Killer Con Fuego

by Sarah Hualde

  Kat and Thaddeus Miller tossed blankets on the floor and curled into each other. They each longed for a shower but didn’t dare risk rousing the children to indulge in one.

  Kevin Brandes tiptoed to the room with his wife. Harrison sank onto the floor by his son. He didn’t want to be alone. The Everetts left their company and hid in the Master Suite.

  Lydia washed her face multiple times. Sugar, caffeine, general grime, and the grisly murder scene caked her skin. It didn’t want to come off.

  Ethan peeled off his party clothes and tossed on sweats and a tank top. He sat on the bed, allowing the headboard to support him. He knew his gifted weekend would only get busier.

  The police weren’t close to finishing their investigations. Ethan’s family was right in the middle of it. That meant his loving and kindhearted wife would be blasting herself right into the eye of the storm. Ethan prayed. At least he was nearby, this time, to help her.

  Lydia stared at herself in the mirror. Her big brother was hurting. She had no idea how to help him. His fiancée had been murdered. Poisoned, was Lydia’s guess. The police claimed to be unsure.

  Lydia knew, from experience, that was their standard answer. Until they began interrogating everyone from the dinner party, she wouldn’t get another clue from them. Good thing she’d collected her own clues. However, she hated where they all pointed. In order to help her brother solve his loved one’s murder, Lydia might have to accuse his son.

  Lydia tried to text Charles from the restaurant. He didn’t answer. She made up her mind that once Ethan was fast asleep, she would dress and sneak over to Charles’ hotel room. There she would get to the bottom of whatever the issue was between father and son. Only then would she be able to deduce if the problem was deep enough to lead one of them to murder Vikki Winters.

  Lydia hated to give the thought pause. But she knew the police wouldn’t take long to point a finger at Harrison, since he was Vikki’s significant other. If she wanted to protect her family, Lydia needed to stay at least one step ahead in the investigation.

  Ethan didn’t stop watching his wife until she came to bed. His intuition tingled. Lydia was up to something. But when she started casually rubbing his hair, his mind relaxed, and he unwillingly drifted to sleep. Just as Lydia had hoped he would.

  AT THE HOTEL, CHARLES didn’t open his door. Lydia knocked for the third time. She pulled out her cell phone and texted her nephew again as she walked down the hall toward the elevators. Her feet grew heavier with each step. The adrenaline of the evening had long since faded and left her with nausea and tired limbs. She wasn’t looking when Charles spotted her.

  He sat in the hotel business area, hiding behind a computer monitor. For a moment, he debated his course of action. Aunt Lydia was his best bet. She would be able to help him better than Uncle Ethan. There were things he’d done that weren’t quite on the shiny side of legal. Things that might still come back to bite him.

  Charles had committed each supposed crime in the name of protecting his little brother and his father. Not to mention the girl he hoped to marry in the near future. But to a professional eye, his plight might not appear as innocent. After a great inner volley, he determined his next steps and flagged down his doting aunt.

  “Charlie,” Lydia said, tossing her arms around him and pulling him close. Just as she’d done when his mother died. Lydia strove to defend Charles with the sheer strength of her love for him.

  Charles let himself be held. He needed encouragement and a moment to bolster his strength before diving into the muddied mess of his life. He knew in just a few moments disappointment might smear across the face of the only family member he fully trusted. He delayed the moment as long as possible.

  Charles led Lydia over to the ready-made free coffee carafes and poured her a disposable cup’s worth. She took it, unsure if her stomach could stand another dose of her favorite legal drug. They sat close together in a traveler’s office cubicle.

  “Calvin texted me,” Charles started. “Actually, I texted him. From my window, I can see the restaurant. I heard the sirens and looked outside. I can’t believe Vikki is dead.”

  Charles didn’t smile over the news, but he didn’t frown either. It was obvious to Lydia, Charles was happy that Vikki had left his family’s life. The situation was horrible, but now that the Vikki threat was gone, Charles breathed easier.

  Lydia wanted to hear everything Charles had to say but didn’t want any passing patrons to zone in on his words. Charles was bearing all to Lydia. It wasn’t his style, which made the discussion all the more urgent. Charles was desperate for a listening ear, maybe even guidance. What he didn’t need was a bunch of lonely travelers eavesdropping and getting the wrong idea.

