“It is.”
Lydia sat back down. “Okay. Shoot.”
“What do you keep in the drawers of your bedside table?”
Lydia rolled her eyes. “Weird.”
“It is. Someone broke into Miles’s house and stole the drawer from his nightstand. I’m trying to figure out what might have been in it.”
“I don’t have a nightstand,” Lydia said. “I sleep on a futon and use the floor for a table.”
“Reece?”
“I sleep on Lydia and use the futon for a table. How’s that going to help, anyway? It could be anything of a certain size. Ask Esperanza, she cleans for him.”
“She doesn’t know. Miles took care of his own room.”
“Could be a family thing,” Lydia said. “You know, like what their mother put by their little beds at night. What did your mother keep in hers?”
“Don’t know.” Kate jumped to her feet, pulling Lydia with her. “Let’s go see.”
Reece lay back on the sand and looked up at Kate and Lydia as they brushed themselves off. He yawned. “Sounds too damned industrious. I’m not going to waste the end of summer indoors. Look at that sky. Gorgeous.”
“Then don’t look back,” Kate said, nodding her head toward the row of hills prodding the skyline beyond the house. A fat plume of black smoke stained the impossibly blue sky.
“Shit.” Lydia kicked at the sand. “Just when we could breathe again. Another fire.”
“You coming with me?” Kate asked.
“Yeah. I love nosing through other people’s stuff.”
They tiptoed through the kitchen in case Esperanza was sleeping, and went upstairs to Mother’s room. Kate drew the heavy drapes, spilling light across the rose-colored carpet.
“Fabulous!” Lydia said, scanning the room from the doorway. She looked down at her bikini and bare feet. “I can’t come in like this.”
“’Course you can. Besides, I need you. I haven’t had the courage to go through Mother’s things alone.”
Lydia went directly to the painting that hung above the silk-covered bed. The soft pastel colors and flower patterns in the room seemed to flow from the painting, a mother, head bowed over the small girl in her lap. “Is that real?”
“It’s real,” Kate assured her. “Beautiful, isn’t it? A Mary Cassatt. Miles gave it to Mother when I was born. You want to get the drawers from the nightstand on that side of the bed? I’ll get these.”
“I knew it,” Lydia said as she put her second drawer on the floor beside the others. “I’m just realizing how filthy rich you are. Look at this stuff.”
“What’d you find?” Kate sat cross-legged on the deep carpet. She reached in and pulled up a tangle of pearls and old gold chains from the jumble of jewelry in the drawer. “Mother didn’t take very good care of this stuff. Got it all scratched up.”
“It’s like a pirate’s trove.” Lydia knelt beside her. “But it’s just costume stuff. It can’t be real.”
“It is. Look at this.” Kate turned over a small platinum brooch, a delicate dragonfly with emerald eyes and lapis wings, and showed her the jeweler’s mark. “My grandmother liked Tiffany. I think most of this was hers. Some of it is pretty, the art nouveau pieces, anyway.”
“It’s dazzling. So what’s in the other drawers?”
“Junk. Sewing kit. Old pictures.”
Lydia picked up a yellowed snapshot. “Is that you? God, can’t even see your face, the way the sun reflects off your braces. Who are these skinny kids? Look like refugees from Dachau.”
“That’s your true love, Reece. And his sister Nugie. Good lookin’ group weren’t we?”
“No comment. What else is in here?”
“Three lurid paperback novels. Aspirin. Few dozen monogrammed handkerchiefs and lavender sachet.” Kate opened a book-sized black leather folder, its edges worn from frequent handling. “My dad.”
“He’s gorgeous. Looks like Tyrone Power.”
“I always thought he was a giant.” Kate held the portrait beside her face. “I look just like him, right?”
“Maybe.” Brow creased, Lydia looked from the portrait to Kate and back again. “There’s a resemblance. But … I guess it’s the eyes. They’re too different.”
“I’m supposed to have his eyes.”
“Musta been some other guy.”
Feeling slightly disappointed, Kate put the folder on the floor beside her. “Anyway, that’s what Mother kept by her bed, just stuff.”
