Luna Tango (19 page)

No answer.

She methodically went from room to room, flicking on lights, but Eduardo, the sheet music and the bandoneón couldn't be found. Dashing up the stairs to her bedroom, she retrieved the framed photo and stuffed it in a large handbag. Opening her underwear drawer, she grabbed the map of Chapada do Russo and Roberto's love letters. She unfolded one and smiled at his beautiful penmanship and the words ‘
Querida Lunita
'
. Dear Little Moon. Shaking herself out of the happy haze, she shoved them into her handbag. If Eduardo found these papers it would only add fuel to the fire; she didn't want to hurt him any more than she already had.

She sat on the springy bed, casting her eyes around the room that had once been hers. The four-poster bed with purple silk draped over its mahogany pillars; the dark red reading chair where she'd spent countless hours; the wardrobe full of designer clothes and shoes—all of them only possessions and scattered memories.

A wave of déjà vu crashed over her. Once again she had to leave home and head into an uncertain future. At least this time, she had a man she loved by her side. It wasn't what they'd envisioned, but sometimes life steered people in directions they could never have imagined. With little money, no instrument and no careers, they were destined to struggle in the slums of Buenos Aires and they were about to test their love in the way they'd been trying to avoid. She still feared it was not enough to nourish their souls.

Sticking her hand in her pocket, she pulled out the paper that had blown against her leg in the alley. Carefully unfolding the crumpled sheet music, she laid it out on the bed and smoothed it with her hands. The musical score was a tad worse for wear but she could still read Roberto's distinctive writing—‘Luna Tango'. Not that she'd doubted Roberto, but the evidence was clear—Eduardo had most definitely stolen from her lover. Her vision clouded as determination took over. Roberto needed—no,
deserved
—all his music back and somehow she would find a way.

A loud rap on the front door brought her back to the present. The banging intensified and she hurried down the stairs, crossed the foyer and flung open the door to find two policemen standing on the veranda, their faces solemn.

‘Miss Louisa Gilchrist?'

‘Yes.' Her throat clamped around the word.

‘We are sorry to inform you but Eduardo Canziani has been found dead,' the older policeman said, his tone solemn.

‘What?' She clung to the doorframe.

‘Found in an alley in La Boca,' said the younger policeman, with too much enthusiasm. ‘Beaten to a pulp and shot with his own gun.'

Her knees buckled and she landed heavily on the tiles. Bile rose in her throat and she swallowed, trying to keep it down. ‘It can't be.'

‘I'm afraid it is, Miss.' The young policeman helped her up and led her to the hardwood seat in the hallway.

‘Robbery?' she asked.

‘This is what we're trying to establish. Did he have anything of value in his possession?'

‘Just his fob watch and gold rings. He never listened to me when I told him not to flaunt his wealth.' She paused, letting her thoughts settle. ‘Did he have a bandoneón case on him?'

‘No. Should he?'

‘He—' Oh god. Could Roberto somehow ...? She shook her head at the thought. ‘No.'

That was the first in a long string of lies.

* * *

Louisa had managed to get through the police interview without any trouble but it wouldn't take them long to piece the events together. Her relationship with Roberto still remained a secret and the lies she told the police had flowed like a swollen river after a storm. It concerned her that in an effort to protect Roberto from appearing guilty, she might inhibit the investigation and the murderer would remain free.

A sob caught in her throat as she wandered through the dark rooms of the mansion. She longed to see her lover, to hold him and seek solace in his arms, but she had to stay away from him in case the police put a tail on her. When Wyler heard about Eduardo's death he'd go to the police and inform them about her relationship with Roberto. She wished Roberto had a damn telephone so she could find out if he was all right.

Once the media learned about the romance between the muse and the protégé, Louisa and Roberto would be in the headlines. It wouldn't matter how much she protested, no one would believe she hadn't had a sexual relationship with Eduardo, and so her being with Roberto would be classed as an A-grade affair. The public had grown bored with the political arguments in the daily news, and Eduardo's death and his involvement in a love triangle would be the perfect outlet to channel their anger and grief for their country.

