by Lee Strauss
She saw the tops of the heads of people as they moved from ride to ride, or stood in lines to buy cotton candy or paper cartons of buttered popcorn.
Rosa felt the weight of her eyebrows drop as another memory played like a short film; the one featuring Victor Boyd and Don Welks.
Her eyes popped open and she turned her head to stare at Gloria. Her cousin had also let her magazine fall to the patio as she closed her eyes and soaked up the sun.
“Gloria?”
“Uh-huh,” Gloria said, sleepily.
“Do you know where Joyce and Don live?”
Gloria opened one eye.
“On Sunnyside Avenue. What do you want to see her for?”
“Not just her,” Rosa said, wanting to keep her word to Miguel and not explain her inquiries away. “I want to see Nancy, and Pauline Van Peridon, sometime too.”
Gloria propped up on her elbows, excitement in her eyes. “Are we planning something?”
“Would you like to?”
“Sure. It would be fun.” Gloria’s expression dropped. “Now that Nancy and Joyce are both married, it’s hard to get them out without their husbands. And Nancy’s got kids. Marjorie would be up to it. I know Nance was more your friend, but Marjorie is a lot of fun.”
“What about Pauline?”
“Oh, yeah. I always forget about her.” Gloria’s elbows slid back to her side, her eyes closed again as she relaxed on her back. “Marjorie works as a carhop at the Steak and Shake farther down on Cedar Street.”
“Steak and what?” Rosa asked.
“Steak and Shake. It’s the drive-in restaurant. We should lunch there sometime!”
“Sometime, certainly,” Rosa said, thinking suddenly that she would lunch there today, alone. Her stomach growled at the thought of food. She swung her legs out, and stood. “It’s a little hot for this English flower,” she said. “I’ve not yet adapted to this heat.”
“Stay long enough, and you will,” Gloria said.
Rosa stared at her cousin, and reluctantly asked her next question. “It’s so terrible what happened to Victor Boyd last night, isn’t it?”
Gloria’s relaxed expression grew tight. She slid her sunglasses to the tip of her nose and stared up at Rosa. “Ya, of course. I mean, he was a horrible guy, but I certainly didn’t wish for him to actually die.” Pushing her sunglasses back into place she added, “But I can’t say I’m broken up about the fact that I never have to worry about running into him again.”
12
Now that Gloria had returned with the Bel Air, Rosa was free to take it to run “errands”, at least that’s what she told Aunt Louisa when she ran into her in the hallway outside Uncle Harold’s office where her aunt ran her affairs. She changed into a blue and red summer dress with a matching belt and cloth buttons, and, Gloria would be pleased to know, a full crinoline. Adding a blue half-hat trimmed with a cloth rose, short summer gloves, and red baby doll shoes with heels a little too high to be practical, Rosa took a moment to assess her reflection in the full-length mirror, then added a pearl choker. As her mother was apt to say, one never knew who one would meet and it was good for a lady’s confidence to look her best.
Back in the Bel Air, Rosa rounded the corner onto Cedar Street, and a flamingo-pink building came into view. The restaurant section was a large round building with floor-to-ceiling glass windows, which allowed a good view of the cooks making the meals inside. Surrounding the front of the restaurant was a semicircle of parking stalls. She had seen this style of American restaurant on the telly back in London, but she was surprised not only by the vividness of the colors but also to find one so close to her aunt’s home. Waitresses wearing pink dresses and white aprons, and quite astonishingly, roller skates, zoomed back and forth between the building and the waiting cars.
Rosa idled the Bel Air just outside the parking stalls and took in her surroundings. It didn’t take long to spot Marjorie Davidson—her long red ponytail swinging as she delivered a tray filled with food to a late-forties model Buick. Marjorie looked older than the rest of the carhops, even if the high ponytail gave her a youthful appearance.
The midday sun beat heavily on the Bel Air, so once Rosa was parked, she wound down the passenger window, propped her elbow out, and waited. Marjorie soon rolled out from the building with a menu to greet her.
“Welcome to Steak and Shake,” she said, passing Rosa a menu before either recognition hit or she was out of the glare of the sun. “Oh! Rosa! Hi!”
