Stranger At My Door (A Murder In Texas) (19 page)

“You had it in your bag?”

“Yes.”

“Did you ever take your bag with the vials to Dinah’s?”

“No. Wait, maybe I did. Just once. I stopped by to see her on my way back from a ranch on the other side of town.”

“And?”

“Well, I took the bag into the house. I never leave it in my truck. Someone might see a medical kit on the front seat and break in.”

“Was it in your possession during the visit?”

“Really, Rafe? You think I keep it chained to my wrist?”

“Just tell me.”

“I suppose I set it down near the door. I don’t remember exactly, but that’s what I usually do.”

“Who was in the house?”

“Just Dinah and, uh Jamey was there, sort of. He was outside.”

“That’s it?”

“Well, that girl who stays with her. The pregnant one was there for a little while but she left. You don’t think Dinah or Jamey took the drugs, do you?”

“No. Just curious. Forget I asked.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Dinah’s phone wasn’t turned on. A tingle of worry—how was she coping with her momma’s death? —propelled Esme into her truck and set her in the direction of El Royo.

She barreled down the main street as fast as traffic allowed, steeling herself for the stares and indecent gestures that usually flicked her way, but no one seemed to notice her. A light turned red, and she ground the truck to a halt next to two cowpokes. They pulled the brims of their hats down and walked away. Amazement nearly froze her lungs, and she had to force her breath out. Was this Jamey’s doing?

Jamey. His eyes—the color of Spanish turquoise—held such love, she wanted to bottle it and carry it with her. Sometimes. Then there were the times she wanted to crush him and his damned feelings. What he wanted from her, she wasn’t giving.
She wasn’t.
So why was she obsessing over him?

It was the kiss. She’d kissed him the same way she kissed Brooke every night, but it hadn’t felt anything like kissing a child. His lips had been firm and a little rough, his chin scratchy when her cheek brushed against his face. But it was his scent—spicy and masculine—that made her mouth go dry and her heart beat wildly.

Pendejo.
The first man she’d kissed in all these years, and he’d turned her into a weak, mewling female. But it was more than that. She was falling for him, and it scared her. Not the emotional part – he’d proven his sincerity when he beat up that drunken Neanderthal.

But Jamey would want more than a goodnight kiss if she accepted him. Could she do it? Could she climb into bed with him? What if she remembered something about the rape and started to freak? What would Jamey think of her then?

Estupido.
He wouldn’t care. The problem was inside her, and it wasn’t what would happen if she didn’t like making love, it was what would happen if she did. If she moaned or begged, would it remind Jamey of those boys, and what they’d said about her? Would the shame come back…the pain of feeling like a cheap whore?

A car honked behind Esme. The light was green. She put aside her Jamey worries to concentrate on Dinah. Her mother was dead, maybe murdered. Dinah must be going through hell.

At the Pittman bungalow, a young cop waved her along. “I expect your brother won’t mind.”

The pregnant girl answered the door. “Yeah?”

“Is Dinah around?” Esme asked.

“She’s kinda busy.”

“Tell her it’s Esme Morales.”

“Morales? Like that cop?” The girl’s words dripped with distaste.

“Exactly like
that
cop,” Esme snapped. “Tell Miss Dinah I’m here to see her.”

“She’s busy.” The little
puta
tried to shut the door. Esme stuck her foot in the opening. Her gaze clashed with the girl’s. Sparks of anger flashed in their blue depths. Esme narrowed her eyes, daring the girl to slam the door in her face.

The slap of rubber sandals ricocheted against the kitchen floor, breaking the tension. Dinah’s voice sang out. “Who’s here?”

Esme called through the crack in the door. “Hey, Dinah. It’s Esme.”

The girl scowled and stepped back.

Dewy wisps of hair framed Dinah’s bruised face. Her old T-shirt and cut-offs were faded and damp. Scabs circled her wrists like bracelets. A strip of duct tape held one of her cheap flip-flops together. Her thin arms hugged a plastic clothesbasket. Dinah dropped it to hug Esme.

“I’m so glad you’re here, sweetie.”

“Me, too.”

The pregnant girl folded her arms across her chest and tapped her foot.

Esme disentangled herself from Dinah. “I came as soon as I heard about Miss Ginny. I’m so sorry.”

Dinah hung her head. “Did Rafe tell you?”

“He is worried about you, too,
carino
. I tried to call you but your cell is off.”

“Actually it drowned a little while ago.”

“Drowned?”

“Hollyn dropped it in a bucket of water when she washing the floor. Accidentally.”

Hollyn gasped, and her eyes blazed. “You said you’d keep it a secret!”

Dinah’s eyes narrowed. “I
said
I wouldn’t say a word to Rafe about it, and I won’t.”