Heaviness fell across her chest and she pushed out a long sigh. She missed Eduardo already—more than she ever thought possible. Guilt plagued Louisa as she remembered her selfishness; Eduardo had needed her and now he was dead.

Louisa wiped her nose on her sleeve and headed out the back door, down the steps and into the yard. She stood on the grass inhaling the scent of jasmine, and allowed the cool night to wrap around her. A powder spray of stars twinkled above, surrounding the half moon hanging in the inky sky.

The only reason Eduardo knew about her half-moon birthmark was because he'd accidentally walked in on her getting dressed one day. His vicious slander about them sleeping together had come from a place of hurt and it would be easy to blame his anger from tonight on illness, but she sensed much of his rage was driven by jealousy and pent-up frustration. That was harder to forgive.

She placed her head in her hands and squeezed her eyes shut. If Roberto had known about Eduardo's illness, he would have understood and negotiated the situation with the sensitivity it deserved. In her efforts to keep her word to Eduardo, she'd caused a chain reaction that should never have happened.

She headed towards the gazebo, stones crunching beneath her shoes, the noise slicing the eerie silence. She took a seat on the cushion where she'd last sat with Roberto and replayed the scene with Wyler. He hadn't shown any surprise at finding them in a compromising position and she hadn't been too worried at the time. Hindsight showed her she should have played things differently, but how?

Tears rolled down her cheeks. Who would want to kill Eduardo? He'd spent years cultivating his gentlemanly persona. The only people he'd upset were Héctor and R—

‘No!' she yelled into the darkness.

‘Do you always scream at yourself?'

Startled, she looked up to find Héctor standing at the base of the gazebo's stairs, his dark suit merging with the shadows. It looked different to the one he'd had on earlier.

‘It doesn't look good for you to be at Eduardo's house. Have you heard what happened?'

‘Yes. Tragic news.' His words almost sounded genuine.

‘Why are you here?'

‘You're going to need my help.'

‘Shh ...' She strained to hear a low mumble out on the street. The noise grew louder and a chorus joined in perfect harmony, singing Eduardo's most popular tune, ‘
Angel Sin Alas
', Angel Without Wings. Louisa rushed along the garden path, raced into the house, down the hall and into the music room. Hector followed close behind her.

Sneaking a peek through the curtains, Louisa spied a procession snaking up the street. The people slowly made their way to the front of the mansion where they formed a cluster, spilling from the sidewalk and onto the road. Well-dressed men and women, young children, old couples, people in rags—each one stood with glistening eyes, clutching white candles. The occasional woman's wail pierced the song, which ran on an endless spool. The atmosphere was thick with grief, and the love pouring from each individual humbled her.

‘They really love—loved him,' she said, not taking her eyes off the scene.

‘You should back away from the window, you don't want anyone to see you.'

‘Why?'

‘Because they'll want you to come out, say some words, tell them how sad you are about Canziani's death.'

‘I am sad.'

‘Yes, but you fought with him earlier. There are witnesses.'

‘How do you know?'

‘Word travels fast. One of my band members heard about you, Roberto and Canziani fighting in the street.'

‘Oh.' This did not bode well. ‘The police don't know about this, do they?'

‘Louisa.' Héctor placed his hand on her shoulder and she turned to face him. ‘The public are going to want answers and they won't care how they get them. You and Roberto are key suspects.'

‘But—'

‘You need to leave the country. People saw you. They heard you. You are guilty before you can prove innocence. And with you being a foreigner, and an English one at that, well ...' He gave small shrug.

‘No one had a problem with me being English before. I am— was his muse. As long as he created music, they couldn't have cared if I had two heads and came from Mars.'

‘But you don't have protection any more. Canziani's dead and they're going to blame you and Roberto, even if neither of you pulled the trigger.'

‘What do you mean
even if
? I left Roberto at his apartment, fast asleep on his sofa.'

‘At what time?'

‘It wasn't long before the police arrived to tell me about Eduardo.' The tears welled again, constricting her throat.

