♦
Cody arrived at my door on Sunday morning with champagne glasses in his hand. Well, champagne for me and orange juice for him, since he was driving. We didn’t talk much on the way. He was blocking his thoughts especially hard, but he had a smile on his face like the cat that had swallowed the canary.
Cody’s parents lived in a rambling postwar ranch house on a huge lot near the university. Elderly citrus trees lined either side of the driveway. “This subdivision used to be a lemon grove, back in the day, so we still get irrigation from the canal,” Cody said, nodding at the lawn a full two feet below the level of the road. “There are only a few neighborhoods left on the system. You should see my mother’s garden in the back.”
Cody took my hand and led me into a huge living room with a flagstone fireplace.
His parents were as advertised. Roger Reed was a college professor straight out of Central Casting: all he was missing was a tweed jacket with leather elbow patches, but the pressed jeans and polo shirt were close enough. Roger was good-looking but not too handsome, with short brown hair and twinkling eyes. I pictured the undergraduate women giggling in the front row of his lectures.
Roger was an open book, but I tried not to pry. His thoughts brushed my mind, and I sensed his struggle to make small talk while most of his intellect chewed on a research problem just outside of his consciousness. He had no idea that I could read his thoughts, and I sensed how uncomfortable the concept would make him. He managed a perfunctory hug and a friendly smile before Luna swept into the room.
Cody had never described his mother to me, but I could have picked Luna out of any crowd just by her off-the-shoulder peasant blouse and the flowing embroidered skirt that brushed her leather sandal flats.
“Oh, Cody, she’s lovely!” Luna gushed as she rushed to give me a huge hug. “Why didn’t you tell me she was so lovely?”
Cody laughed. “Luna, let the girl breathe!”
Luna stepped back and held me at arm’s length. I realized with a jolt that I couldn’t read Cody’s mother at all. Nothing. Nada. It must be where Cody learned it.
Luna winked at me.
Luna went to fetch the iced tea, and we settled on comfortable couches.
“This is delicious!” I said as I sipped.
“It better be. That’s special mint from Luna’s garden and a little lemon from the trees out by the driveway.”
A sleek silver cat emerged from under the sofa. It blinked at me with glowing green eyes and started purring loudly.
I nearly fainted. It was the cat I’d seen staring back from within my doorknob.
Before I could react, the cat leaped gracefully into my lap and placed its front paws on my collarbone. The cat’s irises were deep-sea green at the pupils, blending to grape at the edges. They reminded me of the bottomless hot springs at Yellowstone.
“Stella, meet Angel,” Cody laughed. “I think she likes you.”
“And I like her.” My voice came out as a croak. I could barely catch my breath.
I petted the cat’s space-alien head. “Siamese?” I asked, trying to buy some time while I got my head around this.
“Russian Blue,” Cody and the cat said at the same time.
The cat said? I gazed into those green eyes, and received a languid, knowing blink.
“…my mother’s cat,” Cody was saying.
I pulled back my head to get a good look. “So you’re Luna’s little angel?”
“False advertising,” Cody snickered, giving the cat a wry look.
It is short for Archangel, the cat said at the same time. It is the name of the island in Russia where my family line began.
“She likes you,” Cody said. “Usually, when people come over to the house, she hides until they go away.”
You are the first, Angel said. Except for Luna, of course. You are the first to hear me. Angel looked deep into Stella’s eyes. We shall be friends.
I realized that Cody couldn’t hear Angel. “She’s beautiful,” I said to him as I stroked the cat’s short, mink-like fur. Angel closed her eyes, still purring.
Luna beamed at me and gently massaged Angel’s ears.
Cody had heard none of the conversation; to him, it was just an awkward silence. He rose from the couch and helped me to my feet. “Come on — I’ll show you the back yard.”
♦
Cody led me through the kitchen and out the back door. We emerged on a concrete patio whose roof was an extension of the house.
It wasn’t really a formal garden; it was more like I had wandered into some wild glade. There was at least a half-acre of irrigated lawn back here, ringed by more ancient lemon trees. Fruit trees — peaches, plums, and apricots, Cody said — dotted the lawn, and underneath them grew clumps and clusters of wonders. Huge artichoke plants had gone past their springtime prime, their golden heads dried in the sun. I recognized some of the more familiar herbs: sage, rosemary, purple and green basils, and several kinds of mint, most likely the source of that delicious tea.
“Luna pretty much lives out here during the cool months,” Cody said as I took it all in. He pointed to the back wall. “I live down there.”
I realized that it wasn’t just a wall at the back of the property; there was a cottage down there, covered in a tangle of wild roses.
“This used to be the garage,” Cody said as he opened the door for me.
I expected a bachelor pad with barbells in the middle of the floor, or maybe a messy college dorm. What I found was a single large room with bookcases on every available wall except in the galley kitchen at the back. Overstuffed chairs covered in bright floral brocade faced a big flat-screen TV set into the bookcases on one side wall, with Cody's high-end audio gear on shelves beneath it. A picture window at the front looked out onto Luna's garden, flooding the space with glorious light. "Bedroom and bathroom through there," Cody said, gesturing at the door to the right.