“She’ll tell him.” Hollyn’s eyes burned into Esme. “And he’ll think I did it on purpose, but I didn’t.”

Dinah sighed. “Don’t you go telling on us, Miss Esme. Your brother is sure to raise a ruckus and frighten poor Hollyn half to death. She’s got a phobia about cops. I guess we both do.”

Esme studied the girl. Her eyes were shooting bullets at Dinah. Rafe’s questions earlier came back to her. Could Hollyn have stolen drugs from her medical kit and drugged Di?

Dinah leaned in and slipped her arms through Esme’s. The corners of her mouth pushed up into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Enough about my troubles. Come in and cheer us up. I heard Jamey beat up a drunken jerk for you. I want to hear every teeny tiny detail.” Her voice was forced brightness. Underneath was a layer of something darker, something that felt like despair to Esme.

“Is that the tall man who fixed your roof, Miss Dinah?” Hollyn was close behind them.

Dinah squeezed Esme’s hand. “You don’t mind if Hollyn joins us, do you? I don’t want her out of my sight until the baby comes.”

Yes, I do mind.

“Uh, actually, I was wondering if you had time to read my cards, Di. Privately.”

Dinah tilted her head and studied Esme. “Thought you didn’t hold with the cards.”

True. There was nothing wrong with Dinah’s memory. Esme had always disapproved of Miss Ginny’s side business. “I, uh, could use some clarification.”

“I don’t feel much like the cards today. How about tomorrow?”

“Please?”

Dinah’s mouth bunched as she considered Esme. Finally, she nodded and released Esme’s arm. “All right, if you’re sure it can’t wait. I can’t promise much, though.”

Hollyn’s gaze narrowed. “What about me?”

“I’m sorry, honey lamb. You’ll have to leave us awhile. But stay close to home. They haven’t caught the second guy.”

“You’re letting
her
run things.” Hollyn’s mouth hardened into a tight slash.

Dinah tilted her head and studied the girl. Then she sighed. “It’s just for a little bit. Please.”

Hollyn spun on her heels and stomped into the kitchen. She was the spryest pregnant lady Esme had ever laid eyes on.

Esme shuffled the cards and set the deck down with a decisive thump. Dinah scooped it up. She lifted her gaze to Esme. Grief flickered in her eyes before they dropped to the deck in her hand. “Let’s see if I can manage this today.”

She concentrated on laying each card down, slowly, carefully. Her body was stiff and still, as if she’d break if she moved too much.

Dinah flipped over the center card. An angel stood in a stream, holding two vessels, one of water, one of fire. Their contents flowed together and intertwined. Dinah touched the card. “It’s called Temperance.”

Esme nodded. “That’s me.”

Dinah looked up at her. “It does mean good health and moderation, true. But it’s also about combining forces, synthesis.”

She had a strong notion where Dinah was going with this, and she didn’t like it. She was not “synthesizing” with Jamey, and she wished people would just start minding their own business. But she didn’t want to unleash all that on her grieving friend. “Look, Di, I know what you’re thinking—”

“I’m not thinking, I’m reading. Isn’t that what you wanted?” Dinah flipped over the next card. “Immediate barriers.” An old man with a beard and lantern lay across Temperance. “This is a sign of introspection.”

“That’s good.” Not that she cared.

“Sometimes it is, and sometimes it isn’t.”

“I brought your tea, Miss Dinah.” Esme jumped. Hollyn had slipped back into the room. She stood by the table, examining the cards, two glasses of iced tea in her hands.

“I hope Miss Esme is having a good reading,” said Hollyn. She set down the glasses and pointed to the hermit. “What does that one mean?”

“Hollyn.” Dinah’s voice was sharp. “We’ve talked about this. When I’m doing readings, you must stay out of here.”

Hollyn’s eyes grew hard and glassy. “Sure, Miss Dinah.” She banged her hip against the table spraying tea onto the red cloth. Then she spun around and whisked herself away. “I’m going out.” The front door slammed behind her.

Dinah grimaced. “Shit. If she wanders off, she could be in danger again.”

“Maybe other arrangements should be made for her before things get out of control.”

Dinah shrugged. “She’ll go soon enough. Someone is interested in buying the house.” She focused on the cards again. Her fingers rubbed at the Hermit card. “Let see. Where were we? The Hermit. This is what’s holding you back from synthesis.”

Synthesis? Really? Irritation pricked Esme’s bubble of good nature. “This is
mierda
.” She reached her arm across the table and brushed all the cards off the table, nearly toppling a glass of tea with her elbow.

Dinah stared at her.

“I’ll pick them up later.”

“If it’s bullshit, why did you ask me to read for you?”