“Hi, Marjorie! Gloria mentioned you worked here, and I had a strong craving for a chocolate milkshake, so here I am.” Rosa offered a bright smile. She had often watched her mother put on a disarming smile before launching into a query session.
“The burgers are peachy too,” Marjorie said sweetly as if she’d forgotten how put out she’d been on learning of Rosa’s association with the police. There didn’t seem to be an ounce of offense to her tone now.
“Sounds wonderful,” Rosa said. “I’ll take one of each.”
As Marjorie skated away with her menu and notepad, Rosa rehearsed her plan of questioning. She wanted to get a clear alibi from Marjorie and the other girls without going into details about the murder. Until Gloria’s alibi was in place, and Gloria could hear some information on the case, Rosa wanted to be sure it didn’t become today’s hottest gossip.
The drive-in was a busy place over the lunch hour, and Rosa sang along with The Platters on the radio to pass the time. She often found that distracting oneself could help to unlock a vital clue hidden in the subconscious. When Marjorie finally delivered Rosa’s milkshake, she was ready with her first question.
“Listen, Marjorie, would you tell me about that tilt-a-whirl ride? It looked like fun! I’ve never ridden one, and I was sad to have had Diego with me last night because I wasn’t able to join all of you on it.”
Marjorie glanced around to survey whether she had a moment to chat. “Oh, it’s the boss,” she said, excitement in her eyes. “Too bad the line was so long. We all could have gone on it again.”
“You were in line for the ride the entire time you left me last night? It was that long?”
As if she felt awful for deserting her, Marjorie placed a hand on Rosa’s arm. “If only it had been an outdoor lineup, at least we could have chatted with you while we waited.”
“Yes, but you came straight back to find me afterward, right?”
Marjorie nodded. “The tilt-a-whirl exited right near the roller coaster. Not only did we find you right away, but we quickly found out about the, um, incident, with Victor Boyd.”
Rosa’s next job was to confirm the alibi of Marjorie and her friends. “All of you were in line and on the ride together when it happened, though, correct? All three of you—you, Nancy, and Pauline—would agree on that?”
Marjorie squinted, and Rosa feared she was too on the nose with her question, but then Marjorie held up a finger and said, “Be right back.” Rosa sipped her milkshake as she watched her and tried to gauge if Marjorie was avoiding the question.
Zooming toward the round building as if she’d been born wearing roller skates, Marjorie picked up a tray of food, and delivered it to a nearby car, a red two-door Oldsmobile convertible with the black soft-top down. The vehicle, including the bumped nose of the hood, was waxed to a shiny polish with wide chrome fenders sparkling with a mirror finish, and bright white rubber trim on the mag tires. Rosa had both her parents to thank when it came to motor vehicle appreciation.
But it wasn’t the car that had gripped Rosa’s attention so much as the driver. Henry Van Peridon smiled at Marjorie as if he’d rather have her for lunch than the tall hamburger she’d presented on a plastic tray. Marjorie played with her ponytail and laughed at something Henry said.
A tapping on the hood of the Bel Air made Rosa jump, and she grabbed at her heart. She let out an embarrassed breath when she saw Larry Rayburn’s smiling face.
“Pardon me,” he said looking sheepish. “I didn’t mean to startl
e ya.”
“It’s fine,” Rosa said. She found herself feeling pleased at this unexpected turn of events. “I’m happy to see you. Do you come here often?”
“More than I should, you could say. I tend to eat on the run.” He lifted up a paper bag to prove his point. “Eat at my desk at the morgue. I see ya’ve discovered American burgers.”
Rosa smiled. “That and the milkshakes.”
An awkward moment passed between them and Rosa feared Larry might bring up his dinner date offer, which Rosa wasn’t quite ready to entertain. She seized the moment to turn the serendipitous meeting to the case.
“Have you had a chance to complete the Victor Boyd autopsy?” she asked, then added hopefully. “Anything new to report?
Larry shrugged. “Straightforward death by electrocution resulting in cardiac arrest. Heart stopped and never started again.” He held up his lunch bag again. “I’m fixin’ to eat this while it’s still hot. Good to see ya, again, Rosa.”