“And a little jewelry.”
“And that. I doubt if Miles had a stash like it.”
“Now do you file a report with that Lieutenant Hunk?”
“Talk to him, anyway.” Kate looked at the bedside clock. “I better get moving. I’m meeting him at eight and I need to take a shower and run some errands first.”
“I have to be going, too.” Lydia sprang to her feet. “Volleyball team tryouts tonight.”
“I’ll see you out.”
“Don’t bother. I was planning to abscond with a handful of that pogy bait.”
“Was there anything you liked?” Kate looked down at the drawer of jewelry then picked up the dragonfly and pinned it to Lydia’s bikini top.
“I was joking.”
“I know you were. Don’t misinterpret this. I don’t know what to do with all this stuff. It has no emotional value for me. Except this.” She picked up the folder with her father’s portrait. “Go open that box on Mother’s vanity.”
Lydia centered the big wooden casket on the mirrored surface and lifted the lid, freeing six velvet-covered trays to swing out from a center post. With her fingertips she outlined one heavy necklace, skipping across the dozen pea-size rubies as if they were fire. Every tray had its own load of heavy jewelry. “Jesus H. Christ.”
“Mother liked Bulgari. Almost obscene, isn’t it? Little presents from her friends. What am I going to do with it, Lydia? I’m certainly not going to wear any of it. And I don’t have any children to pass it down to.”
“You could endow the women’s volleyball team.”
Kate laughed. “I could.”
Lydia picked at the little dragonfly. “What if I said I liked something from here better?”
“Do you?”
“No. I’d be afraid of someone knocking me on the head if I wore any of that.” Her face flushed crimson under the tan. “Wrong thing to say. Sorry. Your mother wasn’t wearing any big baubles when she was killed, was she?”
“Just her everyday stuff. It was all found on her. Anyway, she wouldn’t die for any of it. It’s insured.”
“Get rid of it, Kate. Put it in a vault somewhere.” Lydia folded in the trays and slammed down the lid. Something apparently occurred to her and her head snapped up. “What if something happened to you, who would inherit this stuff?”
“Until I make a new will, probably Carl.”
“I don’t believe it. Your mother’s murdered and you inherit a pile of loot. Meanwhile old Carl moves in here for better access to his next victim. Someone tries to kill you and everyone says ‘Who can be doing this?’”
Kate laughed. “You think Carl tried to kill me?”
“After I evicted him I’d think about it.”
“It couldn’t have been Carl,” Kate said. “He wouldn’t have botched it.”
ELEVEN
“MINA CALLED.” The message was stuck to the refrigerator door with a magnet. “Pls. bring Mr. M.’s robe and slippers with you to hosp. Mother’s car needs driving. XOXOXO, E.”
Quietly, so she wouldn’t waken Esperanza, Kate opened the broom closet. She shoved the assorted mop and broom handles to one side and groped through the jumble of dust cloths and vacuum attachments to find the hook at the back where Mother always kept her spare set of keys. The hook was empty.
She went to the foyer and reached into the big Ming vase on the table by the door and fished around for Miles’s house key. But with it she found Mother’s big brass key ring, the one she’d always carried in h
er purse. It was a disturbing discovery. Why weren’t the keys in Mother’s purse when the police found it?
She weighed the keys, an unknown quantity, as she went outside.
The brightness of the afternoon had been soiled by the brush fire growing along the horizon. The dark sky gave an illusion of coolness, but the air was hot and still, strangled by the smoke. As she unlocked Miles’s front door, Kate looked around, hoping Sergeant Green was close by. Even though Tejeda had spent the morning in the house, exorcising the place, she didn’t much want to go in alone.
Leaving the big door open to provide light, she crossed the foyer into the dim living room. Miles’s absence seemed to fill the room, bouncing as empty echoes off the walls. It wasn’t until she pressed the light switch that she saw the small figure huddled in a corner of the massive sofa.