“I saw the picture of you and Rafe in the newspaper, and when I called Rafe, he said your momma had died. So I came here to be with you, but you have a sticky shadow. Are you sure you’re keeping an eye on her? It sure looks to me like it’s the other way around.”

“I don’t know.” Dinah’s face crumpled and dropped into her hands. “I’m such a mess.”

“It’s okay,
carino
. Maybe if you talk about your momma, you’ll feel better.”

Dinah raised her head. “I thought she ran away because she couldn’t take it anymore. Everyone did. And it made me glad because I thought at least she got out of here. I even wondered sometimes if she had the money. That would have been nice after all her troubles.”

Esme laid her hands on Dinah’s. They were cold. “I’m so sorry.”

“She’s been dead all these years. Probably buried out in the country near Mr. Gerry’s cabin. Rafe said they’re going to start digging today to see if they could find her body. I think all Daddy’s cohorts knew, because I said something to Teke about Momma maybe being in Paris, and he looked like he’d seen a ghost. I think he knew. And Mr. Lonnie must have known, too, and of course Mr. Gerry. How could they be so evil? They just dumped her body out there in the middle of bumfuck Egypt with no stone to mark her grave, no prayers, nothing. All alone.”

Esme was going to kill Rafe. No wonder she got
loco
. How could he dump Miss Ginny’s murder on Dinah and leave her alone to stew?

“Sorry to lay all this on you.”

Esme squeezed her hand, struggling to transfer her warmth into Dinah’s icy fingers. “Did Mr. Gerry kill her?”

“They can’t say for sure. Mr. Gerry said he didn’t know anything about it, and lots of people have been in and out of the cabin, so anyone could have left her things in there.”

“What did Rafe say?”

“They’re going to take the evidence to the prosecutor.” Dinah shook her head. “Damn varmints, all of them. They didn’t bury her with her shoes on, o-or her sweatshirt. What if she was cold when she died?”

“She’s in God’s hands now,
carino
.”

“I know.” Dinah studied her wrists. “I was in that cabin, all tied up, and Mr. Gerry was behind the cabin sharpening his knife. I thought I was going to die. It was horrible to imagine my death, but you know the worst part?”

“What’s that?”

“That he would kill me and bury my body, and no one would ever know what happened. No one would miss me and raise a fuss. Just…one minute I was in the world, and then I wasn’t, and no one noticed.”

“I would have raised a fuss.” Anger rolled through Esme. “Rafe should be horse-whipped. Leaving you alone in this state.”

Dinah sprang up from the table as if she’d been bitten by a rattler. “It’s not his fault.”

“It is his fault, and he should apologize to you.”

“Please don’t say anything to him.”

“Why not?”

Dinah sighed. “Oh, Esme, I’ve made such a mess of things with your brother.”

“How so?”

Dinah began to pace. “He loves me.”

“He told you that?”

“This morning.” Dinah made another loop of the living room.

How could Rafe be so insensitive? “Why would he tell you today? With the news of your momma coming and all. His timing stinks.”

“He told me now because I slept with him last night.”

“So what’s the problem? Don’t you love him?”

Dinah stopped. “Love is not the issue.”

“I don’t understand. You made love with a man, and he told you he loves you. What other issue is there?”

“Look at me, Esme. I’m a gnat in a fricking hailstorm. My momma is missing, probably murdered, I have a thieving cuss chasing me around for money I don’t have, I’m broke, my career is reading tarot cards at parties, and…and I don’t know what else. But it sucks. I suck. Don’t you think Rafe deserves better?”

Maybe. Still. “But you slept with him, so I assume you don’t exactly hate him.”

“I’m attracted to him. I admit it. Your brother is hot.”

Esme could see how Rafe and Dinah might suit each other. They’d be strong together. They’d keep each other on his or her toes, and they both needed that. It could be a good match.

She rose. “They’re going to find your momma’s body, and you’ll bury her properly. And Rafe is going to get that nasty, thieving kidnapper. You watch. Then you and Rafe will have a chance to work through things.”

“No.” Dinah shook her head. “When all those things happen, if those things happen, I’ll go back to L.A.”

“Why would you do that? All the people who love you are right here in El Royo.”

“I can’t live a normal life. I told Rafe that. I get panicky when a man tries to get too close. I’ll just end up ruining everything, and Rafe will get hurt again, and you’ll hate me, and Miss Peppie and Dr. Ernesto, too.”

“No,
carino
. We will not hate you. You have so much to give. Not just to Rafe, but to all of us. No one understands people better than you. Weren’t you going to be a psychologist and use your insights to help people? Why are you traipsing around California like a gypsy lady, living among people who don’t know you or care about you?”