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

by Heather Haven

  “Tio,” I said, putting my fork down, “how are things going with you and Mom? Everything all right? Are you happy?”

  “Si, si. I am happy. She is happy. We are happy.” He reached out and squeezed my hand.

  “I’m glad it’s working out, Tio.”

  “We are family. What is not to work out? So do not have the worry lines in your face. And now,” Tío said rising, “I go to find my star pupil.” Returning with a yawning cat, Tío placed him on the dining room floor. After a good stretch on Tugger’s part and a couple of scratches behind Tugger’s ear by Tio, my uncle went into the kitchen and called out clearly, “Tugger, come.”

  I watched as my cat’s ears went erect, following the sound of Tío’s voice. He paused for a split second and then ran into the kitchen. I trailed behind. With an alert look, Tugger went to Tío’s feet and sat expectantly, staring up at him. Tío had placed one of the kitchen chairs in front of the counter and to the left of the refrigerator.

  Using his forefinger, he tapped on the seat of the chair twice saying, “Tugger, come.” The cat jumped onto the seat of the chair, sat, and looked at him again.

  Tío tapped twice on the counter top with the finger, this time saying nothing, and Tugger jumped to the exact spot Tío’s finger had touched. I must have uttered a sound of surprise, because Tugger lost focus and looked in my direction. Snapping his fingers to gain the cat’s attention back again, my uncle held his forefinger near the feline’s face, subtly demanding total concentration. Tío tapped the top of the refrigerator, once again without saying a word. Tugger jumped to the top of the fridge and sat down.

  Tío turned his back to the cat while tapping on his own right shoulder. Tugger leapt onto his shoulder, balanced himself and went down again on his haunches. At this point, Tío put his hand up to his shoulder and stroked Tugger’s head, as he lavished praise upon him. Then he gave him a small treat and turned to me.

  “What do you think, mi sobrina? Is he not a smart boy?”

  I babbled my usual about Tugger being the smartest and most beautiful cat in the world, as he sat on Tio’s shoulder. Then Tugger jumped back to the top of the refrigerator, where he sat serenely taking it all in, front legs together, tail wrapped around his feet, looking more beautiful than any Egyptian sculpture I’ve seen.

  “People forget that animals, like most humans, want to feel needed and useful. He knows he pleases me when he does as I ask,” Tío said. “The most important thing, mi sobrina,” he continued as he waggled his finger in my face much as he had done with Tugger, “is to make it clear to the animal exactly what you want and to be kind but firm. You must, above all, be consistent. That is the word, is it not? Consistent?”

  “Yes, it is, Tio,” I said, as I quickly hugged him. I had a thought. “Will he do that for me?”

  “Como no. Turn around and tap your shoulder twice with your fingers.”

  I did and nothing happened. I waited with my back to the refrigerator feeling pretty foolish. Tío snapped his fingers over my head, I think to get Tugger’s attention, and then tapped on my right shoulder twice. The cat’s sudden weight as he lithely jumped on my shoulder startled me. I moved a little, and I felt his nails go into my flesh, as he tried to steady himself. “Ow! I have to trim his nails, Tio. That hurts.”

  “Stop moving, Liana. You have to remain very still so he may get his balance. He is not a tightrope walker,” Tio added and then burst into laughter.

  Chapter Five

  Sunday’s Child is Full of Grace

  Later that afternoon, I was pummeled by my karate instructor for two hours and told to practice more. Yeah, right. Like at three o’clock in the morning, maybe. Then I showered and turned my cellphone back on. In the two hours I was lying on the mat screaming in pain, there were six calls. The first was from Mom, the second from Richard, and the next three from Mira, who I thought was supposed to be resting.

  The theme of the first five calls was pretty much the same. Apparently, I’d changed my name to Wonder Woman and didn’t know it. Mom said I “owed it to the family to be ever vigilant and handle this problem.” Richard, back from the convention, said he “knew he could count on me to solve this,” and Mira repeated three times in her messages that “if I didn’t find out who really killed the thief, their lives would be ruined forever.” No pressure there.

