Murder Under the Italian Moon (15 page)

All the peanut butter and toast in the world couldn't fill the emptiness at the pit of my stomach. I went upstairs to ease the tension and to stop listening for Larry's footsteps.

I sat on my custom-made bed in my girly bedroom with a view of the ocean and asked myself, "Is this it? Is this the preview of things to come? Will I be spending the rest of my life waiting on a man? I am not going to fall into that trap again, never."

What I felt for Larry was so different from what I had with Nick. Not because I was married to Nick. Our relationship had always been more stable, and even in times of conflict we could find common ground with neither of us ending up emotionally bloody. Plus, over the years I learned to let things go, look the other way; it made life easier.

Larry, with his unreadable eyes. Larry, with the
laissez faire
of a Swiss guard. Larry, who lit the bonfire of passion when I had resigned myself to a life of celibacy.

Was this fiery turmoil an age thing? How would I know? Underneath the battered ego, I wanted him so bad I would run to him if he called out to me.

The phone rang and hope crashed the gate of my self-control. "Yes?" I sounded hoarse, even to myself
.

"Lella? Are you okay?" Sabrina, from the mission.

"Yes, sure." I cleared my throat. "I'm fine, and I didn't forget about the meeting."

"About the meeting." It was Sabrina's turn to clear her throat. "We were thinking, you know, with your son and all that's going on…" She paused, and I didn't like where she was going.

"
We
? Care to tell me who
we
is?" That didn't sound grammatically correct, but grammar wasn't high on my list.

"The committee. It's because of all that publicity about Kyle. If you're at the mission, the media will be after you instead of the swallows."

"The invisible swallows?" Why did I say that? A good docent never mentions the fact that the swallows stopped coming back to the mission years ago. "Never mind, I get it. I'm
persona non grata.
Thanks a lot. I've been a volunteer for nearly ten years, and this is the thanks I get. Have a good
Fiesta de Las Golondrinas
." I hung up. Misplaced anger? Maybe.

I felt sick. Mad as hell and sick. Never mind that given a chance to visit Kyle over the meeting, I would have canceled the meeting without a bit of guilt. That was not the point. I splashed my face with cold water, hoping it would help. I turned off the faucet and heard what seemed to be a pounding sound. I stood still and listened. Maybe it was someone working outside. No, I heard it again, louder. It came from downstairs. I didn't know what to do. I grabbed my phone; I figured I could always call 911.

Call 911? Crazy, I was losing my mind. Halfway down the stairs I heard the thumping and this time I had no doubt; someone was pounding on my front door.

All the pent-up anger and disappointment must have fueled my arm's strength, because the way I opened it, the door slammed against the side wall.

Larry looked at me, and I sensed curiosity in his eyes. "Hello. Are you that happy to see me or is it a caffeine overdose?" He sounded cheerful. Did he know he'd been gone for over forty-five minutes? His calm and pleased attitude made me feel petty and small. Maybe he was a great guy and I was a demanding bitch.

"Wait." He stood on the threshold. "You thought I left, didn't you? Was I gone that long?" He put his hand under my chin like before, but instead of kissing me, he forced me to look him in the eyes. "You are angry. What? You thought I drove all the way here to deliver coffee?" No more cheerfulness in his voice.

I kept quiet, observing his eyes narrowing, a furrow forming on his forehead. I could almost hear the wheels in his brain turning. He was getting closer to the ugly truth, and I had no place to hide that cloud of suspicion I carried with me like a second shadow. I felt his fingers under my chin release.

He knew. He took a step back and stood outside my door. The expression on his face wasn't one of triumph for outing my mistrust, nor of anger for my judging him. I read sadness and thought,
He's leaving. He isn't going to stick around to find out why I thought that he left.
Panic filled my heart and my brain. I didn't want him to see it, and there we stood, without speaking, without touching.

The midday sun over us burned my eyes when I looked up, so I couldn't see his face anymore. I watched him move toward the door, hesitant at first, then he stepped over the threshold and put his arms around me and held my face against him. All I could think was that a lot more than a threshold was crossed.

