Murder Under the Italian Moon Read online

  The Russells' house—or, as Ruby called it, their French chateau, Orange County-style—had blue eaves and a three-car garage smack in the front. The ultimate multimillion-dollar tract mansion. I parked my car and checked my makeup in the rearview mirror. Habit. I pinched my cheeks for instant rosiness. Ready. The street was deserted, normal for this two-careers-one-mortgage neighborhood. All the drapes of the Russells' house were drawn closed, yet I had the feeling eyes from somewhere on the block watched my every move. I could only imagine the wagging tongues of the Home Owners Association. Poor Ruby. Maybe she avoided answering the phone because of that.

  The doorbell echoed inside. I waited for what felt like an eternity. I rang again, my finger lingering on the button. I peeked through the etched glass panels of the front door. Darkness and silence seemed to fill the big house.

  Devin's words echoed in my mind: "They were in his office. He was cleaning the gun. He set it on the desk to answer the phone."

  I shivered and forced myself not to think about Tom. Who was I kidding? Dear God. Tom dead. Come on, Ruby, open the door. I wanted to scream her name and bang my fist on the glass door. Where could she be? After Nick's death, I went through loneliness and hopelessness. Dio mio. Ruby needed my help.

  I tried her cell again, but again got the same message about a full mailbox.

  I walked back to the car, back stiff, knees weak from feeling stared at. I sat in the car, troubled. What to do? Four days ago, Ruby accidentally shot her husband. Tom was Ruby's only family. She loved him. I could testify to that in—testify? I fought the urge to go back to Ruby's door. I started the engine and headed toward the Dana Point post office to pick up my mail, only to find it closed. Why didn't I pay more attention? Look at my watch, step on the gas? Story of my life. What was that American saying? A day late and a dollar short? Yes, pretty much summed up my state of mind.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  That drive to Ruby's place had upset me more than I cared to admit. Why hadn't Ruby tried to reach me? Why wouldn't she return my calls? She needed someone who could listen, and help her to process Tom's death and the consequential problems.

  I glanced at the setting sun, a shiny penny dipping into purple waters. Then I let the front door slam behind me and carried the groceries I'd stopped for on the way home into the kitchen. Another trip to the car should do it. Something I hated, a big drawback of the common garage. At least it wasn't raining.

  When I dropped off the last bags, Flash eased down the stairs and paused for a moment. Her eyes followed me while I turned on the lights. She'd seemed jumpy since I returned from my trip to Italy.

  "Hi, Flash. Look what I bought you." She walked over and rubbed against my leg. I ran my fingers over her arched back. A soft purr rewarded my stroking. After filling her dish and changing her water, I poured myself a glass of Chardonnay and sat on my favorite chair looking out onto the terrace. Since moving into this place, my life had been…peaceful, which was a creative way of avoiding the truth. In reality, my life consisted of an uninterrupted series of boring hours, days and months. In an attempt to broaden my circle of friends, a few years earlier I signed up for the Mission San Juan Docent program and, after the required hours of study, I graduated and went to work one day a week as a volunteer. It turned out to be more fun than anticipated. When I became a widow, I started to spend more time there, getting involved with the gift shop and helping make the little fragrant potpourri bags sold in the store. I should call to let them know I'm back. Tomorrow.

  My thoughts returned to Ruby. Had she lost touch with reality four years after the car accident, the one that killed Nick and damaged her brain? What doctors thought was a concussion turned into blackouts and trouble forming short-term memories. She was doing great when I left.

  Tired of watching Flash groom herself, I went into the kitchen and dialed Ruby's number. Five rings. I held my breath. No automated answer. Good. The phone kept on ringing. No voice mail, no Ruby. I dismissed the idea of calling her cell. She rarely checked the messages, so the mailbox was always full.

  I sighed. Time to check my answering machine, something I hated even more than carrying bags of groceries from the car. After each absence I procrastinated as long as possible. Kyle told me I needed a digital service, but I preferred the old-fashioned style I'd had for so long. It did its job, and I knew how to use it.

