Red Hot Murder: An Angie Amalfi Mystery (17 page)

Early the next morning, Paavo went to Doc with news of the latest discoveries. Teresa had already left Doc’s house to relieve her mother at the hospital.

Doc was stunned. “A part of me suspected something was going on between Hal and Teresa, but I dismissed it due to the age difference. I decided he was a father figure, nothing more. God knows, after Junior, she needed one. I never imagined they were married, though. And I don’t think Hal would have lied to the girl about it. He did some shifty things in his life, but never anything that low. If the marriage records are missing, it’s because someone took them.”

“Did you know Ned had met with Hal?” Paavo asked.

“No,” Doc said, and clamped his lips together as if he refused to speak more on that subject.

“Fine.” Paavo didn’t want to pursue it either. “We know that Lupe is afraid someone wants Teresa dead. If that’s the case, and if there once were marriage records, then we know someone
besides the Flores women knows about the marriage.”

“I see what you’re saying,” Doc said. “Someone who doesn’t want Teresa to inherit.”

“Someone—and I’m afraid that someone has to be our sheriff—will have to go to Yuma and find out what happened to those records.”

“Do we really want to let her in on all this?” Doc asked. “If you’re talking about official documents, this could be an inside job.”

“We have no choice.” Paavo’s words were firm. “For some reason, I trust her.”

“For some reason, I do too.” Doc’s jaw tightened.

“I know that Teresa and her whole family are strong Catholics,” Paavo said, his words cautious and wary. “You realize, don’t you, that it meant that if Ned couldn’t convince Teresa to divorce Hal, there was only one way he could ever marry her.”

“Don’t go there, Paavo,” Doc said, threateningly. “Ned would never kill anyone.”

Paavo wanted to agree, but after all he’d seen on his job, nothing surprised him anymore.

Angie headed for the cookhouse. The day before, as she went to the sheriff’s office with the heel rand, Lionel had gone off in search of supplies. She had no idea how far he’d gone, but after breakfast that morning, a grumpy Lionel told her he’d gotten everything she wanted except
fois gras.
Of course the fact that he pronounced it “foys grass” might have been the reason for his lack of success. Or not. She’d do without the appetizer.

The next day was the big cookout. This morn
ing, she was going to do as much of the preparation as possible in order to make tomorrow easier.

Dolores was making pie crusts. “If you’re looking for Señora Edwards,” she said, “she just left to go horseback riding. I’m sure if you hurry, you can join her.”

The thought of getting back on a horse gave Angie jitters. Between horses wanting to run off with her, ostriches pecking at her, and wild boars—so to speak—chasing her, not to mention encounters with tarantulas and rattlers, she wasn’t having a great time, zoologically speaking. “No rides for me,” she said. “I’m going to cook the lentils for the dal today; peel, seed, and boil the butternut squash; and make a sauce for the salmon.”

“I don’t know exactly what your dal is, but generally, the longer food marries, the better it tastes.”

“I’ll show you what it is as I make it,” Angie said.

“Good. Mr. Edwards used to like my Mexican cooking, but sometimes I’d surprise him with special dishes. He always appreciated them. He said I was the best cook he’d ever known.” Dolores smiled fondly at the memory.

Angie was impressed. “That’s high praise for a man who had the money to go to many of the top restaurants in the country, I’m sure.”

“I thought the same thing,” Dolores said emphatically.

As they worked, Angie remembered that Dolores had lived here over twenty years. There had to have been a lot that she’d seen. “You knew Mr.
Edwards well,” Angie began. “After he came back last winter, did you think he’d leave so soon?”

“I don’t know,” Dolores said.

“Were you surprised to learn he hadn’t left, but that he’d died?”

“Oh, yes.” Dolores nodded. “I was very surprised.”

Angie would have really liked to know what Dolores thought. She tried again. “The sheriff said his death was from natural causes, but now people think he was murdered. What do you think?”

“He was a good man, a good boss,” Dolores said. “I don’t think anyone would kill him.”

Well, this was going nowhere fast, Angie thought. She proceeded to work on her dishes, and the two chatted amiably about food and cooking techniques.

The time passed quickly, and Angie was surprised when Clarissa entered the kitchen. “There you are,” she said to Angie. “LaVerne brought over something special for you to try.”

Again?
Angie thought. The woman should have been named Lucretia Borgia. “I’m working on the meal for the cookout.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’ve got to taste it while it’s warm.”

“I’m not falling for that again,” Angie said.

“What does that mean?” Clarissa asked, but before waiting for an answer, added, “come on, you don’t want to disappoint LaVerne. She especially asked for you. You’re a gourmet cook.”

“Like she is?” Angie asked.

“Exactly.”

“Try it yourself.” Angie went back to her dal.

“I plan to.” Clarissa marched off.

Angie and Dolores looked at each other in astonishment. This, they couldn’t miss. They hurried after Clarissa.

Lionel and Joey were already in the dining room. Near the back door, Junior was watching from safety. He obviously remembered LaVerne’s goat cheese.