“I’m impressed,” I said. “Did you do all this?”
“My dad and I did it together. When I was a little kid, I’d get mad and tell my parents I was running away from home. They always knew that I was back here in the garage, reading. They just left me alone until I got hungry and went back up to the house for dinner.”
“Pretty cool parents.”
“Tell me about it. So, when I got old enough to start talking about getting a place of my own, my dad offered to convert the garage for me. It’s worked out great. They have their space, and I have mine — but I can still go back up to the house for dinner.”
I walked around the room, unabashedly snooping. I could feel Cody’s pride in his little home. The place was infused with his sense of belonging.
“Luna gave me the chairs the last time she redecorated,” Cody said. “I should probably replace them, but they’re sort of like old friends.”
I stopped at a beautiful antique rolltop desk.
“My dad bought that for me when I graduated from ASU,” Cody said. The rolltop was way too big for the room, but somehow it fit right in. Cody’s graduation certificate from the police academy hung on the wall above the desk.
“That says ‘Cody W. Reed,’” Stella said, pointing. “What’s the W for?”
Cody looked sheepish. “Cody is an old family name on my father’s side, so Luna got to pick my middle name.”
I looked up and met his dancing eyes. “She didn’t.”
Cody grinned and nodded. “Cody Woodstock Reed.”
I laughed. “All things considered, could’ve been worse.”
Cody was laughing, too. “Infinitely worse. Her first choice was Moonbeam.”
I winced.
Cody squeezed my hand. “Don’t worry — that’s one gift from my mother I have no intention of handing down to my kids.”
Don’t worry? I mused. Why should I care about what he names his kids?
Unless he has plans to include me in his future family, I realized with a shock. Was this relationship moving a lot faster in Cody’s mind than in mi
ne? I was going to have to pay a lot better attention.
Chapter Eight
I got my first official call from Vonda the next morning. “I have a lunch meeting at Scottsdale Fashion Square at 12:30. Could you pick me up at noon?”
I could, and did.
Vonda was dressed as if she was heading off to Paris Fashion Week, in a gorgeous silk blouse, a sleek pencil skirt, and boots. When I complimented her on her sky-high stiletto boots, she said the leather was stingray.
“So, what did you think of our CFO?” Vonda asked after she had settled herself in the back seat.
I shrugged my shoulders and tried to look noncommittal.
She smiled. “Our Mr. Schneider is an acquired taste, I know, but he’s very good at what he does.”
I crinkled my nose. “He’s not exactly a people person,” I said.
“Well put.” She changed the subject. “How’s the car?”
“Pretty terrific,” I admitted. I was feeling comfortable driving the big SUV now. I’d finally made my peace with its blind spots, and my rideshare passengers loved the extra legroom and luggage space.
Vonda buried herself in her phone for the rest of the ride. She didn’t look up until I rolled to a stop in front of Neiman Marcus. “I’ll be done by four,” she said over her shoulder as she alighted as if she was about to walk the red carpet. “I’ll meet you here.”
♦
That gave me more than three hours on my own, so I turned on my rideshare app. Less than a minute later, it pinged.
My fare was an elderly man heading for a large medical complex on the north end of town.
“This is my first time doing this,” he said as he sat in the front passenger seat. “Is there a meter or something?”
I explained how the app on his phone would automatically bill for the ride and the tip as soon as I dropped him off, and that the app's GPS calculated the mileage.
“Don’t have a phone,” he grumbled. “Don’t have a car anymore, neither. My son set this up. Let him pay the bill.”
Alrighty, then. I pulled away from the curb.
All the way to the medical complex, my passenger regaled me with how he’d driven an 18-wheeler back and forth across the country for three decades. He was pretty sure he could get himself to the doctor.
I could feel his frustration, so I just let him talk. As I pulled up to the entrance of the medical complex, he grew quiet. “Thank you, young lady,” he said as he got out. “Hope my son gives you a nice tip.”
♦
I managed to get in a couple more short trips around Scottsdale before I headed back to Fashion Square to pick up Vonda. She emerged from the mall carrying three big gift bags in each hand; each glossy bag displayed the logo of a designer shop. She’d spent more in a couple of hours than I spend on rent each month.
I stowed her treasures in the back of the SUV and slid in behind the wheel. Vonda was already snuggling down into the deep leather backseat. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back, and she was asleep before I left the parking lot. It must be exhausting, spending all that money while you teeter around on four-inch heels.
I carried Vonda's haul into the condo, and she dismissed me for the day. It was Thursday, homecoming day again, and the surge promised to be crazy — and profitable. I headed to the airport.
♦
Cody and I met at Blue Mesa Tacos for a quick dinner before I turned on my app for the evening. We ordered separately and met at a table in the back, next to the big plate-glass windows that looked down on the concourse road below. I’d learned that Cody didn’t like to sit with his back to the crowd when he was in uniform.
“How’s it going?” Cody asked, but when I started to tell him about my evening, he was fidgety, not paying attention.
“You okay?” I finally asked.
He slumped down in his chair. “Rough week.”
“Tell me about it.” I took a bite of my burrito, leaving him a silence to fill.
