Love Me or Kill Me (The Cable Denning Mystery Series Book 2)

by James P. Alsphert

  Elisa and Flora helped me get Adora safely and comfortably aboard. They hugged me and made me promise I’d call the minute we got back. Both of them felt a lot better about me nixing the return trip on the little schooner. We cast off and I can still remember Elisa, Flora and Captain Oats waving from the dock in the morning light. Some images get snapped inside your brain like a photo image taken on my trusty old Kodak. And I just remembered I had forgotten my camera back at the office.

  Elisa had suggested turmeric powder as an anti-seasick agent. So we both tolerated a teaspoon of the stuff before we left. It was bitter as hell and dark yellow like curry. I checked out the gas engine part of the boat first, because I knew I couldn’t rely on my sailor’s skills in maneuvering the jib and sails. So we glided out of San Pedro harbor under power. Adora was seated close to me with a white tire around her little, shrinking body. Life preservers were a must and mine hung on the mast. A mile or two out we looked at the diminishing coastline. “How does it feel, babe—to be out in the beautiful blue briny?” I asked her, checking out her smile and disposition. I could always tell if she was faking it. But she appeared calm and genuinely happy to be free of the confines of her bed and the cottage.

  “Oh, Cable—tengo animación, querido! I am excited to be here! Gracias, mi muchacho pobre. Voy a recordar este día, señor Denning.” I will remember this day all my life…to love you for it, and to say you have been el amor de mi alma…the lover of my soul…and….and my heart. I…I would live for you all the days….longer….if I could…este día, this day….tomorrow….and the day after….the day after…forever, mi amor.”

  I left the throttle for a moment and came over to embrace her. “Adora…I love you…in case I never say it again like I mean it now…I want you to know…I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone…” Feebly she threw her arms around me and dropped her head onto my chest. That snapshot in eternity was one of the most beautiful moments of my lifetime and one I would never forget, no matter what lifetime I would be living—or what would happen beyond this day.

  At the same time I hated myself for resenting this lousy rotten break in our lives—maybe feeling sorry for myself—even though I knew Adora must be enduring the impossible. A young woman filled with vitality and gentleness, warmth, beauty and sensuality one could never measure, felled by an unexpected killer. It was like having a Frank Laggore, a Ravna or a Matrangas living inside of you, waiting to pounce when you’re not looking. And I knew that’s how the killer struck my dear Adora… slow and deadly. I was thinking of what Saturnalia said that strange day when I woke up in her cozy cottage by the fire. 'For the passions that thrill love and lift you high to heaven, are the passions that kill love and let you fall to hell…' For some reason that stuck in my craw like life’s supreme irony. Really finding a partner, someone who fits like hand-in-glove in your life and in your bed—and bam! it all shatters like when a storm hits and there on the floor lay the broken shards of a storm window, sparkling like little diamonds of happy yesterdays…reminding you that it can't be put back together….the glass is broken—and somehow you’ve got to find the guts to throw it out with the memory and the regret, like Toggth said. Somehow I had to learn to let it go. But I didn’t know how. I was in love with Adora Moreno, the only doll I ever allowed myself to really feel that with. I had committed myself and crossed the threshold, and there’s no turning back from that, no matter who else comes in or out of your life—a one-time love is a one-time love. And so now it was like our own passions had turned against us, the tide was going out and we were being abandoned and Hell was just around the corner…'for the passions that thrill love and lift you high to heaven…' Well, at least I’d known that in my lifetime. Adora had set the standard for what love ought to be between man and woman in my book. And she was the best.

  We were making good time with the gas engine doing about fifteen miles-an-hour, so I decided not to be the brave sailor, hoist the sail, and risk getting hit in the head with the jib. About half way to Avalon, my lady complained of a headache. I didn’t have a damn thing to give her except the turmeric and drinking water we had brought aboard. I gave her some of each. She made a bitter face but took it down like the good little scout she was. “That’s my girl,” I said, comforting her as best I could with one hand on the rudder wheel.