Junior must have felt Angie’s scrutiny, because he seemed to grow uncomfortable and left the room.

LaVerne stood proudly over a bowl. “Here it is.”

Angie looked down at some kind of meat in a red sauce. After her experience with the cactus, she wasn’t about to take any chances. “What is it?”

“It’s another secret family recipe. Arizona stew.”

Angie was aware of the others watching her. She knew why these were secret recipes—no one else wanted them. “What kind of stew?”

“Rabbit,” LaVerne said. “Right from this area.”

“Rabbit?” Clarissa said, shocked. “I don’t eat rabbit!”

“But it’s gourmet rabbit,” LaVerne explained. “For the cookout.”

“Oh, all right.” Clarissa took the spoon, scooped up a piece with meat and tasted. “It has an after-taste.” Her mouth wrinkled. “Something very … different.”

The others all leaned closer.

“That’s what makes it special.” LaVerne stood tall. “An Arizona treat. Horned toad. Dried, salted, then shredded. Just half a toad gives a lot of flavor. Want me to serve it to your guests?”

Angie gasped.

Dolores chuckled.

Clarissa looked horror-stricken. Trying to keep some semblance of dignity, she hurried from the room.

LaVerne’s jaw dropped, her brow furrowed, and she looked quizzically at the astounded people still around her. “Do you think that’s a ’no’?”

“Those ostriches are a good metaphor,” Teresa said when Angie opened the door to the bungalow later that afternoon. “Have I been hiding my head in the sand, too, not seeing what’s around me?”

Angie looked over the birds. All were females, and none had found a mate to share a life with. Of course, smelling like rotten eggs and being champion kick-boxers usually scares males off …

Here, though, there simply weren’t any males for them.

Teresa’s metaphor might be more accurate than she first thought. “Come in.” Angie opened the door wide.

“My mother didn’t want me to come here,” Teresa said. She wore jeans and a black T-shirt, no makeup, and her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail. Her face looked tired and haggard, as if she hadn’t slept well for days. “She’s still nervous about Joey and Clarissa. I think she’s wrong.”

Angie had to admit she was nervous as well. “If
your mother is right, isn’t this the most unsafe place for you to be?”

“Yes … if she’s right. But I’ve known Joey for years. I don’t believe he’s a killer. He’s a poor, pathetic fellow whose father turned against him for being weak. Hal never forgave him for siding with his mother when they divorced, or for leaving the ranch to live with her. Hal was right—Joey was weak, but despite what Hal thought, Joey actually loved and admired his father. He simply never admitted it, especially not around his mother, who’s just a bitter old woman.”

“I have to agree on the last part,” Angie admitted. “Everything will change for the better if a will turns up.”

Teresa drew in her breath before continuing. “That’s why I’m here. I remember a hiding spot Hal had. It was usually empty, but I want to check it out. I haven’t been inside Hal’s house since I left it five years ago. I never even realized that I’d left a couple of dresses behind! That whole part of my life is a blur.”

“A hiding spot?” Angie’s eyes widened.

Teresa couldn’t help but smile. “Don’t get your hopes up. It’s probably as empty as ever, but at this point, I’ve got to see it for myself.”

They were hurrying across the plaza when Lionel popped up. “Well, look who’s back,” he said, eyeing Teresa.

“Hello, Lionel.” Teresa’s expression looked like she’d rather step on him than have a conversation.

“You hoping to find someone to give you work?” he asked with a smirk. “Guess I’m the one who hires and fires around here these days.
Leastways, until Saturday, when the estate is divvied up.”

“I don’t want work.” She glanced at Angie, and then said, “I’m looking for Joey. Have you seen him?”

“He took off an hour or so ago. Clarissa was riding him real good. He’s probably at the Stagecoach Saloon.”

“Poor guy,” Teresa said.

“Poor?” Lionel snorted. “Not likely. Want me to tell him you were looking for him? I’m sure he’ll be real happy to hear it.”

“That’s fine.”

“We’ll be in the common room,” Angie added, linking her arm with Teresa’s and moving away from Lionel. “If Joey returns soon, I’m sure he’ll join us.”

“It’ll be a cold day in hell afore he’d miss happy hour,” Lionel said, then smirked and continued toward his trailer.

They walked on, feeling Lionel’s eyes watching them.

From the common room, Angie and Teresa waited until Lionel disappeared in his trailer, then they hurried to the hacienda.

The front door was visible from the plaza, so they went to the back. The doorjamb had been repaired, and the door locked, but Teresa’s old key worked. Angie quickly realized this wasn’t the sort of area where people thought to change their locks.

As Teresa wandered through the house, Angie couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for her knowing she’d once been married to the owner
of all this, and that if their marriage had been done openly, it all might have gone to her.

Teresa visibly paled at the bloodstained kitchen floor. When she saw the torn up floorboards, she murmured that her mother might be correct—there could be danger here.

She headed up to the bedroom, and blanched at the sight of drawers opened and clothes on the floor. She lifted one of her dresses from the floor, then threw it back down. “Clarissa saw this?”