  Thoughts of our obligations to Bingo Bango flitted through my mind, as I drove home. Maybe I’d have to bail if I was going to try to free Carlos. D.I. didn’t usually abandon a client in the middle of a job, and I felt bad just thinking about it, but there were only so many hours in a day. I was already burning the candle at both ends. I decided to table this line of thought until the family meeting.

  The last message had been from my old friend, Douglas, returning my call and telling me he was dying to see me. I was dying to see him, too, though mainly, I wanted to pump him for all he was worth on his new boyfriend. Mata Hari, move over.

  Before getting out of the car, I tried John’s number once more. I got his voice mail again and left another, terser message. As an Immigration Officer, he usually listened to and returned his messages within an hour, so I didn’t know whether to be worried or mad. When the phone rang seconds later, I scrambled to fish it out of my handbag, but it wasn’t John. It was Douglas.

  “Lee, darling! I finally get to talk to you in the flesh. Where have you been?” he demanded with that dramatic edge he does so well. “And what’s this I read in the papers about Carlos being arrested? And for murder? I nearly had a stroke.” While running up the stairs to my apartment, I brought Douglas up to date.

  Douglas took it all in and then said, “You know, even though I find Carlos just as yummy as the rest of women in the world do and am devastated at not being able to have a shot at him—”

  “I don’t think he’s ever going to turn gay, Douglas,” I interrupted laughing. I opened the door and heaved myself onto the sofa. Every moving part of me ached.

  “I know, darling, but if he ever does, I’m first in line.”

  “I’ll tell him you said that.”

  “Don’t you dare, you vixen. This is our little secret,” Douglas said. His tone changed, and he became serious. “Lee, what can I do to help? You know I wish him and Mira only the best. Speaking of Mira, how is she taking it, being sick and all? Does she need anything? I can send her meals from the restaurant. Three times a day, if necessary. You have only to ask, Sweetie.”

  That’s my Douglas, one of the most generous people on the face of the earth. As the manager of one of the oldest restaurants in Palo Alto, The Creamery, this was not an idle offer of sending Mira food. And he’d pay for it out of his own pocket, too.

  “Douglas, that’s so sweet, but we’ve got it covered. Mira’s staying with Mom, and Tío is healing her with his cooking.”

  “Well, no one can compete with Mateo’s masterpieces. He is the Shakespeare of culinary artistry. So, pray tell, my tantalizing Bartlett pear, my connubial crimson rose, my winsome Welsh Terrier, when shall we two meet again?”

  “Hey, did you just call me a bitch?” I asked, laughing.

  “If I did, it’s in iambic pentameter, darling, so it doesn’t count. I’ve got some very exciting news, Sweetie,” he taunted.

  “Oh, you do, do you?” I asked, feigning ignorance. “Like what?”

  “Oh, no, darling, only in person. I must drag this out,” he said. “How about tonight?” I let out a deep sigh, and he picked up on it immediately. “What is it, Lee? Tell Papa.”

  “Well, I’d hoped to see John this evening, but he’s not returning my calls.”

  “Uh-oh. Trouble in paradise?”

  “I think so,” I answered.

  “Darling girl, come over to dinner but leave your cellphone on. If the man calls, even in the middle of my soufflé, and you feel the need to tear out leaving me to eat it all by myself, I will completely understand. What do you say?”

  “I say thanks, Douglas. I’d love to. Around seven?
”

  “Is six-thirty too early? After dinner, I need to put the sunshine back in my hair.” That was a euphemism for dying his hair.

  “I’ll see you then, Douglas.” We hung up laughing about something or other and for a split-second, I felt guilty as hell. Then the phone rang. Seeing the number, I remembered my meeting with Lila and tensed up again.

  To the phone’s ringing demand, I threw open the door and ran down the stairs, heading for the main house. Once inside, I followed the sound of voices coming from the family room.

  Done in soft beige tones and dark oak, the family room has a floor to ceiling stone fireplace against one wall. In warmer weather, such as now, the hearth is filled with candles. The soothing scents of vanilla and lavender lightly perfumed the air.

