by Lee Strauss
“Mr. Thompson and Victor Boyd were friends, though, right?”
Now Mr. McCooey’s laugh came with raised eyebrows. “Friends? No way. Victor hated that runt. Poked fun at him all the time.” Mr. McCooey smacked a palm with his fist. “Said he’d give him a knuckle sandwich."
Rosa grimaced. That sounded exactly like the Victor Boyd she’d known at the end of her schooling in Santa Bonita. Before they could ask further questions, Mr. McCooey stopped the ride and let on a new set of riders. As he did so, Miguel and Rosa conversed in hushed tones.
“Perhaps you shouldn’t have released Jimmy Thompson quite so fast,” Rosa said.
Miguel gave his head a quick shake. “We had nothing to keep him on, but I’d say we certainly need to speak to him again.”
“For a third time,” Rosa pointed out. If anyone seemed guilty, it was Jimmy Thompson. He’d admitted to being on Victor’s control platform and rigging the bucket yesterday. Who was to say he hadn’t removed the rubber sheath and moved a wire simultaneously?
Gary McCooey returned.
Without any preamble, Miguel asked, “Any other carnies that Mr. Boyd didn’t like? Or who didn’t like him?”
“Nah,” Mr. McCooey said. “We all joked. All got along. It’s Jimmy Thompson that never fit in. I’m surprised he’s not the dead one.”
Miguel glanced at Rosa, but she had another question at the ready. “There were three ladies who came through your ride around the time of the incident.”
Gary chuckled, relaxing as though he, too, knew this interview was nearly over. “Lotsa ladies were on my ride yesterday,” he said. “You want me to remember three of ’em?”
Yes, Rosa did want that. Undeterred, she described the dresses her new friends had been wearing. After mentioning Marjorie’s long red ponytail and striking green A-line dress covered with black polka-dots, his eyes noticeably brightened.
He snapped his fingers. “Her, I remember. The redhead! She was flirting with me!”
Rosa could imagine the wild-hearted Marjorie flirting with this carnie but not with any serious intention. “And she was with some other ladies?”
“Yeah, yeah. I think there were two of ’em. Talked to me the whole time they wove back and forth in that line,” he said, pointing. Rosa looked to the roped area that guided riders through the building. It would have taken the ladies a good hour to get through the line last night, which well accounted for their whereabouts during the time of Victor’s death.
“And the lineup was full yesterday afternoon?” Rosa confirmed, motioning to the queue.
“Sure was. Least three times as many as this.”
Rosa looked to Miguel, and in silent agreement, they nodded and turned back to Mr. McCooey. Thanking him in unison, they made their way out through the exit.
They squinted as the bright light of day greeted them, and Rosa cupped a hand over her eyes against the glare of the afternoon sun.
“Looks like you can cross your friends off our list,” Miguel said. “Well, except for Gloria, but I’m about to head to the Lobster Bar to confirm her alibi.”
Rosa was a little surprised Miguel hadn’t already done so, but on the other hand, his delay spoke to its lack of priority and that Gloria wasn’t considered a serious contender.
“Where are you going next?” Miguel asked.
Rosa had a destination in mind, but she wasn’t about to tell Miguel.
“I’m going home,” she said. It wasn’t a lie so much as a tad misleading. She was going to go home eventually.
16
Rosa parked across the street from the Santa Bonita Library, willing her pulse to calm down. Pulling a handkerchief from her purse, she pressed its cool surface against her forehead. She was perspiring because she was yet unused to the persistent California heat. It had nothing to do with that building.
Whatsoever.
Closing her eyes, Rosa inhaled deeply through her nose and slowly released it through her mouth. She was being silly. She’d already been in Miguel’s company far more than she’d dreamed since her arrival in Santa Bonita. How hard would it be to face the ghosts of the past?
Hard.
But, Rosa told herself, she was stronger than she thought, and after the first few minutes inside, once the onslaught of the memories was over, she could put it all behind her. She glanced at the empty seat beside her, wishing she had her furry deputy to talk to. Diego would purr appropriately and encourage her to get on with it.
