Murder Under the Italian Moon (24 page)

By the time I got home and parked my car, I was limping worse than before. Too much time spent on my feet. The doctor warned me to stay off the sprained toe. I unlocked the front door and turned on all the lights, then sat on the couch, drained. Being alone in the house gave me permission to unleash my sorrow.

Ruby and Nick, why? He could have asked for a divorce, a legal separation. How about her? My best friend. Why Nick? She had all those men. I only had one. Now I sobbed without shame. Tears fell on my sweatshirt, and my chest shook. I couldn't talk to Kyle in this state of mind. I had to calm down. I clicked the remote, and the TV came on. Maybe it would take my mind off my problems. CNN and the news. Ruby's smiling face flashed on the small screen, next to another woman's face.

My phone rang. I picked it up to make the ringing stop. It was Kyle. "Mom, are you watching CNN?"

"Yeah," I said, but nothing could stop him.

"It's Ruby and that Parker lady, remember? Ruby has been using her driver's license." He sounded breathless.

"Let me listen."

"Mom, do you think Ruby did something to the Parker lady? Did they know each other?" I couldn't hear what the anchorwoman was saying. Soon the news switched subjects.

"Kyle, I don't know what to say. You were the last one to talk to Ruby, remember? I have no idea what the relationship was between her and Aunt Millie."

Minutes passed. "Kyle, are you all settled in?"

"It feels so good to be home. I took a long, long shower, a hot shower, and I'm in my skivvies, drinking a beer, talking to my mom and watching TV. Life is good."

"Kyle, did you know anything about Ruby suing Caltrans for the car accident?"

He paused for a long time. "Are you talking about Dad's accident on Ortega?"

"Yes."

"No, never heard a thing about it. When did that happen? I mean, she was pretty screwed up, mentally, you know. You remember her phone calls and all that, don't you?"

"Yes, that's why I was shocked when I found out. It must have been while I was in Italy. You'd think someone from Caltrans would have spoken to us about it." I dried a defiant tear with the back of my hand. "Marko Forrester, a lawyer from Irvine represented her. He may be related to the dead lady from Parker."

"No, never heard that name, but you know what? I'm going to check it all out on the internet."

"You can do that?"

"Of course, Mom. If there was a court case it will be public information. Let me write down the name, Marco Forrester."

"Kyle, Marko is with a K."

"That's an unusual spelling. I'll check it out and call you back."

He hung up before I had a chance to object. The phone rang again. That was fast detective work.

"Don't you have call waiting?" Larry, the real detective.

"No, I think it's rude to make people wait while you decide who gets priority. Anyway, I was talking to Kyle."

"How's he doing?" His voice had that same edge I sensed earlier at Ruby's place.

"He's fine. What happened in Laguna? I'm assuming you didn't find Ruby, or it would be all over the news."

"She wasn't there, but she'd been hiding there. We found trash, a cooler, basic survival stuff." He stopped talking and I held my breath. What was he thinking about?

A good minute went by. "You don't trust me, do you? Is that why you didn't want me to know where Ruby used to live? I have access to records, information, you know? Not a big dark secret. The woman is a criminal; she could hurt you. Don't you understand?"

I kept quiet because I knew he was right. I also knew I would do it all over if I had to.

"Lella, we found the hat."

"Ah! I told you, I told you. It
was
her." I wasn't talking, I was yelling. I felt vindicated.

"Yes, sweetie, you told us. I apologize for the whole police department being wrong." Was he mocking me? "The hat is evidence, and even if it wasn't, it's flat, like someone stomped on it."

"She probably did that after I chased her at the train depot."

"We figured that's when she moved out too."

He called me sweetie…so all that silent treatment was because he worried about me?

"We saw the news, CNN. And you were right." That was all I needed to say.

"Ah, ah, Miss Negativity. What did I tell you? Ruby bought a used car in Colton, of all places. She used Aunt Millie's driver license and paid cash. Since the story ran, tips are coming in fast and furious. The salesman who made the sale said she was blond with dark glasses. She bought a generic-looking used white Ford Focus, with temporary plates, unless she switched it with a stolen one." I could hear him breathe. "Sweetie? Are you there?"

"Yes, and you were right. I bet they want you back to work lickety-split, heh, Sherlock?"

He laughed. I wanted a hug.

