Patrice Greenwood - Wisteria Tearoom 03 - An Aria of Omens (23 page)

When Kris brought me her drafts of the two statements about Vi—both tastefully written—I offered to take the deposit to the bank. She looked truly grateful as she accepted.

“Is the phone going non-stop?” I asked.

“Pretty much, and I’m hoping we’ll hear from Sandra Usher.”

“Don’t expect it today. She’s probably just getting the news.”

Kris shrugged. “If she does call, I want to be available.”

I picked up the bank bag and my phone. “Any other errands while I’m out?”

“Not that I can think of.”

I fetched my purse from my suite and headed downstairs. Before going out I checked on the staff. They all seemed to be doing all right, though Julio looked tight-lipped and kind of tense. Iz was silent and rather stern, though she smiled when I greeted her.

Nat was ringing up a purchase for a customer when I looked into the gift shop. “Going out? Good. Don’t hurry back, we’re doing fine.”

That was the moment for me to say something teasing in return, but I couldn’t think of anything. I headed to my car, thankful that there were no emergencies.

The day was beautiful. Sunny but not too hot, with clouds creating some shade and promising a chance of more rain. My visit to the bank was uneventful. I was on my way back when I thought of Vi’s mother.

I was at a stop light. I gripped the wheel, wondering if I should run to the nearest florist and place an order. Then I knew that I had to do better than that. I wasn’t close to Rhonda, but I had been close to Vi. I owed Vi’s mother a personal visit.

Their house was on the southeast side of town. I turned my car around and headed that way, remembering the times I’d dropped Vi off there when she hadn’t driven to work. I stopped at a florist shop that I liked and picked out one of their ready-made arrangements, and drove on, trying to decide what I should say.

It wasn’t easy. I knew that Rhonda would be broken-hearted, and that whatever I said wouldn’t truly make it better. The only thing that would make her life better right now would be if it wasn’t true that Vi was dead.

But it was true. And Rhonda would be in terrible pain. And I couldn’t fix that. All I could do was let her know she wasn’t alone.

There were two cars in her driveway. I considered going away, but that would be cowardly. I was here, I had flowers. I didn’t have to stay long.

The house was an older one, stuccoed in the ubiquitous adobe brown that was seen all over Santa Fe. Walking up to the door with my offering held carefully before me, I couldn’t help thinking of Vi. Her laughter, and more recently her tears. The stress she’d been feeling, stress she didn’t want to burden her mother with.

A man answered the door.

“Is Rhonda awake?” I asked, offering him a polite way to refuse me. “I’m Ellen Rosings. Vi worked at my tearoom.”

“I’m Bill Southerton, Rhonda’s brother.”

“Ellen?” Rhonda’s voice, from inside the house.

Mr. Southerton—who had Rhonda’s coloring, I realized belatedly—opened the door to let me in. The house was quiet; no radio, no music.

Rhonda met me at the entrance to her living room. She looked haggard, which was no surprise. She stopped, her gaze fixed on the flowers in my hands.

“How did you know?”

“I heard from Detective Aragón. And I’m afraid the news stations have been speculating.”

She closed her eyes. I set the flowers down on an end table by a cream-colored sofa.

“I’m so sorry, Rhonda. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.”

She pulled herself together and looked at me with a feeble smile. “Thanks.”

I could tell she was on the edge of tears. I put a hand on her shoulder, just lightly, but it was enough. It was permission. She clung to me and cried, and I cried too.

We sat on the sofa and talked a little and held hands. I told her about Vi’s singing the shepherd-boy; Rhonda hadn’t been there that night.

Her brother came quietly in with a tray of coffee. I accepted some, and as soon as I had drunk it I rose to go, feeling I’d been there long enough. Rhonda thanked me for coming but didn’t ask me to stay.

I said goodbye, repeating my condolences and my offer of help. Rhonda’s brother saw me out, and at the door he quietly thanked me for stopping by.

“She’s still in shock,” he said.

I nodded. “I know what that’s like. You’re good to stay with her.”

I said goodbye and went back to my car, resolving to bring a casserole by in the next couple of days. And I’d write Rhonda a letter of condolence. That was pretty much all I could do.

I drove back to the tearoom, feeling pretty calm. Visiting Rhonda had done me good. I hoped it had done her a little good, too.

I parked and went in the back door, pausing to look into the kitchen. Julio was sitting at the break table, frowning at the floor. Ramon, rolling out dough for scones, looked up, glanced toward Julio, then looked back at me with eyes that silently asked for help.

I took a steadying breath, then walked over and sat across from Julio. He didn’t move at first. I just waited, and finally he slowly raised his head and met my gaze, dark eyes full of pain.

“Why?” he said in a thick voice.

“I don’t know.”

“Somebody killed her. Didn’t they?”

“I don’t know, Julio. Maybe.”

He closed his eyes and whispered something in Spanish. I didn’t quite catch it.

“Would you like me to take you home?” I said after a moment.

He didn’t answer. Just opened his eyes and stared off at nothing again.

“You’ve been working awfully hard, and this has been a shock. Why don’t you call it a day?”

He looked toward the work tables. “I have to finish the … the …”

I followed his gaze and saw what he’d been working on. Aria Cakes. His creation for Vi.

“I’ll finish this batch,” I said.

He dropped his face into his hands, but almost immediately straightened, wiping his cheeks. “No, I can do it.”

“May I help?”

He gave me a long look, then nodded. I stood.

“I’ll just take this upstairs,” I said, lifting the bank bag. “Be right back.”

