Murder in the Air (2 page)

Lydia tensed, expecting the usual stab at humor at how she seemed to have an affinity for dead bodies. Instead, Stefano asked, “Did the demo equipment turn up anything else?”

“Anything else? Like what?”

He shrugged. “Like—anything?”

“I don’t think so. See you later.” She walked on, puzzled by his comment.

Reggie, her red tomcat, greeted her as she entered the kitchen from the garage.

“Have you been a good boy while Mommy was away?”

“Meow!” Reggie answered, rubbing against her legs.

“I see you’re hungry as usual.”

Lydia reached into the refrigerator for cat food, and scooped some into a bowl. Though still a bit shaky from the shocking discovery, she longed to hop into her car and escape from Twin Lakes—at least as far as Main Street to run her errands. But common sense won out and she stayed put, available to whichever officer the police sent to question her. The phone rang. It was Katherine Linnett.

“Hi, Lydia. George told me what happened. How awful for you.”

“More awful for the poor person hidden away in the root cellar. God knows if he was murdered.”

“Or she,” Katherine said. “George asked me to let you know the police will be coming by your house to take your statement.”

Already? “I figured they’d send someone, though I’ve nothing to add to what George, Benny, and the workmen have to say.”

“A formality, my dear. Maybe that cute detective who saved your life will be the one stopping by. Detective Moreno?”

“Molina,” Lydia corrected. “Thanks for letting me know, Katherine.”

“Try to relax. Have some tea or scotch, or whatever works for you.”

Tea, Lydia thought as she put the kettle on. Soon the calls would begin. She considered disconnecting the phone, but decided, instead, to call her daughter. She and Merry were on much better terms than they’d been in years, but all that might go down the tubes if Merry heard second-hand that Lydia had witnessed the discovery of a corpse.

Before she could press the button that fast-dialed Meredith’s number, the doorbell rang. Lydia hurried to answer it. Detective Lieutenant Sol Molina stood before her, as sexy and handsome as ever.

“Hello, Lydia.”

“Hello, Sol.” They stared into each other’s eyes. His were emerald green, a definite sign he was experiencing deep emotion. She cleared her throat. “Come inside.”

Sol strode past her, his glance darting from side to side. “You’ve added some nice touches since my last visit. The place looks great.”

“Thank you,” Lydia told his back as he studied her new living room drapes and curio cabinet.

She sat on one of the facing sofas separated by a glass coffee table. He settled down across from her and leaned forward. She felt an erotic stirring, which she quickly suppressed.

“How have you been, Lydia?”

“Fine, thank you.”

“You look wonderful.”

She nodded, pressing her lips together to keep from thanking him for a ridiculously ludicrous third time.

Sol gave a forced laugh. She was glad to see he felt as uncomfortable as she. “Here I am, once again questioning you about a corpse.”

“About which I know nothing,” Lydia pointed out, a bit sharper than she’d intended. “I’m co-chair of the New Development Committee and was on the site when they unearthed the body.”

“That must have been upsetting.”

She shuddered. “Not a pleasant sight.”

“I’m sorry you had to see it.” Sol reached across the table as though to pat her hand then jerked back. “The crime team’s removing the remains. I doubt they’ll get much information from the site, considering the demolition and passage of time. The corpse is another story. The lab people can determine sex, age, probable time frame, and cause of death.”

“You mean how he or she was murdered?”

“The forensic tests will determine if it was murder.” Sol paused, then said, “Tell me exactly what you saw at the time.”

Lydia told him. She ended by saying, “The corpse seemed so—slender. I got the impression it was a young person.”

She took his half smile for approbation that her assumption was correct. Despite the gruesome subject under discussion and the reason for his visit, Sol’s approval gave Lydia a frisson of pleasure.

Sol said, “The backhoe driver said the root cellar ran the length of the house, and the body was at the end of a long section barely two feet high. It was well hidden. Still, it’s a wonder no one discovered it until now.”

“Sounds very suspicious to me.”

“Naturally, we’ll investigate. Thanks for calling me.”

Lydia nodded. Clearly, the interview was over. She stood and waited for Sol to do the same. Instead, he cleared his throat. “Would it be too much trouble to boil some water for coffee? I forgot to eat lunch.”

