by Lee Strauss
Julie awkwardly carried Diego, who looked rather annoyed at having his fun cut short, out of the room. Clarence smirked at Rosa as he followed his daughter. Being divorced, Clarence only had Julie on select days of the week, and Rosa was quite pleased that today was one of them.
Rosa tried another angle of appeasement. “I heard there’s a training school for cats in town.”
Aunt Louisa’s arms remained firmly crossed over her chest. “Cats can’t be trained.”
“That’s not true,” Rosa said. “I’ve read about cats learning to walk on a leash and to enjoy driving in cars. There was a story about that in the Readers Digest.”
Aunt Louisa harrumphed and strode to the living room door. She paused, and said, “Are you joining us for breakfast?”
It was an unnecessary inquiry, and Rosa took it for an olive branch. “Yes, I am.”
After taking time to dress properly, Rosa joined Aunt Louisa in the morning room and took a seat at the table.
Her aunt glanced up briefly with a begrudging look behind her eyes, then flipped open the morning newspaper. “I have a good mind to take that creature down to the ocean and tie a rock to him,” she said, her capacity to nurse a grudge on full display.
Rosa failed to rein in her disgust. “Oh, Aunt Louisa! He’s just a kitten.”
“In my books, that’s just another word for a large rat.”
Señora Gomez, the long-time housekeeper who wore a perpetual smile, appeared from the kitchen with a platter filled with freshly baked muffins and a small silver coffee carafe, Aunt Louisa’s usual breakfast.
“Buenos días, Rosa!”
“Buenos días, Señora Gomez.”
Determined to make amends somehow, Rosa turned back to her aunt. “I thought Diego was with Gloria.” A waft of sweet buttery muffin aroma hit Rosa’s nose, and she had to help herself to one. They were still warm. “I didn’t get home until the wee hours of the morning. It won’t happen again.” At least Rosa hoped it wouldn’t.
Her step-grandmother, Sally Hartigan, made her way slowly from the back hallway, thankfully breaking the uncomfortable silence. Her floral dress hung over soft curves, and a slight bend of her back along with her gray hair twisted into a bun at the nape of her neck attested to her senior years.
Rosa smiled. “Good morning, Grandma Sally.”
“Good morning,” Grandma Sally returned. Her accent hinted at her many years living in Boston. To Aunt Louisa she said, “Why are we so sour-faced so early in the morning?”
Rosa groaned inwardly, not wanting to hash out her aunt’s grievances with little Diego again, but it turned out that Aunt Louisa didn’t want to do that either. She sipped her coffee and spoke over the rim. “Only bad news in the paper, as usual. There was a death at the boardwalk last night.”
Grandma Sally shot Rosa a conspiratorial look. “Gloria said you were out with that police detective until late last night.”
Wanting to avoid the subject of that police detective, Rosa asked, “Gloria’s up already?”
Grandma Sally poured herself a cup of coffee. “Up with the birds and already gone.”
Wow, Rosa thought. Where had Gloria rushed off to so early?
Aunt Louisa tapped the newspaper with a long finger dressed in diamonds. “Wait, Rosa, you already know about this?”
“Gloria and I were at the fair last night. She didn’t tell you?”
“That girl never tells me anything, and it appears you don’t either.”
Rosa felt that judgment was particularly unfair. “I’ve hardly had a chance to.”
Aunt Louisa waved a dismissive hand. “You can tell me now. And please don’t dillydally. I have a full day.”
Rosa had no intention of dillydallying. Miguel would be meeting the two electricians at the boardwalk soon and hopefully discover the problem with the control panel. He’d want to wrap up his investigation before the park opened, and she didn’t want to miss it. She concisely relayed what she knew.
“One of the carnies had an accident of some sort. Sadly, he passed away.”
“I know that part already,” Aunt Louisa said. “It’s in the paper. Do you know how he died?”
Rosa wasn’t at liberty to say and used the moment to take a bite of her muffin.
Aunt Louisa was undaunted. “Who was it then? Surely, you must know that.”
“Why do you assume that, Louisa?” Grandma Sally said.
Aunt Louisa paused. “I thought you said that Gloria mentioned a detective?”
