Dove in the Window

by Earlene Fowler

  “I finally caught you. Good.” Amanda’s honeyed voice flowed through the receiver. “How’s our boy doing?”

  “Fine, I guess. Lying low like you instructed him. I, on the other hand, am going crazy trying to get a handle on who killed Shelby. Let me tell you what I’ve found out so far, and you tell me what you think.” I ran Emory’s and Bud’s information by her and told her how I thought that eliminated Bobby and that art forgery might be the reason why Shelby was killed. “What else could she have seen that would hurt someone’s career?”

  “Sounds logical enough,” Amanda agreed. “Leilani’s done a little deeper checking than your cousin and came up with almost similar results.”

  “Almost? What else did she find?” Leilani Jones, Lei to her friends, was a former San Celina detective who had been an investigator for the DA’s office before going to work for Amanda. She was a smooth-skinned, strong-boned Samoan woman with a face as perfect as a beauty queen’s. She was always getting pissed off because people talked to her in Spanish, thinking she was Latino. She once showed me how to hide a pistol in your cleavage and button up your blouse so it didn’t show. I tried it, and she almost bust a gut laughing. Either her gun was too big, my bra too flimsy, or my cleavage too small. At any rate, she was the best investigator the DA’s office had ever had, and they still hadn’t forgiven Amanda for stealing her.

  “Roland Bennett has a couple of ex-wives.”

  “So?”

  “Three to be exact. It’s number two who’s so interesting.”

  “Who was she?”

  “A Louella Ebersole.”

  “Why is she so interesting?”

  “She’s from Bakersfield.”

  I waited. “And?” I finally said, trying to keep the impatience out of my voice. Like most Southerners, Amanda dearly loved to draw her stories dramatically out to the enth degree.

  “Okay, okay, I’ll quit messin‘ with you. Louella Ebersole is Parker Williams’s mother.”

  “What!”

  “My reaction exactly. The plot thickens. They were apparently married for three years from the time that Parker was ten to thirteen. They were divorced citing irreconcilable differences. He moved to San Francisco shortly afterward and resumed his art dealing career. While he lived in Bakersfield—which, by the way, was right after he fled Texas—he didn’t hold a job and yet always seemed to have plenty of money. Bakersfield PD records show that officers were dispatched out to their house four times on domestic violence calls. That’s it for him.”

  “Her ex-stepfather,” I said, still unbelieving. “Boy, she certainly pulled one over on us. I would have never guessed. The question is, are they involved in anything illegal together?”

  “His record’s been clean as the proverbial whistle since he left Bakersfield. Maybe he cleaned up his act.”

  “Or maybe he just got better at not getting caught.”

  “Touché, my little buddy. Next comes Olivia.”

  “That new truck bothers me. I know she doesn’t have the money to buy it.”

  “You’re right. It’s leased. That was a cinch to find out.”

  “Then I guess that eliminates her.”

  “Not necessarily. There’s still the jealousy factor because of the possible relationship between the deceased and our Mr. Sanchez.”

  “That’s pretty lame, though. I mean, killing someone over a man? Ruining your whole career, your whole life because some turkey cheated on you? I don’t think so.”

  “Maybe it’s lame to you, but I saw it happen too many times to count when I was a prosecutor. Girl, I’ve seen women who killed their own babies to try and save a relationship with a man.”

  I felt my stomach roil. “I can’t imagine that.”

  “Then you need to watch a little more tabloid TV. Or come down and read through the old case files in the DA’s office.”

  “So Olivia’s still a possibility. What about Greer?”

  “Now there’s an interesting situation. Did you know that her family’s ranch was in Chapter eleven?”

  “No! I heard they were kind of hard up but I didn’t realize it had gone that far. They’d lost a good number of cattle because of some bad feed they bought, though I don’t know exactly how many, and they’ve had some medical expenses for their grandmother that were real high.” Then something occurred to me. “What about her personally? Rumor has it for years that she got a huge settlement from her ex-husband. Did she invest that in the ranch?”

  “I’m one step ahead of you. I’ve got a call in to a friend of mine in San Francisco who has connections with a records clerk downtown. I should have her divorce settlement information by the end of the day. Want me to call you at home?”