We stood entwined, inhaling each other's familiar scents, processing our thoughts. Aroused and aware of each other's desire, but as if by unspoken consent, not acting on it.

Larry spoke first. "I didn't know Bob and Florian were going to show up at your house. And I did end up talking shop, letting time slip away. However, seems to me there's a lot more brewing in your head for you to react that way to such a simple situation." He let go of me and his lips brushed my hair. "Let's talk about this."

I felt so overwhelmed by his willingness to salvage whatever we had between us that I would have gladly forgotten about my list of important questions. Why can't relationships come with an instruction manual for unsophisticated adults like me?

We sat on the sofa, close, but not too close. "Why did you hire Bonnie to represent Kyle?" I really wanted to ask, "Why are you paying Bonnie's fees?" but this sounded less accusatory. It wasn't a question he expected, I could tell.

"Bonnie? It's not a big deal. I'm always doing favors for her clients. It's payback time." His voice cheerful again.

I would have accepted that had it not been for that "guilty" word that Bonnie had dropped on me so strategically.

"Bonnie said you hired her." I swallowed hard. "Because of guilt." There, it was out there. Ball's in your court, Larry.

He cocked his head and looked at me, his eyes aloof. Nothing on his face flinched. We hadn't moved an inch, yet the distance between us grew. I'm not sure how long we stayed that way. All was quiet in the house, the deceptive quiet of a prison yard. He stood, walked to the patio door and glanced at the small garden. I couldn't see his face.

"Guilt is not something I experience often. I do what I have to do and that's it. If consequences arise, I handle them." He turned to look at me, his back to the glass door.

"Okay," I heard myself say.

"I called in the Ferrari."

I didn't have a clue what he was talking about. My ignorance must have showed on my face. He shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair. He was nervous, a break in the steel armor.

"That's how your son got picked up. Because I called in the missing car." I felt my eyes dilate, like they were about to pop off their sockets. He noticed it too, and the rest of the words came rushing out. "Lella, I had no idea he was driving the car. We—the police—were looking for a Ferrari with Ruby Russell at the wheel. I was being a cop." He seemed to wait for my reaction.

I rested my back against the pillows, closed my eyes so he couldn't read them and tried to comprehend what he just told me. The saddest part was that somehow I was glad, glad about the car, glad that it had nothing to do with Parker and Audrey. Glad that he had my son arrested?
I was being a cop
. Bad answer. But I knew it was true. He had no idea about Kyle and the Ferrari. I didn't even know anything until a few hours before the arrest—and I'm the mother and best friend. Once again, Ruby was the center of the mess. Larry stood, waiting for me to say something. I liked that sense of power. A whole new feeling.

"Can you please sit down? You're making me nervous. Sit down and tell me the full story. I need to get a better idea of the sequence."

He sat on the same spot as before. A strand of hair fell on his forehead, and I fought the urge to push it back. "I was coming off the 5 and had to go under the freeway to get to your place, and I saw the Ferrari entering the ramp to the north. I had just heard that it was listed as missing. I didn't see the license plate, but there aren't that many Ferraris. Plus, I figured Ruby was coming from your house." He waited for me to say something. His logic was flawless, but I wasn't about to tell him that. "When I picked you up you didn't mention Ruby visiting you, and frankly, at that point, I had other things on my mind. I forgot about the Ferrari until the next morning." I sensed his nervousness. I wanted to hug him and hated myself for it.

"I woke early, but didn't want to wake you. You slept so peacefully." He looked straight into my eyes, and I felt heat rush into my cheeks—so much for my sense of power. "I went into my office. My computer feeds info twenty-four seven and there it was, Kyle York arrested driving stolen car. Still I didn't make the connection. Out of curiosity I called one of my buddies on duty. When he gave me the news, it finally hit me how the whole thing would play out to an outsider.
Cop gets kid arrested and then sleeps with the mother?
That's where the guilt kicked in, I guess. I didn't want you to get hurt. My next call was to wake up Bonnie." Again, he waited. "I can fire her if that's what you want."

He would fire Bonnie if I wanted.

Larry Devin was a nice man. He was also a cop. I seemed to be helplessly in love with him. In a sense it was lucky that Larry called the Ferrari in. Now I was thinking like a cop. I shook my head, scooted over a little and put my hand in Larry's.