‘I was at Roberto's place only an hour ago and he wasn't there.'

Louisa stared at Héctor, processing his words.

‘Why wouldn't he be at his apartment?' she asked, her mind going into overdrive with crazy thoughts about Roberto going after Eduardo.

‘I don't know, but they found Canziani's body in La Boca, not far from where Roberto lives.' Héctor pursed his lips and tilted his head.

‘He would never have done it!' Doubt curled around her so tightly she couldn't draw a deep breath. ‘Where were you?'

‘Louisa, this is not the time to get suspicious, especially with the people closest to you.'

‘You just accused Roberto! I'm asking you again.' She narrowed her eyes. ‘Where were you?'

‘I was at Flavia's.'

‘Doing what?'

‘Blowing off steam.' At least he had the decency to look coy about admitting he was at his mistress's house.

‘But you were angry with Eduardo. You took off down the hill and—'

He stared at her with wide eyes. ‘So you're saying I did it?'

‘I—I'm sorry.' She shook her head with confusion. ‘Please forgive me, Héctor.'

‘I've forgotten already.' He forced a smile. ‘Listen, you need to leave now.'

‘What about Roberto?'

‘He needs to go, too.'

‘But leaving Argentina makes us look guilty.'

‘If you stay, you run the risk of the public's wrath. Everything will fall on you, Louisa. Think about it. You're Eduardo's muse, you fell in love with his protégé, and you were in the street fighting with him. Even if his death was from a robbery, you will be blamed.'

‘They said he was badly beaten and shot.' Her voice was barely audible.

‘Yes.'

The shaking started at her feet and raced up her legs. Her entire body trembled and her skin turned cold and clammy. ‘We need to find Roberto.'

‘I will find him. Right now, you need to pack a bag and go to the port. You can take the boat to Montevideo with Roberto. Where you go after there is not my business, but understand you can never return to the shores of Argentina.'

‘Yes, I know.' She closed her eyes for a moment and hung her head. ‘I can't believe I'm fleeing yet another country.'

‘Yes, I understand it's hard, but you don't have another choice.' Héctor looked at his watch. ‘You've got two hours until the first boat sails for the day.'

‘What if you can't find him?'

‘I will, don't worry.' He pulled out a wad of pesos from his pocket. Holding her hand, he placed the money in her palm. She tried to close her fingers around the bills but couldn't.

‘It's too much. I can't take—'

‘You can and you will. Let me help. Please.' He kissed her on the cheek, shoved his hands in his pockets, sauntered across the yard and exited through the hidden gate at the rear of the garden.

Dani and Carlos broke their embrace and swung around to see Diego Alonso striding down the aisle, unperturbed about witnessing two people kissing in the front row of a deserted theatre. Carlos moved his body away from her but surreptitiously slid his hand up her leg. When his fingers reached the top of her thigh he removed his hand and rested it on the armrest, leaning his arm casually against hers.

Oh my god
. She should have been appalled at being caught in the midst of a hot kiss but Carlos shot her a cheeky smile and regret disappeared into the ether.

‘I am sorry for my lateness but it appears you managed to occupy yourself.' Amusement tinged Diego's voice and he bent over and kissed Dani on each cheek. ‘Here it is.' Diego pulled out an envelope from his pocket and handed it to her, even though she hadn't decided what to do with the letter. As she slipped it into her bag, Diego said, ‘Just ask her to read it. She will understand why when she does.'

‘You agree to the terms, right? Neither Carlos or I will disclose where she is if we find her,' she said, still unsure whether she could go through with the search.

‘Yes, of course. I am doing this to help you.'

‘Why?'

He raised his hands and shrugged. ‘I like you. I feel you will do her story justice.'

‘Thanks,' she said, trying to gauge what level he'd reached on the bullshit-o-meter—Dani figured he'd gone off the chart. ‘Do you have ideas as to where she could be?'

‘No. I have tried all her usual places. She always had an affinity with the beach but every time we went she was sad.'