  “Definitely. That’s everyone, I guess. We’re still not any closer to figuring out which one killed Shelby, are we?”

  “Hang in there. This kind of stuff is just like mining. Sometimes it just takes a little more digging. I still have Lei on the job, and we know what a pitbull she can be.”

  “Tell her hey for me and that Gabe says she can come back to work for him whenever she wants. He says he’ll beat whatever you or the DA’s office offers.”

  “Over my dead carcass,” Amanda said cheerfully. “Watch your back now.”

  “Don’t worry about that. I’m getting real good at it.”

  I hung up and dialed the ranch. Dove answered after three rings, laughing uproariously as she said hello.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked.

  “Just Isaac,” she said. “I swear that man’s gonna make me bust a gut before he leaves with his stories. What’s up, honeybun?”

  “I need to talk to your ... uh ... boyfriend.” I stuttered the last word. Their relationship still was a little weird for me.

  “What’s wrong, got a rock in your gullet?” she asked slyly.

  “I’m fine,” I said, attempting to be mature. “Is he there?”

  A few seconds later he took the phone. “What’s up, Benni?”

  “I just wanted to tell you what I learned today.” I started with the information Emory had found out and went through what Amanda and Lei had discovered. “It makes a good case against all of them except Bobby,” I said. “Frankly, we’re not any closer than when we found out all this.”

  “Then we—no, make that I—need to rattle some cages.”

  “You can keep that we in there.”

  “No, ma‘am,” he said. “You are going to stay out of this. We heard about your little escapade at the fashion show, so you’re going to lie low while I do some questioning. I’m not about to get pummeled by either your grandmother or that formidable husband of yours. Besides, I’m worried about you myself.”

  “No way am I letting you go this alone, Isaac. We’ll meet for breakfast tomorrow and formulate a game plan. Eight o‘clock at Blind Harry’s. Don’t be late or you’ll be buying.” I hung up before he could protest. Just before I did, though, I heard an almost imperceptible click, and my stomach lurched. The new extension in the co-op’s kitchen. I’d forgotten all about it.

  I jumped up and sailed down the hallway to the kitchen, but by the time I got there, it was empty. I walked through the studios and across the breezeway to the crowded museum. Surveying the parking lot, I picked out Parker’s car, Greer’s car, and Olivia’s truck.

  That narrows it down, I thought. Maybe. I went back to the studios and started opening my stacked-up mail. There wasn’t much I could do about it now. If one of them was involved with Shelby’s and Kip’s deaths, she knew now that Isaac and I were watching her. At least she didn’t know what we had up our sleeves. Our next move was still a secret to her.

  Then again, it was to us, too.

  16

  I SPENT THE rest of the day trying to catch up on the paperwork pile that never seemed to recede. Emory phoned at four o‘clock to tell me he wouldn’t be home for dinner tonight.

  “I’m driving down to Santa Barbara to buy a new suit and test-run a restaurant that was reco
mmended by someone at the Tribune. I’ve already sent flowers and candy. Two dozen long-stemmed blush pink roses and a five-pound box of Godiva chocolates. Had to Federal Express the candy up from Santa Barbara.”

  I snorted over the phone. “Flowers and candy? If you think you’re going to win Elvia’s affections with some fancy hothouse roses and expensive imported chocolate, you’re barking up the wrong tree, Mr. Hound Dog.”

  “Who said anything about giving them to Elvia? I sent them to her mama.”

  I threw back my head and laughed. “Oh, geez, you’re good. If Mama Aragon falls in love with you, Elvia’s a goner.”

  “The candy and flowers are just in gratitude for the wonderful tamales she served me for lunch today.”

  “How in the world did you get an invitation to lunch?”

  “Sweetcakes, dear Señora Aragon does remember me from my childhood visits, and I merely did the neighborly thing and stopped by to pay my respects and ask her and Señor Aragon’s permission to date their daughter.”

  I shook my head, still laughing, not at all surprised at his chutzpah. “You realize Elvia’s going to kill you if—no, make that when—she finds out.”

  “I’ll tell her on our wedding night.”