"Lella, about the car."

"Shhh."

"We have it. Kyle's Porsche was located this morning."

"What?"

"Remember when our phones went off at the same time? That was it."

"Oh my God. They found the Porsche. Is Ruby okay?"

He looked at me as if I spoke in tongues. "Ruby? No, no trace of Ruby."

Kyle's smile lifted my spirits. I was visiting my son in jail in the middle of the afternoon, and it was okay. Sort of going with the flow, accepting reality. I picked up the phone, aware of Kyle glancing at Larry.

"Mom." The excitement in his voice, pure joy to my heart. "Did you hear about my Porsche?"

He said
my
Porsche—good.

"I did, Kyle, I did. Well, maybe our idea about Ruby hiding at your place wasn't so far-fetched, but if she ever was there, she'd be long gone now."

He nodded, still looking excited.

"Listen, I'd like you to meet someone." I turned to Larry and he moved closer. "Kyle, this is Larry Devin." I waited.

The only reaction from my son was an even wider smile. I handed the phone to Larry and stepped back. We had discussed all this on the drive up from my house. Larry had questions regarding the Porsche, and I figured I might as well introduce the two of them.

"Hi, Kyle."

"Nice to meet you sir, and thank you so much for sending Ms. Bonnie." My son, the prince of politeness.

"Call me Larry; it will be easier on both of us." I watched him readjust himself on the chair and move closer to the glass divider. "I'm checking information for your lawyer, Ms. Bonnie. And we wondered if you have any idea which way Ruby went when she left your hotel room to get the Porsche?"

"Actually, I was asleep. I overslept and was late on the set. I felt tired and dragged all day long. Ruby's whole visit is kind of foggy." He paused. "So, will I be getting out now that they've found my car? It's obvious that Ruby is alive and well."

"How so?"

"How else could the car get there? In my parking space, in my condo building? The police had already searched my place. They knew the car wasn't there a few days ago, and I've been locked up the whole time since."

"Too bad there aren't any surveillance cameras in that building of yours—would have made things easier. They're checking the car for fingerprints and other evidence that may help to establish how the vehicle got there."

"Will it take long?" Kyle looked so vulnerable and full of hope.

"It's hard to tell because it's out of our jurisdiction. You live in Los Angeles. This is Orange County. Each department works a little differently. The fact that they've already gone through your condo once will make it easier and quicker." Larry glanced at me. "I'll let you talk to your mom. If somewhere down the line you feel like talking to me, don't hesitate to tell Bonnie. We're old friends."

I was happy about the last statement. Hopefully Kyle wouldn't ask me too many details about my acquaintance with Larry, at least not now with all the excitement in the air.

"Kyle, when I visited you before, I forgot to tell you about Audrey. Her aunt in Parker died and she had to go to the funeral with her little brother. She asked me to explain and tell you she's thinking about you."

"Oh, thanks, Mom. I was wondering why she didn't answer her house phone." He'd been calling her? "I feel better. I thought she believed all the bad things the media is dishing out and didn't want to talk to me."

"Kyle, do you have any idea what Ruby was dropping off in Parker? Or to whom?"

He shook his head, blew me a goodbye kiss and hung up the phone.

We left on that note. We walked out of the building and across the parking area to Larry's Mercedes. It crossed my mind that perhaps Kyle wouldn't have been so friendly to Larry had he known he was the very person who set in motion the system that brought him there. I chased the thought away. Larry seemed preoccupied with something and kept quiet while we walked. Somehow I knew he was analyzing his conversation with Kyle. This was a silence where I wasn't included, and I was okay with that.

"Do you mind if we have dinner with Bonnie?" He turned to look at me but kept on walking. I stopped, and he reacted to my hesitation. "We need to talk about Kyle and the Porsche. You've seen your son. He thinks he's about to be set free. It doesn't work that way, and I didn't want to be the one to tell him."

I frowned.

"What was that question about Ruby and Parker? You are not thinking about going looking for Ruby, are you?" When I didn't answer he misunderstood my silence.