  “I’m certain you can tell how much I dislike Vikki,” he said.

  “It’s a bit concerning, yes,” Lydia said. “I don’t remember you ever having a problem with anyone.”

  Charles shrugged. His cynicism pained Lydia. “Things change.”

  “I guess they do. Can you let me in on why you didn’t care for Vikki? Your dad seemed nuts about her.”

  Charles snickered. “That’s part of the problem.” He picked up his coffee and spun the small wooden stirrer. “He’s consumed by her. He can’t see who she really is. Or who she really was, I guess, is more appropriate.”

  Lydia wanted more details. Just as she was going to demand them, her phone shook in her back pocket. She knew before looking that it was Ethan. He’d turned over, and she wasn’t in bed. She further knew that Ethan would have already surmised where she’d scampered off to and with whom. There was no rush to return the call.

  Charles was momentarily distracted. He looked at the ceiling as he gathered his thoughts. Lydia watched Charles closely. He looked worried but not apprehensive, guarded but not guilty. Lydia wondered what had him tied in knots. Charles lifted a hand to his head and riffled through his hair.

  “I don’t know how much of the story is mine to tell,” he said. “Let’s just say Vikki was a very fickle woman. She was always flirting with someone. Dad didn’t see it, or maybe he did, and that’s what made her so appealing. Vikki acted like she could have any man she pleased, but she chose Dad.”

  “Sounds like a woman to me.” Lydia didn’t agree with misused coyness. However, she did understand every person’s need to be wanted.

  “Dad wasn’t really her type. In fact, I don’t know what she saw in him,’ Charles said.

  Lydia frowned and gave Charles’ knee a soft thwack. “That’s my brother you’re talking about.”

  Charles almost smiled. “I know. He’s my dad, and I love him. But he’s a bit older than Vikki’s type.”

  “What was Vikki’s type?” Charles shifted in his seat and looked past Lydia’s shoulder. Lydia lowered her tone and tried to capture Charles’ attention. “Were you her type?”

  Charles seethed. His eyebrows pinched together in disgust. He calmed himself down a moment later and shook his head sadly. “Not me.”

  Chapter 12

  LYDIA RETURNED TO THE townhouse exhausted. Her guests bustled about the area preparing breakfast for the over-eager and over-hyper children. Lydia dearly hoped the kiddos would rest later. For the moment, Lydia stole away to the master suite, showered, and buried herself under the sheets. Ethan rubbed her back until she drifted off.

  Downstairs, Joan and Ivy lounged on the edge of the terracotta fountain in the middle of the townhouse square. They dined on plates of French toast made by Kevin and Flora. Ivy wore her favorite yoga pants and hoodie ensemble. Joan matched her in casual attire.

  “You want to tell me what’s been haunting you?” Joan asked.

  Ivy tucked a foot under the bend of her knee to balance her plate. “You mean, besides the murder no one’s talking about this morning?”

  Joan rolled her eyes. “Mom hasn’t said it’s a murder.”

  “Yet. It’s coming.” Ivy sliced through her breakfast and popped a large piece in her mouth.


  “Even so, I think you know what I’m talking about,” Joan said.

  Ivy squirmed. She enjoyed her growing friendship with Joan, but it wasn’t the best time to reveal all of her secrets. She’d already delved into her courtship correspondence with Grant. Ivy had let on to more than she’d intended during their late-night discussions. Why couldn’t Joan just be happy with that?

  Ivy felt it was a tad disloyal to Emily, her friend in rehab a state away. Ivy hadn’t been able to bring herself to announce her new relationship to Emily Prior. Especially since Emily’s last boyfriend had nearly gotten Emily killed.

  Other than the Grant situation, there were nightmares. Ivy didn’t want to dive into them even in her prayers. She definitely didn’t want to give them any power over her daytime hours. Joan didn’t seem to understand Ivy’s need to avoid the subject. Then again, Ivy doubted Joan had ever dealt with the situations Ivy had needed to survive.

  “My life hasn’t all been roses, you know.” Joan spoke as if she’d read Ivy’s thoughts.

  “Maybe not roses, but I’m certain it hasn’t been the entangled bed of thorns mine has been,” Ivy said.