  “Emory, you could give Billy Graham lessons in faith.”

  “Hallelujah and amen, Sister Albenia. Don’t wait up for me.”

  I arrived home at the same time as Gabe. His angled cheekbones were sharp with fatigue, so I didn’t bring up what I’d learned about the suspects in Shelby’s and Kip’s murders. He certainly didn’t look like he was in the mood to argue, and I knew I wasn’t. We ordered pizza and spent a quiet night cruising the TV programs.

  It was past ten o‘clock and we were already in bed when the phone rang. He answered the phone, then handed it to me, an annoyed look on his face.

  “Benni, it’s Amanda.”

  I sat upright. “What’s up?” I knew she wouldn’t call this late unless it was something important.

  “Sorry it took so long, but the friend who found out this information for me went to a party and just got home and called me herself. Your buddy Greer’s personal financial situation looks very grim indeed.”

  “How’s that?” I asked, ignoring Gabe’s low grumbling next to me.

  “Apparently she didn’t get a very good settlement from her husband and since the divorce has had no other source of income except the ranch. And that’s been pretty dicey this last year or so.”

  “But I heard he was very wealthy and that the divorce was because of his affair with some young girl. No offense to your profession, but sounds like she got a real lame lawyer.”

  “No offense taken, but there’s more to the story. There’s a rumor—just a rumor, mind you—that my friend checked out with a contact on the narcotics squad in San Francisco. Story goes that Greer was caught selling nose candy to her fancy artist friends. Hubby is rumored to have kept her on a short leash money-wise, and she decided to procure her little ole self a part-time job that didn’t take too much time away from her art. Anyway, one of the so-called artists turned out to be an undercover cop. Bad luck on her part as it was just around the time of her separation. Her husband used his considerable political leverage to have the charges disappear in exchange for an uncontested divorce with minimal financial gain on her part. She agreed, word has it, to save her reputation and pain to her family. Not to mention that really good canvas and paintbrushes are difficult to obtain in prison.”

  “Wow.” I paused for a moment, still shocked. “Wow.”

  “You already said that. Certainly gives her some reason to kill someone who found out about it.”

  “So, maybe that’s the illegal activity that Shelby was telling me and Bud about. Maybe Greer offered her drugs.” I felt the bed move. I turned and looked at Gabe, who was sitting straight up now, frowning slightly at me. “Could be. Is that it?”

  “For now. What’s your next step?”

  I continued to look at my husband, our quilt covering his lower torso, his frown now a glare. I considered pulling off my tee shirt to distract him. “Uh, soothing the savage beast.”

  “I take it he didn’t like what he heard?”

  “You’re taking it right. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  She gave a deep chuckle. “Make it fun, girl. Just make it fun.”

  Gabe crossed his arms. “Tell me that wasn’t what I thought it was.”

  I crawled across the covers to him, scooting between his legs. “That wasn’t what you thought it was.”

  “Benni ...” he warned.

  “As you already know, it was Amanda.” I quickly told him what she’d found out about Greer, rubbing my hands along his forearms as I talked. My physical cajoling didn’t move him. “I’m sorry, but there’s just so many reasons why I can’t sit on the sidelines with this one.”

  “Let Wade fry,” he said succinctly.

  “It’s not just Wade,” I said sadly and, for the first time, told him about my conversation with Shelby and how responsible I felt for her death. How ashamed I felt for the inept way I’d handled her plea for advice.

  “Oh, nina,” he said, his voice pained, uncrossing his arms. “It’s not your fault. She was a grown woman. She made her own choice.”

  “No, Gabe, she was a young girl, and I foolishly pointed her down a road that led to her death. I can’t walk away from this one. Please understand that. I’m being so careful. Really, I am. That’s the reason I’m telling you all this, so you can tell the sheriff’s detectives. They probably already know a lot of it, but see, I found out something from Bud that they couldn’t. Sometimes friends and family can help in a case—you said that yourself.”

  “You’re taking on entirely too much responsibility for the circumstances,” he said, taking my face in his hands. “But I’ve learned one thing. I may as well try to stop an earthquake as try to control you. You are a hard-headed, stubborn, insubordinate woman and you have been since the day we met.”

