Murder Under the Italian Moon (11 page)

Kyle's telephone rang constantly, and I listened to the messages that the callers, mostly female, left. The information ranged from sweet and simple to outrageous to vulgar.

Ruby called on the fourth day of my self-imposed solitude. I didn't pick up. Even when I heard Ruby say: "Kyle, this is Ruby. I heard Lella's back. How is she? Can I have her phone number? She must have changed the other one I had. Call me. Thanks."

Listening to her voice after all that time had brought a sense of fury into my consciousness. From the police report and from Kyle, I'd learned Nick was driving Ruby's car with Ruby in the passenger seat. It was unclear where they were going. Or what they were doing together. I chose the cowardly way out and never asked. What you don't know can't hurt, I told myself back then. I still did that sometimes.

I screamed at the answering machine, at the walls and at the unfairness of the whole wide world.

She called again the next day and the next…

I seemed to live only for her calls.

On the eighth day Ruby called in the morning. She sounded increasingly annoyed, as if trying to guess whether Kyle was out of town or ignoring her messages.

I sat in the dark, hugging a pillow and feeling sorry for myself and, as I often did, wishing Ruby had died instead of Nick.

Twenty minutes later, the phone rang again. Ruby. She repeated word for word what she'd said in her very first message. Goose bumps bristled on my skin, and I felt the urge to open the window wide and let the sunshine in. I got dressed and went shopping. Anything to get away from Ruby's calls. I didn't buy a thing.

That night she phoned very late. Her annoyance was replaced with fear. "Kyle, something's happened to Lella. You've got to come down here immediately. I stopped by her house to say hello, and a strange woman opened the door. She wouldn't let me in. I'm worried about your mother. Should I call the police? No. I tell you what. I'll get myself back there, sit in my neighbors' car and watch the house until you get here."

Click.

Cold sweat covered my forehead and the back of my neck. She was crazy. I'd sold my house months ago. I became so distraught I couldn't think…I had to talk to somebody.

Anybody but Ruby. I put on the dress I wore on the flight home, grabbed my still unpacked luggage and left Kyle's apartment.

I checked into the Holiday Inn then called my son in San Francisco.

He didn't sound surprised.

He said he understood my anger and my blaming Ruby for the accident. If Nick hadn't been driving her car, if he hadn't been traveling with her in the first place, the accident might have never happened. He figured it was time to tell me what was wrong with Ruby.

She couldn't drive yet and was often confused. After she appeared to have an epileptic seizure, a neurologist solved the mystery. The impact to her skull had cut off certain pathways to her brain. She experienced temporary memory loss. It sometimes lasted hours—other times, days.

Ruby could read but couldn't write because she couldn't organize her thoughts logically. She had to quit her job at the
Register
. She went into therapy, knowing it would be a long time before she could have a normal life again. She was depressed about Nick's death and about my cutting her out of my life.

Kyle told me she was still living in the same place in Laguna Beach. Alone. All her friends had drifted away from her. She spoke to Kyle occasionally. Sometimes she forgot about the accident and asked about Nick and me. When she remembered, she cried.

I didn't sleep at all that night. I felt guilty about the way I had ignored Ruby. Was my guilt valid? I didn't know. I had to find out. The next morning, I rented a car and drove to Laguna Beach, to Ruby's home.

The spring rain fell constant and cold. To a visitor in a beach town, rain is a plus, as far as parking goes.

From the street where I parked, I could only see the old wooden fence and part of the roof.

Ruby's place used to be the garage of the white mansion down the hill. Even after the transformation to beach cottage it didn't have much square footage, but the view made you forget about "limited living space."

Ruby had always been a passionate gardener. She loved roses. The bushes looked like they hadn't been pruned in months, and the petals from the wilted flowers covered the brick path leading to the main entrance. I reached for the bell then remembered it had never worked. When I touched the door, it swung open. Music came from the back room, the one with the grand view.

My plastic raincoat made crinkly noises when I walked into the dark hallway. There was a musty smell, the smell of old beach houses on rainy days.

A melancholic solo from Miles Davis' trumpet welcomed me into the room.