“I’m sure she did,” Angie said, looking at the strange heap and shaking her head.

“She had to have realized it was mine. I wonder if Joey noticed it.”

“I don’t know,” Angie said, wondering why Teresa cared.

Teresa went into the room Hal had used as an office and went straight to his desk. She opened a drawer, removed the papers from it, and then lifted out a secret bottom. Angie gawked in surprise.

There was nothing in the drawer except some Mexican pesos in high denominations, and a small carved black stone.

“Oh, no,” Teresa murmured as she picked up the small object.

“What is it?” Angie asked. “It looks like a charm.”

Teresa shook her head. “It’s an amulet. Mexican. Foolish old man!”

Angie realized it had to be the same as the one Paavo had found at Ned’s. “Is that the symbol of the coyotes? The people who transport illegals across the border?”

“You know about them?” Teresa was surprised. She put the amulet in her pocket and restored the drawer the way it had been. “It answers a question for me.”

“Has it been there long, do you think?” Angie asked.

“It wasn’t there five years ago. I looked in here a couple of times, to see if he was hiding anything that would give me a clue as to what was troubling him, but it was always empty.”

“So the money and amulet were only left there after he returned this winter?” Angie asked.

“Most likely, especially since he’d been in Mexico.”

“Paavo found a coyote charm at Ned’s house.”

All the color left Teresa’s face. “Ned’s? No, impossible. He wouldn’t get mixed up in that.” She shook her head.

“Do you have a key to Ned’s place, or know where he kept a spare one hidden?” Angie asked suddenly.

“Yes, but—”

“Then, let’s go. I want you to see the amulet he has, to make sure it’s not one of these.” Angie thought they should pick up Paavo on the way, as well. Teresa might know more than she thought, and Paavo needed to hear about it. “I think it’s a clue as to who killed him and Hal—a big clue.”

Teresa looked nervous. “I suspect you’re right.”

“We’ll go, then?” Angie asked.

“Yes.”

“Let’s pick up Paavo as we go through town,” Angie added.

“No,” Teresa said. Her next words made Angie suddenly uneasy. “There’s a back way to the lake that’s a lot faster.”

The road was rutted and unpaved. It followed Ghost Hollow Creek to the Colorado River, bypassing the town. Also, from that road, a person could veer north into the foothills and high desert plains. The land was all but untouched by humans, except for a few fire roads and old Indian trails.

Teresa was driving her Ford pickup, a big 350 four-by-four. As they rode through the silence, Teresa told Angie stories of her life after Hal disappeared, and how Ned started coming around more and more. She soon realized that his feelings for her were much more than friendship, and it troubled her.

She tried hard to ignore him but—

A sound, much like a backfire, caused the women to jump and turn in their seats.

“What—” Angie began, as Teresa sped up.

“Someone just shot at us,” Teresa yelled.

“Shot at us?” Angie cried. She clutched the dashboard. “Maybe it’s a mistake. Maybe you had a blowout.”

Another shot sounded as the ping of a bullet hit the roof. Teresa drove off the road toward the creek. “That’s no blowout,” Teresa said.

“Hurry! Can’t this truck go any faster?” Angie cried. A rear tire exploded, making the truck jostle and jerk.

Teresa floored the gas pedal, but the truck was straining badly.

“Who’s doing this?” Angie cried. “How do we stop them?”

“I wish I knew.”

Reaching the brush along the bank of the creek, the truck continued forward only a few feet before the land dropped precipitously. The truck died in a tangle of shrubbery and vines. “Run,” Teresa shouted.

“Run?” Angie could barely get the word out. “You’re kidding me, right?”

But Teresa had already opened the driver’s side door, leaped to the ground, and headed toward the creek.

“This can’t be happening,” Angie murmured, as she waited a moment before she forced herself from the passenger side, clutching her purse against her chest as if it might protect her from a bullet. Dropping low, she scurried, stumbled, and slid down the bank, then half crawled after Teresa. “Don’t leave!”

“Come on!” Teresa ran along the bank.

With her heartbeat so loud it was drumming in her ears, Angie eventually found her footing and followed Teresa.

Breathless, they both soon stopped, crouching together behind some scrub. “We’ve got to find a place to hide,” Teresa said, panting.

Angie was also taking deep breaths. “Can we make it back to the hacienda?”

“It’s about seven, eight miles,” Teresa answered, breathless.

“What about the lake?”

“About ten.”

“You’re right,” Angie said. “Let’s find a place to hide.”

They crept deeper into the thicket.

Teresa paused and looked around. “I recognize this area.”

“You do?”

“Remember, I lived and worked at the hacienda for years. I know the land.” Teresa headed east. “This way.”

At a bend in the creek, she found a grooved area, not exactly a cave, more like a hollow just a couple of feet deep. They crawled behind the brush and huddled inside, facing outward to search for any sign of danger. They waited, hoping against hope that their pursuer wouldn’t find them.

As they waited, Angie realized what sixth sense had made her take her purse. Her cell phone was in it.