Murder Under the Italian Moon (17 page)

I awoke to the flirting of Larry's lips on my earlobe. "Wake up, sweetie, it's a beautiful morning." He called me
sweetie
? I smiled before opening my eyes.

I rolled over to face him. He wore a white terry robe. His hair, still damp from the shower, fell to cover part of his forehead. I recognized that clean aftershave smell I had come to link to him. "Good morning," I mumbled, thinking I wanted to brush my teeth before getting too close, but not ready to hop out of bed nude in the light of day. I remembered the time before. "Where did you shower?"

Larry looked at me like I came from some alien planet; then I watched his expression change. "Very observant, aren't we?" He sounded amused and attempted to turn my question into a joke. I wasn't going to let him get away with it.

"Well?"

"When you were here before I showered in the guest bath, wanting you to have a perfectly clean shower. But all that special treatment stuff is over, sweetie, so you can use this shower. Or it would be your turn to use the guest bath." He smiled with his voice and his eyes. "I made coffee. Let me go get you some. Wait, don't say it. I know how you take your coffee." I watched him get up from the bed and fought the urge to grab him, pull him back, hug him tight.

"Oh, almost forgot." He stepped into the bathroom, came out holding a white robe similar to his and threw it at me. "Here, sorry. I couldn't find slippers with rhinestone initials on such short notice." Now his eyes and his face openly laughed. I flung the pillow at him and missed.

"Bad aim." He started walking away. "Hold the thought. I'll teach you when I get back." I could hear him laugh on his way to the kitchen.

What a perfect way to start the day, if not for a sense of guilt in the pit of my stomach. Would be perfect had Kyle been released. The poor kid couldn't seem to catch a break. I started to sound like Larry and Bonnie, lawyers and cops. Okay, enough. I grabbed the robe and went to turn on the shower, changed my mind and brushed my teeth first.

I was stepping out, wrapped in the bath sheet, when Larry rushed in. "You've got to see this. Hurry. Be quiet or we'll spook it."

I didn't have a clue what he meant. He dripped enthusiasm on my wetness. Before I could say a word, he grabbed me around the waist and carried me, towel and all, into the bedroom, in front of the large, round window. He placed a finger on my lips. "Shhh…" Then pointed to a small, adorable Bambi, a baby deer, munching on a tree's lower branches. I had heard of deer living in some of the canyons surrounding Laguna, but in all the years of living in Orange County, this was the first time I ever saw one. A living Disney vignette. We kept still, watching this gift of nature, until a black bird landed on the tree. Bambi leapt back and hopped away. The sight of such a joyful creature had me think of Flash and her empty food dish. I sighed and Larry let go of me and of my towel. I stood frozen, my back against his chest. I felt his fingers caressing my hips, his hands gliding slowly upward to cup my breasts. He stroked the hardness of my nipples. By the time his tongue found my throat, I became a shameless, lustful beggar.

It was after eleven when we got dressed and ate breakfast in his white kitchen. I knew I had to get going, get back home, maybe take a little detour to say hi to Kyle on my way south. Of course, I depended on Larry's goodwill. He was my ride.

I was about to ask when his cell rang.

"Hi, Bonnie." He looked at me. He listened to whatever Bonnie was saying and nodded a few times. It seemed to me what was being said must have been good, because he'd nod and look at me with a smile in his eyes. "I will. I'll let her know as soon as we hang up. Thanks, Bonnie."

I knew they were talking about me. I couldn't believe Bonnie didn't know I was right there, next to him.

"Well?"

"How well do you know Carolyn, the agent?"

I looked at Larry.
Carolyn?

"I don't know what you mean by 'know' her. I met her once at a cocktail party Kyle took me to. I spoke to her occasionally when she called the house looking for Kyle. Why?"

"Apparently Carolyn has a drinking problem and lost her driving privileges due to some DUIs. That's the good news."

Again I had to look at him, not sure where this was headed. "What's the bad news?"

"To the point, aren't we? Carolyn had nothing to do with the Porsche being left in Kyle's parking spot. She arrived there by cab, went to the condo and got in with her own key, picked up the papers she needed and left in the same taxi. All that in under twenty minutes. That's great."