  Joan shrugged before scooping herself a mouthful of breakfast. “How do you know? One person’s thorns might feel like feathers to someone else. Just because my life doesn’t match yours, doesn’t mean I haven’t been hurt or felt pain.”

  Ivy didn’t want to mock Joan. Joan was only trying to be kind. But Ivy really couldn’t imagine Joan truly understanding Ivy’s past. When Mr. and Mrs. Santiago cruised up the courtyard path and Scooby trailed them, Ivy was thrilled. It was the distraction she needed.

  Maude greeted Ivy’s smile with a question. “Is Lydia in?”

  Joan sighed with the intrusion. Ivy knew what was coming and gladly escorted the visitors into the townhouse. Ethan met them at the door. “Santi, Maude, it’s good to see you.” Ethan shook their hands and led them toward the patio. “Let’s sit back here.”

  Maude weaved around the giggling children. Santi kept a hand on her back. Scooby sulked nearer the entrance.

  “I’m going to stay out here,” he said to Maude.

  “We’ll keep him company,” Ivy said. “You want a plate of French toast?” Ivy splayed her hand toward the overstuffed kitchen countertop.

  Scooby smiled but declined the offer. “Maybe just some water.”

  Joan obliged. The threesome retreated to the solitude of the public fountain.

  WHEN LYDIA WOKE UP, Scout was curled next to her in her porta crib. The baby’s pacifier rested on Lydia’s eye socket. She startled. Careful not to disrupt the baby girl, Lydia slithered from her bed and retrieved her phone. A text from Ethan had stirred her from her slumber.

  -Maude and Santi want to talk-

  -U Up to it-

  Lydia hastily texted with an affirmative GIF and secured Scout in the porta-crib. She dressed swiftly and hurried downstairs. The noise level pressurized as Lydia descended into the living area. She paused only to track her husband’s presence. She spotted Ethan flagging her down from the patio.

  “I’ve got your coffee,” he baited her. Lydia’s stomach cringed. When she got back home, she might need to switch to tea for a while.

  “Hello everyone,” Lydia said as she took her place. Santi stood to greet her and Lydia quickly bid him sit. Ethan slid her warm mug into her hands and wrapped an arm around Lydia’s back.

  “Maude and Santi brought news about last night,” Ethan explained.

  Lydia slurped a swig of coffee. Even if the dark brew carved cantankerously into her stomach lining, it did open her eyes and set her brain in motion.

  “So what have you heard?” she asked.

  Chapter 13

  SCOOBY PACED AROUND the terracotta fountain. He dug in his pockets and repeatedly checked his phone screen. Joan tried to calm Scooby’s nerves with polite conversation. He didn’t stay still enough to respond.

  “How long are the police going to keep Con Fuego closed?” Ivy asked, guessing at the best topic to reach the distracted Scooby.

  He paused, thinking before he spoke. “We’ll know in a day, maybe two.”

  Ivy frowned. “That can’t be easy on business.”

  Scooby faltered and finally sat down beside her. “It’s a weekend. This will devastate this month’s books for Maude and Santi.” He cast a look of wilting confidence into Ivy’s eyes. “They discussed comping Lydia’s party.”

  Ivy offered Scooby a warm smile. “Ethan and Lydia won’t let them do that.” She gave Scooby’s shoulder a gentle pat.

  Joan mimicked her reaffirming gesture. “It’s not like it was Maude and Santi’s fault,” she said.

  Scooby let loose an inhale he’d been holding in. “That’s something,” he stated flatly.

  Ivy dipped a hand lazily in the easy flowing fountain. “Is there anything else we can do to help?” she asked.

  “No, nothing. Maude and Santi are here to talk to Lydia. Great Aunt Jacqui strongly suggested they ask her for help,” Scooby said.

  “What can my mom do?” Joan asked.

  Ivy gave her a face. “I keep telling you. Your mother’s a wonder. She solved three murders in the last year,” Ivy said.

  “But not like this. Those were on her turf.”

  Again, Ivy gave Joan a look. She turned attention back to Scooby. Her compassion went out to the worried dishwasher. “Lydia is definitely the one to help your mom and dad. She’s probably already formed a hypothesis,” Ivy said.