  Mira lay on one of the sofas wrapped in blankets despite the temperature. Mom sat at Mira’s feet reading her day planner, Richard diddled on a laptop, and Tío was pouring lemonade into glasses. When they heard my footsteps, all four looked in my direction. The first to speak was Mira.

  “How’s Carlos doing?” she asked, attempting to sit up. “Is he all right?”

  “I can’t see him until tomorrow evening,” I told her. “I thought you knew that.” I looked around at everyone for confirmation.

  Richard came over to me, giving me a quick hug. “Mom told us, but we thought you might have something new to add. I just found out about this nightmare a little while ago. I’m still trying to wrap my mind around it.”

  “That’s what you get for being incommunicado, Richard,” said Mom. She rose, picked up a thermometer, shook it, and without warning shoved it into Mira’s mouth. She’d have made one feisty nurse.

  “I told you I forgot my cellphone, Mom,” Richard explained. “With Victoria in New York on this buying expedition, she wasn’t there to pack for me. I didn’t even remember to bring shirts. I had to buy a bunch of T-shirts in the hotel gift shop.” You would never know that he and Victoria had only been married a short time. He settled into being an old married man within seconds of saying “I do.”

  I sat down, gratefully taking a glass of lemonade from Tio, and gave them a verbatim of the conversation I had with Mr. Talbot, down to the lobster. Then I asked, “Does Tex know yet?”

  They shook their heads, but Mira spoke up, saying, “When Carlos phoned last night, he said he wanted to be the one to tell her. I won’t hear from him again until visiting hours tonight, so I don’t know if he called her or not. I do know he doesn’t want her dropping everything and coming here, if he can help it.”

  “And you know Virginia,” Mom added. “She’ll do just that even though she feels she shouldn’t leave the ranch.” Her foreman had retired three years before, and the replacement couple wasn’t working out. Carlos planned on hiring someone new when he took over. Mom went on, “Before she learns about this, we need to have a plan in place. We should make the freeing of Carlos our number one priority. We’ll put all of our resources into it.”

  “What about Bingo Bango?” Richard and I said in unison.

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” Lila said, pulling the thermometer out of Mira’s mouth and reading it. “Still over one hundred, Mira Louise. You’re to stay inside and in bed. No leaving this house until it comes down.”

  “But I have to—” Mira protested.

  “No, you don’t,” Mom contradicted with a smile. “Now about Bingo Bango, Liana, stay with it for the next couple of days, and see what you can find. Toward the middle of the week, if there’s still nothing, we can either abandon the project or put someone else in.”

  “I know Leonard’s counting on us,” Richard said looking at me, “but I agree with Mom…ah…Lila.” Sometimes it’s hard for one of us to slip into the work mode names. He continued, “Getting these charges dropped against Carlos has to be our number one priority.”

  “Agreed.” I looked at my watch and then around the room to each face. “If that’s it, I’m having dinner with Douglas

  at six-thirty, so I need to get going. Douglas sends his best, Mira, and wants you to know he’s there for you and Carlos, should you need anything.”

  “Please thank him for me,” she said and then had a coughing fit. It wasn’t as bad the day before, so I knew she was getting better. I headed for the door.

  Mom followed me and whispered, “Still no word from John, Liana?” I looked at her in wonder. How did she know my relationship with John had taken a nosedive? I hadn’t spoken about it with anyone except Douglas. Sometimes her skills at detection, especially regarding me, are scary.

  “I don’t know what’s going on with it.” She reached out and touched my arm. I turned my back on the others while retrieving the crushed stud earring from my bag. Changing the subject, I said, “Mom, I want you to look at something and tell me if you think it’s genuine.” She took the earring and went over to a nearby window in the hallway. I followed her.

  After studying it for a moment, she turned back to me. “This is a high quality diamond, judging by the clarity and cut. This appears to have been a Tiffany setting. What happened to it? How did you come by it?”

  “I found it near the murder scene. I think it was run over a couple of times by cars. How much do you think the stone is worth?”

