Buried Secrets Can Be Murder: Charlie Parker Mysteries, Book #14 (The Charlie Parker Mysteries) (5 page)

“I doubt it. He’s out of state. Even if he were to show up here and fill out a few reams of forms, it would probably take weeks to get answers.”

I raised my eyebrows. “So . . . what next? Do you want me to sneak down there and break into their offices or something?” Not that I wouldn’t actually do it, but he declined the offer and slumped back to his office.

Chapter 5

My cell phone buzzed insistently and the readout told me it was Drake. I pushed my door closed for a little privacy in my office.

“Hey
hon
, how are the cows?” I asked.

“Better. Their little white faces sure looked happy to see that hay. But there’s bad news. A new storm is moving in this afternoon. By the time we finish dropping another batch of feed, it may be too late for me to get out of here tonight.”

 
“So, then you’ll be back tomorrow?”

“Well, that’s the thing. Depends on how much snow this new storm dumps. If it’s a lot, I’ll have to stay and keep these cattle fed for at least another day.”

I felt my spirits lag.

“I’ll do my best, hon.”

I knew he would. And how long could the storm last anyway? They usually blew through in a day. He would be back by Tuesday afternoon, in plenty of time to light the luminarias and snuggle in for a romantic Christmas Eve. I put some holiday cheer in my voice and told him to stay safe.

Across the hall I could hear that Ron was talking again on the phone, so I left him to it while I filed some paperwork and organized my own to-do list. I was trying to remember all the ingredients for mulled wine when he appeared at my door.

“Here’s what Mel Flores emailed me.” He held out a color photo on letter-sized paper. It was a different shot from the one used for the Missing Person poster we’d first received by fax. This was one of those department store ones where mothers take the kids for pictures but the photographer makes mom jump in and get included. I sent a puzzled glance his way.

“I thought she didn’t have kids.”

“The boys are Mel’s. “He said it was one of Rosa’s favorites because she adored his kids.”

That much was evident. Rosa cuddled with her two nephews, ages probably seven and ten-
ish
. They all had wide smiles. The little one, in particular, had a devilish little grin and I could so easily remember myself at that age.

“Keep it,” Ron said. “I printed a few copies. Maybe you’ll be out somewhere and see her.”

Yeah, right. Just accidentally. I stared at the face anyway, trying to memorize it.

* * *

The house felt hollow without Drake there. I let Freckles have the run of the back yard for a few minutes while I changed from office clothes to sweats and brewed myself a cup of tea. The photo of Rosa Flores lay on the dining table. I picked it up while the dog gobbled her dinner. What was this woman’s story? Even if she’d left home voluntarily why wouldn’t she touch base with her family at Christmas? Most likely Mel had glossed over the bitterness of their parting words.

For a minute, I frankly didn’t care. I sank into a corner of the sofa, giving myself over to pure selfish pity, fuming over the fact that it was nearly Christmas and Drake wasn’t home. Freckles sensed my mood and came over to nudge my leg with her nose. The spotted muzzle resting against my thigh, the huge brown eyes staring up at me . . . I couldn’t help smiling. Pet therapy is the best kind.

I ruffled her fuzzy neck and gave her a kiss on top of the head. She ran across the room and picked up a squeaky toy so I indulged her in a little tug of war until I felt all better. By eight-thirty I’d grown bored with the sitcoms on TV so I took a book with me to bed. At some point my eyes drifted shut and so did the book so I turned out the light.

In the dream I was in the mall, madly rushing around because I’d forgotten all about buying gifts this year. I flipped through some kids T-shirts on a rack but they all had the same logo; I couldn’t buy the same shirt for all three of Ron’s boys and I was getting frantic because something was telling me that I still had twenty-three more gifts to choose. The shirts scooted along the metal bar and I felt myself breaking out in a sweat. When I woke up it was only 12:36. I felt as if I’d just run two miles. I got up and put on a robe. Something about a cup of hot chocolate sounded like the answer.

I tiptoed past Freckles’ crate but she heard me and her ears perked up. She’d had four hours sleep and obviously felt ready to start a new day.

