by Lee Strauss
“Any ideas?”
He shrugged a bony shoulder. “Well, it looked like some kind of tool, ’bout a foot and a half long.”
“Could it have been a hammer?”
“Well, that’s kind of what I thought at the time. But why would Mr. Braun walk his dock in the dead of night and toss a hammer into the water? Even with a flashlight, a fellow could misstep and fall in.”
“Are you sure it was Mr. Braun?”
More head scratching. “To be honest, I couldn’t see his face. But who else would it be?”
Rosa was thinking the same.
“Whatever it was,” the neighbor said, “he must’ve known he could retrieve it later, most likely. It’s only about five feet deep that distance from shore.”
Rosa thanked the man for his time, then rowed back to Dieter Braun’s dock. Her stomach clenched at the sight of Miguel—if he’d left at any point, he had returned and stood waiting for her.
“Have a nice voyage?” His voice sounded gruff. He grabbed the rope she tossed him, tied it to the dock post, and helped her step out. A shiver rolled through Rosa at his touch. She didn’t like being that close to him. Mostly because she loved being near him. She could smell his aftershave, which made her pulse quicken. Holding her breath, she stepped away.
“Aha… Deputy Diego is also on the scene,” Miguel said with a note of mirth.
“You might want to get a diver out here,” Rosa said, taking another step back.
Miguel frowned at the growing distance but didn’t try to close the gap. “Why do you say that?”
“I don’t know how far you are in your investigation yet, but—”
“I am treating it as a homicide.”
Rosa lifted her chin. “The head wound?”
“Yes, and a few other things I am not at liberty to …”
Rosa interrupted. “The effects of that earthquake last week were not felt here at all.”
“Yes, I know, we checked it out already. How…?”
“You’ll find the murder weapon, a framing hammer probably with the initials DB scratched into it, just off the end of the dock. Snorkeling equipment will suffice since the water is only five feet deep there.”
“What? Wait.”
“A nice old man is living in a cabin on the east side of the lake. You might want to interview him, but I doubt he would be a suspect.” Rosa walked away.
Miguel lengthened his gait and fell in beside her. “C’mon Rosa, what’s up?”
Rosa felt torn. She already felt like she’d given him too much. She couldn’t risk him solving the murder before she could, and he already had the advantage of Detective Sanchez and the coroner’s office helping him, while she was on her own. She didn’t care who solved the case, but despite the Gainer family stonewalling him, if Miguel got too close too fast, or asked too many questions, it could mean his job. Rosa turned to say something but then decided to keep walking.
“Rosa!” Miguel shouted after her. “Are you still investigating for the Gainers?”
Drat! Miguel’s nose for the truth is in tip-top shape.
“I’m sorry, Miguel. I’m in a terrible hurry. We can catch up another time.”
Rosa hopped into the jeep, started the engine, and cautiously drove away. Diego hopped out of the satchel, leaped onto the warm dashboard, and sprawled out languidly as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
11
Alice Monahan had agreed to meet Rosa at the Chug Away Diner, a converted railcar establishment, set inland amongst the sage and awkward-looking Joshua trees. The diner, long and narrow, had an abundance of chrome, black-and-white checkered flooring, and smelled of fried food and strong coffee. A row of barstools lined a long counter along one side. Rosa spotted Alice in one of the red vinyl booths that lined the other, looking nervous and holding a half-empty mug. Rosa slid into the seat across from her. The diner was not the type of place Rosa pictured Mrs. Monahan frequenting and could only assume the place had been chosen so none of her circle would chance seeing them together.
“Thanks for agreeing to meet,” Rosa said. It was the first time they had really spoken together personally other than a brief conversation at the first Gainer gathering. Though Mrs. Monahan hadn’t been married to Dieter Braun, she was the sister of the woman who had been. Perhaps Lillian Braun had confided in her sister about her marriage before she passed away. It was a long shot, but Rosa didn’t like to leave any stone unturned.
A waitress dressed in a red-and-white uniform arrived with a pot of coffee, and Rosa positioned the clean mug on a paper placemat, upright.
“Thank you,” she said, accepting the offer of cream and sugar.