It’s just an ordinary library, nothing more nor less.
Rosa rallied her reserves of strength and opened the driver’s door of the Bel Air. Just one step at a time was all it took.
Suddenly she was in her school outfit, a slender skirt that landed mid-calf with a kick pleat at the back, a white blouse, and a scarf tied in a bow at her neck. Her hair was longer, with the side pieces pinned up into curls on the top of her head and the back smoothly curled under.
Like now, Rosa’s heart beat as strongly then, because in those days visits to the library no longer meant studying for exams, but clandestinely meeting up with Miguel.
Pulling on the brass handle of the heavy wooden door, Rosa stepped inside and was immediately accosted by the comforting smell of books. The Santa Bonita Library wasn’t large, and reminded Rosa more of a large West Coast house that had all the utilities and walls stripped out of it, and couldn’t compare to the vast and ancient British Library. But it serviced the small community well and due to the community college, also had a good collection of non-fiction trade books.
Inside, nothing had changed. The shelves were situated exactly the same way as a decade before, with the same tables in the same places. Even the librarian, Miss Cumberbatch, a slender lady who, except for shorter hair and a few more lines on her face, seemed unchanged.
Her serious expression took on a look of surprise when she spotted Rosa. With a husky, low voice imitating a whisper she said, “Miss Reed?”
Rosa took quick strides to the checkout desk, and keeping her voice low, replied, “Hello, Miss Cumberbatch. Is it still Miss Cumberbatch?”
The side of the librarian’s mouth twitched. “It is. I suppose you’ve got a new name, though.”
“Actually not. I’ve not yet married.”
Miss Cumberbatch’s eyes shone with something akin to camaraderie. “What brings you back to Santa Bonita?”
“My family. I thought it was time for a visit.”
“Of course. You are part of the Forrester clan.”
“That’s right.”
“Can I help you with something? Or are you here to browse.”
“I’m here to browse, thank you.”
Rosa knew this library like the back of her hand, and knew exactly where she wanted to go.
And where she didn’t. Specifically, the area behind the lesser-visited section of the ancient history tomes. Even turning her back to that corner couldn’t keep the memories flooding in. The very first time Miguel had spoken to her, and how enamored she felt to be found of interest by an American soldier. Miguel almost always wore his uniform in those days, with a service hat on a closely shaved head.
She’d been undone by his smile, and those dimples! Rosa was amazed her weakened knees were capable of holding her up at all.
She’d lacked the wisdom that comes with age and hard knocks, and had steadfastly ignored all the warning signs that clearly yelled that their young romance was doomed, and that she’d suffer for far longer than the short amount of joyous time she’d so readily signed up for.
Shaking off the reverie with a violent shudder, Rosa went to a section on the opposite side of the library, to the shelf where books about the topic of electricity and electrical engineering could be found.
Running her fingers along the spines, Rosa removed a textbook of interest and opened the cover to the page that held all the copyright information. On the flyleaf, a pocket added by the librarians held the sign-out card. Each borrower’s name was written on the card, along with a no
tation of the date it was due back to the library, the most recent borrower listed at the bottom.
Rosa’s heart stopped. The last person to check out the textbook was Gloria Forrester!
Rosa quickly removed another manual, and then a third, and her horror built. Gloria’s name occurred in each one.
What on earth was Gloria doing with these textbooks? Surely she had no interest in the science of electricity? At least not beyond the scope of one book.
“Rosa?”
Rosa startled at the sound of her name. More accurately at the voice which spoke her name.
The textbook in her hand slipped to the floor.
“Miguel? I thought you were headed to the Lobster Bar?”
“I thought you were going home.”
“I am. I just thought I’d stop in the library first.” A nervous laugh followed. “You know how I like to read.”
Miguel picked up the textbook and gave her a knowing look. “It seems great minds think alike.”
Which explained why Miguel was in the same section. They both wanted to educate themselves on the mechanics of the crime that had resulted in Victor Boyd’s death.
Rosa selected the two books still on the shelf. “Well, I think these will do.”
