Murder Under the Italian Moon (21 page)

"Calm down, Lella, that part is over. With new evidence of Mrs. Russell being alive and bent on mischief, we don't even have to post bond."

Calm down, Lella?
She spoke of my son's jail and life as if it were a routine business. What was wrong with her?

"Anyway, got to run. I'll see you tomorrow, and maybe we'll get a chance to do lunch with Kyle and Carolyn before Kyle gets shipped to his condo." What was she saying? His condo? Why? "Good night. Say hello to Larry." She hung up.

I was dumbfounded. What did Carolyn have to do with Kyle's release? Was there a reason Kyle couldn't stay with me? If he was going to be house bound he would need someone to take care of him. How did Bonnie know Larry was here? I felt like I was being stared at. I turned around, and there was Larry, standing by the bedroom door, looking at me.

"That was Bonnie," I informed him.

He walked over and slid his finger under the shoulder strap of my cami. I didn't expect that at all and instead of responding, I froze. Larry kept his finger there and tilted his head to meet my eyes. I don't know what he read because I felt so overpowered by contrasting emotions. He was getting a taste of my feelings in thirty-one flavors. He let go of me when his cell chimed.

"Hi, Steve, thanks for calling back so fast. Yes, that's right. So it was a blond wig Milena Forrester wore. It's just a suspicion. I think you should talk to Bob. Yup, he got my desk after I left." I sensed a sort of sadness in Larry's voice. Did he miss his job? "Yes, you're right, with Florian. Let me get you his cell number. What's there to lose? Just curious, did Forrester have a driver's license? You see where I'm going with this. My cell, it's best. Yup, you got that straight." He hung up and now his eyes had a new glow, a newly found passion, and unfortunately, I didn't think it had anything to do with my red cami.

I watched him breathe. In the shy light of dawn, Larry's face looked relaxed and passion free. What a captivating impostor he would make, I knew. I practiced with him the excesses of desire. He was the first man ever to lie in this bed of mine, this custom-built with a view of the ocean. The view was the last thing on my mind. I had to get to court before 9:30 a.m., and Monday morning traffic would be a killer. Should I get ready before waking him? Or endure more of his funny questions about my magnifying makeup mirror and my multiple jars of age-defying potions and lotions? I got out of bed and went to make coffee. I owed him that for all the perks I enjoyed at his place.

One thing I learned from our hours of twilight bonding, he really did miss his job and considered going back. He also explained about Kyle and the arson charge. Mrs. Snoopy had called to report that Kyle's Porsche was parked at the Russells' house the night of the fire. By then Kyle didn't have the car. Ruby had already made the switch. I didn't say much but was willing to bet that Ruby set fire to the house. At this point I didn't even believe the story of her brain injury. No, she was plain evil from birth and good at manipulating people.

I fed Flash, put the coffee on and went to shower in the guest bathroom. When I got back to my bedroom with two mugs of coffee, I found Larry sitting up, enjoying the reflections from the shimmering ocean and scratching Flash's belly. Oh my God, what a sight! Add all that to Kyle's release, and this could possibly be one of the best days of my single life.

By 8:30 a.m. we locked my door with the new key and headed for the garage. We crossed paths with a man carrying a wooden post and a sign. It was a real estate sign, FOR LEASE. I grabbed Larry's arm, forcing him to slow his pace. I wanted to see where the sign would be posted. The man stopped in front of Audrey's place. I remembered her message. Movers would be showing up, and she wasn't coming back. My day went off the charts.

I wore open-toed sandals with low heels. My pants covered most of the footwear, so unless I stood up and limped, no one would notice my problem. The swelling had gone down, and I felt okay. We approached the ramp to the 5 North, chatting about Bonnie and Kyle. The traffic was light, but we knew it wouldn't last; once we hit Irvine the lanes would get crowded and slow. At least we wouldn't have to change freeways.

I looked at Larry. "Are you coming to court, or are you waiting outside?"

"It depends. I'm hoping to hear from Bob. I had my friend Steve call him about Aunt Millie and your old friend the hat snatcher."

I smacked his knee, and he laughed.

"What about it?" I asked.

"I have this theory. What if Ruby is going around pretending to be Milena Forrester, a.k.a. Aunt Millie?"

"Why? They look alike?"

"I doubt it, but picture this, same wig, dark glasses—who knows? She may be using Aunt Millie's ID to get around incognito."

