Red Hot Murder: An Angie Amalfi Mystery (7 page)

Angie rushed over to Doc’s house. She’d rather stay there than in the bungalow in case the tarantula was a family man. Not that she had a lot to be afraid of. From the common room, she’d phoned her doctor in San Francisco to ask about tarantula bites and learned they were highly painful, but not otherwise serious. Since she felt nothing, she hadn’t been bitten. Tarantulas would rather run than bite, and attacked only if provoked. By the time the doctor finished, she felt guilty that she’d killed it.

Since tarantulas were burrowing animals who lived in soil, to find one in a cabin was highly unusual. She had to talk to Paavo right away.

She expected to sit outside until Doc, Paavo, and Joaquin returned. She tried the doorbell, just in case. To her surprise, Doc answered. Haggard and drained, he looked as if he’d aged ten years since morning.

“Hi,” Angie said. “Is Paavo back? I thought I’d come and see how you fellows were doing. See if you needed any help.”

“He’s not back yet,” Doc said, wearily. “I’m going into town. You can wait here until Paavo returns.”

“To town?” The man looked ready to drop. Doctors, she’d heard, always made the worst patients. “Don’t you think you should rest?”

He shook his head. “Rest? Hell. The only rest I’ll ever take again is the eternal variety. No, I’ve got to be the one to tell Teresa. Ned would have wanted me to, though I don’t know how I’m going to do it.” He briefly covered his eyes then turned toward the door.

“Wait.” Angie’s heart wrenched at his misery. As much as she didn’t want to do it, she knew Doc was in no condition to go off alone. “I’ll go with you,” she said. “I’ll drive.”

“No need. As a doctor, I’ve had to do this type of thing many times, I’m sorry to say. Anyway, you never even met Ned.” Even as he firmly set his jaw, she could see a tremor in his lip and knew he wasn’t half so tough as he pretended.

“I know—but I’ve met you and Teresa, and I care about you both. This isn’t a time for you to be alone.”

Doc looked at her a long moment, then nodded, as if too tired and disheartened to argue.

And just maybe he truly didn’t want to be alone.

They decided to leave the SUV for Paavo when he returned, and to take Doc’s car, a 1980 black Cadillac Coupe de Ville parked in the garage. Angie had been expecting to drive the old Dodge Ram pickup parked near the stables. Doc, she decided, should meet her father, who owned, loved, and still drove a red 1969 Lincoln Towncar.

As she headed toward Jackpot, Angie quickly realized that Doc was a person much like her. When troubled, he sought out others, needing their warmth, their support, and conversation. She encouraged him, and the two soon formed a warm bond.

How ironic, she thought, that she understood this aspect of a relative stranger so much more than she did her own fiancé. Paavo, when upset, wanted nothing more than to be alone.

Doc told her all about Teresa’s family’s restaurant, which was named for her grandmother, Maritza Flores. He expected to find Teresa there working.

“So we have Teresa, Lupe, and Maritza Flores—daughter, mother, grandmother, right?” Angie asked, wanting to be sure she had the names and relationships correct.

“That’s it,” Doc confirmed.

Angie couldn’t help but note the fact that since Flores must have been Lupe’s maiden name, and Lupe and Teresa still used it, Lupe either was unmarried or had divorced and taken back her own name. Angie also thought she heard a little something extra—a lilt almost—whenever Doc said Lupe’s name.

Doc had explained how, as a young widow, Maritza Flores had opened her restaurant in a retired dining car on an empty lot. As it grew in popularity, Hal Edwards loaned her money to build a place in the heart of town. She did, and made the original railroad car part of the front façade.

Yet again, Angie noted, Hal Edwards’s name
came up. It seemed he touched everyone’s life in this town.

Soon, they reached the restaurant. Angie found that the old train made a distinctive décor. Inside, to the left and right of the entryway were remnants—counters and stools and appliances—of Maritza’s original restaurant. Pictures documenting its history covered open wall space, along with colorful Mexican blankets and pottery. Tucked into a corner above a carved wooden chest and high-backed chair were a painting of Our Lady of Guadalupe and a crucifix.

“This is odd,” Doc said.

“What is?” Angie asked.

“Maritza isn’t in her chair. She usually sits in that corner”—Doc indicated the spot where Angie had just been looking—“dressed all in black, with a black scarf over her white hair. She’s slowed down quite a bit lately, and I’m sorry to say her mind isn’t as sharp as it used to be, but she enjoys welcoming customers. Everyone knows Maritza.”

