Alvarez Family Murder Mysteries Boxed Set: Books 1-3 (The Alvarez Family Murder Mysteries)

by Heather Haven

  When I felt the two rooms were secure, I opened the carrier door for my noisy captive. He suddenly became quiet and hesitantly put one foot outside and then, after a long pause, the other. I closed the bedroom door behind me and went back down for the breakfast cooling on the seat of the car. I decided this would be the last trip. I was tired, famished, and needed a bath, so the remaining packages would have to wait until later. Trudging up the stairs again, I realized just how exhausted I was. It had been one of the worst nights of my life, and I was trying not to think about a man’s life being over, just like that. I like to think of myself as pretty tough, but this rattled me to my core.

  I went back into the bedroom and looked for the little guy. He crouched in the far corner sniffing the leg of a chair. Remembering Ellen’s words, I picked him up with my free hand and placed him in his litter pan.

  “Now, I'm going to put you in here four or five more times tonight just to make sure you can remember where it is. This was Ellen's idea so don't get mad at me if you don't like it.” He looked up at me and then studied the litter box intently. I returned to the bedroom and flopped down on the bed. I wasn't looking forward to pulling off my boots, but I couldn't ignore the feeling I had of standing in play dough one moment longer. I sat up, took a deep breath and after some struggle, I removed the damaged boots. Then I took off everything else and put on my favorite old terrycloth robe, thin with age. Disgusted, I threw my ruined things into a corner of the room, where they landed with a thump, causing the kitten to jump nearly a foot and a half in the air. I laughed and when he heard my voice, he ran to me mouthing his silent meow. It was right then and there, my heart was lost to him forever. The household had a new boss, and it sure wasn’t me.

  I picked him up and, after rubbing his sleek body against my face, put him on the bed beside me and opened my breakfast container. He smelled the bacon and looked wildly around for the meat, the little savage. I broke off pieces and cupped them in the palm of my hand for him to eat. The fur around his mouth, soft and clean from the recent bath, tickled my palm, and I laughed. When the telephone rang, I threw the bacon bits back into the Styrofoam container and reached across the bed for the phone.

  “Hello,” I said into the phone still laughing at the kitten that stood in the middle of the container voraciously eating bacon.

  “You're there! Where have you been? Do you know what time it is? Don't you listen to your answering machine anymore?”

  “Lila? Mom?” I responded, jerked back into the real world. I knew she was upset. Nearly every other word was emphasized. “What time is it?” I glanced at my wristwatch. “Dios Mio! It's nearly nine o’clock.”

  “I couldn’t imagine where you were. I’ve been calling and calling for an update assuming you would go straight home.”

  I felt guilt growl inside me. “Oh, Mom, I’m sorry. I took a nap in the car for a few hours and then”

  “I wish you hadn’t turned your cell phone off, Liana,” she chastised me. “It does worry me when I can’t reach you.”

  “I didn’t turn it off,” I retorted. “I told you. It keeps turning itself off. I think I need a new battery. I’ll get it taken care of this afternoon.” The other end of the line grew quiet. I could tell she was hurt that I hadn’t called and spared her needless worrying.

  “I should have called you, Mom,” I admitted, “when I first woke up, and I’m sorry. I just got sidetracked. Hey! Cut that out! Listen, you…” I said in mock severity to the kitten who had made a leap for the remainder of a piece of bacon in my free hand. “You've got your own food. You can’t have all of mine.”

  “I didn't know you had company, Liana. Possibly I'm interrupting something,” Lila said coolly.

  “Oh, that's all right.” I laughed. “You're not interrupting a thing. It's not company. It's the new kitten.”

  “The kitten?”

  “Yes. I found a kitten in the phone booth I called you from, and well, I couldn't leave him there so, I've got him.” I sobered. “Mom, I am sorry about earlier, really. I should have called.” I waited for a response but realized I was taking to dead air. I heard my uncle come on the line.

  “What is this I hear about a kitten?” he asked. “From where comes a gatito, mi sobrina?”