The subject of Detective Belmonte was a sour point between Rosa and her aunt, and it seemed that eleven years hadn’t been long enough to erase strong feelings.
“As it turns out,” Rosa said, wanting to meet her aunt halfway, “I discovered the body. It was a fellow I went to school with when I lived here. Victor Boyd.”
Aunt Louisa stared at Rosa blankly, and Rosa wasn’t surprised her aunt hadn’t heard of Victor or his family. He was most definitely from the “other side of the tracks”.
“Wait,” Rosa said with a new thought. “Did Gloria take the Bel Air?”
“I would think so,” Aunt Louisa said. She prattled on about needing to get Clarence to take that vehicle into the shop.
Rosa finished her muffin as she stared out the open patio doors. The gardens, a well organized and manicured display of color, sprawled out like a vibrant quilt. A man with dark skin, black hair, and a thin black mustache pushed a wheelbarrow across the lawn.
“Bernardo?” Rosa said. The groundsman had worked for the Forresters in the forties when Rosa had lived there. “He still works here?”
“Of course,” Aunt Louisa said.
“Why haven’t I seen him before now?”
“His mother was sick. I gave him some time off.”
Rosa left her breakfast unfinished, wiped her mouth with the cloth napkin, and pushed away from the table. “I have to go and say hello.”
Bernardo Diaz broke into a toothy smile when he saw Rosa stroll toward him. “Miss Rosa? Is that you?”
Rosa took the man’s rough hands in hers. “It is. It’s so wonderful to see you again. How’s your family?”
“Muy bien, gracias. My mother was ill, but is feeling better today.”
“And the children?”
“They are all grown as you are, Miss Rosa. I have five grandchildren.” Bernardo’s dark eyes were bright with pride.
“Well, you’re doing a very good job keeping the gardens looking beautiful.”
“Mrs. Forrester lets me hire help. My family is very grateful.”
Rosa understood. Many of the workers she saw on the peripheral were family members of Señora Gomez and Bernardo. Aunt Louisa had a heart after all.
“Are you staying long, Miss Rosa?”
Rosa hesitated. “I don’t really know, Bernardo.”
“I hope you can stay for a long time.” Bernardo’s smile was infectious. Rosa smiled in return.
“Perhaps, Bernardo, perhaps.”
9
Since Gloria had absconded with the one vehicle Rosa had permission to use, she had no choice but to ride her bicycle, the Schwinn Deluxe Hollywood, to the boardwalk. She’d taken time to change into a more suitable outfit of capri pants—blue with white stripes—a blue blouse with three-quarter length sleeves, and a pair of white tennis shoes. She didn’t fail to attend to her appearance, applying eye make up and a layer of lipstick. Even though Rosa wouldn’t admit it to anyone, she couldn’t completely put Miguel, and her unrequited feelings that stubbornly remained, out of mind. After brushing her chestnut curls into submission and pinning them behind her ears, she added a cute little sun hat adorned with a blue and white ribbon to her head.
With Diego in the doghouse, so to speak—Clarence had taken Julie back to her mother, Gloria was out, and Señora Gomez had gone shopping, leaving no kitty-sitters about—Rosa brought him along to ride in the satchel in the handlebar basket. As she had boldly pronounced to Aunt Louisa, her kitten really did seem to enjoy tr
aveling, and Rosa was grateful for his adventurous personality.
Miguel was at the gated and locked entrance to the fair when Rosa arrived. Leaning against his unmarked police car, he wore navy pants, a baby-blue cotton shirt with a black tie, and a straw fedora. Rosa couldn’t help but think he looked very debonair.
Miguel motioned to her wriggling satchel. “We’re involving Deputy Diego again today, are we?” Miguel had been joking about deputizing her kitten since the day she had rescued him from behind the bakery. She liked the sound of his new nickname.
“Well, Deputy Diego was the bright officer who helped me discover the mechanics of Jimmy’s pail last night,” Rosa said with a smile, remembering how a thirsty Diego had led her to the puddle of water. “So, you never know how helpful he might be.”
Miguel smirked, producing an extremely distracting dimple, then turned his attention to the metal fence. “I wish I could put Sanchez in a bag like that and take him out only when I need him.” He called between the bars of the gate, “Hello? Mr. Henderson?”