“No trouble at all,” Lydia said formally. “Let’s go into the kitchen.”

He followed her across the dining room. Reggie came racing from a bedroom and rubbed up against Sol’s leg. Smiling, Sol bent down to pet Reggie’s flank. The cat began to purr.

“Good boy!” Sol grinned up at her. “Reggie remembers me.”

“He’s a friendly feline,” Lydia said, though in truth Reggie rarely sought attention from her guests. Damn Sol! She smiled to herself when Reggie dashed into the kitchen ahead of them to meow beside his dish.

“I just fed you! Eat what’s left,” Lydia told him.

For once, Reggie obeyed, eliciting a look of admiration from Sol. “You have him well trained.”

“For a cat,” Lydia amended, thinking cats obliged their human companions only when they chose.

She filled the kettle with water and placed it on the stove. With a sigh, Sol dropped into a chair and stretched out his legs. “It feels good to take a five-minute break.”

“Make yourself at home,” Lydia said sarcastically.

“Lydia….”

“Yes?”

“Please don’t make this more difficult than it is.”

“Me make it difficult?” She let out a humorless laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“You knew this would be treated as a homicide, which is why you called me.”

When she didn’t respond, he continued. “I have to question you and everyone else who was present when they unearthed those remains.”

“You or someone on your homicide team. I bet Officer McKlusky is questioning George or Benny this very minute.”

He laughed. “You’re quick, Lydia. It’s one of the things I like most about you.”

Lydia sat down and stared him in the eye. “I never would have guessed you liked anything about me.”

“Couldn’t you tell the last time we were out together?”

“The last time? Let’s see, that was back in February. The second Saturday in February, to be exact. If I remember correctly, you jumped up from what we were doing and said you’d be calling.”

“And I never did.” He sounded mournful.

A silence descended. Lydia stifled her natural inclination to encourage a reluctant speaker. She would not give Solomon Molina the satisfaction of asking why he’d never called again.

After a long minute, he asked, “Didn’t you wonder why?”

Lydia glared at him. “Of course I wondered why! I ran through every stupid thing I might have said or done to chase you away.”

Sol covered her hand with his. Lydia tried to pull free, but he held fast. “I was frightened, all right? Afraid I was falling for you big time. Now go ahead and laugh.”

“I’m not going to laugh,” she said, doing her best to absorb Sol’s admission. He liked her. He really liked her. But to her great surprise, she tossed back her head and roared with laughter until tears streamed down her cheeks. His shocked expression set her off on another peal. Lydia reached for a napkin and dabbed at her eyes.

“I’m sorry, but seeing those remains must have unhinged me. It’s just that you’re a homicide detective who deals with murderers and corpses, yet I scare you away?”

Sol leaped to his feet, his now-hazel eyes narrowed with anger, his earlobes red with humiliation. “Knock yourself out,” he muttered, and strode toward the front door.

“Sol, wait!” she called after him. “I didn’t mean to laugh at you.”

“It doesn’t matter.” He reached for the doorknob.

Lydia’s heart thumped as she touched his shoulder. Sol Molina was an unknown quantity. He was relationship-phobic and would break her heart. Or things between them would change for the better.

“Of course it matters. I know what you mean—about being afraid.”

“Lydia, I don’t want to discuss it.”

“There may not be another time so I want to discuss it.” She took a deep breath. “Everyone’s afraid when it comes to relationships, including me.”

He gave a snort. “I doubt that sincerely.”

She shrugged. “Sol, no one likes to get hurt, and you hurt me by not calling.”

“I apologize. I thought it would be easier if I made the break when I did. We’re too different, you and I. We live in different worlds.”

“So what?” She felt the laughter rising again, along with the urge to croon “Two Different Worlds We Live In.” This time she managed to control herself. “We’re not getting married, lieutenant. No need to be so dramatic. Please, Sol.” She gazed into his troubled face.

He rubbed her arms. “I’ve missed you, Lydia Krause.”

“Then do something about it.”

He bent to kiss her lightly on the lips. “I’ll call you. This time I mean it.”