  Shades of red and purple from the setting sun bathed my bedroom walls. I liked my bedroom regardless of the time of day, but evenings like this made it even more special. I kicked off my shoes, made myself comfortable on the bed and, pad and pen in hand, hit the play button.

  Someone wanted to sell me a subscription to the OC Register. I already subscribed to the newspaper. Hang-ups, a wrong number, my dentist's office reminding me of my appointment. Jet lag caught up with me, and I yawned. More hang-ups. Flash jumped onto the bed and snuggled up against my backside, purring. I listened to an offer for a free trip to Vegas.

  Boring, boring—wait—

  "Lella, guess what." Ruby's voice. A giggle. "I forgot, you aren't home. Silly me. I'll catch you later." Typical Ruby.

  One of Nick's old friends passing through town invited me out to dinner. A week ago.

  Dial tones.

  I closed my eyes for a minute. A familiar voice woke me. A whisper. So close, was Ruby in the room? Speaking in my ear? I sat up, wide awake. The sound came from my answering machine. A chill stiffened the hair on the back of my neck, my heart pounding in my throat.

  "I am in your house, scared to death, talking to your silly machine. Something strange is going on in your bedroom, Lella. Have you got a ghost?"

  Why would she call my house phone from inside the house?

  "I wish you had an upstairs exit." Fear in her voice. A shuffling sound. Was someone crawling on the carpet near the answering machine? The shuffle moved away. Why was she crawling? A creak on the tape sounded far away, like from the steps of my stairs? Ruby's muffled voice again. I couldn't understand what she said.

  The chiming of the doorbell made me jump. I dropped the pad and pen, barely missing Flash. She bolted and hit the phone. It crashed to the floor. The doorbell rang again. I went downstairs, my legs shaky, turning on all the lights.

  "Who is it?" I tried to control the quivering in my voice.

  "I'm your neighbor. I'm looking for my little brother."

  I opened the door.

  No need to ask whose sister she was. In her early twenties, she had the same hair and fair complexion as the little boy, David. She tried to smile, but the worry in her hazel eyes shone through.

  "I'm Lella York. I saw David earlier, in the afternoon."

  "Oh, you've met him. Sorry, Audrey Bernard. I live next door. We moved in two weeks ago." She stood in the slice of light coming from my open door. The blue veins under the translucent skin of her slender neck pulsed. Long, straight hair hung around her young face. The dark, loose-fitting clothes she wore looked odd on her tall, thin body. Like borrowed rags or stolen garments. What was I thinking?

  "You're David's sister? You're so adorable, just like him."

  She shrugged then blushed. "I better go find him. He must have sneaked out while I was on the phone. It's getting late. Thank you, Mrs. York."

  "Lella. Call me Lella." I closed the door. I had to go back to my answering machine. By now, my fear had morphed into uneasiness. I wanted to talk to someone, anyone. I wanted to be told everything would be okay. Should I call Kyle? How could I explain my state of mind to my son without upsetting and concerning him?

  I went into the kitchen and dialed Ruby's number. The phone rang over and over. No answer. I didn't want to go upstairs.

  In spite of my good intentions, I dialed Kyle's cell phone. "The mobile customer you have dialed—" I slammed the phone down. Where is everybody? Should I go out and talk to the strange young girl next door? Help her find her little brother, maybe? A glance at my bare feet changed my mind. Out of habit I'd left my shoes upstairs, same place as the a
nswering machine with Ruby's message.

  Lawrence Devin's name popped into my mind. Larry. I couldn't possibly call him this late. He probably wasn't at the office anyway. I started up the stairs.

  Flash sat on the top landing, licking her front paw. Lucky cat. She didn't have a worry in the world. She stretched and followed me down the hall. Feeling like a complete idiot, I checked the guest room and even looked in the closet. Thank God the shutters were closed. I didn't want the neighbors to see what I was doing.