“You too, Larry.”
Before Rosa could ponder the significance of this chance meeting, or even determine if anything, indeed, was significant, Marjorie wheeled back over to Rosa.
Rosa’s eyebrows jumped in a teasing manner as she tilted her head toward Henry Van Peridon’s car. “New fella?”
“Oh, Henry?” Marjorie risked a glance over her shoulder at Henry who hadn’t stopped staring at her.
“Ah, I dunno. He’s got a nice car and a lot of dough. I know he’s shorter than me, but he’s decent-looking, doncha think? Works at the Aeronautical Research Center, which means he must be a smart cookie too. I suppose I could do worse.”
Rosa supposed that she could. “You were telling me about the tilt-a-whirl ride.”
Marjorie blinked like she couldn’t understand why Rosa wanted to keep talking about that. “Yeah, the lineup didn’t end up being too bad. We were clowning around with Gary, the carnie in charge. Time flew by.”
So not only could each of the three friends vouch for each other, Gary the carnie should be able to as well. Rosa would have to pass this new information on to Miguel.
So much for being a girl on holiday!
Rosa tried the same tactic with Marjorie as she’d used with Gloria. “What happened with Victor was terrible, wasn’t it?”
Marjorie let out a chuckle that Rosa found chilling. “I think there are some people in Santa Bonita that would consider Victor Boyd’s accident as an act of fate. As you know, he wasn’t exactly frat.”
“What?”
“Frat. He wasn’t popular. Nobody liked him.”
Marjorie pulled away, but Rosa held her arm. “Who in Santa Bonita do you think would want him dead?”
Marjorie’s face went through a myriad of expressions as she considered this question. Finally, she came up with, “Gloria’s my friend, but I think you should ask her that question.”
Rosa blinked back her surprise.
“If she didn’t hate Victor Boyd more than anyone in this town, I don’t know who did.” Marjorie skated away to take her next order, leaving Rosa feeling suddenly chilled.
13
According to the folded map in the glove compartment, Sunnyside Avenue was only a few blocks away. Rosa thought it unlikely that she’d catch Don home from work so early in the afternoon, but Joyce might be around, and Rosa wanted to speak with her alone anyway.
The Welks lived in a middle-unit town house in an area of town that supported those in a lower income bracket, which Rosa found perplexing, since, if memory served her, Joyce’s family were rather well-to-do.
Rosa’s timing was perfect, as she pulled up to the curb just as Joyce was leaving her home. Dressed in a summer dress with a full skirt, plain pumps, and a silk patterned head scarf tied under her chin, Joyce started down the sidewalk. Her square purse hung by short straps over one forearm, and her hands were covered by cute white gloves that ended at her wrists.
Stepping out of the Bel Air, Rosa called out, “Joyce!”
Joyce turned at the sound of her name, and cupped a gloved hand over her eyes. “Rosa?”
“Yes, hi. I was in the neighborhood, and thought I recognized you.”
Joyce’s eye narrowed. “What were you doing in this neighborhood?” Joyce’s gaze landed on the Bel Air, quite easily the most expensive vehicle on the street.
Rosa caught up to Joyce and offered a friendly smile. “Actually, I was looking for you.”
“I have an appointment. You can walk to the bus stop with me if you like.”
“Or I could drive you,” Rosa offered.
“Oh. Okay, that would be nice. I am feeling rather tired.”
Joyce relayed the address and short directions as they each opened one of the heavy doors of the Bel Air and slid onto the striped white and yellow leather seats. Joyce ran a finger along the chrome trim of the yellow dash. “Neat chariot!”
Rosa started the engine and pulled out into the wide street. “Thank you. It belongs to my aunt.”
“Yeah, you Forresters really suffer.”
Rosa ignored the jibe. “How’s your family, Joyce?”
“I wouldn’t know. They cut me off when I married Don.”
“Why would they do that?”
“Because he’s poor,” Joyce replied, as if the answer were obvious. “He works at a grocery store. My old man wouldn’t even consider him worthy of joining the Kilbourne family unless he owned the store. Actually, unless he owned a chain of stores.”