He sighed. “Your friend Calvin is in the wind, so I called the rideshare companies he works for. He’s not our guy.”
I ignored the “your friend” — no point in going down that road again. “But I thought you were so sure?”
He sighed again. “I was, but his alibi checks out. He was driving on the other side of town — the app you guys use proves it.”
“That doesn’t prove anything. It just means that his phone was there.”
“Except that we tracked down the passenger, and he ID’d Calvin,” Cody said. “Bottom line: he didn’t kill your friend Jack.”
“So where does that leave us?”
“Nowhere. Everybody loved Jack Carruthers — just ask ’em. Didn’t have an enemy in the world.” He paused. “I’d really like to get another look inside that condo,” Cody said, studying his hands, “but there’s no reason to request a warrant.” He sighed. “It’s not likely to produce any more actual evidence, anyway. I’ve just got a feeling.”
This time I could hear exactly what he was thinking, and I didn’t like it one bit.
“So we’re back to robbery?” I asked, trying to change the subject.
Cody shrugged. “Maybe. It just seems that somebody went to a whole lot of trouble to steal one folding picnic table. I mean, they didn’t even know your telescope would be there, right? That was just a bonus. So how is that table worth a man’s life?”
My phone pinged.
“I thought you turned that thing off,” Cody complained.
“I did,” I said, glancing at my phone. The text said condo to airport now. No punctuation, no explanation. Mr. Personality had summoned me with the modern equivalent of a telegram.
“That wasn’t the rideshare app; it’s a text from Schneider.” I pecked him on the cheek. “Gotta go.”
♦
Schneider was flying commercial, so I dropped him in front of the terminal entrance. He grabbed his roller bag and headed for the automatic doors, but at the last moment, he turned back.
“I need for you to run a quick errand for me, please,” Schneider said. Please? Well, that was new.
“Yes, sir — anything," I said.
“I’ve forgotten some documents back at the condo,” Schneider said, looking at his watch. “I need them for my first meeting in the morning, so I need for you to go pick them up. You’ll find an envelope full of receipts in the bottom left-hand drawer of Lindsay’s desk. Just pick them up and bring them back to me, if you will be so kind. Text me when you get back here, and I’ll come out and get them.”
“I’m sorry, sir: did you say your desk?” I knew good and well that’s not what he said, but I had to make sure I got this right.
“No, Lindsay has them. She compiles the petty cash receipts for me, and then just gives them to me at the end of the month. Is there a problem?”
None of my business. “No sir, of course not. I’ll be back in about 40 minutes.”
♦
The traffic gods favored me, and my trip to the condo and back took me less than half an hour. Vonda and Lindsay were out, but Vonda had given me a key card that allowed me access to the condo’s side door. The envelope was right where Schneider had said it would be.
I checked my watch: I was ahead of schedule — until I got back out to the SUV and discovered that a pigeon had made a strafing run on my windshield. Crap, I thought, quite literally.
I had about ten minutes to spare — plenty of time to get the windshield cleaned off, and still make it back to Schneider at the airport. Vonda had shown me a whole rack of car products in the garage that Jack had used to maintain the SUV: air fresheners, special wipes for the leather and dashboard, that sort of thing. I knew there was a squeegee on the pegboard above his workbench.
I used my key card on the side door of the garage, but it was too dark inside to see. I reached inside the door and flipped on the light switch. I reflexively looked up at the ceiling as the light came on.
Above my head, pushed into the rafters, was a flat table. I
realized with a start that it was the teak picnic table that Jack always kept in the Cayenne.
I got a ladder from the far wall and climbed up. On top of the table was a duffel bag. I'd carried that bag through college, and it still had my luggage tag on it. Inside, I knew, was my telescope.
♦
I made it back to the airport with five minutes to spare. I texted Schneider as I pulled up to the curb, and he came right out and took the envelope. I’d been arguing with myself all the way back whether I should mention finding the table and telescope, but this wasn’t the time or the place for that discussion.
Nor was Schneider the right person. He might be involved. Even if he wasn’t, stolen items were evidence. The one I needed to talk to was Cody.
♦
Schneider reentered the terminal, but I sat there in the loading zone and texted Cody. Five minutes later, he texted back: On a call. See you tomorrow.
I drove over to the GPS lot and turned my app back on. I immediately got a passenger. I was halfway to the resort in Scottsdale before I placed him: an almost-famous actor who’d had his 15 minutes of fame on a sitcom a decade ago. He stiffed me on the tip.
The airport quieted down after midnight, but Cody still hadn’t texted me back. I drifted back up to Old Town in Scottsdale and parked behind one of the big restaurants. Last call was 2:30, so I usually stayed on the app until three to get the stragglers home safely.
My last ride of the night turned out to be Anxiety Guy again. He’d apparently been drinking for a while; his thoughts were so jumbled that all I picked up was fragments.
It has got to be there somewhere… every drawer… not even in the safe… behind the picture frames. Because he was concentrating so hard, I could even pick up a visual of a small padlock key. No — it was a safe deposit box key.
Anxiety Guy worried the problem all the way home, which turned out to be a huge mansion on the side of Camelback Mountain.
Seer in Starlight Page 6