  Scooby rested back on his hands. “Good. But they're not my parents.” Scooby looked down at his sneakers. “They just act like it. I live with them.”

  “That’s like me and the Everett’s,” Ivy said.

  “Really?” Scooby’s smile was no longer a place holder for unidentifiable emotions. It warmed his face, genuine and hopeful.

  Ivy’s heart reached out to Scooby. He was older than her. Probably the same age as Grant. But unlike Grant, his eyes held a pain that mirrored Ivy’s. Scooby had been through the wringer more than once. Ivy recognized a heartache like her own. She wondered if Scooby was in deeper trouble than he was willing to share with her and Joan.

  THE CONVERSATION ON the patio repeated many of the same beats as the one in the courtyard. Maude and Santi explained their living situation with Scooby. They breezed over personal details and then merged into a discussion of their restaurant.

  “Our baby,” Maude teased Santi.

  Santi squeezed Maude’s hand. The passing surge of solemnity did not escape Lydia’s attention. It was obvious Maude and Santi adopted everyone who entered their restaurant. The staff, the customers, and even the delivery boys were all treated and loved as if they were blood relatives. Family.

  Lydia liked Maude and Santi instantly. She hoped the murder didn’t ruin business for them. But murder was sure to dampen any restaurant’s reputation. Not that the police had confirmed it was a murder, yet. But they would, soon.

  “What do the Ashton Police say?” Ethan leaned his elbows on the patio table.

  Santi took the lead. Maude settled back and enjoyed the coffee Kat had brought her. “They’re not saying much, which worries me all the more,” the shy chef said.

  Ethan nodded. “You’re reading that right. The more they know, the less they can say.”

  “That’s what I thought. The lady wasn’t the nicest woman but...” Santi said.

  Maude elbowed Santi in the ribs. “That lady, Vikki, was Lydia’s sister in law.”

  Santi flushed with shame. “Oh. I’m so sorry. It’s just after she upset Scooby, I thought.”

  Maude interrupted. “That’s what Scooby was so upset about when you spotted us at the dumpster. Your sister in law reminded him of someone. It’s another reason we’re here. Could you tell us more about her?”

  Lydia shrugged. “I don’t know much about her. She’s engaged to my brother Harrison, but I hadn’t met her until last night.”

  “ I feel so bad for what happened.” Maude’s grip tight
ened around her mug until her knuckles went pale.

  Lydia was about to reach out with a calming sentiment and reassuring nod, but Calvin burst through the living room and onto the patio.

  Out of breath and puffing between exertion and excitement, he said, “They’ve taken him.”

  “Who?” the patio asked.

  “Ashton PD.”

  Ethan stood and grabbed Calvin by the shoulders. He strove to take up as much space as possible. Blocking Calvin’s view centered him and allowed him a moment to refocus. His gray-blue eyes pierced Ethan’s. “Who did they take? Your dad?”

  It made sense, Lydia thought. The significant other was always high on the suspect list. “No.” Calvin’s voice broke under its strain. “Charles.”

  Lydia rocketed from her seat. “Charles? Why? For what?” Lydia asked though she already knew the answer. She’d been dreading that others would follow her rabbit trail as well. Ashton PD had acted quicker than she’d anticipated.

  Calvin’s voice cracked. “They think he murdered Vikki.”

  Chapter 14

  WHEN THE AIR RETURNED to Lydia’s chest, she looked up and saw the entire household gathered around Calvin. Children with their mouths open watched the unfolding scene. Adults and teens laid their hands on Calvin, Ethan, and Lydia. In their own wordless way, Lydia knew they were all praying.

  She thanked God for such believing friends. She was delighted to spot Santi and Maude joining in with as much earnest pleading as the rest of the room. Scooby rocked himself, closer to the front door than the rest, but by the look on his face, Lydia could tell he too was praying for Charles.

  The baby monitor, resting on the patio table, garbled with the sounds of Scout waking up in a strange room without a loved one present. The cluster dispersed. Ivy charged up the stairs. Flora and Kat rallied their tribes and spoke hastily with harried husbands. Ethan strapped his belt around his waist and shoved his wallet in his back pocket. He tucked his aviator sunglasses in the collar of his casual T-shirt.