  “A one karat diamond of such a quality is usually worth about ten or twelve thousand dollars.”

  “That’s a lot of money to leave on the floor of a garage.”

  She thought for a moment. “Whoever lost it should have filed a report with the police or, at the very least, put an ad in the lost and found of the newspaper. Should I put someone on that?”

  I nodded. “But I don’t want Mira to know yet. It might mean something, it might mean nothing.” I took the earring from her hand and dropped it into the pocket of my slacks. We stepped back into the family room, as Mira struggled to her feet.

  She said, “I wanted to thank you all for what you’re doing for Carlos and me. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

  “Don’t you worry, Mira,” Richard said, from across the room. “Lee’s on top of this, and she always gets her man.”

  I looked at Mom, and she looked at me. Yeah, right, unless I’m romantically involved with him.

  ****

  I was ascending the elevator to Douglas’ apartment on the top floor of the chic, ten-story condominium, when I suddenly got teary-eyed. By the time I stood at his door, I was sobbing full out. Delayed reaction, I guess, to John’s apparent rejection, combined with knowing I was about to take advantage of the most sympathetic person in the world. When Douglas opened the door and saw me, he folded me in his arms, crooning, and had me laughing in less than a minute.

  For a man who wears as many pastel and ice cream colors as Douglas does, his apartment is completely the opposite, decorated in an ultra-modern design and accented with glass, black marble, and bright red globs of modern art. Not for the faint of heart. I sat on a black leather stool in his up-to-the-minute kitchen watching him prepare our food with panache. The smell of a cheese soufflé, filled with sautéed onions, wafted from the oven. It was almost more than I could bear.

  “So this ass has the unmitigated gall to ignore your phone calls? What a loser.” He whisked the Green Goddess salad dressing. Another smell filled the air, garlic. Yummy.

  “Maybe he’s tied up, although it’s been almost a week and no word.”

  “True,” Douglas reflected. “Maybe he is tied up, lying in a ditch somewhere, unable to free himself to get to the phone.”

  This is what I love about Douglas, always looking on the bright side. “The last time we got together, it wasn’t so good,” I said. “Forced, you know?”

  He stopped whisking and looked at me. “Well, it’s his loss. I’m sorry, Lee. You deserve better than that. You really do. You’ll find the right man someday…unless I find him first,” he added wickedly with a wink. We both laughed.

  “Speaking of that,” he said, pouring the mixture over the salad, “I’ve met s
omeone. We’ve been seeing each other for two months.”

  “No!” What an actress.

  “Yes! In fact, he’s moving in this weekend.”

  I kept my smile going, but inside of me, I could feel my heart thudding. “Douglas! This sounds serious.”

  “Could be. Could be.”

  “But you never said a word.” I was torn. Should I tell him about Mira and Carlos’ experience at Mesoamerican Galleries or not? Douglas rattled on, so I let it go.

  “I didn’t want to jinx it, darling. Something like this doesn’t come along all that often.” He opened the oven door and hauled out the soufflé. It no longer smelled so great to me.

  “I’m happy for you,” I managed to get out. “What’s his name? Who is he? Tell me everything.”

  “Hand me the plates,” he said, laughing. I took them out of the warming tray and passed them over. With a large spoon, Douglas scooped out the steaming soufflé. “His name is Estaban Ramirez de Arroyo, and he’s from Barcelona,” he added with a fake lisp, reflective of the Spanish spoken in Catalonia, Spain. “That’s his picture over there.”

  Douglas gestured to a spot on the gleaming, black marble countertop separating the kitchen from the living room, dining room area. I walked over and picked up an eight by ten photo of a handsome, silver-haired European-looking man in his mid- to late-forties, held in an ornate silver frame. It was nestled in between two other photos, one I had given him of the two of us at Christmas and the other of his late and adored mother.

  I remembered that my friend had purchased the silver frame at Sotheby’s in Geneva several years ago. It had set him back a new winter coat plus gloves and had sat empty all these years. Douglas was waiting for just the right person’s photo to fill it.