“Not so fast, you.” I handed her half of a biscuit and rummaged for the hot chocolate mix.

While the water heated I paced. Maybe I could count it as exercise and convince myself that I was tired enough to go back to sleep soon. I passed the dining table and stopped, electrified.

The photo of Rosa. One of the nephews was wearing the very same T-shirt from my dream. The logo was so distinctive that I couldn’t believe I hadn’t clicked to it sooner. I knew where this shirt came from because I’d bought an identical one for Ron’s middle son. It came from a small boutique chain of kid’s shops, The
Yurtle
Turtle. And their things weren’t cheap. If Rosa liked to shop there, it was possible that she might apply for a job with the local store when she’d come to Albuquerque.

It was a long shot. I looked at the clock again and debated calling Ron. He could be something of a night owl, but since Victoria had come into the picture I had a feeling they wouldn’t appreciate a call from little sis at one in the morning.

As it turned out he didn’t much appreciate it at eight either when I phoned from the office.

“Don’t you ever take a day off?” he grumbled. Clearly I’d interrupted a little morning delight. I thought of Drake and felt a stab of envy.

I told him about my T-shirt theory and that I’d like to follow up with the
Yurtle
Turtle chain.

“Fine, whatever,” he said. The line went dead.

“Okay. Fine. Whatever,” I muttered to my phone. Freckles raised her head from her comfy spot on my Oriental rug.

I looked up
Yurtle
Turtle online and found that they did, indeed, have branches all over the southwest. And although there was a store here in town, the website didn’t include any employee information. For that I decided to rely on good old-fashioned trickery.

I waited until the local store opened at nine and dialed the number. “Hi, is Rosa Flores in today?”

“No, she’s in Dallas all week,” said a female who sounded about twelve.

It was half the answer I wanted. Rosa obviously did work for the chain.

“Ooh, I really need to talk with her.”

“If it’s about something you bought here, any of us can help you.”

“No, it’s more of a personal matter. I’ve got a message from her brother in California.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t give out any employee information. You would need to call the Dallas branch on Preston Road.”

At least she was willing to share that phone number with me. I jotted it down and debated how to handle this. If Rosa was truly avoiding her family, saying that her brother was looking for her wouldn’t get me anywhere. And it seemed pretty brutal to deliver the news by phone that her sister was dying. I was still sitting at the desk, tapping my pen against the notepad when Ron walked in.

“Sorry I disturbed you guys this morning,” I said.

He growled and then softened it with a grin. “It’s okay.”

I told him what I’d found so far about Rosa and handed him my note with her work numbers on it.

“I seriously doubt that calling her and suggesting she ought to contact her family because of the holidays will carry any weight with her. If Rosa wanted to be home she would just go. As for her reasons for staying away so long, she’ll have to take that up with them,” he said.

“So, we tell Mel where she is, he can go out there and have that little heart-to-heart, right?”

“He won’t leave
Ivana’s
bedside. I already know that. Rosa has to come to her and it has to be soon.”

“Shouldn’t they call Rosa and let her know this? Give her a little preparation?”

“He wants me to do that. I need to see Rosa face to face, break the bad news and get her home.” He didn’t sound really thrilled about it.

“Looks like you’re going to Dallas.” Notice I didn’t volunteer for that task.

“Looks like.” He shuffled across the hall to his office. Twenty minutes later he was back in my doorway. “I’ve got a flight this afternoon. And I played hell getting two seats out tomorrow. You can’t believe how full the planes are this week.”

Well,
yeah
. That’s what holidays are all about. People travel.

“Good thing Mel agreed to cover all expenses. This can’t be cheap.”

He rolled his eyes. The last thing in the world he likes to do is get on a plane for a quick trip somewhere. But he’d accepted the job and there was no way I was doing it. I had plenty to do at home and legally I was still responsible for tracking Drake’s flight back home later today. I hadn’t heard from him yet and that was making me a little uneasy.

I handed Ron all the information I’d gathered on Rosa Flores and her workplace. He dashed out, telling me to call him if I learned anything new. I had no intention of devoting any more time to this case today, but I didn’t tell him that. I switched on the answering machine and escaped.