The portly man appeared from the direction of the amusement rides and, with quick, short-legged steps, made his way to the gate.
After polite greetings, Miguel asked, “Have the electricians arrived?”
Mr. Henderson nodded. “Was all I could do to keep ’em from opening the panel until you got here.”
Rosa was impressed at how well Mr. Henderson had kept to the police’s instructions. He added, “I need to get that ride back up and running by nine.”
Mr. Henderson unlocked the gate, then locked it again after Rosa and Miguel crossed through. They followed the manager through the quiet and empty carnival tents—rather eerie without a mass of happy attendees—and onto the amusement ride platform. Once they passed the building that housed the tilt-a-whirl, they could see two men waiting near the roped-off area that held the control platform for the roller coaster. One wore blue work overalls, and the other was in jeans and a grease-marked white T-shirt. Rosa wondered which of them was the regular electrician at the boardwalk and which was the electrician Miguel had hired.
Her question was quickly answered when Miguel strode straight for the man in the blue overalls and thrust out a hand. “Mr. Keenan, I’m glad you could make it on such short notice.”
“No problem, Detective, but I have another appointment in a half-hour, so it’ll have to be a quick assessment for now.”
“Hopefully, that’s all it will take anyway,” Miguel said.
“Can we finally have a look at this problem you’re having?” the man in the stained white T-shirt asked. “I seen some scorch marks on the panel. Sure hope someone wasn’t messin’ around with it.”
“Mr. Keenan, would you mind having a look at the panel?” Miguel’s authoritative tone left no room for discussion. He held up the barrier rope for the electrician to duck under. Lifting a small metal toolkit from the ground, Mr. Keenan stepped through the open gate and onto the control platform.
“Power’s off at the source?” he asked
Mr. Henderson confirmed that it was.
Mr. Keenan stopped at the main lever, inspecting it from all sides. “Does this not have a rubberized sheath?”
Mr. Henderson moved closer. “It should.” He looked to his electrician, who nodded his head.
“Yeah, it should. Did on Tuesday, a red one.”
Though he said the words, it seemed to Rosa that the electrician didn’t sound entirely certain. When Skip mentioned the missing rubber sheath, Rosa hadn’t thought much of it. But if it had been so recently removed, perhaps its absence was more important than she had thought.
Mr. Keenan removed the control panel cover with a small screwdriver to reveal a mass of twisted multi-colored wires. With his finger, he followed each wire, one by one, along their paths and nodded at their output below.
Diego stirred, and Rosa tucked a hand into the satchel to scratch him under the chin. Her spoiled pet immediately purred.
Mr. Keenan opened a second panel, a smaller one underneath the first, and drew in a hissing breath. “Who in God’s name would connect a live wire to that box?” He shook his head with wide, unbelieving eyes.
“What’s that?” Miguel asked.
“This live wire here. The thing’s been routed to the metal and taped here like some fool was trying to kill somebody. Metal woulda conducted the electricity through anyone stupid enough to pull on that there power lever.”
“How could this have happened?” Mr. Henderson stared at his electrician accusingly.
“I—I dunno,” the man said. “I wouldna have . . . I never coulda . . .” He ran a hand over his balding head. Finally, as though he’d found an answer he said, “Couldn’ta been me!”
With everyone staring at him, he explained. “I haven’t been in the park for three days. I test all the equipment real careful.”
Mr. Henderson started to interrupt him, but before he could, the electrician slammed his hands on the ledge.
“But even if I missed somethin’. Even if I missed this,” he said, as though overlooking the wiring were akin to ignoring a horse swimming laps at the local pool. “Even if I was that stupid, it woulda electrocuted your operator the very next time he pulled the lever. It wouldna taken three days!”
“Guy’s right,” Mr. Keenan said. “This panel was obviously tampered with between the time when your guy stopped the last roller coaster ride an’ the time when he started the thing up again.”
10
“So, all we have to do is list every single person who was at the fair that night and bring them in for questioning,” Miguel said sarcastically as he tapped his pen on his desk. Rosa occupied one of the wooden chairs in Miguel’s office, while Diego sniffed every inch of the floor, around filing cabinets, and right up to the frosted glass walls like a tiny feline bloodhound.