“Menus?” the waitress asked.
Mrs. Monahan answered. “That won’t be necessary. We’re not staying long.”
The waitress shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
In her mid-fifties, Mrs. Monahan was reasonably slim and attractive. Her blue eyes, though saddened by grief, were still bright and lively. Her hair, which she wore in a tidy bouffant, showed signs of gray at her temples.
“I confess, I can’t understand why you wanted to speak to me,” Mrs. Monahan said. “I only agreed to meet with you because I’m terribly curious by nature. That, and the fact that Orville insisted we all talk to you if asked.”
Rosa found the flippant use of her father’s given name a matter to note.
“I do appreciate you taking the time,” Rosa said. “How well did you know your brother-in-law?”
Alice Monahan’s gaze widened with a glint of suspicion. “What do you mean?”
Rosa had expected a general response; now, she wondered if there was a reason the lady was inexplicably defensive.
“I only mean, did your sister ever confide in you about her relationship with her husband.”
Mrs. Monahan pursed her lips. “In our family, it’s almost impossible to keep a secret.”
“So then, you must know something about their marriage,” Rosa stated.
“I don’t see how this line of questioning is relevant. Honestly, I find it disrespectful.”
“I mean no disrespect,” Rosa said, “I assure you. I’m only trying to learn more about Mr. Braun and those who were close to him.”
“So you can accuse one of us of murder?”
“I’m simply doing what Orville Gainer hired me to do.”
Evoking her father’s name seemed to take some of the wind out of the lady’s sails.
“I can tell you what everyone will tell you. Dieter didn’t fit well into our family. Over time, it caused a rift to form between Lillian and Dieter.”
“Can you explain why he didn’t fit? What did that look like?”
“Dieter was a square peg trying to fit in a round hole. My brother Walter didn’t trust him for reasons I am not sure of and my sister Valerie just thought he was crazy. My father detested him. He doesn’t trust foreigners, especially Germans. With Dieter’s accent, his mannerisms, and his conspiracy theories, well, he was barely tolerated.”
Alice Monahan let out a mournful sigh. “I didn’t blame him for wanting to hide out at his cabin. If I could escape this family as easily, I would. After Lillian died, Dieter practically lived at the lake full time. He conducted his insurance business by telephone.
“What kind of insurance did he sell, exactly?” Rosa asked.
Alice Monahan lifted a slender shoulder. “I wouldn’t know. All kinds, I think.”
Rosa sipped on her coffee. “What about you? How did you feel about Dieter Braun?”
Mrs. Monahan’s eyes softened. “Honestly? I liked him. I admired his spunk and the way he stood up to my father without saying a word. He was a bit strange, though, always talking about aliens, Soviet invasions, and the like. But he also was a hard worker and a very shrewd businessman. Anyway, Lillian told me about his bomb shelter, but I’ve never seen it.”
“Do you know if anyone else from the family has ever been out there?”
“Anyone could’ve driven to th
e cabin. I have no way of knowing that.” She turned to look directly at Rosa. “But I know you want to ask me who I thought would ever want to murder Dieter.”
Rosa did want to ask that. “Who do you think killed Mr. Braun?”
Mrs. Monahan gazed out of the diner window at the desert landscape, as if lost in thought. After a moment, she looked at Rosa. “Leo Romano. No one hated him more than Leo. I hate to rat out my sister’s husband, but he seemed to blame Dieter for the First World War personally. Leo fought in the battle of Belleau Wood against the Germans, as did his older brother Gino. Unfortunately, Gino was killed by a German soldier in hand-to-hand combat. According to army records, both soldiers had run out of bullets. Gino was killed by several blows to the head with the stock of the German’s gun.”
Rosa fought to hold her expression at the grim description.
“Dieter didn’t even know Leo had a brother,” Mrs. Monahan continued. “Then, one night at a family party, Dieter had too much to drink. He usually abstained and for good reason, but on that night, he got carried away.”