  I laughed. I knew my uncle's love for animals. “I found him in a phone booth, Tío, and he's adorable,” I added, watching the kitten that gave up on trying to extract my share of the bacon and now did battle with a hairbrush on the vanity table. “Why don't you come over and see him?” I asked on impulse. After a short discussion in which I affirmed repeatedly I was fine and would like to see him, he said he would be right over.

  Now anxious to know my telephone messages, I went to the second bedroom that functioned as the office/dance studio. This is a large room, about twenty-feet square with high ceilings and a polished, light oak floor. It contains no furniture other than a computer station and desk, complete with the latest equipment, tucked away in one corner. The rest of the room was given over to the mirrored wall and workout barre. It’s a rare day I don’t start with my ballet barre and floor exercises.

  In my soul, I am a disciplined dancer. Unfortunately, I’m not a very good one, but that doesn’t stop my love or need for it. I also attend karate classes and practice three nights a week on University Place. Mom once asked why I don’t practice my karate here, but I would never mix the two disciplines in my home. Karate is work; I dance for love.

  The telephone machine light flickered indicating five calls, and I hoped I'd have time to listen to them all before my uncle arrived. I grabbed a pencil and pressed the play button. The first two were solicitations.

  I must remember to register my phone with NoCall.com, I thought.

  The third was from a man I’d met the week before at a Mondavi Wine concert. I had wondered if and when Grant would call. The fourth and fifth calls were from my mother, a little more emotional than normal. The front doorbell rang. I ran back to the bedroom, swooped the squirming kitten up in my arms, and flung open the door expecting to greet Tío.

  Instead, Mom’s fifty-six year old ice blue eyes sparkled at me, despite her lack of sleep. I wasn’t surprised to find her accompanying my uncle Tío, even thought I could tell she was still annoyed with me. I noted that between her shoulder length, ash blond hair, year-round golden tan, white knit silk slack set, and pearl button earrings, she looked as if she’d stepped out of a fashion magazine, while I, on the other hand, looked like I had just undergone interrogation at Guantanamo Bay. There is no justice. Tío stepped from behind Mom and took the kitten from my arms.

  “Listen, everybody. Why don't we go back to my bedroom?” I asked. “Ellen told me not to confuse the little guy by giving him too much space his first couple of weeks.”

  Dutifully, they followed me into the bedroom. Tío headed for the leather wingback chair in front of the unlit fireplace. There he sat, a silver-haired, elegant man, cooing to a kitten in Spanish. The cat batted at nimble fingers, which Mateo playfully dangled. Mom, grinning, stood at the foot of the nearby bed with her arms folded for a moment, then sobered and looked at me. She moved to a corner of the room and gestured with a tilt of her head for me to follow. I did.

  “Liana, you should have found the time to call me,” she said in a hushed voice. “You’re an inventive person. This wasn’t like you. I was up most of the night worried sick and a fifteen second phone call from you would have changed that.”

  “Oh, God, Mom, I’m so sorry. It just got away from me.” I looked down at the floor, chagrined. “Maybe I was still a little put out about having to shadow Wyler. To be honest, I did consider it beneath me.” She took a breath to speak, but I held out my hand to stop her. “I’m over that now, and I apologize for my unprofessional behavior… and other things.”

  Her face held surprise. “Liana, there’s never been a moment I thought you were behaving unprofessionally. But if by ‘other things,’ you mean Portor Wyler’s death, sometimes things happen beyon
d our control, dear. Given the look on your face, we need to talk about this Portor Wyler tragedy.” She glanced over at Tío. “Later. Not now.”

  “Thanks, Mom. Later is good. I’m pretty wiped right now.”

  She smiled at me, nodded, and then changed the subject. “I wish I had known you wanted a cat,” she said. “I would have prevailed upon Anne Carter to sell me one of her Persian kittens. You know she had a litter of seven about three months ago.”

  “I didn’t know myself, Mom. It sort of just happened. I never did want a pet. I’m usually a stuffed animal person. You know, no maintenance.”

  “Well, are you going to keep him?” she asked, a little concerned.

  “Oh, absolutely. He’s mine, and I’ve got the vet bills to prove it. This little guy needs me. Or maybe I need him,” I muttered, half ashamed of my admission.