The hostess headed their way, smiling at Angie, but she froze as soon as she noticed Doc. Eyes wide, she hurried away.

Seconds later, an attractive, elegant woman in a tailored blue dress approached. Her long black hair was parted in the center, then braided and pinned to the nape of her neck. With wide dark eyes and olive skin, she bore a striking resemblance to Teresa.

Her anguished face met Doc’s, stemming the words from his lips. Angie knew he wouldn’t have to deliver the bad news. This woman had already heard of Ned’s death.

“Doc, I can’t believe it!” The woman’s voice broke. “I’m so sorry!”

“Lupe,” he whispered hoarsely as his tears brimmed. Angie had expected the two to give each other comforting hugs, but they held themselves ramrod straight. All comfort was given with their eyes, which—as Angie read them—spoke volumes.

“I …” Doc cleared his throat. “I came here to tell you and Teresa, but it seems you already know.”

“Yes.” She wiped her eyes with a tissue. “LaVerne learned about it from someone in the sheriff’s station. She rushed right over—she said it sounded as if someone killed him! Tell me it’s not true.”

“It may be,” was all Doc could reply.

Lupe looked stricken. “My God,” she whispered.

Doc quickly introduced Angie.

A couple of diners entered. “Welcome.” Lupe greeted them with a forced smile. “Your hostess will be right with you.” To Doc and Angie she said, “Follow me.”

As Lupe whisked them through the restaurant to the kitchen and the back rooms, she took Angie’s arm. She wasn’t tall and thin like her daughter, but closer to Angie’s height, and her figure slightly rounded. “Teresa told me about meeting you and Paavo yesterday. Thank you for being here with Doc. This hurts him more than he’ll let on because”—she glanced at him with such a mixture of warm affection and yet sadness it pierced Angie’s heart to see it—“he’s a tough, stubborn old bird.”

“I’ve already learned that,” Angie murmured.

Lupe glanced at her with somber eyes, then nodded. She led them to a small office space with a desk and four chairs.

“Where’s Teresa?” Doc asked.

“After she heard, she went home with her grandmother. I’m worried about her. So many strange things happened around her, and then to have Ned …” Lupe bit her lip to stop her words, her face fierce with unspoken anger and distress. “I thought about closing the restaurant, but realized you might come here—and you probably haven’t eaten all day.”

“He hasn’t eaten since breakfast,” Angie said, taking a seat near Doc.

“Food’s the last thing on my mind.” Doc shook his head. “Ned was so filled with hope, Lupe. I keep thinking about that. This past winter had been good for his business. He suddenly had money and hope that his problems with Teresa would work out. And now, it’s all gone.”

Lupe’s mouth tightened, but she said nothing.

“Do you think I should see her?” Doc asked, referring once more to Teresa.

“Yes, but only after you eat.” Lupe went to the office door. “I’ll bring you both plates. After that, we’ll go to my house together. I’ll call her and tell her you’re coming. Maybe you can give her something to help her sleep tonight. I think, otherwise, it will be very difficult.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Doc said.

Lupe had Carta Blanca beer and crisps sent to them as appetizers. The crisps were large flour tor
tillas baked with a topping of shredded cheese, mild chili strips, salt, and minced garlic.

Angie had eaten crisps before, but these were lighter, crisper, and spicier than any she’d had. She loved them.

Soon after, they received what Doc said was Maritza’s famous stew.

Much as she didn’t think she could eat, the stew practically melted in Angie’s mouth. No wonder this restaurant was so successful.

With each bite, she analyzed the ingredients. Chunks of pork had been slowly cooked with black beans, roughly chopped poblano and Anaheim peppers, onions, garlic, lime juice, tomato sauce, oregano, and zested with minced jalapeño peppers. The stew was served over rice and topped with shredded cheese, sour cream, black olives, and a piquant
salsa verde.

Delizioso!
And she didn’t care that the word was Italian—it applied.

As she ate, Paavo walked in. His gaze took in Angie, and then Doc to see how he was doing. Apparently, when Paavo and Joaquin found Doc’s house empty, it had taken Joaquin one phone call to locate him. While Joaquin returned home, Paavo went to Maritza’s.

Lupe greeted him warmly, and to his surprise, said she remembered him as a boy. A waitress soon brought him some stew. The way Paavo gulped it down, Angie knew she had to learn to make what would certainly become a Smith-Amalfi family favorite.

