and put it on the freezer, where Rico wrongly assumed they would store the body temporarily. Shannon had other intentions. Getting rid of the body would mean eliminating all evidence. Instead it became her ATM. After she lost her job, she asked for a unit at Camelview Suites and started blackmailing Vivian. She had Vivian sign a will that leaves the whole property to Shannon."
"Whoa. Who do you believe?" I asked.
"Believe what?"
"Who killed Valeri?"
"I don't know, but with Shannon being so much taller than Vivian they may be able to determine who struck the fatal blow. Freezing the body preserved much of the evidence. My money is on Shannon."
"When did Rico tell you all this?"
"He didn't. Remember when I called you about the ring? The next call was his. He hinted at information relating to Hasan's murder, but he wanted to make sure Vivian would get to spend whatever time she has left out of jail. He's a very loyal person. He offered to show me what he had to bargain with. I knew it wasn't the ring since he was with Vivian when Logan let the cat out of the bag. I remembered where we'd found Vivian drunk and wearing her wedding dress, so I had a strong feeling there was a connection."
"Will we ever know why Valeri killed Hasan?" I yawned.
"If I had to take a guess I would say it was a twist of fate and opportunity. Remember the receipt from the gas station Mr. Z. found in the car he'd loaned to Hasan? What if Valeri was getting gas there at the same time as his sworn enemy? He was with a cartel member. That would explain how the body ended up in the desert."
My foot hurt. It reminded me of Shannon. "Where's Shannon?"
"Shannon's in jail. Rico is meeting with the judge two days from now, and then Carillo will be a free man."
"That's why?"
"Why what?"
"You look ten years younger all of a sudden. I thought you had some special brew percolating in the kitchen."
"Nah, I have all the special brew I need right here next to me."
"About that—when did I become your fiancée?"
"Here, let me explain." He pulled me closer with one hand and turned off the light with the other.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Welcome to California. Entering Pacific Time, announced the bright blue sign.
We had just crossed the Colorado River and waved good-bye to Arizona. Flash slept in the backseat of Larry's new Mercedes. Of course I had a large towel, courtesy of Camelview Suites, covering the soft leather.
Larry patted my knee. "Are you still concerned about your Mustang?"
"Of course I am, and I will be until I get the keys back and I inspect every inch of the car."
"Do you want to stop in Blythe to grab some lunch?"
"It's up to you, really. Just not at the same place where you ate on your way to Arizona."
"Sweetie, you think the people who saw Flash in the backseat are still there? Come on. Besides, this is not the same car."
"I hate to tell you this, but to non-owners of Mercedes, they pretty much all look the same. Trust me on that."
"Have you decided how to invest your settlement? How about a new car?'
"Why? What's wrong with my Mustang? By the way, did you find out who was sending money to Carillo's grandmother? Was it Rico or Vivian? I'm sure it wasn't Shannon."
"The office in charge of the investigation is going through Vivian's bank accounts. They've confirmed that the first monthly deposit into the grandmother's account started a few months after Valeri's body got stuffed in the freezer. Vivian must have been guilt-ridden and not sure how to fix the injustice done to Carillo. The fifty thousand she confessed to have delivered personally after her own mother died. That money was part of her inheritance. She easily convinced Carillo's grandmother that she was just a concerned good soul, and she helped the old woman write the will and the note, also."
"What do you think will happen to Camelview Suites?"
Larry shrugged. "I've heard it will go to Rico. He's a nice man who became entangled in something he had very little control over. Because of his cooperation he'll serve his time under house arrest. And if my information is correct, Carillo will help him run the place. Who knows, they may meet some nice flight attendants."
My phone chimed.
"Hello."
"Hi, Mom, busy?"
"Not really, just enjoying the ride in Larry's new Mercedes."
"Cool. I'm thinking about stopping by after all."
"Huh, stopping by—where?"
"You know, Phoenix, the state capital of Arizona," he mocked me.
"Good for you—let me know how you like it. We're in California."
"California? You just said you're enjoying a ride in Larry's Mercedes. Where's your car?"
"Greta is driving it back for me."
"Greta? You're letting some chick drive your Mustang across the desert?"
I heard Larry snickering, clearly eavesdropping.
"She isn't just any chick."
"How so?"
"For one thing, she is very smart and educated."
"Oh, that kind—got it."