"Why is it great, and what's the bad news? Or is it good news? How is this affecting Kyle?" Impatience had me shaking.

"With Carolyn out of the picture, Ruby is becoming a more likely suspect. She had the car, she's familiar with Kyle's place—all that according to Kyle, of course."

"Of course."

"How do you think Ruby could drive there, leave the car, disappear and no one sees her? How is that possible?"
He asked me
. I felt like I had been accepted in the Bonnie-Larry team.

"Maybe she had a friend waiting for her. Maybe she paid someone to drop the car there." None of this made much sense, but I had to keep on talking, hoping I would remember some details or some names. Anything.

"Don't make yourself crazy over this. Every cop in California knows what your friend Ruby looks like. If she is alive, it's—"

I pushed the stool away from the counter, "What do you mean if? She's alive, I know it."
The chart of a dead woman.
I remembered Nick's laugh and his pointing finger. A cold shiver ran along my spine, like a gust of icy wind. I fidgeted, avoiding Larry's glance.

"What just happened here? Did you remember something? A place, a person Ruby may go to for help? Lella, look at me."

"I need to get home." I didn't look at him. He didn't answer. We sat, waiting each other out. After a long silence, he got up.

"Fine. Let's go." His voice felt as distant and unforgiving as his eyes.

We reached the 5 South without exchanging a word.

What was wrong with me? One minute I soaked in happiness, the next I drowned in anxiety. No, more like I was
being
drowned. This had nothing to do with Larry; it was all my doing. I couldn't handle emotions, and at the moment emotions ruled every aspect of my life. Better learn how to deal with it. In a hurry.

I talked out loud to myself. "What a week of accomplishments! My son's in jail, more or less accused of killing my best friend, I got fired from my volunteer position at the mission and I managed to anger my lover three times in less than twenty-four hours. Whoa! A record performance, although I can't take full credit for my son's arrest." My brain switched gear too late to stop me. The whole
mea culpa
came out of my mouth in a very civilized way, almost joyful. I kept my eyes on Larry, hoping for a smile, a change of expression, anything that would give me an opening. At one point, he looked like he sucked in his chest, held his breath. Maybe he fought the urge to talk to me? No, that was it, end of show. Maybe not. Larry sucked in his chest because he was fighting—laughter?

"Are you laughing at me?"

"No. I'm laughing with you."

"But I'm not laughing."

"You crazy Italian…" He kept on laughing. I wanted to hug him, but I wasn't going to push my luck just yet. "It's bad enough I have to take second place to your son. But I'm not going to be pushed around by a cat."

I had to think a moment to understand what he was saying. I told him I needed to get
home to feed Flash. I tapped my fingers on his knee and probably would have done it again, but he grabbed my hand and held it in his. He squeezed it gently, then opened my fist and kissed the center of my palm. I knew our relationship had reached more solid ground.

His cell phone went off. I guess he recognized the number because he mumbled some apology, let go of my hand and answered the phone. "Hey, Steve, what's up?" He sounded happy and friendly, yet his face looked tense. "Yeah, well, comes with experience. No kidding. You get what? An average of two homicides per year? Glad I could help. What's going on with the Bernard girl? She did? Interesting."

I assumed Larry was talking to his fishing buddy from Parker. The one who was also a detective?

As soon as he hung up I voiced my curiosity. "Were you talking about Audrey?" I could have asked a dozen of other pertinent questions, like, "Were you speaking to your friend Steve?" But no, I had to bring up Audrey first.

He took my hand, set it on his knee and kept it there. His eyes focused somewhere, past the road to Dana Point, past the distant horizon. "
Aunt Millie
was dying." His voice came softly, part storytelling and part sad human being. "Brain tumor, few months left to live. She came to town to say her goodbyes. Who would want to kill her? It was a matter of time."

"I'm so sorry." I meant it. I felt sorry for Larry because he felt sorry for Aunt Millie. "How did she die? I mean, how was she, you know…"

He turned his head to look at me, then went back to his driving. "Blunt force trauma to the head." His voice still sounded far away. "She lost her hair during chemo. At first the coroner assumed her wig fell off when she jumped into the water and hit her head on a rock. Once her body got to Tucson, and to the Pima Medical Examiner, it became clear the trauma occurred at least twenty-four hours before she landed in the river. They never did find the wig."