  “Well, whichever way it is, if he makes you happy, then I’m glad you have him,” she said. She reached out and gave me a big hug. I hugged her back with all my heart. All was forgiven; we knew it, and we both breathed a sigh of relief. The mother/daughter pipeline was humming, as usual.

  I went over to my uncle, who was having his shoelaces deftly untied by small paws. I sat on the floor by Tio’s chair. He reached over and put an arm around me. Then he threw back his head and laughed heartily, the first time he had done so in months.

  “What is it, Mateo?” Lila joined in the laughter, although not sure why.

  “This is no gatito! This is a conejito,” he said. “Look at his ears. Mira! When I first saw him I thought, my niece, she does not know a rabbit from a cat!” His teasing eyes twinkled, and all three of us began to laugh.

  “I guess they are a little big. Maybe he’ll grow into them!” I agreed. We studied the kitten fairly dancing at the attention he got.

  “Liana,” he continued sobering, “how can you leave this gatito alone all day while you go to work? You work such long hours.” His soft voice caressed the kitten as tenderly as his fingers did.

  “You should see all the paraphernalia I bought!” I answered with pride. “I have a self feeding dish for dry food and….” But before I could tick off the recent acquisitions on my fingers, Lila quickly crossed the room, gave me a subtle nudge on the shoulder, interrupting me.

  “Your uncle’s brought up a good point, Liana,” Mom said. “You need someone to help take care of the kitten during the long hours you’re at work.”

  “I do?” I asked her, mystified, my left hand frozen with one finger pointing to the ceiling.

  “Yes, you do,” she said with a stern face. I looked over to Tio’s yearning one and got it.

  “Yes, I do,” I said, a little chagrined that I hadn’t caught on earlier. Of course! This might be the very thing to help him get over his overwhelming sense of loss. Anyway, it was worth a try.

  Recently retired, as well as widowed, my Tío was filled with nothing but sorrow these days. He sat around the house watching CNN by the hour and did little else. Tio’s amazing life flashed through my mind. At twenty, he migrated from Vera Cruz to California bringing his five-year old brother, my father, with him. Both parents were dead, economic times were horrendous, but somehow he managed to get the papers and money together for the journey to “El Norte,” his lifelong dream. That was in 1954, and the trip, mostly by foot, took nearly a month. An even harder journey was the one from the picking fields of Salinas to head chef at a prestigious restaurant in San Jose. No mean feat. But to him, his greatest success was when dad won a track scholarship to Stanford University, with a 3.9 grade average. As a child, I loved to hear Tio’s stories of their struggles and would beg him to tell them to me again and again in Spanish. That’s how I learned the language. Since I can remember, Mateo Alvarez has kept the Mexican side of me burning and proud.

  “You know, Tio, you're right. Even though he's got enough of the essentials, I’m worried he'll need some companionship when I’m not here. Would you mind dropping by during the day to see how he's getting along? Maybe, if it’s not too much trouble, you could stay with him for a couple of hours here and there? Just for the first month or two until he gets a little older and used to the place.” Okay, so I’m not much of an actress, but I waited and hoped I’d managed to salvage this.

  My uncle smiled broadly and continued to stroke the kitten that now rested at his feet. “Why not?” he asked, obviously delighted. “I can watch the news from here just as well. I will make sure that the little gatitois not lonely.¿Cómo se llama?”

  “What is his name?” I echoed in surprise. “Well, I don't know, Tío. I haven't thought about it yet. We can call him anything. How about ‘Cat’ or ‘Hey You?’” I joked.

  “Every living thing needs a name, querida,” Tío said, in a tone that was severe and reprimanding, quite unlike him. “It is a form of value and respect. You should think about it with seriousness and choose a proper name.”

  “Okay, I'll get right on it, promise,” I demurred, and kissed him on the cheek.

  Mom said, “I think we should go, Mateo, and let Liana get some rest.”

  “Oh, no,” I protested but without much heart. Actually, I wanted to have that bath.