"No, you don't got it. She's a member of the Innocence Free Project."
"Whatever."
"Anyway, she isn't your type."
"How would you know?"
"She's short."
"You're short."
"I'm your mother."
"Hard to forget."
Larry grabbed my phone. "Hey, Kyle, your mom is telling the truth—Greta is smart. But she's not that short. Anyway, she's driving the car to your mom's place, and the first one there waits for the other one. She's from LA." Smiling like the Cheshire Cat, he gave me back the phone.
"Where are you guys?'
"Blythe."
"And the girl with the Mustang?"
"I don't know. She left about thirty minutes ahead of u
s. Why? What are you mumbling?"
"Yeah, I'll see you there then."
"There where?"
"Dana Point, where else? If I step on it I should make it there ten, fifteen minutes before Greta." And with that he was gone.
Life was back to normal.
* * * * *
Author's Note:
Thank you for reading Lella’s adventure in the desert. If you are familiar with the first two books you’ll know each has a different locale. Sort of like me: I did live in all of these places. I was born in Italy and spent the first twenty years or so in the Veneto region, pretty much the area Lella visits in book two, Death under the Venice Moon.
After I moved to the United States, or as Italians like to say, America, I did live in Orange County, and, indeed, most of the places I describe in book one, Murder under the Italian Moon, used to be my stomping grounds. That is, until my sons decided to move to Phoenix, Arizona where we still reside, and so it was only natural to write Murder under the Desert Moon. And, yes, I write about places and businesses I like and visit often. The problem with writing about a location you see daily is that you’re so familiar with it you tend not to see. In the end I rediscovered Phoenix while trying to describe the city through Lella’s eyes. I hope I succeeded and you’ll come and visit us soon.
If you have questions regarding locations or anything Italian you think I may know, feel free to reach out and contact me at [email protected] Or if you prefer to let the world know what you think about all of this, please kindly leave a review for this book at the online retailer where you purchased it.
Mille grazie e arrivederci, until the next full moon…ciao.
~Maria Grazia Swan
* * * * *
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* * * * *
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Maria Grazia Swan was born in Italy, but this rolling stone has definitely gathered no moss. She lived in Belgium, France, Germany, and beautiful Orange County, California, before settling in her current home of Phoenix, Arizona. Maria loves travel, opera, good books, hiking, and intelligent movies (if she can find one, that is). Her idea of a perfect evening includes stimulating conversation, rich Italian food, and a perfectly chilled Prosecco. Maria has written several novels, short stories, and articles for high profile magazines and blogs taking on life and love…Italian style!
To learn more about Maria Grazia, visit her online at
mariagraziaswan.com
* * * * *
BOOKS BY AUTHOR NAME
Lella York series:
Murder under the Italian Moon
Death under the Venice Moon
Murder under the Desert Moon
Mina Calvi series:
Love Thy Sister
Bosom Bodies
Italian Summer
Ashes of Autumn
Other works:
Mating Dance
Medley of Murder
* * * * *
SNEAK PEEK
If you enjoyed this Lella York Mystery, check out this sneak peek of another funny, romantic mystery from Gemma Halliday Publishing:
A DOSE OF DEATH
by
GIN JONES
CHAPTER ONE
If there was anything that annoyed Helen Binney more than people who tried to help her without waiting to be asked, it was people who were cheerful and efficient while they were providing that unwanted help.
At the moment, it was Helen's nieces who were irritating her. Laura Gray, the younger one, was cheerfully fluffing the sofa's pillows, while her older sister, Lily Binney, efficiently collected the used mugs from the coffee table and carried them to the kitchen sink. The two young women puttered around the cottage's great room that encompassed both the living room and kitchen/dining areas. They tidied things that didn't need tidying, put away things that Helen preferred left out, and just generally turned the comfortable space into a sterile box.
Helen watched her nieces from the safety of her recliner. "I like living here all by myself. It's a nice change for me after twenty years of running the governor's mansion. Go away and leave me alone."
"You don't mean that." Laura's response was as emphatic as her pillow-fluffing and rug-straightening. "We just got here."
Lily returned from the far side of the kitchen island. "She does mean it, Laura. But it doesn't matter. It's obvious that Aunt Helen can't live here alone, so she'll have to move in with one of us, where we can take care of her."
"You're talking as if I'm old and decrepit," Helen said. "I may be retired, but it was early retirement. I don't even qualify to join AARP."