Her gaze latched on to Rosa’s, and she sighed again. “I’m only telling you this because you’re bound to hear about it anyway. That night, Dieter started talking about World War One. What a foolish, foolish thing to do! Turns out, he was in Belleau Wood on that exact day. And even though the German offenses were thwarted in that battle, he bragged about killing an American soldier in close hand-to-hand combat. Well, of course, Leo was incensed! He was convinced that Dieter had killed Gino, though there’s no way to know it for sure.”
Mrs. Monahan sipped her coffee, most probably cold by now, and grimaced. She pushed the mug to the side. “Leo threw a punch at Dieter. Frank and Colin had to hold him back. We tried to tell him that both wars were long over and that there was a slim chance it was his brother anyways, but Leo wouldn’t listen. Vowing he would pay Dieter back someday, he stormed out of the party.”
“When did this happen exactly?”
“About a month ago.”
Alice Monahan paid for their coffees and then made a hasty departure. As the diner was on the same side of town as Leo Romano’s latest construction venture, Rosa decided that now might be a good time to head over.
Surrounded by scaffolding and heavy equipment, at least two dozen workers buzzed around a four-story-high cement structure wearing yellow safety hats and work boots. A crane lifted lumber to a waiting crew on the top level. An artist’s rendering of an apartment complex posted on the wire fence had a logo with the words: Romano Construction—Santa Bonita’s Partner for the Future. The construction site radiated frenetic energy.
Leo Romano was at his desk in his makeshift office trailer. A stack of blueprints and the largest coffee thermos Rosa had ever seen were surrounded by a mess of papers. He stared at Rosa with a look of dismay, then exhaled in defeat, as if he knew it would be less trouble to talk to her than to try to send her away without giving her what she had come for.
“Please have a seat.” He gestured to a rough wooden chair sitting opposite the desk, pushed up from his chair, and shut the door. The noise coming from a jackhammer operating somewhere at the far end of the construction site became muffled. One entire wall of the trailer was covered in blueprints and technical drawings. Another had a large window with a good view of the building site.
Leo Romano leaned back in his leather office chair and weaved his fingers together over a rounded belly. “Well, I suppose you wouldn’t be worth your salt as an investigator if the trail didn’t come to me at the outset.”
“Half the Gainer clan heard you utter threats toward Dieter Braun,” Rosa said.
“Yes. I suppose the family members are all looking at me with suspicion and animosity right now.” With a chuckle, he added, “But that hasn’t changed from day one.”
Rosa took out her notepad, “What do you mean?”
“I married into a family of snakes, and now our daughter is engaged to one of them. Inbreeding! But those Gainers like to keep things in-house. A den of secrets, I tell you. Most of which I don’t even know, so you’re not likely going to learn much from me.”
He pointed at her notepad. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t quote me on that.”
“These are for my personal use,” Rosa said. “I understand you had a brother who died in the First World War?”
Mr. Romano’s brow formed deep crevices. “I’m sure I’m not alone in that regard.”
“Is it true that you blamed Dieter Braun for your brother’s death?”
A twitch of the lips. “That, my dear girl, was a moment of whiskey-infused passion. What are the odds that the German who killed my brother would immigrate to California and marry my wife’s sister?”
“Rather low, I suspect,” Rosa admitted. “However, if one believed it to be true, it could drive one to take matters into one’s own hands.”
Mr. Romano pressed his hands onto his desk and leaned in. “Might I give you a piece of advice, Miss Reed?”
“If you must.” Rosa doubted she could stop him if she tried.
“Here in California, we don’t have a queen. If you plan to stick around, you will do well to try to sound like one of us.”
Rosa ground her teeth then repeated her statement. “If you believed it to be your brother, it might drive you to take matters into your own hands.”
Chuckling, Mr. Romano said, “As much as I despised Braun, I didn’t kill him.” He removed a package of cigarettes from his shirt pocket, flamed the tip of one, and deeply inhaled. With a fast exhale, he released a plume of smoke into the small area. “Forgive me for being blunt, Miss Reed, but I’m glad he’s dead and gone. Now that Lillian has passed away, there’s no one left to mourn him.”
“Janet Gainer seemed rather fond of him.”
“Rather,” Mr. Romano repeated with a note of mockery. “She’s got a soft heart. The kind that likes to feed stray dogs and cats.” After a pause, he added, “And a stray German.”