"Lella, every cop from LA to San Diego is looking for Ruby and that Focus. Promise you aren't going to open your door to anyone, okay? Kyle is under house arrest, and I'm on my way to Santa Ana with Bob. No one should be knocking at your door tonight. No one with good intentions."

"I promise. Do I get my hat back?"

"What? Honestly, you and that hat. It's evidence. I'll take you out tomorrow, and I'll buy you whatever hat you want, okay?"

"Okay. Larry—what did the place look like?"

"Empty and sad. Ruby was camping out, sleeping on an inflatable beach mattress. I doubt she spent much time there. Don't torture yourself." His words told me he understood my pain, my doubts. "There wasn't anything personal."

I sighed. "I'll talk to you tomorrow. I bet Kyle is trying to call me. He's doing his own investigations."

Larry laughed. "Night, sweetie."

I hung up. The TV was still on CNN, but on mute. They were running Ruby's story again. Finally they switched to a commercial, a cat-food commercial.
Flash!
Damn. I forgot all about my cat. She was probably upstairs under my bed, mad as hell because I was gone all day again. I looked at my toe, the size of a summer squash. Maybe I could bribe her into coming down to eat. "Flash, where are you?" I chanted from the couch. "Where's my sweet little kitty? Come say hi to Mommy, and I'll give you a treat." Silence.

Time to switch to Plan B. I dragged myself to the kitchen, grabbed a can of tuna from the cupboard and started the electric can opener, keeping an eye on the stairs. The can was open; the tuna smell filled my nostrils. No cat. Where could she be hiding? I walked over to the stairs, holding the can of tuna and feeling pretty silly. "Flash, baby, come get your treat." I left the can there and went upstairs, careful not to put pressure on the left foot. I looked and called and cajoled, but Flash was nowhere to be found. Could she have gone out? I had a cat door that she hardly ever used. For some reason she didn't like it.

I went down to the laundry room. I couldn't tell if she used the kitty door or not. It wasn't locked. I kicked it with my good foot. It didn't move. It should have swung open and then closed. I tried again, same results. I got down on my hands and knees and tried to figure out what was keeping it from moving. It swayed back toward the inside of the room. One of my geranium pots was in front of the outside opening. Damn. That idiot yard man did it again. I must have told him a million times to stay off my patio. I liked to take care of my own plants. Squatted by the cat door, I felt pretty stupid myself. I tried calling again, put my face by the opening, "Flash, are you out there, little darling?"

"Meow." The sound was feeble. I wasn't sure if it was close, wasn't sure if it was my cat's. "Meow." Closer now. It had to be Flash.

"I'm coming, baby, be patient. Mommy needs to get her shoes, and she'll come get you, and then she'll fire the bad man who locked you out." I walked to the couch while talking, got my right shoe on, changed my mind and limped toward the patio door barefooted. I looked outside. There should have been a moon. Instead the clouds had tarnished the night sky, and there wasn't a star or a speck of moonlight.

It reminded me of that night on Ponte Vecchio. New shivers and old fears found their mark.

"Meow, meow." Louder and closer.

I went to open the patio door.

The sliding door had always been hard to open, tonight more than ever. I pushed it enough to stick out my head. "Flash, are you out there?" Nothing. Shoulder against the door, I pushed harder. "Flaaash, Mommy is home." A black fury hissed by, flying past my legs.

I turned to look at her, "Whoa, Flash…where are you coming from?"

"From hell." Ruby's unmistakable voice rose from the darkness. Before I could react, she thrust the weight of her body against mine, forcing me backward. I tripped and landed on the living-room floor. I sat, stunned. We looked at each other; the only sound came from Flash gulping the tuna I'd left on the stairs. Ruby stared down at me, at my awkward position, my bare feet, her smug smirk heightening my sense of nothingness.

"Ruby? What happened to you?" My own voice surprised me—calm with a hint of concern, trumping the rumbling I felt in inside. "You look exhausted." That wasn't what I meant to say, but I didn't dare tell her she looked awful.

"That's because I'm in a hurry. Where's the key?" The blond wig, already askew, slipped a little farther to the left, her bright red lipstick smeared on her cheeks.

"What key?"

She kicked me. I instinctively rolled into a fetal position. Her pointed shoe hit my left toe. I moaned.