  About two hours later we arrived at the little docking port in Avalon, the only town on the island. Adora seemed to be getting worse. I didn’t know if it was seasickness or what, so as soon as I tied up the boat, I went into a little registration office. “I’ve got a sick lady, is there a doctor here in town?”

  A matronly woman told me she’d phone ahead and instructed me to go up a block and turn left. The doctor’s house and office were about five doors on the right. But there was no one to watch Adora. I went back to the dock and jumped into our little sailboat. “Babe, I—I want you to be seen by a doc, real quick. I’m gonna run up to the next block and fetch him, if I can—or do you want me to carry you there?”

  “You go…I wait here.” Then she looked up toward the sky with a beautiful expression in her lovely brown, glowing eyes. “When I go, Cable, I want to be un pájaro—a seagull, who skims the water and glides…oh….sí, señor Denning, yo quiero estar un pájaro!” Then her gaze went to my eyes and a wonderful knowing smile fell across those luscious lips I had kissed so often. “I am having a beautiful vision, my love, I dream I am floating….not like esta vida…this life has been….oh, so muy triste, until you come---my okie dokie lover hombre muy malo.” I took her hands. She looked back out toward the endless water. “And now I am light….no more contesta…no more fight to live, mi amor. I am in a land of muchos colores, many colors….pero we cannot hold on to what we love today, Cable…..we cannot hold on to our cuerpos, our bodies….they are….what you say? Amor, our love cannot be given….but it is…uh….uh…”

  “—loaned Adora, just for a while—"

  “—Sí! We loan our bodies, no? Maybe I even loan my heart to you, my man. Oh…mi handsome hombre. I loan that to you, also.” Then she looked at me with such longing, I had to turn my eyes away. “I love your body, mi amor, it has given to me too much pleasure—much excitement…sí….mucho fulfillment. Now like the pájaro I will fly…to a new land…I will make a happy nest…for us…and when you come to be with me, my beautiful señor, I will be like la luz de la luna…all lighted like the moon for you.” She winced in pain. “Ayi! You…you go now…por favor…I will be okie dokie Joe.”

  I leaned over to kiss her and told her I’d be right back. I couldn’t face what she had just said, so I ignored it. Just then a little creature stepped out of the vessel’s cabin. “Don’t worry, Cable. I will see to her while you’re getting the doctor.”

  “Toggth!” I exclaimed. “How in the hell did you—oh, never mind, I know how you—"

  He beamed at Adora. “—and this is the exquisitely lovely lady that has had Cable all a-twirl these many months.”

  “This—this, uh, is Toggth—remember that day in my office when he so frightened you?”

  Adora’s gentile manner made me choke up. She was no longer afraid of the little man-like creature and smiled her best smile. “Sí, I remember, también, con mucho gusto, señor Toggth. I am pleased to see you once more…”

  “As I am you, sweet child.” He looked back at me. “Get going, Cable, what are you waiting for?”

  I scrambled up the deck ramp and ran down the street. It was a half-hour by the time I was able to rustle up Dr. Ingle and brought him to the dock huffing and puffing after exercising his short little legs all the way from his office. He did a double take on Toggth, whose hands were holding my señorita’s head. Adora seemed to be enjoying it and some color had returned to her face. “Ay, médico, gracias for coming. This is Toggth, who watched over me while Cable—"

  “—young woman, let me examine you,” the doctor said matter of fact. Toggth backed away. “Perhaps all you have is a case of sea sickness. A lot of folks get
it on their way out here, especially in rough seas.” He did the usual, and after a while approached me. “I think the young woman has been quite ill, from all appearances. But I can detect nothing. She said she is not in pain or discomfort at the moment. But all the same, I’d get her to the mainland on the next ferry—at two-thirty this afternoon.” I thanked Dr. Ingle and tried to pay him but he insisted that Adora’s beauty was payment enough and went on his way.

  I turned back to look at Toggth. “You let the guy see you…isn’t that a bit unusual for Mr. Hide-and-Conceal?”

  He came forward to me, looked up with understanding yellow-amber eyes. “I have taken away her pain for a while. That’s why the doctor could find nothing.” Then he took me aside and whispered softly to me. “Her heart will stop soon—and then she will transition, Cable. I know I cannot tell you to prepare, but prepare.”