"The ID of a dead person?"

"Lella, you know she's dead because I told you. I know because Steve told me. But the world outside of Parker doesn't know about Aunt Millie or Milena Forrester, and unless someone digs deeper, it's possible her death isn't even showing up in some police databases yet." He looked at me, and I shook my head. "Shake your head all you want, I think it's brilliant. I suggested they get the media to run with the story, showing the photos of both women. How about that?"

I nodded. "The way Ruby looked when I chased her, if not for the hat I wouldn't have given her a second glance. You may be right. I can't wait to see Kyle. I'm so excited. Do you think he'll be wearing his own clothes?"

"Women. How can you think about what he'll be wearing? And frankly, what does it matter?"

I was happy. He could tease me all he wanted. "I'm not sure I'll recognize Carolyn. It's been a long time."

"I'm sure she'll recognize you." He put his finger under my chin. "Who can forget this face?"

"Keep your eyes on the road and your hands on the wheel." Still smiling at his compliment.

We were approaching the loop where the 405 and the 5 split, where it was typical to see a car with a confused driver zigzagging in and out of lanes like the tail of a kite in a hurricane. Today, the confused driver of a tan SUV swerved into
our
lane. Larry yanked the steering wheel to the right, without braking. We missed the SUV by inches and ended up in the emergency lane. The Ford truck behind us wasn't so lucky. It T-boned the SUV, sending it fishtailing against a two-door white car in the next lane. Metal to metal and crashing glass. All cars came to a stop in a squealing of brakes and an acrid cloud of smoke. It was over in minutes, yet from my passenger seat it felt like forever. Thank God our airbags didn't deploy. They did in the truck. I could see the airbags, but not the driver or any passenger.

Larry checked on me. "You okay?"

I nodded, shaky and searching for my voice.

"You're sure?" He sounded cool and in control, already dialing for help.

"Yes," I managed to whisper.

"Stay here. Don't leave the car. You may get hit by some onlooker. I'll go see if I can help."

I had no intention of leaving the car. At the moment of the near accident, I anchored my feet against the floor with all my strength, more as instinct than wise decision.

My left foot was killing me thanks to the open-toed sandals and the pressure I put on the toe. More vehicles pulled into the emergency lane. Curious witnesses began to pour onto the freeway. I looked at my watch. People may be injured, even dying, and I was concerned about getting to court on time, yet I couldn't feel bad about my train of thought. Kyle's wellbeing meant everything to me.

The Ford truck seemed to gather most of the attention. The first to respond was a motorcycle CHP. He parked his bike behind the Mercedes and didn't seem to notice me sitting inside. I watched him reach to his holster then talk into his phone. Checking in? He walked toward the truck, where the small crowd assembled. Larry stepped away to meet the highway patrolman. They spoke a few words and then went back to the Ford. Why all that commotion around the truck? Soon the rest of the emergency vehicles announced their arrival in an impromptu parade of lights and sounds.

It was 9:20 a.m., and I assumed Kyle was seated in court by now. Did I bring my mobile phone? Yes, thank God. There wasn't much for me to do from my premium seating except wait for Larry to come back with an update. The "telecopter" from KTLA5 circled the sky, more red robin than buzzard with that racy paint job and flashy lettering. The traffic was now getting channeled into the car-pool lane and, of course, every vehicle slowed down to ogle. I watched Larry shake hands with a paramedic—looked like the two of them knew each other— then Larry walked back to the car.

"I am so sorry." He sat in the driver's seat and rolled down the window. "I know how important it is for you to be there with Kyle. Unfortunately we need to stay put until one of the officers takes the report and the whole scene has been mapped out. It may take hours."

"It's okay. It couldn't be avoided." It wasn't okay. I fought the urge to scream my frustration for everyone to hear.

"If I knew which judge they are seeing I could get a message to Bonnie, but I don't know, and there are no phones in court."

"Really, Larry. It's okay," I lied. "By the way, why is everybody gathering around the truck? What's going on?"

He shook his head. "It's a very young couple. The woman is eight months pregnant. She's just a kid herself. A little thing, like you." He smiled at me, stroked my knee. "The airbag hit her hard, and she may be going into early labor. She's being shipped to the hospital, and the paramedics are treating the old man in the white car." We watched the ambulance lights go on, and the vehicle began to move. "We were lucky, and so was the son of a bitch who caused all this mess. It never fails that the culprit walks away unscathed." I saw the motorcycle cop coming in our direction.