“You know that you’re not officially on this case, right? Your aunt hasn’t swayed the mayor to bring you on board this time.”
Rosa held the books tightly to her chest. “I know. I’m just curious by nature.”
“Curiosity killed the cat.”
“Don’t bring Diego into this. He doesn’t even know I’m here.”
Miguel’s lips twitched, before forming a full smile, dimples and all. “At least leave a book for me.”
Rosa nodded her chin to the one still in his hand. “That’s the best one, anyway.”
The aisle between the shelving was barely wide enough for two people to pass through, especially with the swing skirt she wore and the full crinoline! Rosa vowed to wear slender pencil dresses from now on.
She took a step to bypass Miguel. He did the same, forcing them to step into each other, closing the distance between their faces. Miguel’s copper eyes reflected brightly in the lamplight.
Rosa swallowed and took another sidestep, but Miguel instinctively did the same. They were trapped in an awkward dance!
“Excuse me,” Rosa muttered. She waited until Miguel had stepped aside, then brushed past. If she’d hoped he’d stay put, or continue in the other direction, she was to be disappointed. Miguel stepped out of the aisle right behind her.
Rosa’s eyes landed on the obscure door at the rear of the building. A glance at Miguel confirmed that he was doing the same. That door led to the community park, to the place where they had had their first kiss, and where they had said their heart-wrenching goodbyes.
Oh dear.
She had to get out of there.
Rosa hurried to the checkout desk, keeping her eyes on Miss Cumberbatch, who performed her duties perfunctorily, completely oblivious to Rosa’s distress. When the last book had been date stamped, Rosa practically ran out of the library, leaving without another word to Miguel.
Her feelings for Miguel couldn’t be more obvious than if she raised them up a flagpole on a windy day.
17
As with the rest of the mansion, the dining room was well outfitted with modern furniture—a long, sleek Danish table built for eight filled the center of the room and a matching buffet and hutch lined a peach-colored wall. Looking rather spritely in a yellow and blue floral dress, Grandma Sally sat at the table along with Aunt Louisa, Gloria, and Clarence.
Rosa, having waited in the driveway until she had full emotional composure, headed for the table with a smile on her face. “Hi, everyone.”
Señora Gomez carried a large platter of roasted chicken into the dining room and set it in the center of the table.
“Señora Gomez,” Rosa said cheerily. “Smells delectable!”
Rosa claimed a seat nearest Clarence, nodded subtly, and then turned to her aunt. “Aunt Louisa, how was your day?”
“Good enough. Nothing new to report.”
“I, for one, had a fabulous day,” Gloria said, helping herself to a bowl filled with mashed potatoes. “I got a new hairdo.” She patted her blonde locks. “Excluding Rosa, I can’t believe none of the rest of you noticed!”
“I noticed, dear,” Aunt Louisa said dryly. “It makes you look older.”
Rosa wasn’t sure if her aunt meant it as a criticism, but Gloria didn’t take it that way.
“I look more mature, don’t I?” she said. “I want to be taken more seriously.”
Clarence snorted into his fist.
“Clarence!” Gloria protested, then appealed to Aunt Louisa. “Mother?”
“Clarence, the wise know when to keep their thoughts to themselves.”
Grandma Sally muttered, “Which is exactly why I’m not saying anything.”
Gloria’s distress leaned toward the volcanic, and Rosa hurried to ward off an emotional explosion. “As I said earlier, Gloria, I think you look lovely. It’s only a tad difficult to get used to your new look, but you’ll most certainly be the envy of your friends.”
“Oh, thank you, Rosa,” Gloria said before turning on her family. “See, why can’t you all be a bit more encouraging?”
“I am encouraging,” Clarence said. “I had a tickle in my nose and you mistook my intention.”
As Rosa passed the salad and potatoes around, Gloria asked, “So how is your investigation going?”
It was a benign question, and coming from anyone else, Rosa’s heart wouldn’t have skipped a beat, but she couldn’t forget about the library books signed out by Gloria.
“I wouldn’t know,” Rosa said. “It’s not really my investigation.”