  “Hey, you dos hombres—qué es su secreto?” Adora was feeling better and I could tell she liked Toggth a lot.

  “Oh, Toggth was just telling me he did some healing work on you, do you feel better?”

  “Sí. Señor Toggth take away mi dolor. I am good now,” she said in a perky voice. “Even I have apetito—shall we eat something, Cable?”

  “Sure, babe, if that’s what you want. I’m delighted, I mean, you haven’t eaten anything except soup and medicine for a long time.”

  We thanked him and bade Toggth good-bye. We found a little diner not far from the dock. My lady was weak, but with me holding her hand she could manage a slow walk. There was an interesting expression on her face, like a faraway look you have when you know you’re going to take an exciting journey somewhere. By two-fifteen we were on the ferry heading back to L.A. Adora was feeling a bit chilled, she said, and wanted to sit inside and watch the ocean go by from there. I stayed with her until I was dying for a smoke. I told her I’d be right back. “I miss you…para siempre, mi amor…”

  I tried to fight back the tears, but my eyes misted. “Damn it, Adora—it’s hard enough! Please…don’t hurry things along…I can’t think of it, my love—I just can’t.”

  “Lo siento, Cable. You go fumar. I rest here…okay, Joe?” she said with a forced smile. I could tell the pain was coming back.

  I wrapped my coat around her and went out onto the deck and lit up. Whatever in hell possessed me to want to take her out to Catalina in her condition? She seemed to enjoy the idea of it. It was probably beyond her limits now. I felt so alone, even with my ailing beloved just beyond those doors, resting. Life deals us so many unanticipated cards. How could I have known the love of my life would turn to jelly from the inside? But I also knew I needed to spend every minute I could with her. I tossed my cigarette overboard and went to rejoin my beautiful lady.

  When I got in, she seemed to be resting and her eyes were closed, a soft smile crossed her lips as if she were dreaming of something wonderful and far away. I sat next to her. “You know, babe, I’m thinking we need to take a little more fresh air now and then…what do you think? I should take you to Bronson Park and we can sit on a bench…” Just then I realized how still Adora seemed to be. I felt her arm. It was limp. I pushed in on her wrist with my thumb to feel a pulse. My beautiful love was gone. There, of all places, amidst the chattering passengers, noisy ship engines, the hum and vibration of the wood and metal, my beloved left this world. I sat back next to her warm little body, pressing my lips together so I wouldn’t start bawling in front of all those people. So I took her hand and held it, so no one would notice. Not until we got into port.

  Mors Vertit Unum Page (Death Turns a Page)

  Adora Moreno had died on March 29, 1932—on Honey Combes’ birth date! It’s a sorrowful thing when only ten people attend your funeral. My mother stood on one side of me while Elisa and Flora Moreno stood on the other. A few scattered friends and acquaintances filled out the rest of the group. But the big surprise to me was the gentle and understanding face of Zelda Blodgett. She had gone through my travail with Honey and she knew my grief would be all but unbearable. I recalled how she held me on the bed that night Honey was killed. She did so maternally. Yeah, sure, she had romantic designs on me in her own little mind, but she overcame them in that moment. I liked her for that.

  I was thinking also of my mother. Many years ago with me holding her hand, we were burying my father. The burly bloke had another soft spot in him besides my mother. He loved music and when he was drunk enough, he would sing songs at our piano in the parlor, my mother playing for him. His favorite song was an old folk tune entitled Roses of Picardy. Even as a child I could feel love’s regret when he sang the lyrics that stuck out to me most: ‘And the years fly on forever, ‘til the shadows veil their skies…but he loves to hold her little hands and look in her sea blue eyes…and she sees the road by the poplars, where they met in the bygone years…for the first little song of the roses…is the last little song she hears…’ Now, my dear Adora had heard her last little song and I was reminded of the sadness my loving mother must have been feeling in that hour.