"Here we go." Larry got out of the car.

The sun shone high in the sky by the time we started to move. My watch said 11:30 a.m. Kyle's fate was probably sealed, and I had no idea what happened, nor did I know why Larry looked so broody.

"Larry, is something bothering you?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. It's that Ruby. Slippery bitch, isn't she? I'm beginning to take this personally. She's playing games with you and therefore with me. I will find her."

"Can I help? I'm twice as fed up as you are. I thought she'd be hiding at Kyle's place, but instead she just dumped the Porsche there. Maybe the three of us can sit and explore possible hiding places."

"The three of us?"

"Yes, Kyle, you…"

His cell phone went off . "Oh, hi. Really?" He turned to look at me. "Don't know. Let me ask her. Lella, do you have your cell?" I nodded. "Bonnie says your son has been trying to get in touch with you, but you're not answering."

I searched my handbag and pulled out the phone. I pushed button after button, but it showed no sign of life. "I forgot to charge it." I sighed.

Larry held his cell by his ear. "Her phone isn't working. Wait, I'll put her on. She can talk to him." He handed me the phone.

I heard some background noises, cars going by, then Kyle's voice. "Mom?"

"Kyle, oh my God! How are you? Are you free? I'm so sorry I wasn't there, oh, Kyle—"

"It's okay, Mom, I heard about the accident. It's okay. I'm out. Carolyn is here. I'm going to have to wear one of those ankle monitors—Mom, where are you? Will I see you before we go?"

"Where are you going? We are on our way there."

"We're at this place called J.B.'s Court? A friend of Bonnie's owns the place. We grabbed something to eat while waiting for the car."

"What car?"

"Oh, Carolyn leased a car. I'll have to drive because she still has a few months to go on that DUI before she gets her license back. Anyway, we'll be leaving once the car gets here."

"Kyle, I need to see you. I know where that place is. We're on our way. Tell Carolyn she must wait, do you understand? I'm going to hang up because I'm using someone else's phone. Please, wait." Tears rolled down my cheeks, and I felt uncomfortable. The last thing I needed to do was get overemotional. I handed the phone back to Larry. I wanted to ask him if he heard about J.B.'s, but I wasn't sure I wouldn't end up sobbing. I kept my eyes focused straight ahead and my lips tight. Larry put his hand over mine, and we drove absorbed in a silence filled with emotions.

I rehearsed what I would say to Kyle. To make sure I didn't break down and cry, practicing was the best way. We arrived at J.B.'s grill. I recognized Bonnie's dark green Land Rover. Parked out on the street, bound to get noticed, was a beige sedan. Kyle stood by it, talking to an androgynous-looking individual. Carolyn! I had forgotten about her bony frame and angular features. With her hair cropped inches from the scalp, her lack of makeup and her dark pantsuit, she could easily pass for a man. Except for the outrageous, elaborate earrings she wore all the time. Today it was gold sea shells with black beads. Maybe it was intentional, to stand out in a male-dominated world? It seemed to work, judging by her success. Kyle wore a suit I had never seen on him before—Carolyn's idea? I remembered Kyle telling me she had a poster in her office stating, "Image is Everything."

Larry made a U-turn and parked next to the sedan. I couldn't wait. I jumped out of the Mercedes and landed on my left foot. Ouch! I didn't want my toe to become the subject of the conversation.

"Mom!" Kyle ran to hug me, looking surprised. I realized he didn't know I drove up with Larry.

I heard Carolyn in the background, "So, are you the cop?"

"Kyle, let me see you. You look great. How do you feel? Is it all over now? You don't have to go back there, do you?" Kyle was the same age as Nick when we first met. He looked so much like his dad. Why was I thinking about Nick?

"Mom, slow down. Too many questions. We can talk about that later. I want to tell you about the Italian reporter."

"What Italian reporter?"

"RAI TV, the Italian broadcasting system. They had a reporter in court, Pia Bartolomei. Cute girl." He had the same dreamy look on his face he had when he met Audrey. "All the way from New York. She's working on a special about first-generation Italians in America. That, plus Carolyn has a script for me, from an Italian director." Kyle spoke so fast and with so much enthusiasm, I had trouble taking it all in. "Mom, I'll need to practice Italian. I may go to Italy. Won't that be fun? I can visit my cousins and the home you were born in."