"You're old in spirit," Lily said, coming to a stop behind the sofa, where she could stare down her aunt. "You always have been, according to Dad. And you admitted you were decrepit when you started to use a cane."
It wasn't her mind that was betraying her, it was her body, ravaged by a stupid, unpredictable disease. She could still count on her clear skin, thick brown hair and sharp brown eyes, but the rest of her was falling apart. Helen automatically glanced at the front door, where her cane hung from the knob, so she wouldn't forget to take it with her whenever she went out. It was a practical solution, but she hated the constant reminder of her limitations. Ever since she'd hit forty, her lupus had been taunting her, inflaming her joints, ruining her mood and stealing her independence.
"That's no way to talk to your aunt," she said, "calling me old and decrepit."
"It's the truth." Lily was naturally slender, with model-sharp cheekbones and an equally sharp mind that never forgot anything. "You're the one who told us always to tell the truth, never to hide behind the social lies that you were so good at before you decided to become a hermit."
"I was wrong." Apparently there was something worse than receiving unsolicited and unwanted help: having her own lectures quoted back at her. "Lies are good. You should tell more of them."
Laura, as soft around the edges as the pillow she hugged to her chest, sank onto the sofa. "It would be so nice if you came to live with me and Howie. I've always wanted an extended family for my children."
"You don't have any children yet," Helen said. "And when you do, you won't want me anywhere near them. Children hate me."
"I know that's not true," Laura said, her sweet, oval face becoming even more earnest. "Lily and I always adored you when we were children."
Helen adored her nieces in return, but she wasn't foolish enough to admit it right now. If she showed the least sign of weakness, she would find herself surrounded by grand-nieces and grand-nephews, and Auntie Helen would spend the rest of her life as an unpaid babysitter. She'd worked hard for the last twenty years, coddling one bunch of babies—her ex-husband and his cronies—and she wasn't about to replace them with a new set. No, her job was done, her career as the state's first lady was over, and she had every right to enjoy her retirement. Alone.
Laura smiled encouragingly, and there were still traces of the chubby little round face she'd had as a toddler.
Despite herself, Helen said, "I might be willing to visit you and your myriad of children occasionally."
"That would be lovely." By the look in Laura's eyes, she'd forgotten she was here to browbeat her aunt, and instead was daydreaming about the dozen or more babies she planned to create with her Howie.
"Never mind the babies," Lily said. "You need to decide which of us you'll live with."
"I'll disinherit both of you if you don't stop this foolishness right now."
Lily shrugged. "You probably disinherited us years ago and willed all your money to charity."
"You'll find out eventually." Most of her substantial estate was going to charity, but the girls had also been provided for. They obviously didn't consider being disinherited much of a threat, presumably because they knew she cared about them too much to actually do it, even if the
y did persist in helping her against her will. Whatever little leverage the threat gave her, though, was better than nothing. She was not moving out of her cottage.
"We don't need your money, Aunt Helen." Laura absently re-fluffed a pillow. "We have perfectly good jobs."
"Then how do you find the time to come bother me?" Helen said, struggling to get out of the recliner. This had gone far enough. It was time to show them to the door. "You should be at work, not spending half the day coming here to bother me."
"We don't work on Sundays." Lily said. "You know, forgetting the day of the week is one of the signs of mental disorientation."
"You are not going to commit me to a mental institution just because I sometimes lose track of the days of the week now that I'm not tied to a calendar." Helen leaned against the arm of the recliner, waiting for the ache in her hip to subside enough to allow her to walk without a pronounced limp. "Especially since I know that you work plenty of weekend hours, Lily Binney, so it's perfectly logical for me to expect you to be working on a Sunday."
"Very good." Lily smiled, her face still sharp, but no longer quite as worried. Lily had never had a sweet little baby face. By the time Laura was born, Lily had already looked and acted like a miniature adult. "You're still mentally alert."
"If anyone even thinks of committing me," Helen said, "I'll get out my Rolodex. You don't want to see what happens then."
"I know what you can do with a few phone numbers," Lily said. "I'm sure it's enough to strike terror in anyone's heart."
Laura ran out of pillows to fluff. "We just want to help, Aunt Helen."
"We don't want to commit you," Lily said, letting some of her frustration show, "but we really think you should come live with one of us so you aren't alone. It isn't safe for you here."
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