"Is that important? The wig, I mean."

Again he turned to look at me, briefly. I could tell his brain was on overdrive.

"Hair was found in the Testarossa and the Porsche. The hair wasn't human, but synthetic. The missing wig may be the link."

"Why would someone go through all that trouble to steal a—oh my God! That's not what you mean. You think the dead aunt was in both cars? How? What would Kyle want with Audrey's aunt? Wait, Kyle didn't even meet Audrey until the day he was arrested. The aunt was dead before you and I went to dinner at Cannon." I felt my throat closing on me. I knew it was an illusion, but a powerful one. None of this made any sense and yet everything seemed to follow a twisted logical pattern.

"Welcome to the world of homicide investigations. By the way, real aunt or not, Audrey is the only heir, and according to Steve she'll be up in Parker for a while trying to take care of things."

We were approaching the Ortega exit, where the wire fence is painted sea-foam color and metal silhouettes of swallows in flight remind tourists and locals alike that this is the way to the beloved Mission San Juan Capistrano.

"They're getting ready for the parade of the return of the swallows. Wonder what time they decided to ring the bell tomorrow."

"Wait, when you said you got fired from a volunteer job were you serious?" I could tell by his voice he found the idea amusing.

"I've been helping with fundraising for the mission for over nine years, but tomorrow I won't be there."

"Why? What did you do? Besides, what's the big deal? Any organization would be happy to have you."

"I didn't do a thing. The head of volunteers is concerned my presence could be disruptive because of Kyle and the whole nonsense story of Ruby. Makes me sad even if I agree it's better this way. You know what I mean. I'd rather go visit Kyle."

He patted my hand. "I think I understand how you feel. I spent many Saint Joseph's days running around the mission when I was a kid. Lots of fun, especially looking up in the sky and pointing to the imaginary swallows."

We both laughed, thinking about the crowds traveling for miles to see the return of the migratory birds. So many years since anyone spotted a live swallow around the mission. Word on the street said that they nested at the Mission Viejo Mall because accessibility to water and soil was no longer available in the manicured gardens of the mission. The birds needed those two elements of nature to build their mud nests. But I didn't know for sure if the swallows nested at the mall.

"So, what would happen if you showed up anyway? They'll call security and get you thrown out?"

"I don't know. I never thought about it."

"Maybe you should go and see what happens? I could go with you, borrow a badge to flash around?" The mental picture of me showing up at the mission with a police escort made us both laugh again.

We were still laughing when we drove through the gate to my house. I felt welcomed even if only my cat was waiting for me. A lot can be said for familiarity and habits.

I unlocked the front door and went straight to the laundry room, calling Flash.

"So, where is my competition?" Larry followed me.

I stopped. I sensed Larry's body heat close behind me. The travertine floor of the laundry room was littered with dry cat food.

"Looks like your cat decided to feed itself."

Flash was nowhere in sight. I walked over to the cabinet where I kept the dry food; found the bag exactly where I left it the day before, but now it was empty. There would be no way for a cat to do that, even if it was a genius, which I never imagined Flash to be. I reached for the bag.

"Wait, don't touch it." Larry grabbed me and pulled me away from the cabinet. "Let's talk and let's find your cat." He was trying to play it off, but he sounded like a cop.

"Flash, Mommy is home. Come here." It felt awkward using baby talk in front of Larry in order to coax my cat out of hiding. "She may be hiding under my bed. She does that when something bothers her." A rehash of when I came home from Italy.

I headed for the stairs when Flash appeared at the very top. "There's my kitty. Come to Mommy. Tell me why you're scared." I met Flash halfway, sat on the step and stroked her back, wanting to make sure she was fine. I noticed Larry by my front door. He had the door open and was looking at the lock, shaking his head. "No sign of forced entry. How's the cat?"

I had a feeling Larry wasn't a cat lover, but a caring human being. "Can you store the spilled cat food in a grocery bag? I would like to take this empty one to Tom and have him check it for fingerprints if you don't mind, and then I'll come back and change your locks." He didn't wait for me to start complaining and argue, he kissed me on the cheek and left, but not before I promised to lock my doors and stay put until he came back.