“Reece!” she screamed, panic tangling her feet, making her stumble over a corner of the Aubusson rug. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Shit!” He bolted upright, startled from sleep. He focused on Kate and let out a long breath. “Oh. It’s you. You scared me half to death, waking me like that.” He yawned. “All that sunshine made me sleepy.”
“What are you doing in here?” she demanded.
“After that burglary business, Mina asked me to move in to look after this old morgue. Where’s Lydia?”
“Went home hours ago. Mina’s become quite the little organizer. Why didn’t you say something earlier?”
“Didn’t think about it. Don’t worry. I won’t steal the family silver.”
“I wasn’t worried.”
“God, Kate, it’s so weird in here. I don’t even know where I’ll sleep. There’s a gross, filthy bedroom upstairs and there’s Miles’s hard little bed down here in the maid’s room. The mattress must be a hundred years old.”
“We can bring a bed over for you.”
“I can sack out on the couch. I hope the plumbing upstairs works. I just feel too strange around Miles’s personal things. I can’t bring myself to use his commode.”
“You don’t have to stay. The police are roaming around outside. No one will get in here again.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Getting some things for Miles.” She headed toward the back of the house, Reece walking close beside her. “How does his room look?”
“Okay. Esperanza put it back together.” He trailed a finger along the yellowed hall wall. “This place is a mess. It’ll have to be gutted and done over before anyone will live here again. How could Miles let it get so bad?”
“I don’t think he ever cared much about it.” She saw the architect’s passion in his eyes as he traced the stenciled ceiling molding. “Depending on when and if Miles comes home, would you be interested in redoing the place for us? If he approves, that is.”
“Thought you’d never ask,” he grinned.
“Maybe you could use the time you’re here to sketch out some plans. And, who knows, maybe along the way you’ll discover the Big Clue.”
“Like Nancy Drew?”
“Yeah. Look in the handles of the cricket bats. Might find a treasure map or something.”
“Would you settle for the big hall clock? Tejeda took the bats with him.”
“Curiouser and curiouser,” she said, opening the bedroom door. Except for the gap in the night table, everything was in order. She opened the closet and rummaged through it. Finding the robe, she tossed it on the sagging bed and looked around for slippers and pajamas.
Reece sat on a corner of the bed and bundled Miles’s things together as Kate tossed them to him. “If you want me to fix up the old place, I suppose you won’t be tearing it down to build condos.”
“What everyone keeps forgetting is that it isn’t mine to tear down. I still can’t understand why Mother and Sy carried their plans so far. And why would she work with Sy in the first place?”
“A legit businessman wouldn’t have touched that deal with a fork. But don’t underestimate Sy. I have a feeling this was the biggest thing he ever worked on, and he isn’t going to let go of it easily.”
“What can he do, though?” Kate asked.
“I don’t know. Spread around a little baksheesh. You have to admit, slimy as he is, he isn’t without his charms.”
“Charms?”
“The way Attila’s mother looked at him, I thought she was going to eat him up.”
She laughed. “By Attila, you mean Carl?”
“Yeah. Sorry. Anyway, if you ever need me, I’m here. Just like old times. Remember who saved you when you climbed out on the ledge of ‘safe harbor’?”
“I remember who talked me into going out on the ledge in the first place.” She reached out and gently thumped his thin chest. “But thanks. Look, I have to relieve Mina at the hospital. Do you want to come with me?”
“No, thanks. Miles would have a relapse if mine was the first face he saw when he woke up.”
“You’re probably right.” As she gathered Miles’s bundle of gear, she thought about Reece and Nugie and herself as children. “What this place needs is some little ones to liven it up. When are you going to give in to Lydia?”
“Never.” He grabbed her and bent her back like an apache dancer, planting a wet, squeaky kiss on her nose. “You are the only woman I could ever love.”
“You idiot,” she said, laughing to cover a sinking feeling. “Can’t you ever be serious?”