Rosa pressed on. “Have you ever been out to Mr. Braun’s cabin?”
“No, and by the way, my wife and I have an alibi. We were on vacation for two weeks in Florida at the time that earthquake hit last week.” He took another puff of his cigarette. “We only got back the morning of that gathering where you masqueraded as a niece of Janet’s friend. I can provide plane ticket stubs, hotel, rental car receipts, and the phone number of my sister. We were with them the entire time.”
Rosa made a note to check with Janet about the Romanos’ travel itinerary.
“Now, if I were you,” Leo Romano, docked his cigarette on an ashtray, leaned back in his chair, and clasped his hands behind his head. “I would be looking at Frank Monahan.”
“Why is that?”
“Very recently, Frank found out that his wife, Alice, was having an affair with good old Dieter. Apparently, Dieter was doing more than fishing and building a bomb shelter at that cabin.”
Rosa blinked. Alice Monahan was the only Gainer family member who hadn’t spoken disparagingly about Mr. Braun, but that didn’t mean they’d been having an affair.
“How do you know this is true?” Rosa asked.
“Frank and I aren’t pals, but on occasion, we go for a beer to commiserate over our shared misfortune of being connected to the Gainer clan. His marriage to Alice was never a good one. After a few, he got it off his chest. He’d been suspicious about his wife’s behavior for a while and followed her one day while she thought he was at work. Imagine his surprise when she took that long drive to Lake Fairbanks!
“When he confronted Alice later that day, she admitted it, saying she was in love with Dieter and wanted a divorce.”
Leo Romano crookedly grinned as he readied to lower the final blow. “Frank’s a proud man. There was no way he was going to let that happen.”
12
After leaving the construction site, Rosa headed down the Pacific Coast Highway. The sunlight sparkling in the ocean, the wind blowing in her face, and the thrumming of th
e Corvette’s engine vibrating through her bones, Rosa found the open road a soothing distraction from this puzzling case.
As she drove north, the highway split into four lanes. At the last traffic light, while waiting for the light to turn green, the roar of an engine accentuated with the bass line of a song playing loudly on a car’s radio, approached from behind. A shiny, deep-blue, older-model Roadster rolled up beside her. Rosa guessed the vehicle was a 1930’s Ford, but it had been meticulously restored and modified. Clarence had called a similar car a hot rod.
The powerful, rumbling engine was completely exposed to reveal a chrome air filter and valve covers. The driver pumped the engine twice, and when Rosa glanced over, she was stunned to see Colin Monahan waving casually. A mischievous grin formed on his face, and his eyes had a wild look as he peered at her over the top of his dark sunglasses. Hatless, a good amount of hair oil kept all but his duckbill from blowing out of place.
The music of Carl Perkins, singing about blue suede shoes, blared through the radio. Colin Monahan revved his engine again, and the whole car rocked. His intent was clear.
Rosa felt adrenaline flood her system. A smile tugged at her mouth as she looked straight ahead, pumped her accelerator, and answered the Roadster with the Corvette’s thunderous growl. They were like two mythical beasts eager to be unleashed from their cages and to wreak havoc upon the town of Santa Bonita.
The light turned green, and both vehicles sprang ahead from the intersection amidst the deafening roar of unshackled horsepower and the squeal of burning tire rubber. The Roadster fishtailed ahead while Rosa gently took the pressure off the accelerator and allowed the car to peak at the posted speed limit, a demure forty miles per hour.
Rosa chuckled. No one was going to dictate to the daughter of Ginger Gold when it was time to let the horses out of the gate.
Besides, it was almost time for tea.
As the Roadster disappeared recklessly around a bend, Rosa thought of the nice café she had seen on her last drive this way called the Red House Coffee and Brewing Company. A sign along the highway boasted that the establishment carried its own brand of coffee and beer plus various pastries and burgers. A few minutes later, the café came into view, and Rosa was surprised to see Colin Monahan there, stepping toward the front entrance. He stopped when he saw her drive in, then leaned against his car with his arms crossed. Rosa pulled the Corvette to a stop in the parking lot next to him.