  What was I doing? Becoming paranoid? I checked the guest bathroom also. The door seemed stuck. I bumped it open with my hip. I went to the corner cabinet to get a new roll of toilet paper to replace the empty one. The cold carpet against my bare soles gave me chills. I stared at the toilet paper. It wasn't the brand I usually bought. I preferred the two-ply kind, well worth the extra pennies. This was single ply. Not a big deal, just strange. Did Kyle buy toilet paper thinking we didn't have any? Did Ruby?

  I bent down to check the carpet; damp. "Flash, did you do this?" On my hands and knees, I reached for her. She bolted back and disappeared. I didn't smell cat urine. What happened here? Too tired to clean floors, I retreated into my bedroom, where another surprise awaited. A soft buzz came from my night table. Correction, from under my night table, where the telephone had landed on top of the answering machine. It was the sound of the machine whirring. All the messages had been erased.

  "Flash? Where are you hiding?" I put the telephone back on the night table. "Well, I guess one of my problems is solved." I couldn't listen to Ruby's message since it was erased. No sense dwelling on it. Who was I kidding? The night chill descended over South Orange County while I sat against the pillow, hypnotized by my own spell.

  A noise came from under my bed. There was Flash, all curled up. "Flash, you big coward." She opened one eye to look at me then closed it again and went back to sleep.

  Great.

  Maybe a sleeping pill would help.

  I undressed, put on my nightgown and my robe and went into the bathroom to remove my makeup.

  On my way to the closet, I picked up the handbag I'd left on the floor. Lawrence Devin's business card fell out.

  The sign I'd been waiting for. I knew it. I didn't care if it was almost midnight. I dialed the number on his card. A woman answered the phone.

  "Can I speak to Lieutenant Devin, please?"

  "Devin?" She paused. "Just a moment."

  I waited, trying to come up with something to say. Why was I calling this man?

  My hands sweated, yet chills ran through my body. I can hang up. I didn't say who I am.

  "I'm sorry, ma'am. Lieutenant Devin is on vacation. Would you like to speak to someone else?"

  "What?" I stared at the white card in my hand, the printed words dancing in slow motion. "Are you sure? Never mind. It's not a big deal." I didn't wait for an answer. I put down the phone. My mind whirled. When had he gone on vacation? He'd just interviewed me this morning. Had he wrapped up the case so fast? And if so, what of Ruby? If he'd already made up his mind about her, why would he go through that questions-and-answers charade with me? What could he gain from it? He didn't ask me to sign anything. He wasn't threatening. On the contrary, he was charming and handsome. Stop it. I was becoming much too paranoid. I tore the business card into shreds then turned off the light.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Morning light tortured my headache and my eyelids weighed a ton—each. Even a cup of my favorite brew failed to improve my disposition. I picked up the newspaper from the front door and decided it was time to talk to Ruby face to face. Flash came from the laundry room, sat by the kitchen door and licked her paws. She watched me dial Ruby's number.

  Two rings and a chime, then a voice informed me that the number I had dialed was no longer in service.

  I must have dialed the wrong number. Carefully, I redialed. Same recording. I slammed the phone down. Flash interrupted her routine, gave me a disdainful glance and disappeared under the living-room couch. I could blame Ruby for only part of my lousy state of mind. Lieutenant Devin had joined the ranks of the people I'd like to have a word or two with.

  Time to get dressed. The empty space in my walk-in closet reminded me I had to unpack my suitcase, which in turn reminded me Kyle hadn't called since he dropped me off.

  God, I looked awful. I wasn't in any mood for makeup, either. I tied a scarf over my hair to hide the few gray roots playing peekaboo on my head, grabbed my movie-star-incognito dark glasses and left.

  At the security gate, I crossed paths with the mail carrier. "Hi, Juliet." I waved my mail slip from my car window.

  Juliet shielded her eyes from the sun and walked over. "Nice to have you back, Mrs. York. Sorry about your mail. I didn't have much choice. The mailbox was full."

  "Don't apologize. I understand."

  "That's good. Your friend should learn from you."

  "My friend?"

  "The one who's been taking care of your mail and, I guess, your house."

  "Oh, you mean Ruby. What has she been up to?"

  "She was here yesterday and got very upset when I told her your mail had to be picked up at the post office."