"Oh, poor Lella, did I hurt you?" She taunted, then kicked me again.

I grabbed her leg in midair and pulled. She tried to hold on to the étagère next to the wall, but couldn't. She hit the ground with a thud.

We rolled on the floor, fighting for control. Ruby pulled my hair, and I pulled hers. Her wig came off and all went still. I had known all along she wore Aunt Millie's wig, but feeling it in my hands and seeing Ruby's usually curly, shining hair now matted and stuck to her scalp was so disturbing I found myself feeling sorry for her. She must have felt my hesitation. She moved back, away from me, and I began to get up. When I looked at her again she was on her feet with a gun pointed at me.

"You have a gun?"

"You have a gun?" She mimicked my accent.

I still held the wig and didn't know what to say to avoid enraging her. She walked backward to the open patio door, keeping the gun aimed in my direction and, without turning around, she shut and locked the door. "Good, now we can talk without interruptions. Get me my key and my wig, and I'll be on my way."

"This isn't yours. It's Milena Forrester's wig."

For a moment the hunger in her eyes dimmed, only to rekindle more voraciously than before. "What the hell do you know about that fucking loony? Besides, it's my wig, not hers."

"Why do you need a wig? You look so much better without it." I needed to keep talking, keep her calm while I figured out what to do next.

"Haven't you heard? Blondes have more fun." She laughed, and for an instant it was like old times, the two of us chatting, joking. The only missing items were a bottle of her favorite wine and two stem glasses.

"Would you like a glass of Chardonnay?" Anything to get her to put away that gun.

"Are you really that stupid, or do you think I am? Because I'm not, so it must be you."

"What did you do to Aunt Millie?"

She winced. "Would you stop calling her Aunt Millie? You make her sound like a sweet little old lady. Her name is Milena Forrester. Now get the key so I can get going."

"Why did you kill her?"

She took a step in my direction and lifted the gun. I raised my hands to cover my face. My tremors were so strong I could hear my teeth clatter.

"I didn't kill anybody, you hear me?" Her voice a shriek. "She got sick, threw up all over your bathroom floor. I spent the whole afternoon cleaning up after her, and as a reward, she accused me of ruining her brother's life. A family of fools. Bad genes."

"You mean her brother, Marko? The lawyer?"

Her whole attitude changed. She bit her lips, stared at me, searching for an excuse? "Yeah, that prick." She wiped her mouth, smearing more lipstick. It made her look even more insane, removed from reality. "You give 'em a little head, they think they own your ass. A goddamn coke-head, he was. That's how he fried his brain. I had nothing to do with it. He's right where he belongs." She mumbled the last part and wiped her mouth again. "The key. Now!"

The phone rang.

"Don't touch that phone. I'll blow your fingers off."

"It's Kyle." My voice had the same make-believe calm as before.

"Kyle?" She laughed. "Poor baby, getting lonely in his cell?" She didn't know about his release?

"Yes, he's sitting in jail for something you did. Why? What did he ever do to you?"

"Please, don't start one of your holier-than-thou tirades. As soon as I'm safely out of the country, starting my new life, I'll make sure he goes free."

"How?"

"I've written a letter. It explains how Milena got sick."

"How did she get sick?"

"Stop interrupting." Beads of perspiration dotted her upper lip. Ruby looked nervous. "She tripped on Flash coming down the stairs, hit her head. I told you she started throwing up. I had promised her a ride home. Drove her to Parker. She kept nagging and falling asleep, then she puked in the car. I'd had enough. I locked her in the trunk."

"You what?"

The phone stopped ringing.

Ruby looked at me with those dark, insatiable eyes of hers. I needed to sit, but pangs of fear twisted my brain, and I didn't move.

"Lella, I need my key. You can keep the wig." Her voice relaxed, her lips all smiles. "Milena was at the wrong place, at the wrong time, as they say. I was days from leaving. A whole new world waiting for me. Bye, bye, Mrs. Russell, hello self-made millionaire Ruby Alexander." She seemed to talk to herself. "Look, I had to put Milena somewhere before I gave the Testarossa to Kyle. She died in her sleep—"

"In the trunk of your car?"

The phone rang again.

The smile disappeared from her face, and with her free hand she grabbed the phone, pulled it off the table, cord and all, and dropped it on the floor. Her eyes never left mine.