  “Oh, si,” said Tío firmly as he rose. “Call me the next time you are leaving, and I will come over and cat sit.” He laughed heartily at his small joke, and we embraced.

  After they left, I tried to relax in a bath while watching the kitten play around the bathroom. But dark thoughts flitted in and out of my mind about Portor Wyler.

  Sure, bad things happen to people and sometimes we can’t control it. But in truth, how responsible was I for Portor Wyler’s death through negligence, if nothing else?

  After a forty-five minute soak, I put on flannel pajamas, and brushed my hair, noticing the small teeth marks in my best brush for the first time.

  “Well,” I said to the small form now curled up on the forest green towel. “You can be dangerous.” I made a mental note to put away anything valuable from the teething kitten when I got up.

  I put an extra blanket on the bed, feeling the chill in my bones returning, and closed the curtains to keep out the daylight. Even though I was filled with known and unknown angst, I was asleep in minutes, waking only once when I felt the kitten jump onto the bed and curled up on the pillow next to me.

  Chapter Four

  They Call It Murder

  The phone ringing around noon startled me awake. I made a lunge for it on the first ring, and before I could croak out a greeting, Mom's voice nearly split my eardrums.

  “Frank just got back to me a few minutes ago. I didn’t know you had been the one to find the body! Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You didn’t know? What did you think I was doing at the police station?”

  “I thought you were being a good citizen, and you came forward when you saw all the police cars. My God, he was shot three times in the chest, close range. That could have been you!”

  “No, no. I was nowhere near him until after he was…it was all over.”

  “To think I sent my own daughter…Good Lord! That could have been you!” she repeated. I could tell she was working herself up into a good case of hysteria.

  “Mom, calm down.”

  “Don’t tell me to calm down,” she said. Then she actually snorted.

  “Okay, okay. But listen to me, I was never in any danger, I swear. You ordered me to keep my distance at all times and I did.” Except, you know, at the end, I thought, but now was not the time to mention that.

  I said aloud, “I never went near the warehouse except for when I checked on the locked door. That was long after he was dead.”

  “Not so long,” she said, snorting again.

  “I was never inside the building or anything. There was no interference, no encounter at any time. I was strictly surveillance.”

  I didn’t add I had a gut feeling that maybe, just maybe, if I had interfered in some way, Wyler wouldn’t be dead right now.

  “All right. All ri
ght, Liana.” I could sense Lila tried to compose herself and become professional. “Did you hear anything strange or suspicious? Maybe that could have been gunfire? Anything?”

  “I was already asked that a million times before. The answer is I was too far away, plus it was a very noisy storm. I still can’t believe someone killed…” My voice trailed off in shock and disbelief. “Oh, jeesh, I've got to get up to San Francisco. I have to sign that statement.”

  “No, you don’t, Liana. Go directly to Frank’s office. He’s made arrangements for you to file your deposition and turn over your firearm to him for inspection instead of going up to the City.”

  “Oh, great,” I said. I was not happy.

  “Frank will fax the depo to the San Francisco Police and do a check of your revolver, as a courtesy.” Lila added as an afterthought, “Where is your revolver?”

  “In my safe. I have to bring it? Why? I didn’t even have it with me yesterday. I never have it with me.”

  “You found the body. They have to officially rule you out. You know that.” She paused for a moment. “Are you all right?”

  “I guess I'm still a little stunned by all this. I’ll be fine, Mom.” I kept my overwhelming sense of guilt to myself. No point in talking about it until I got it sorted out. “Okay. I'll get

  over there right away, and then I'll come to the office soon as I can.”

  “Take the day off, Liana. I think you could use it. Just be sure you enter all the information you’ve recorded and anything else you can think of sometime today. We might have to turn it over to the police.” Lila was referring to the computer in my second bedroom connected directly to D.I.’s mainframe.

  I hung up the phone and heard the sound of crunching in the bathroom. For a moment, I was startled and then remembered my new roommate. I put on a robe and followed the noise. Then I watched the one and a half-pound feline ferociously attack a kernel of dry food. Before I left, I reminded myself, I would have to give him his teaspoon of wet food and his vitamins. I looked anxiously into the litter box.