She stood by the window, her back to the door.

I took a big breath. "Ruby."

Because of her neck brace, Ruby had to turn her entire body around in order to see me. She looked thinner than I remembered. Her hair was dull, with a few strands of gray visible near her scalp. Yet her eyes seemed as voracious as ever, her hunger insatiate. She opened her mouth but didn't say anything. She came over and gripped me in a hug so tight I could hardly breathe. She began to weep, saying my name over and over. "Lella, it's you. It's really you…"

"Watch it. You're getting my raincoat all wet." I swallowed the knot in my throat.

She stepped back, looking me over.

I smiled.

"Oh, you!" Then she started to cry again.

I cried too. She hadn't made it out of the accident without a scratch as I'd believed.

I moved in with Ruby. Kyle didn't approve but he kept his opinion to himself.

Neither Ruby nor I ever mentioned Nick.

I pruned her roses and ran errands with her, and she helped me look for a town house in Dana Point. By the time I closed escrow, Ruby was able to drive.

The day after I moved into my new place, she showed up at my door with a black kitten. Flash. It was a brand new beginning for each of us. That was four years ago. Four years of boring predictability. I would give anything to go back to that monotonous dullness, anything.

I sat at my kitchen table, eyes closed, searching for logic in this senseless situation. Shivers traveled through my body, but my hands burned hot against the cold glass of water and my mind's eye fought images of Kyle, Ruby and Larry.

Evening cloaked my home and my spirit. All my crying left me so drained I couldn't think straight. Poor Kyle. I couldn't bear to think about him in some dungeon-like, dangerous jail. I called the police department, trying to find out the address and the name of the detention place where Kyle was being held. Maybe I could call him, visit him, anything. Too soon, I was told, call back later. Between fits of desperation I phoned Bonnie's office, but reached a recording. Why did Kyle hire Bonnie? Larry's friend. How did Larry fit into this? Larry and Bonnie and the disposable phone I was instructed to answer. I had left the phone somewhere upstairs, and it was still there, unanswered. I kept the whole house dark and hoped by now even the most dedicated reporter would have given up and left.

The loud ring of the house phone startled me. I let the machine answer. "Damn it, Lella, I know you can hear me. Pick up the phone." Larry's voice was low and angry. I didn't move.

"Lella, I'm going to be at your front door in a minute. You can open the door or I'll let myself in. I don't want to attract attention, but if you don't care, we'll do it your way." A brief silence, then I heard the knob of my front door turn like magic. I jumped up and unlocked and yanked open the door. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of showing off his lock-picking skills. The outside lamp framed his silhouette, and I got a whiff of his aftershave when he came in.

"You can turn on the light. The reporters are gone. There's a smash-up on Ortega Highway with some drunken celebrity. They'll be busy for a while."

I didn't move. We stood so close I felt his body heat, but it didn't warm my heart. He stepped away and went to turn on the dining-room chandelier. When the light hit, my swollen eyelids burned like open wounds. If he noticed he didn't acknowledge it.

"I brought you some food."

I didn't want his food; I wanted to hurt him the way I was hurting. All my troubles began with him. I had a perfectly ideal life and that perfect life had been blown apart the day he called about Ruby.

He stood by the dining-room table, studying me. I sensed it even though his face was shaded and I couldn't see his eyes. He wore the same jacket he had on when he drove me to meet his friend Bonnie. He pretty much looked the same way he did this morning, and if new emotions found their way into his soul, he concealed them well.

"I brought you some food," he repeated, and put a brown bag on the table. A bag with the Cannon logo on it.

He folded his jacket over the back of a dining chair then pulled out containers from the bag. My silence didn't seem to disturb him. Soon I saw a plate, silverware, butter and rolls on the table. I got curious, and he knew it. He took a step in my direction and gave me the slightest smile. "I didn't know what to get you so I brought the same food you ordered when we went there for dinner. It's still warm. I made sure."
He remembered?
Another step. He held out his hand and waited. I fought the urge to touch him, the urge to hide my sorrow against his heart. Feelings, old and not so old interwoven, sparring for control, announcing their power over me. No.