I gave Kris the bag, left my purse in my suite and changed into comfortable shoes, then went back to the kitchen and put on an apron. Julio handed me the job of making the almond buttercream icing while he tended a pot of syrup on the stove. We worked in silence, assembling the long cakes, trimming and cutting them, and decorating them with toasted almond slices and the last of my candied violets. There weren’t quite enough of those, so we had to break into the commercial ones, which weren’t quite as delicate, to finish the batch.

Ramon put a tray of scones into the freezer just as Dee and Mick came in. From the look on Dee’s face, they’d heard the news. I asked them both to step into the butler’s pantry, not wanting to discuss Vi in front of Julio.

“Is it true?” Dee asked me. “Is it Vi? That’s what the news is saying, but—”

“The police haven’t announced it yet, but yes. Detective Aragón told me it’s been confirmed.”

Dee started crying. I offered to let her go home, but she shook her head.

“Why don’t you go upstairs for a few minutes,” I said. “Sit by the window. I’ll bring you some tea.”

She agreed, and headed upstairs escorted by her brother. I started a pot of tea, then checked with Rosa and Iz, who had everything under control, though they looked a little harried. I poked my head in the gift shop, where Nat was just saying goodbye to some customers.

“Shoo,” she said to me. “You don’t want to be up front. There’s a news van camped out on the street.”

“Crap.” I glanced toward the front windows, but the wisteria vines obscured the street. “You OK here for now? Dee just came in and she needs a little support.”

“Yes. Go.”

“I owe you a huge margarita, Nat.”

“Make it a Doña Tules.”

“Yikes.”

I went back to the kitchen, where Ramon met me at the door. “We’re going home,” he said, glancing toward Julio.

“OK. You driving?”

He nodded. He hadn’t known Vi—I was pretty sure he hadn’t even met her—but he was obviously concerned about his cousin.

“Thanks, Ramon. See you tomorrow.” I included Julio in that last. He looked tired, but nodded. I watched them get into Ramon’s car, then put together my tea tray and took it upstairs.

Dee and Mick were up front by the window, two blonde heads together as they talked quietly. I joined them, gave them tea, listened to what they knew and confirmed what I could. I was getting numb from having to support my staff, but they had taken up the slack when I was out of it the previous day, so I owed them. Mick was mostly concerned, but Dee was quite upset. She, Vi, and Iz had been my original servers.

“I’m sorry we missed the meeting,” Dee said.

“Yes—I wanted to have it early, because the news was talking about it.”

She nodded. “The radio said she might have fallen.”

I closed my eyes briefly. A fall from the ground level into the elevator pit probably wouldn’t have killed her. A fall from the top of the stage…

My mind flashed to the end of
Tosca
, when Tosca threw herself off the balcony. That moment had given me a stab of fear, and I now realized why: I knew that the height from the top of the stage to the ground level was dangerous. Usher must have had something to land on, but if Vi had fallen from that spot accidentally … or been pushed….

She wouldn’t have landed in the elevator pit, but if the B-lift had been down, that was a height of twenty feet or more. I began to wonder if she had fallen first, and then been placed in the pit.

I shook myself out of my reverie. These were thoughts I couldn’t share with Dee.

“We’ll have to wait for more information,” I said.

“Detective Aragón didn’t tell you?”

“No.”

Kris came out of her office. “Ellen? Got a minute?”

I glanced at Dee, who was looking somewhat calmer. “Will you excuse me?”

Dee nodded with a small smile. Mick took her hand as I stood.

When I stepped into Kris’s office, she handed me some message slips. “I’m going, but I’ll be in early tomorrow. I’ve forwarded the phone to your desk, if you don’t mind watching it until six.”

“OK. No word from Usher?”

She shook her head. “Channel seven is pushing hard for an interview. I told them absolutely not today.”

“Let me guess. They’re the ones camped out front.”

“Are they? I’m not surprised. I gave them the non-committal statement, but they’re going to want more.”

I sighed. “As soon as the police confirm Vi’s identity, give out the second statement.”

“Will do. Have a peaceful night.”

She left, and I went back to Dee and Mick, who were now sufficiently composed to go to work. I went downstairs with them to double-check that everyone else was all right (Iz stoutly refused to go home early), then returned to my office to work on my messages.

The stack Kris had handed me included a confirmation of the massage reservation that Nat had made for me, and the first three calls of condolence. I sighed, knowing there would be many more. I couldn’t face talking on the phone about Vi, so I set them aside.

I monitored the phone calls. If Sandra Usher called, I’d pick up, but everyone else was getting voicemail, thank you. I had reason to be glad of this decision when I noted the first of several calls from news media.

The day crawled to a close. Iz and Rosa went home, then Nat, and finally Dee and Mick.

I was long past weary. I changed out of my dress and into some comfy clothes, and went to my kitchenette. In the fridge: yesterday’s sandwiches and fruit. I decided I’d rather cook.

Chicken and risotto would be good. The risotto would take a little while, but I actually liked stirring it and watching it come together. And, my favorite recipe required some white wine, so I’d have to open a bottle. Gee whiz.

I poured myself a glass of sauvignon blanc, started some chicken defrosting in the microwave, and put some broth on the stove to warm up. I didn’t have a whole lot of supplies in the kitchenette, but there were onions and some slightly tired spinach that would be OK braised in butter. While the onions were sautéing, I went out into the hall and peeked out through the sheers over the front window.

The news van was still parked at the curb.

I went back to the stove and got the risotto started, wondering why they were bothering. They should be camped at the Opera, not here.

I heard muffled strains of Mozart: my phone. Still in my purse from earlier. I dug it out and saw that the call was from Gina. I answered as I headed back to the stove.

“Hi, girlfriend,” I said.

“Dude, you’re on the news!”

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