Murder in the Air (24 page)

Gillian tossed the phone onto the back seat of the car. “Ringo answered then hung up when he heard my voice.”

“Gillian, this is serious. We have to call Detective Molina and tell him the situation.”

The girl’s eyes filled with terror. “He’s a homicide detective! My sister’s not dead.” She whispered the last word.

Lydia placed a hand on the girl’s trembling shoulder. “Of course she’s not,” she said, hoping this w true, “but he was in charge of your grandfather’s case. He’ll know whom to contact.”

“I—I don’t know,” Gillian said, looking down at her lap. “I have no idea what to do now. I thought I’d go there and talk to Nicole, at least. Find out what’s going on.”

“You did your best for your sister,” Lydia said gently. “I think you came to me because you knew I’d suggest bringing in the authorities.”

Gillian nodded without lifting her head. “I guess,” she whispered.

“Would you like me to drive?” Lydia asked.

“No, I’ll be okay in a minute.”

When they reached Lydia’s house, Gillian refused to come inside. “You call him,” she said. “I trust you to tell him everything. I’ll be at home if he wants to talk to me.”

“All right, Gillian. I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”

*

Sol called Lydia back half an hour later, and listened without comment as she told him of her outing with Gillian. When she’d finished, he asked, “Are you up to grabbing a bite and catching an action movie?”

“Sure, but don’t you want to check out the cottage?”

He sighed. “Not really. Your report was pretty damn complete. Do you remember my colleague I brought along for the drug bust at Evelyn’s house? Jack Delaney?”

“Of course.”

“If you’ll remember, Jack’s in narcotics. I’ll give him a ring, tell him what you’ve discovered, and let him take it from there. Ringo’s a druggie, not a murderer.”

“What about Nicole? Her family’s frantic.”

“I’ll send a few men to scout out the area and talk to neighbors, though people in that part of town claim not to know anything. Can you be ready in half an hour?”

Lydia frowned as she hung up the phone. Sol’s response wasn’t what she’d hoped it would be. Why hadn’t he offered to go there himself? Take more of an interest? After all, this was Daniel’s granddaughter. Maybe Nicole’s disappearance had something to do his murder. Maybe Nicole—Lydia refused to finish that sentence, even in her mind. She had to believe that Nicole, while terrified and with her grubby boyfriend, was alive and well.

A furry head butted against her legs, jolting her from her musings. She filled Reggie’s plate and had no sooner set it on the floor when the phone rang. It was Evelyn.

“Lydia, I’m flying home tomorrow evening. Do you think you could pick me up at MacArthur at seven thirty?”

“Of course I can, but why are you cutting your visit short?”

“I need to be in my own home. And now that they’ve caught Daniel’s murderer and my attacker, I can rest assured I’ll be safe.” Evelyn tsk-tsked into the phone. “It just goes to show how you never know what lurks in a person’s heart. I never would have dreamed Stefano would harm either Daniel or me.”

Lydia bit back her doubts about Stefano being the murderer. Instead, she said, “And supposedly he committed atrocities during the Serbian-Bosnian fighting.”

“I suppose Denise put him up to it. Have they charged her yet?”

“I think they’re questioning her at this point,” Lydia said. “The police haven’t found any evidence to prove her complicity.”

“They’ll find it,” Evelyn said with fervor. “It’s just a matter of time. Have you spoken to Polly? She’s frantic with worry about Nicole’s taking off like that.”

“I really must call her,” Lydia said.

“That’s about it, dear. I have to go change my outfit. Gayle and Roger are taking me out for a farewell dinner, and I don’t want to keep them waiting.”

“One more thing,” Lydia said quickly. “Did Allen Holtstein happen to borrow money from Daniel?”

Evelyn let out a cynical laugh. “Several times, as I told the police. When Allen and Rochelle took me out for dinner, I told them I forgave him his debt. You never saw a happier fellow!”

“That was kind of you,” Lydia said.

“Actually, I was being realistic. I figured Allen would cry poverty and wouldn’t have repaid the loan, anyway. Besides,” Evelyn lowered her voice, “I feel sorry for them. Rochelle’s in the early stages of Alzheimer’s. She says the most outrageous things.”

Lydia hung up, relieved that the Holtsteins had no reason to kill Daniel. Then it dawned on her—Evelyn forgave Allen’s debt after she’d been struck on the head. It didn’t put him in the clear, but if it had been Allen, at least he wouldn’t come after her now.