Lupe hovered near Doc as he ate, encouraging
him to take another bite. It was strange, Angie noted, how the two were drawn together as if by some magnetic force neither could do anything about and, at the same time, restrained.

Lupe wore no wedding ring, and Angie’s earlier speculation about her unmarried state appeared accurate. Which meant that Angie couldn’t imagine, since the two so obviously cared for each other, what was keeping them apart.

Maritza Flores opened the door of the ranch-style house. She had short white hair, onyx eyes, and a strongly sculpted, serene face despite a network of lines and creases. She leaned against a cane.

“
Buenas tardes,
Maritza,” said Doc.

“
Mi amigo.
Come in, everyone, please.” Maritza stretched out a gnarled hand to clasp Doc’s and led her guests into the living room. “My heart is filled with tears. I pray for Ned.”

“I know you do,” Doc said in a thick, sad voice.

“So much evil in this world.” She shook her head with a profound weariness.

Doc quickly introduced Paavo and Angie to her.

“I am happy to see friends of Doc,” Maritza said in greeting, then gazed intently at Paavo. “Paavo—I remember you when you were a boy. It was just a little while ago, I think. You would come here with the Finland man”—her eyes glistened—“and would play with Ned.”

“I’ll tell Aulis you remember him,” Paavo said
softly. Angie could see that he was touched by the woman’s words.

“Aulis, he love my stew! I still cook it … I think.” She rubbed her forehead as if distressed, then turned her soft gaze on Angie. “And your fiancée. Angie, welcome to my home. I’m sorry this is such a sad time.”

“As am I,” Angie said quietly, instantly responding to the warmth of the woman.

A voice called out, “Doc.”

Teresa stood in the doorway of the living room. She stared at Doc, oblivious of everyone else as tears rolled down her cheeks.

Doc crossed the room and took her in his arms. They held each other tight.

Lupe whispered that she would see her mother to bed and quietly walked Maritza from the room.

Only after Doc and Teresa separated and stood looking at each other, did Teresa seem to remember that Doc was not alone.

Angie and Paavo offered their condolences.

Teresa’s gaze deepened as she faced Paavo. “Is it true? Ned was murdered?”

“That was how it appeared.” His expression was grave. It wasn’t a statement he made lightly.

Her hands clenched. “You’re a homicide detective. Find who did this.”

“I will,” he promised.

“I’m just an old man,” Doc proclaimed. “But my new life’s work is justice for Ned. And Hal.”

“Yes, Hal.” Teresa shook her head as though to force away a memory, then sat beside Doc on the sofa.

Paavo and Angie sat on the love seat catty-corner to them. “You and Doc knew Ned better than anyone from what I understand,” Paavo said. “I have some questions if you’re up to them.”

“I am,” Teresa said, although the stiffness of her shoulders belied the words.

“First,” Paavo began, “do you have any idea who might have done this? Anyone Ned was having trouble with, or who’d threatened him?”

A beat passed before she answered. “No. No one. Ned was a good man, everyone liked him.”

Paavo simply nodded. He’d often complained to Angie how both murder victims and killers suddenly became saints when cops interviewed friends or relatives about them. “You heard that Ned died near the cave where Hal’s body was found. Do you have any idea why he would have gone there?”

“No.”

The answer came too fast. “He seemed to have a lot of interest in Hal Edwards’s death and the discovery of his body. Do you know why?”

She visibly flinched. “I have no idea.”

Paavo paused as Lupe reentered the room and took a seat in a corner.

Watching, Angie felt herself becoming more and more uneasy. Something was amiss about Teresa, but she couldn’t pinpoint it. There was grief, deep-welled, but also something else. Doc had told stories about possible attempts on her life. Now, a man—her lover—had been murdered. Was her nervousness caused by fear? Or was she hiding something?

Paavo continued. “Did Ned mention that he was going to meet anyone yesterday?”

“Only you and your fiancée,” she said.

Paavo’s questions continued about Ned being concerned or troubled about anything or anyone, about his business, his neighbors, his customers, who his friends were, who he spent time with. Financial problems. Addictions. Everything Paavo could think of. To all questions, Teresa gave monosyllabic answers. Doc cast her looks of concern, but said nothing beyond confirming her replies.