Joyce glanced at Rosa with eyes that burned with emotion. “I don’t care about money! It doesn’t make people happy, I saw that firsthand.”
“You must really love Don,” Rosa said. She remembered visiting Joyce at the Kilbourne home, a grand house not far from the Forrester mansion.
“I do,” Joyce said emphatically. “With all my heart. I don’t care that he’s poor or tall. My dad had a problem with that too. I think Don’s handsome, and funny and kind.”
Rosa’s only impression of Don Welks was what she’d seen of him on the dance floor at the fair, where he seemed very taken with his wife, and then an opposing picture of him fighting with Victor.
“Does Don still work at the grocery store?”
Joyce nodded. “Ralph’s on main.”
“Were Don and Victor friends?”
“What?” Joyce stared at Rosa as if she were crazy. “He had nothing to do with that nosebleed.”
Rosa knew that wasn’t true. “So as far as you know, Don had no reason to be upset with Victor Boyd.”
“No! I hadn’t thought about Victor for ages until Marjorie spotted him at the boardwalk. I don’t even think Don knew Victor. What’s with all the questions?”
Should Rosa come clean about what she’d seen with Joyce? Her instincts told her to hold on to the information.
“Nothing, I just wondered.”
Her comment synchronized with their arrival and Joyce pointed to a commercial building. A list of doctors’ names was embossed on the door.
Joyce tilted her head, her eyes twinkling in conspiracy. “I think I’m expecting.”
“Oh,” Rosa said. “Congratulations.”
A smile crossed Joyce’s face. “Don doesn’t know. I want to surprise him. Please don’t tell anyone.”
Rosa smiled back. “Your secret is safe with me.”
Once Joyce had disappeared into the building, Rosa turned the Bel Air around and headed for Ralph’s. She had to be out of something.
The enormous sign with the name RALPH’S in red script was visible from the opposite end of the strip. Rosa pulled the Bel Air into one of the angular parking spots in the large attached lot, grabbed her purse, and headed inside.
The supermarket was new to Santa Bonita since the war and this was the first time she’d been in such a large shop. In London, there were myriads of places to shop for one’s food and personal needs, but they tended to be smaller and specialize. One shop for bread, another for meat, another for fruit and vegetables. With so much land available per
capita in America, businesses could afford to take up more space. Everything a shopper needed could be found under one roof.
A sense of awe settled on Rosa as she wandered down each aisle, every shelf stocked from floor to as high as one could reach with canned and boxed goods. On the perimeter of the store, more produce, dairy, and meat could be found than could possibly feed all the citizens of Santa Bonita.
The abundance of the 1950s was in clear contrast to the scarcity Rosa remembered when she’d lived there in the 1940s.
However, she was not at the market to admire and shop, but to find one very tall employee. She spotted him easily, stocking shelves in the cereal section. He paused when he saw her approach.
“Can I help you find something, ma’am?”
“I’m actually looking for you, Mr. Welks.”
His eyes flashed with confusion. “Do I know you?”
“I’m an old friend of Joyce’s. Rosa Reed.”
“Ah.” Don said, resuming his task of removing bags of Quaker Oats oatmeal from a cardboard box and placing them onto the shelf in neat rows. “She did mention you. Back for a visit from England, huh?”
“That’s right.”
“What’cha want to see me for?”
Rosa decided to get right to the heart of the matter. “I saw you fighting with Mr. Boyd on the night he was murdered.”
Don’s long arm stilled, then he removed the last bag of oats from the box, delivered it to its spot, and faced Rosa.
“Hmmm. Joyce told me you were a lady cop in London. Doesn’t compute why you’re poking at a crime in California.”
“I happened to be the one to find the body,” Rosa said. “And I work as a consultant with the Santa Bonita police.”
Rather a half-truth in this situation, but Rosa left her statement unqualified.
Don let out a long breath through his nose, then checked his watch. “I can take a short break. Can we take this outside in ten minutes?”
“I’ll be waiting beside a white and yellow Bel Air.”