Time for her to change outfits, too. Lydia slipped into black silk pants, a slinky top with a deep V neckline, and black strappy heels. She freshened her makeup in the bathroom, then stood back to admire her handiwork. Pretty sexy for a grandmother going on fifty-nine!

The phone rang and a male voice she didn’t recognize asked to speak to her.

“This is Lydia Krause,” she answered, puzzled. “What can I do for you?”

“Lydia, Tom Coltrane here. Of New Horizons Enterprises.”

She gave a start. New Horizon Enterprises owned Carrington House and several other catering establishments.

“Hello, Mr. Coltrane,” she responded with more warmth than she felt.

“It’s Tom, Lydia. I apologize for calling you on a Sunday evening when you’re probably dining with family, but we’ve a committee meeting Tuesday morning, and we need your answer by then as to whether or not you’ll take the position of overseeing the Carrington Suites.”

“Right,” she said slowly. “Tuesday’s the fifteenth.” How could she have forgotten? 2“I apologize for not getting back to you with my response. I’ve been deluged with—” She paused to think of a euphemism for her sleuthing. “Family issues,” she finished lamely.

“I’ll make no secret of the fact that we want you for the position. With your background and Len’s rousing commendation, you’re the woman to run the new Suites. Provided you want it, of course.”

And he was hoping she’d say yes then and there. Lydia frowned. It wasn’t like her to sit on the fence for this length of time, but she still hadn’t made up her mind. She plunged ahead.

“I’m still in the middle of a crisis here, but it should be resolved by Monday evening. Can I call you then with my answer?”

Tom Coltrane exhaled noisily. “You drive a hard bargain, Lydia, but I’ll abide by your answer.” He rattled off his cell phone number.

“I’ll call you tomorrow night,” she promised, and hung up.

Chapter Twenty-One

In the car, Sol told her that police officers were checking out the cottage and others were following up every lead in hopes of locating Nicole and Ringo.

“Now relax and enjoy the evening with me. For once I’m not in the middle of a case.”

“I intend to,” Lydia said, deciding that tonight wasn’t the time to mention the Holtsteins. “Where are we going?”

“I’m taking you to my favorite restaurant. I hope you like Thai cuisine.”

“I love it,” Lydia said, surprised by his choice. She’d assumed Sol was a meat and potatoes man.

“Thought you would.” Sol gave her a dazzling smile. “Everything’s freshly made. Their pad Thai’s outstanding, but I can’t resist their panang duck. Order it every time.”

They chatted about casual topics during the ten-minute ride. The restaurant was in a shopping center. It’s glamorous decor—golden masks, jadite figurines, and elephant-sequined wall hangings against a softly lit red wall—was a treat to her eyes.

The hostess, dressed in elegant Thai costume, greeted Sol by his first name.

“Lily, this is my good friend Lydia.”

Lily smiled. “Welcome to Thai Palace.”

She seated them at a corner table and brought a pair of chopsticks for Sol. “Would you like to eat with chopsticks, too?” she asked Lydia.

“Yes, please.”

When she looked up from the extensive menu, Lydia found Sol watching her with a bemused smile. “Admit you’re surprised.”

“What do you mean?” she demurred.

“That I like Thai food. Can eat with chopsticks. I also enjoy hockey games, the occasional Broadway show.” He gave her an impish grin. “I even read a hefty biography on occasion.”

Lydia felt her ears redden. “Well, we do seem to spend a good deal of time talking about homicide cases.”

“I love my work, but I’m more than a homicide detective, Lydia. Did you know I almost became a college professor?”

“You’re kidding!”

“I’d started my PhD in history, and then a good friend was murdered. I was angry, upset. I stopped going to classes. My parents finally sat me down. They told me I wasn’t helping Charlie by ruining my own career. I realized I wanted to find the guy who killed Charlie, not talk about international trade agreements and wars, so I quit school and joined the force.”

Lydia nodded. “Did they ever find your friend’s killer?”

“One of them. The other disappeared inside Mexico. A two-bit thug. I hope he got what he deserved in a bar fight or somewhere.”

Their appetizers arrived, and Lydia bit into a dumpling. It was heaven, as was the rest of the meal. Don, the chef-owner and Lily’s husband, emerged from the kitchen to meet Lydia and to ask if they’d enjoyed their food.

When they left, Lily hugged them both and said to come again soon.

“I feel like I’ve just met your family,” Lydia said once they were outside.