“Let’s go back to Hal Edwards,” Paavo said finally. “It could be a coincidence that Ned was killed near the spot where Hal’s body was found, but I doubt it. We need to look for a link. Do you agree?”

Instead of answering, Teresa turned quiet, as if she’d withdrawn to a faraway place.

“I think she’s had enough questions,” Lupe said.

“I’m very tired.” Teresa put a hand to her forehead. “Could we continue this tomorrow?”

Paavo pressed on. “What was your relationship with Hal Edwards?”

A haunted expression appeared fleetingly in Teresa’s eyes. “I used to work at the hacienda. Hal’s nephew, Lionel, was supposed to help him manage the guest ranch, but he’s … he didn’t do a good job.”

“When was that?” Paavo asked.

Teresa glanced quickly at her mother, then said, “I started working out there one or two days a week when I was only eighteen. It was fun, and it got me away from the restaurant.” She folded her
hands on her lap, lowering her eyes. “At the Guest Ranch I’d meet people from all over the country and have time to really talk with them, not just take their dinner orders.”

Lupe stood.

“You liked working there, then?” Paavo asked Teresa.

“Yes.” Teresa showed the first signs of enthusiasm since the start of the interview. “In time, I became the manager and oversaw modernizing the cabins and common room, even the kitchen. Hal was a generous employer, a generous man.”

“Teresa,” Lupe said, her tone firm.

Teresa stood, then Doc rose and put an arm around her back. “I think she’s had enough, Paavo.”

Paavo also got to his feet, but he had one last question. “Did you see Hal when he returned to Jackpot last winter?” he asked.

“No, she didn’t,” Lupe answered. “Doc, could you give Teresa something to help her sleep?”

As Lupe and Doc escorted Teresa from the living room, Angie and Paavo eyed each other, wondering about the bizarre way the interview had ended.

On the way back to their cabin, Angie told Paavo about her strange experience with the tarantula. Paavo’s understanding of the spiders was the same as her doctor’s. Lionel’s frightening words, on the other hand, made no sense, and Paavo soon fell into a brooding silence.

The silence continued in the cabin while he
showered and got ready for bed. Angie put on Paavo’s pajama top and climbed under the covers while he, wearing the bottoms, stood by the window, looking out at the night sky.

Finally, he spoke. “I think you should go back to San Francisco.”

She sat up and rolled back the pajama sleeves, her eyes flashing. She might usually wear satin and lace, but deep down—she’d never admit it aloud—she really did prefer flannel. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He sighed. “Listen, Angie. It could be dangerous here. I thought that at worst I’d find people bickering over an inheritance, nothing more. Instead, there have been two murders, break-ins, the local law is hostile, probably incompetent, and God only knows what else is boiling beneath the surface.”

“You need me here,” Angie insisted.

“So I have you to worry about?”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Really? Like the time a serial killer tracked you to Wings of an Angel restaurant? Or when I found you on a cliffside ready to fall into the ocean, trying to get away from a murderer? Or when that crazy so-called demon trapped you in the old church basement?”

She hadn’t joined him on this trip to argue. “If you’re going to bring that up, smarty, then what about the time I stopped a newspaper publisher from killing you, saved you from getting blown to kingdom come at the Legion of Honor, and even rescued you from a watery grave on the day of our
engagement party?” Then, she smiled. “But, things always worked out, didn’t they?”

He frowned. “Barely.”

“That was then; this is now. And Doc needs me.”

“He does?” Paavo sounded dubious.

“You know he wanted us here to watch these vultures—Clarissa, Joey, and Lionel. Ned’s death has only made it even more important. That’s why I’m going to help at the cookout.”

“Undercover Angie.”

She ran her hands over the blanket as she gave him a come-hither look. “Well … I am under the covers …”

He grinned and walked toward the bed.

“Besides,” she continued, “you know I’m good at finding out things. I’m staying.”

He sat beside her. “It could be dangerous.”

She put her arms around his neck. “Pooh.”

“How am I supposed to argue with ’pooh’?” he asked.

“You aren’t. Not with this, either.” She kissed him.

It was a long kiss, and when they ended their embrace, Paavo chuckled. “No fair.”

She grinned. “Ah, but all’s fair …”

“The last words many a man has heard as he’s gone like a lamb to the slaughter.”

“You may be many things, Paavo, but you’re no lamb. Now, tell me I’m staying.”

He tossed back the covers, stretched out beside her, and took her into his arms. “Baa.”