Kate manuevered her mother’s big black Chrysler through the toll gate at the entrance to the hospital parking lot, pulling into the first available space. The last movement of her favorite Copland symphony was playing on the radio and she wanted to stay and listen to the end. But with the air-conditioner off, even the tinted windows couldn’t keep the heat from quickly invading the interior, and she was soon forced out. Conscientiously, only because it wasn’t her car, she made sure the doors were locked.
Humming, to finish the music in her mind, she waited for a break in traffic so she could cross the drive. In the dusky light, she saw Lieutenant Tejeda sitting on a bench by the opposite curb. Eyes closed, hands folded across his slightly rounded stomach, long legs stretched out in front of him, he seemed to be listening to a symphony of his own.
The street lights along the drive began to glow, making little headway against the gathering night. Kate hardly cast a shadow as she stopped in front of Tejeda. “Sleeping on city time?”
“The mind is still working.” He sat upright, moving over to make room for her on the concrete bench. “How you doing? Your eye looks better.”
“Thanks.” She sat beside him, putting Miles’s bundle on the bench between them and handed Tejeda Sy Ratcher’s condo plans. “I don’t know if this will lead you anywhere, but this is something Mother was involved with when she died.”
He unrolled the plans and looked at them quickly. “What is it?”
“A pipe dream.”
“Sy Ratcher,” he said knowingly. “Thanks. I’ll look into it.”
“What did you come here to talk about?” Kate asked.
“Your Uncle Miles.” He leaned back against the bench. “If he wakes up there are some things I want to ask him. But the condition he’s in, I doubt he’ll talk to me.”
“But he will talk to me?”
“More likely.”
The sound of a car engine made her look up; there was something familiar about it. A big, dark car came backing down the parking aisle in front of her, going too fast.
“Look at that jerk,” Tejeda said. “They see a parking space that will save them ten steps and they’ll kill for it. At least he could turn on his lights so people could see him coming.”
Just then a little pickup backed into the car’s path, forcing it to swerve crazily. Listing to one side, the car bumped the curb bordering some landscaping, two wheels gouging a crooked furrow through the marigolds. Finally, the car found the pavement again, pausing a moment for its shocks to absorb the bounce.
Kate picked up some o
f the excitement of the crowd around her, trying to anticipate what this driver might do next. With no lights on, she thought, it was the blackness of the car that gave drama to the situation. Even the car’s windows were tinted black. Then she looked again, disbelief clouding her perception. She edged forward for confirmation.
“It’s not possible,” she gasped. “That’s my mother’s car.”
“Who’s driving it?”
“I am.” It seemed at the moment a more reasonable answer than the only alternative that occurred to her. Mother never was much of a driver.
The car gunned its powerful motor and aimed directly at Kate and Tejeda. All other traffic stopped, wary drivers not knowing which way to go to avoid the inevitable collision.
Kate moved a few steps forward, trying to see the driver. But all she could see was the orange reflection of street lights in the tinted back window.
“Are you crazy?” Tejeda grabbed her arm and pulled her to one side. But the car corrected its course and followed them. In the instants available, Tejeda feinted to the right like a bullfighter, hands riveted around Kate’s arms.
Just as it jumped the curb in front of them, the car swerved sharply to the left, trapping Kate and Tejeda between its forward rush and the bench.
Tejeda dove backward over the solid bench, dragging Kate with him. As her face hit the sidewalk, Kate heard the sickening crunch of concrete and metal as the car sideswiped the other side of the bench. Vaguely aware of the pain, she peered between Tejeda’s shoulder and the underside of the bench as the car’s crumpled bumper snagged Miles’s bundle. Then there was a grinding of gears as the car, still moving, shifted from reverse and popped into drive. It bounced back over the curb and sped away, a sleeve of Miles’s pajamas waving in the air as if appealing desperately for help.
Kate disentangled herself from Tejeda in time to see the car crash through the parking lot arms, tires squealing as it turned onto the street and away from the hospital.
Then suddenly, as the car disappeared, Kate felt an unnatural silence descend around her.
Tejeda yanked her to her feet, bringing his ashen face only inches from hers. “Did you see who it was?”
No Harm (The Kate Teague Mysteries Book 1) Page 12