Sol laughed. “We’ll leave my mother and my brother and his family for another day.”

The movie theatre showing the action film was more than half empty. Lydia wasn’t surprised, as the film had come out two months before. But Sol probably didn’t have many opportunities to take time off to go to the movies.

They chose seats in the middle of a row towards the rear. Sol tossed their jackets on an empty chair then reached for her hand. Lydia suddenly felt like a demur girl of sixteen out with her new boyfriend. Sol squeezed her fingers. “I hope you like this film.”

She giggled. “So do I.”

“You get to choose next time.”

“Sounds fair to me.”

They watched the coming attractions. When the announcements not to talk, litter, or use cell phones came on, Lydia reached into her pocketbook to turn hers off.

“I have to leave mine on,” Sol said. “Just in case.”

“Don’t you ever get a minute entirely to yourself?”

“Only when I leave the country, which hasn’t been for seven years.”

The main feature appeared on the screen, and Lydia relaxed into her high-back seat to lose herself in fantasy. It was a story of a heist gone wrong, with a fair amount of humor and male bonding. Not what she would have chosen, but she enjoyed the plot’s twists and turns, and the lead actors were great to look at.

“Don’t you get enough of this stuff?” she whispered to Sol.

“It’s different when you’re not doing the chasing,” he answered, kissing her neck.

It was a peck, not meant to be erotic, but it sent chills and thrills to every part of her body. Lydia closed her eyes and smiled, anticipating how they’d be spending the last part of the evening. It was fun being in an adult man-woman relationship instead of having to endure the dating rituals she could barely remember from so many years before.

They drove back to Twin Lakes, laughing over silly things. As Sol pulled into her driveway, Lydia asked, “Are you coming in for a while?”

“Of course.”

They kissed deeply and passionately in the kitchen.

“Would you like something—coffee? Wine?”

“I want you,” Sol said, pulling her closer.

Lydia took his hand and led him to the bedroom. They undressed quickly and fell onto the bed, limbs entwined.

“I more than like you, Lydia Krause,” Sol murmured as he ran his hands down her body.

The phone rang. Beneath him, Lydia froze then stretched out her arm.

His lips on her ear whispered, “Leave it. Please.”

“I can’t. People only call this late when something’s wrong.” She scooted from beneath him and lifted the receiver. “Hello?”

“Lydia? It’s Gillian. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“You didn’t. What’s the matter?”

“Nicole called. She got away from Ringo and ran to the mall on Veteran’s Highway. I’d pick her up, but Mom’s watching me like a hawk. Nicole made me swear I wouldn’t tell her, so I can’t leave the house. And no police. She was emphatic about that.”

“I’ll get Nicole.” Lydia stood, ready to hang up.

“Thanks, Lydia.”

“Of course. Give me an hour, then call me on my cell phone.” She gave Gillian her number.

“Thanks so much, Lydia. I’ll tell Nicole you’re on your way.”

Lydia leaped from the bed and began dressing. Sol let out a gruff burst of laughter.

“I thought I was the cop here, who gets called out in the middle of the night.”

Beneath his joking tone, Lydia detected puzzlement and hurt. She hooked her bra, then met his gaze.

“Nicole managed to get away from Ringo. She called Gillian, but doesn’t want her parents involved. I’m going to get her.”

When he pulled his cell phone from his pants’ pocket, Lydia covered his hand. “Nicole doesn’t want the police brought in, but I’d like you to come with me.”

Sol opened his mouth in amazement. “Who’s calling the shots here?”

Lydia ran to her closet and pulled out her favorite jeans instead of stepping back into her good silk trousers.

“Nicole is. I’m the babysitter and taxi service. Are you coming with me?”

“You’re damn right I am!”

“Good! Then I hope you’ll drive. My night vision isn’t that great.”

Sol dressed quickly in silence. Lydia knew he was pissed, but she squelched her automatic response to assuage his ego with an apology. She had nothing to apologize for. But one slipped out anyway.

“I’m sorry for the interruption,” she said.

“Me, too,” Sol said, and she felt somewhat better when he bussed her cheek.

She stepped into her loafers, and threw a sweater over her shoulders, her mind rushing ahead to Nicole, hoping she was all right.
She’s fine! All we have to do is pick her up at the mall and bring her home to her distraught family.
Lydia told herself it was a good thing she didn’t work on Mondays or she’d be calling in for another personal day. Some personal day! All these events had nothing to do with her personally.