  “Insubordinate? This ain’t the Marines, Friday.”

  “And for that you should be thankful. You would have been court-martialed ages ago.” He slid under the covers. “Get under the blankets now. It’s cold.”

  I settled down next to him, tracing a finger down his smooth brown upper arm. I touched it briefly with my lips, tasting his skin. “Shelby and Kip were so young and had such long lives ahead of them. I’m never going to understand why someone had to take that away from them for what was probably a stupid reason like money or jealousy.”

  He lay on his back and stared at the ceiling. “Pascal thinks it’s for happiness.”

  “What? How can killing someone else bring anyone happiness?”

  “He says that all men seek happiness. That it is everyone’s ultimate goal and that the reason some go to war and some don’t is the same desire, but interpreted in two different ways.”

  “How can going to war—or killing someone—bring anyone happiness?”

  “The problem lies in our definition of happiness. It’s changed since Aristotle’s time. Today it’s subjective, a feeling. If you feel happy, then you are happy. Back then, happiness was an objective state, not merely a feeling. The Greek word for happiness literally translates to mean ‘good spirit,’ or maybe a better interpretation would be ‘good soul.’ They believed to be happy was to be good. Now the world generally believes to be happy is to feel good. And if someone stands in the way of you feeling good, eliminate them. I’ve seen it a lot. Too much.”

  “But what kind of people feel good about hurting other people?”

  He turned to me, kissing both corners of my mouth gently. “That, querida, is a mystery to everyone but God.”

  The next day, Saturday, I was up and dressed before Gabe had even cracked open an eyelid. For a change.

  “What’s the rush?” he asked. “You are not, I repeat, not riding in the Heritage Days parade.” He sat up in bed and watched me attempt to braid my hair in front of my vanity table’s
mirror. Though a little past my shoulders now, it was still too short to do anything except make a stubby braid. I undid it with a grunt of irritation, bent over, and brushed it hard, not caring if I ended up with hair as big and curly as a Texas beauty queen’s.

  I flipped my hair back and said, “I heard you the first time you growled your orders yesterday, Sergeant Friday.”

  He smiled serenely. “Just wanted to clarify. Where are you going?”

  “First I’m meeting Isaac at Blind Harry’s for breakfast. Then we’re going to watch the parade from Elvia’s office window. The rest of the day I’ll spend at the museum. It’s going to be a busy one. We close at five though, so everyone can go to the fiesta. I may take time to go by the rodeo grounds and watch the cow plop contest. I have square number thirteen. Guess that means I won’t win.”

  “I bought two but I don’t remember their numbers. I assume someone somewhere has a record of it.”

  “Probably. What’re you doing?”

  “Eating a leisurely breakfast. Reading the newspaper. Then I’ll just probably wander around downtown and check on things. I’ll be wearing my beeper, so call if you need anything.”

  “How about I meet you for dinner? Six o‘clock at the fiesta? In front of Lupe’s tamale cart, wherever she decides to park it?”

  “Sounds good. Stay alert. Don’t go anywhere alone. Don’t, I repeat, don’t close up the museum by yourself. Maybe I should assign someone to stay at the museum, even though we’re stretched to the limit.”

  “Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Not on your life, sir. Permission to leave, sir.”

  “Woman, your smart mouth will be the ruin of me yet.” He threw a pillow at me, which I dodged, laughing at his slow reflexes. I’d already partaken of my morning caffeine.

  I blew him a kiss. “Hasta la vista.”

  Isaac was waiting for me at Blind Harry’s, where it was more crowded than usual for a Saturday morning. His face was sober and hard this morning, and I noticed a few people staring at him hesitantly, as if they recognized his face and were working up the courage to approach him. His expression obviously kept them from it, and I wondered if he’d developed that forbidding persona on purpose. It occurred to me for the first time what a burden fame could be, especially when the everyday problems of life made a person desire anonymity so they could suffer without being judged. He clutched a mug of black coffee in his monstrous hand as if he thought someone would snatch it from him. I bought a couple of blueberry muffins, a cup of coffee, and joined him.