“Pick off all the individual strands of hay until we find the proverbial needle,” Rosa said. It did seem like a mountain of a case now.
Chief Delvecchio opened Miguel’s wooden-veneer door without knocking. “Are you booking the Thompson kid? He’s in there whining about how he didn’t mean to do it. Seems like a pretty clear-cut case to me.”
If only it were that easy, Rosa mused. In fact, the two electricians had proved without a doubt that Jimmy’s prank had not been responsible for Victor’s death.
Miguel shook his head at his boss. “It seems we’ve come up with some new evidence. Rosa was the one to discover it. The water wasn’t the conductor that caused the electrical current that killed Victor Boyd.”
“What on earth did, then?”
“The electrical panel was sabotaged. The death was premeditated.”
“Damn!”
Miguel rose to his feet. “I’ll go release Jimmy Thompson right away.”
Rosa lifted a finger. “Might I suggest further questioning before you release him?”
In contrast to the resort-like appearance of the outside of the building, the interrogation rooms seemed to come in a one-size-fits-all model—square, with a small table against one wall, and two chairs on either side. Jimmy was seated and waiting.
Once Rosa had explained what she wanted to do, Miguel agreed to let her go in alone. Watching through the two-way glass behind her, Miguel would listen intently while cat-sitting Diego.
“Hi, Mr. Thompson,” Rosa said as she closed the door behind her. “Do you remember me from last night? I’m WPC Reed from the London Metropolitan Police working as a consultant for the Santa Bonita police.”
Jimmy scanned Rosa’s summery outfit. “You don’t look like the fuzz.”
Rosa removed her sunhat and tapped her temple. “What’s important is what’s in here, Mr. Thompson.” She’d brought along a bottle of soda and now set it in front of him in hopes it would help him to relax. “I have some good news, Mr. Thompson. Upon further investigation, it turns out that we don’t believe your water bucket prank was responsible for Victor Boyd’s death.”
Jimmy blinked once, then
twice, and then he quickly scrambled to stand. “So, I can split?”
Rosa held up a palm. “Hold on a minute, Mr. Thompson. Please remain seated. Give me a moment. I promise this won’t take long. Enjoy your drink.” She motioned to the soda.
Jimmy considered it and then dropped into his chair and took a large swig. “But I can split after this, right?” he asked, ineffectively suppressing a belch. “Or do I need to get that lawyer back in here.”
“No need for a lawyer, I assure you. I just think you may be able to help us figure out what really happened to Mr. Boyd. You’re a conscientious citizen, Mr. Thompson. You’d like to help us solve this, wouldn’t you?”
Jimmy Thompson didn’t seem confident about Rosa’s verbal assessment but had the sense not to contradict it.
“Sure. Don’t know how I can help, though.”
“I’m correct in stating that Mr. Boyd was your friend?”
“Yeah,” Jimmy started tentatively. “Me and Vic worked together at the park for almost six months.” Jimmy’s lips pulled up into a nostalgic smile, and Rosa felt bad that he had been held all night, believing he’d accidentally killed his friend. “And the pranks didn’t mean nothin’,” he added. “It was all in fun.”
“Yes, I understand that, and it’s unfortunate what happened to your friend.” Rosa felt sad about any death—high school bully or not. “Do you know of anyone who may have disliked Victor?” Rosa’s mind immediately went to her school friends Nancy, Joyce, and Pauline, along with Gloria and Marjorie. But they wouldn’t be the only ones who’d disliked the man. The list would be long.
Jimmy confirmed her thoughts.
“Sure, yeah. Lots of folk didn’t have time for Vic. He ticked people off. The guy didn’t know how to be friendly sometimes, but—” Understanding bloomed on Jimmy’s face. “Wait. Did someone do this to Vic on purpose? Did someone kill him?”
Rosa kept her expression blank. She didn’t want Jimmy Thompson blabbing the details all over town, but at the same time, if she wanted to get clear answers out of him, she probably needed to tell him the truth. “That’s what it’s looking like right now. Yes.”