  The priest spoke the funeral mass in Latin there at the gravesite. He was a lovely old Irishman with a twinkle in his eye, as if he knew something the rest of us didn’t. But his ending remarks were hard-hitting and I took my mother’s hand when he went into my heart and tried to rip it out. Because I was thinking, how many times can we watch someone we love get lowered into the ground? How do people do it? Maybe they turn off. Maybe they have a faith of some hereafter, or that after all, as Toggth said, all is cycle and re-cycle and nothing ever really dies. But, damn, it goes away and leaves you with a hole torn in your heart.

  “God does not always choose for us the life we think we want,” the priest began. “His mercy and love, although sometimes incomprehensible, brings us to the truth of our lives, nonetheless. We come to the earth as guests, children of Him who gave so much and asked for nothing in return. If Mary wept for her crucified son, God rejoiced in the lifting of our sins by his sacrifice. ‘For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son…’ May we say that for our sister Adora, who in being released of the flesh, may stand consecrated and unjudged beside the Lord. May God be with Adora always, and with those of us who are left behind with immeasurable sorrow from which there is no release except the passing of time.” He rang his little hand bell and the altar boys did their thing with the incense. “May you walk with the Lord all your days…” He uttered some more Latin stuff and that was that.

  I could not watch as they lowered Adora’s body into the damp, cold earth. I had to think she wasn’t there, anyway. I watched a red-tailed hawk circle majestically in the sky over the cemetery. Maybe now, in this perfect time when something comes to an end with unmistakable finality, she was up there—in the sky—happy as she was that day when she said to me on the little sailboat, “Cable, I want to be a bird…a seagull, floating over and swooping down to skim the water…without a care…” Well, maybe on this day she got her wish, maybe life does go on in many forms—who the hell knows?

  I went up to my mother and told her I’d take her home. She insisted she would prefer to take the streetcar home alone. She comforted me and I could tell her own sorrow was great as she and Adora had shared a deep bond. Then I hugged Elisa and Flora. They asked us to come to Todo el Mundo for a cup of coffee and a roll. But I told them that just now there were too many memories there where Adora and I met. Now it seemed to be many years ago. But it wasn’t. We had lived and died within a short space of time, love and life rising to its highest place—then like the ocean’s tides…life ebbing…leaving the shore behind, naked and lonely. The rest was like a song that would keep playing on inside me, haunting the places that we felt were safe, but weren’t—you have to keep walking with that tune in your ear because some day you’ll have forgotten it—and the worst thing we can do in this life, in my opinion, is to forget love.

  Zelda came up to me and embraced me. She didn’t say anything, simply took my hand and walked with me to the streetcar stop. Fi
nally, she looked up at me. “You know, Cable, I knew I would come, even though I didn’t even know your lady. And I thought of things I would say to you. But I saw your face, like the day Honey died and I held you. That’s all I wanted to do…just hold you, say nothing, be nothing. I am so sorry. I can only imagine what you might be feeling. Twice in your life, you have lost so much…”

  I squeezed Zelda’s hand. “Thanks, Zelda, you’re okay, lady. Now I have two gravesites to visit. Will you come with me sometime when I don’t have the guts to go alone?”

  “You bet. I’d go anywhere with you, Cable. You know, I’m rather like my plants, feed and water me a little, and I’ll give you a lot of growth—and maybe even look pretty for you.”

  I smiled at the attractive young lady who had become my friend. I took a deep breath. “Well, Zelda, somehow I gotta pick up the pieces and get on with it, I guess. I’m not sure what for. But I’m glad you’re my friend…come by soon…your plants need watering.”

  Don’t Send Me Flowers

  Affording an extended trip, and leaving my business for a few days was no easy task during the crippling economic depression that was tail spinning well into 1932. I had a feeling the bottom hadn’t been reached yet, either. Taking care of Adora’s medical bills, the extra expenses to keep the office and renting our little house pretty well drained my finances. The Royce money was almost gone. Plus my mother’s monthly pension, after my father’s death, from the steel factory where my father had worked, came to an end when the factory became victim to the 1929 crash. It seemed almost everyone was going belly-up these days. So now I was also supporting my mother, even though she took in ironing when she could. But hell, even mothers don’t last forever and mine was starting to show the years of wear and tear life had bequeathed to her.