I had promised Victoria that I would meet her at the mall for a couple of last-minute gifts. She still hadn’t figured out a gift for Joey, Ron’s youngest, and in exchange for lunch out, I’d agreed to help her. And, we would hit the boutique stores and load up on designer stocking stuffers. I can’t quite describe how minute was my desire to be in the mall two days before Christmas, but I went along with the plan, swinging over to Menaul Boulevard and driving east and then spending fifteen minutes cruising until a parking slot opened up. I spotted Victoria in the bookstore, right in the kids book section, as planned.

We browsed awhile, until I spotted the newest title in Joey’s favorite vampire series. Victoria decided to get him the e-book reader and electronic version of the book. I knew he would love it.

Out in the mall, we pushed through the cluster of kids and parents waiting to see Santa, on our way to The Dog and Pony Pub. As with every space within a mile, the place was packed. We put our name on the list for a table and when I looked up from the hostess, someone’s waving arm caught my attention. Lisa Miscotti, a friend I’d known since our school days, was sitting alone at a table and she pointed to the empty chairs beside her and raised her brows in a “want to join me?” gesture. Since the hostess had informed us it would be a forty-five minute wait for a table, Lisa didn’t have to ask twice. We wound our way through the maze of shopping bags and chattering diners.

At the table I made quick introductions as Victoria and I took chairs.

“Pretty crazy, huh?” Lisa asked as we settled in.

“I normally wouldn’t be in the mall on a bet,” I said.

“She’s right,” Victoria added. “My fault. I begged.”

We laughed that off and quickly ordered sandwiches before our server could get very far away and forget about us.

“I would have been done with the shopping by ten this morning,” Lisa said, “but I got snagged into a mess at a neighbor’s house. Somebody called Child Protective Services on them because their kid showed up at a play date with a couple of bruises.”

“Oh my god, what happened?” Victoria asked.

“Well, I was there when they showed up at Annie’s door and she begged me to stay. They wanted to see all the children and they asked her a bunch of questions. She said little Robbie fell off a swing in the back yard. He had bandages on both knees. Really, I can’t think of a better, more diligent mom than Annie. It’s amazing how much trouble one phone call can cause.”

My parents were extremely lucky that there’d been little government oversight when I was a kid. I’d fallen out of every tree in the yard, poked myself in the eye more than once, and it was a wonder I’d never sliced off a finger with my little Girl Scout pocket knife.

“So, they went upstairs, then checked out the play equipment outside, and got the same version of it from the two little kids and I guess they finally believed Annie.” She dipped a shred of bread into the shallow bowl of olive oil that had appeared in front of us, popped it into her mouth, and chased it with a long swig of white wine.

“Who reported it in the first place?” I asked.

“They don’t tell you that. Annie guessed that the older daughter might have called them. She wasn’t even home when the accident happened. It’s a stepdaughter and at fifteen she’s in that hormonal stage that means nothing but trouble.” Lisa stopped with another hunk of bread in mid-dip. “You don’t have kids yet, do you Charlie?”

“No. No plans to.” That was beginning to look like a really good decision.

Lisa drained her wine and picked up her water glass. “Annie tries so hard with her but that girl is having a hard time adapting to the idea of a stepmother in the house. Her mom took off a few years ago and now there are two others to share the parents’ attention.”

Luckily, the arrival of our sandwiches ended that line of conversation.

Victoria stayed pretty quiet during the meal, I noticed. We found ourselves eating quickly so we could pay the check and free up the table for one of the dozens of people waiting to get in.

“So, do you think that’s what I’m in for?” she asked as we walked toward The Bath Shoppe. “It could get really intense if all three boys gang up on me.”

I brushed off the worry. “Totally different situation,” I said. “First off, their mother is still around. In Annie’s situation the girl is hurting because her own mom left. Plus, boys tend to take out their aggressions on other males, usually behind the school gym. Girls can’t help but being nasty to the nearest female authority figure. You’ll do fine with Ron’s boys.”