  "Yesterday?"

  "Yes. Is there something wrong?"

  "No. No. I've got to go. Ciao."

  Ruby was here yesterday? Why didn't she come over to the house? She must have felt terrible when she found out the post office stopped delivering my mail. I bet she was ringing my doorbell while I was ringing hers. I'd drive to her house first and tell her about her phone being out of order. Maybe she didn't pay the bill. Tom always took care of their finances. Poor Ruby. What would become of her now?

  Her husband had to have a substantial trust fund set up for her, and life insurance. Like Nick did. Where would I have been without Nick's insurance after his death?

  I wasn't going to think about him. Fifteen minutes later the blue eaves of the Russells' house came into view, and I parked at the curb. Eaves weren't the only blue thing I noticed. Right on the sad-looking front lawn, next to the wilting miniature roses, there was a blue and white realty sign. FOR SALE. What? I got out of my car and marched to the front door.

  I rang the bell a dozen times. Each time I left my finger on the button longer and longer. No answer.

  Discouraged, and a little angry, I walked down the front path. The neighbor across the street, armed with a straw hat, gloves and gardening tools, appeared absorbed in her work. Or was she?

  Mrs. Snoopy, Ruby called her.

  "Hell, I know there's one in every neighborhood," Ruby used to say, "but must she live across the street from me?"

  I walked over. "Hi there. I'm Lella York, Ruby's friend."

  "How are you? We met at the Russells' housewarming party, remember? Poor Tom. What a terrible way to go." She stopped to take a breath.

  I nodded.

  "Of course, I had the feeling something wasn't right, especially after the incident with the Jeep."

  "What incident?"

  "You don't know? Come to think of it, I haven't seen you around lately. Not before yesterday." She stopped.

  So she had been keeping an eye on the house.

  "I was out of the country on vacation."

  She shrugged. "Never could understand why a little person like her would drive that big car in the first place. Anyhow, they'd just gotten one of those gadgets. You push a button on your garage opener and all your lights come on or go out. In the house, I mean."

  I hoped I looked fascinated by her story.

  "Sears installed it a week ago. The night before she killed—I mean, before the accidental shooting, she got home very late. I happened to be walking Gigi, my French poodle. Right when she came around the curb, Ruby, I mean, must have pushed the wrong button because the house went completely dark." Mrs. Snoopy removed her wide-brimmed hat and paused. I was impatient for her to get back to the story. She seemed to enjoy herself too much.

  I nodded and sighed. It must have been what sh
e wanted to see, because she resumed her storytelling.

  "Ruby finally managed to get the garage door open. I bet she pressed every button on the remote. I could see her shaking it. And then, as the garage door closed, a crash reverberated and the house went dark again. Tom came out the front door in his slippers and robe, looking puzzled. He asked me what had happened. Can you imagine?" She laughed a short, forced laugh. "It turned out Ruby pushed more than one wrong button. She closed the garage door and at the same time, the back gate of the Jeep swung open. I'm not sure how she did it, but the car door got jammed into the garage door and they couldn't move one without damaging the other. Tom finally managed to get the garage closed, but I bet the Jeep is still that way, stuck to the garage door."

  "Are you saying Ruby's Jeep is in the garage and can't be moved?"

  "I'm sure Tom would have taken care of it if he hadn't been killed. And you know how Ruby is."

  Sure, Ruby still got confused sometimes, but she wasn't scatterbrained like this woman implied.

  "By the way, do you know where Ruby is? I've been trying to reach her."

  "No. I can't say I do. Then again, I'm not spending my time checking on the neighbors."

  Right!

  "This morning a realtor came to put up the FOR SALE sign."

  I nodded. "I imagine the police questioned you."

  "Oh, yes, they did. I don't know what for. They ruled Tom's death an accident. Though, by all accounts, Ruby's running around like nothing happened." She avoided my eyes.

  "Did you speak to Lieutenant Devin?"

  "Who?"

  "Never mind. I'd better get going. If you see Ruby, can you tell her I've been trying to get in touch?"

  "Sure. Have you tried calling her?"