*

The discovery of the body put a stop to all work on the site for the rest of the week. From Tuesday afternoon until Friday noon, the site was secured and bound off by yellow tape as various crime teams investigated the root cellar and rummaged among the remains of the razed house in search of clues.

More than ever, Lydia appreciated her part-time job at Carrington House, which removed her from the hothouse community of Twin Lakes. The old mansion had been converted into a restaurant-catering house, with a world-famous chef at the helm. Though Lydia had been hired as bookkeeper, her duties now extended to interviews with prospective clients and handling bookings. Business was good, and the corporation had begun the construction of Carrington Suites—an elegant hotel for guests attending Carrington affairs. Lydia had been offered the position of managing Carrington Suites, and she still hadn’t made up her mind if she’d take it or not.

“An impossible task,” Sol told her late Wednesday afternoon as she poured them both a cup of coffee. “The lab estimates the body’s been down there between fifty and seventy-five years, and they’re leaning toward the longer time period.”

“Whew!” Lydia shook her head. “For three-quarters of a century families lived in that house, along with a body in the root cellar. Any idea who it was?”

“No ID yet, except he was a young male between thirteen and seventeen years of age.”

She nodded, making her calculations. “Any unusual deaths in the family who lived there seventy-five years ago?”

Sol grinned as he stretched out his legs. “We’re checking on that, Miss Marple. We’re following every possible lead, every which way—going through town records, old newspapers, old police files. You name it, we’re working on it. It’s not easy when most of the people you want to question are living in another state, dead, or too senile to remember.”

“I wonder who killed him and why?”

Sol grinned. “You don’t give up, do you?”

Annoyed, Lydia demanded, “What do you mean, ‘give up?’”

“Playing detective is what I mean.” His green eyes twinkled mischievously. “The boys at the station house can’t get over how you were in on the discovery scene.”

Lydia stood up. “I was not in on discovering the body. I was there because my co-chair swore he’d watch all demolition and construction then went on vacation instead.”

Sol stood, also, and placed his hands on her waist. “Regardless, the fact is you were there when they made the discovery, and it stirred your curiosity.”

She shrugged, refusing to admit he was right.

“But you won’t go poking around on your own, correct?”

“I’ve no intention of usurping your job, if that’s what you mean!” Lydia broke free and strode out of the kitchen. “Sorry to be so abrupt, but I’ve been working all day and I’ve things to see to.”

“No need to get all heated up,” he said.

Lydia turned, startled to discover he was close behind her. The man moved as swiftly as a cougar.

“But I’m serious about your not getting involved.” He paused. “Remember when the homeowner died last fall?”

Lydia nodded. “The old man was in his nineties and refused to go into a nursing home.”

“As soon as the house became vacant, local drug dealers took to using it to make sales and shoot up.”

“Really!” Lydia exclaimed. “I had no idea.”

Sol laughed. “Your ignorance of the matter blows me away.”

Lydia wasn’t amused. “I don’t know everything that goes on around here, nor do I want to. You needn’t fear. I’ve no intention of ‘poking around,’ as you put it.”

He took her hand and raised it to his lips. “If only I could believe that were true.”

Chapter Three

The following week, Lydia had to contend with a barrage of phone calls from Twin Lakes’ residents, all of whom assumed she had the inside track regarding the police investigation. Neighbors stopped her in the clubhouse, as she power-walked, and as she shopped in the local supermarket to inquire about the boy: What was his name? How had he died? Who had stuck his body in the root cellar? Lydia’s insistence that she knew no more than they did was waved away with fluttering hands and the blithe declaration that Detective Lieutenant Molina was sure to keep her apprised of any new developments in the case. After all, she’d taken part in the investigation of the murders that had occurred the previous autumn. And—wink, wink—didn’t she and Lieutenant Molina enjoy a special friendship?

Even Meredith, her own daughter, decided that Lydia had chosen to be involved in this new Twin Lakes mystery.

“Honestly, Mother, I would think you’ve had enough of murder and mayhem to last you a lifetime,” she’d called to tell Lydia the evening the body had been found.

“You thought correctly, Merry.”

When Merry remained silent, Lydia let out a snort of indignation. “You can’t imagine for one minute that I wanted to be there.”