"You really should eat. Not eating isn't going to help." He spoke with the same tone of voice I used when Kyle was little and sick. I should have felt insulted, but at a deeper level I knew that such caring wasn't something Larry did often or randomly.

"I'm not going to eat, okay? You should go home."

"Lella, you may hold the key to Ruby's disappearance. You knew her better than anyone else. If she's out there, we'll find her, but you need to help."

I looked him in the eyes. "I want to talk to my son. Where is he?"

"I'm not sure where he's being held. He'll probably call you soon. He will call on your landline, collect. Make sure you answer. They aren't allowed much time and other inmates will be waiting to use the phones." A pause. "And every word gets recorded."

Someone knocked on the front door. I looked at Larry, not sure what to do. He put a finger on his lips. "Shhh."

We waited. His hand found mine on the table. The knocking grew louder.

"Ask who it is," he whispered in my ear. He got up and walked toward the door.

"Who is it?" I said.

"Mrs. York, it's me, Audrey. Your neighbor."

Larry turned his head, his eyes searching mine. I nodded yes, I knew her.

"Mrs. York, I heard about Kyle." She sounded concerned.

I hurried to open the door.

Audrey hesitated then came in. She looked at me, at my swollen face, and then at Larry. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, like nervous people do. I had to introduce them and found myself mystified. Who was he going to be tonight? Larry the lover, Lieutenant Devin, Bonnie's friend or someone entirely different?

"I'm Larry Devin." He shook her hand, solving my dilemma, if only temporarily.

"I heard it on the news. They think Kyle did something to that friend of yours? The one who picked up your mail and fed your cat?"

I nodded. "I didn't know you met Ruby."

"She was very nice. I didn't talk to her until my aunt came over to visit. Well, she wasn't really our aunt. We called her Aunt Millie because she sometimes took care of us." She must have noticed the puzzled look on my face. "My brother and me."

"Where is David?"

"He's asleep. Tomorrow we need to get on the road very early. We're going back home for the funeral. Aunt Millie's funeral."

"I'm so sorry." The whole conversation felt unreal. Larry watched, pretending great interest.

"Her death was so unexpected. She drowned. It's so sad. One day she's here visiting, and a few days later they find her in the river." Audrey sounded crushed. Her eyes avoided mine. Tears glistened on her lashes.

"Did you live far away?" Larry's voice surprised us.

"We moved here from Parker, Arizona, after my dad was transferred. We still don't get to see him often, but I like to be near the beach."

Larry grasped my arm, moving closer, almost between Audrey and me.

"You say your Aunt Millie came to visit and met Ruby?" His voice had that calm charm he used on me when he asked me to dinner. What the hell was he up to?

"Yes. I had no idea Aunt Millie was coming, and we weren't home. Your friend—Ruby—kept her entertained until we got back. Apparently they had a lot in common. They were the same age and the same astrological sign. Aunt Millie believed very much in those sorts of things. A friend had given Aunt Millie a ride here, but she didn't have a ride back, so Ruby offered to take her home."

"To Parker?" I remembered what Kyle said about Ruby stopping to see him in Palm Springs. "
She had gone to Parker to drop off something for Tom,
" he'd said. Maybe that was why she'd offered the aunt a ride? But Tom was already dead when she swapped the car in Palm Springs. None of this made sense.

"I'll have to leave you, ladies." Larry checked his watch. "I have an appointment with a friend and I'm running late. Nice meeting you, Audrey. Sorry about your loss." He turned to me. "Talk to you later. Answer your phone."

He must mean the phone Bonnie gave me, the one I hadn't answered. Then he left. I didn't want him to go, but didn't want him to know that I wanted him to stay.

"Audrey, I'm not sure what's going on with Ruby and Kyle." I paused to control the surge of hurt at the mention of my son's name. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"Not really." She was still standing by the door, doing the balancing trick with her feet. "Could you keep an eye on my place? I'll be back day after tomorrow. We're only spending one night up there. Maybe my dad can make it too. My dad is a commercial pilot. He was in England when I found out." She turned to leave. "Can you tell Kyle that I'm thinking of him?"