“I think they should shut that monstrosity down and send it on its way,” Grandma Sally said. “I don’t like the crowds.”
Aunt Louisa’s fork paused midair. “Mother, when was the last time you went to town, much less to the boardwalk?”
“Maybe I’d go more if my only daughter would take me.”
Aunt Louisa’s eyes darted to Rosa, who immediately felt the stab of her step-grandmother’s faux pas. Rosa’s mother, Ginger, had been a child of eight when Sally Hartigan married her father, George. Rosa knew the story about how her maternal grandmother had died shortly after her mother was born, and that Sally was the only mother Ginger Reed had ever known.
Grandma Sally’s watery eyes registered how she’d misspoken. “You know what I mean. I love Ginger, but she doesn’t live here, does she? She can’t very well drive me around.”
“I can take you out,” Rosa offered.
Grandma Sally let out a quick, short breath. “It seems to me that you are fairly busy doing whatever it is you do when you’re gone. You’re hardly home.”
Rosa felt the sting of her step-grandmother’s chastisement. The elderly lady was lonely, and Rosa determined to carve out time to spend watching television with Grandma Sally the next time her favorite shows were on. She cast a glance at Clarence, a renewed sense of respect filling her, as she realized, whether her cousin sincerely enjoyed the daytime soap operas or not, he spent the time with his grandmother.
The conversation turned to the weather, which was a rather mundane topic in this part of the world. Fortunately, the doorbell rang and interrupted the bland interaction.
“Who on earth can that be?” Grandma Sally said with a hand to her chest. Times of surprise often brought out the strength of her Bostonian accent. Her wrinkled lips tightened, and she sent Aunt Louisa a look of accusation. “Did you make a social engagement for this evening without informing me again?”
Aunt Louisa looked scandalized. “I did not.”
Bledsoe, the butler, entered ready to announce who’d had the nerve to come to the Forrester mansion uninvited.
“Bledsoe?” Aunt Louisa said. “Spit it out. Who’s at the door?”
“Detective Belmonte, ma
’am.” His eyes darted to Rosa. “For Miss Reed.”
Rosa felt all her blood pool in her knees. After their encounter at the library, Rosa had hoped for at least a full day to recover. She patted her mouth with a cloth napkin, then pushed away from the table. “Excuse me, please.”
Not above a touch of vanity, Rosa peered into the mirror hanging in the hall. She patted her chestnut hair and, having a tube of lipstick tucked in her dress pocket, quickly applied a fresh coat of cherry red to her lips—smacking them with a sense of satisfaction.
She found Miguel and Detective Sanchez waiting, hats in hands. Miguel’s expression was serious. Definitely not a social call.
“Miguel?” Rosa said, feeling a sense of dread. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m afraid we’re here to fetch your cousin. I wanted to give you the courtesy of a warning.”
Oh dear. Everything Rosa had been fearing was coming to pass.
“Gloria?”
“I’m afraid we have to ask Miss Gloria Forrester to accompany us to the police station for questioning concerning the murder of Victor Boyd.”
Rosa held in a nervous chuckle. “You can’t be serious.”
Marjorie’s suggestion that Gloria had hated Victor Boyd more than anyone came back to Rosa now, and her stomach dropped from within her.
“What about the Lobster Bar?” Rosa had hoped Gloria’s alibi was a sure thing, but Miguel answered with one slow shake of his head.
Gloria stepped into the fray. “Rosa? Is everything all right?”
Before Rosa could relay the bad news, Aunt Louisa, Clarence, and Grandma Sally had filed into the foyer. Rosa let out a frustrated breath. The Forrester family members were drawn to drama like rowers to the River Thames.
Miguel repeated his request. “We’re here to ask Miss Gloria Forrester to accompany us to the station for questioning.”
“How ridiculous!” Grandma Sally sputtered.
Aunt Louisa eyed Miguel with eyes of fire. “You’ve always been trouble, Mr. Belmonte.”
“Aunt Louisa?” Rosa felt faint with humiliation. Aunt Louisa wasn’t going to bring that up, was she? Not now.
