Weddings Can Be Murder (29 page)

Even that part of it became super simple
when we agreed what we wanted most were the green chile chicken
enchiladas at Pedro’s. The three of us were in the car before you
could say margarita. As with her predecessor, Freckles knew exactly
where she would be allowed—quietly sitting on the floor in the
corner behind our favorite table. I pacified her with a couple of
tortilla chips from the basket Pedro immediately brought.

While he blended our margaritas I filled
Drake in on some of the news of the day. As usual, he listened,
nodded, didn’t offer much opinion. The door opened and I caught
sight of Kent Taylor, along with two men I didn’t know, both
younger, both wearing suits and ties. Had to be from out of
town—Pedro’s clientele is generally way more casual.

Pedro brought our plates just then and I saw
one of Taylor’s companions eyeing the steaming concoction of
tortillas, chicken, cheese and green chile. Kent noticed and
steered the strangers to a table across the room. The men had
federal agent
written all over them—okay, not literally—and
I mentioned it to Drake.

“FBI, ATF?” Drake asked after he’d taken his
first few bites and decided he better slow down.

“I guess they’re somehow becoming involved
in Victoria’s case. Taylor said something earlier and I couldn’t
figure out how it related.”

“But I bet you’ll figure out a way to drop
by that table in awhile and see what you can learn.”

He knows me so well. I ate the rest of my
dinner, trying to work up an excuse to do just that. As it turned
out, the men ordered and ate quickly and were making moves to leave
before I’d drained the last of my margarita. Kent Taylor walked
over to us while the others went to the bar and pulled out cash to
cover their tab.

“Okay, I can see your little wheels turning
in there, Charlie,” he said, dropping his voice to barely above a
whisper.

I perked up, certain he was going to fill me
in.

“Huh-uh. These are the big boys, Charlie,
and you’re staying out of it.”

Well,
that
stung like crazy. I
watched them walk out, but I most certainly wasn’t going to forget
about this.

Chapter 30

“Hon, are you familiar with the phrase ‘drop
it’?” Drake was driving while I sat in the passenger seat stewing
over Taylor’s comment. “The authorities have it. They’re closing in
on the guy and the danger to Victoria will soon be over. Relax and
leave it alone.”

He was right, of course. And in due time,
after a restless night, I came to agree. Let the law deal with the
criminals. If Al Proletti hadn’t already headed back to Florida,
the agents here would find and nab him. We all needed to simply put
this behind us.

With first the hubbub over the wedding,
followed by the horror of the past week, I’d done nothing toward
being ready for Christmas. The idea of shopping held little appeal
for me, but I knew it was one of Victoria’s favorite activities.
Now she was on her feet again, somewhat, maybe a short jaunt or
lunch out would cheer her up. I stopped by their house at ten the
following morning and proposed the idea.

“No long walks,” Ron said. “No carrying
packages, not much time out in the cold.” The man was such a bright
spot in anyone’s day.

“Okay, then, a girl’s day out at the spa. We
can’t possibly strain anything in a steam room or lying on massage
tables, right? My Christmas gift to you,” I told Victoria, feeling
very righteous that I could cross one item off my shopping
list.

I called the day spa at the country club—one
of those privileges we get because of the neighborhood where we
live. You’d think the holidays would be booked solidly but we had
apparently picked the right day of the week. The lady said their
real slam would happen right after Christmas when all the ladies
called to use their gift certificates.

“It’s settled then. Warm and cozy, not
straining anything at all.”

Despite her injuries, Victoria managed to
look adorable when she emerged from her bedroom wearing skinny
jeans and a fluffy sweater. A silk scarf—perfectly color
coordinated with the sweater—made a fashionable arm sling, while
her snow boots cushioned her tender toes in comfort. They managed
to be just the right thing, even though there was not a flake in
the forecast.

The drive went quickly and the country club
staff was super-courteous. I had mentioned our guest was the lady
whose picture had been on the news recently and in light of her
ordeal she was looking for total seclusion for the day. Carmina,
the day-spa manager, put on her most professional manner and led us
to the changing room, provided us with towels about a foot thick
and white fluffy robes that felt as if they’d been made from the
down of baby ducks.

Victoria’s wounds couldn’t take immersion in
water so we wrapped ourselves in our towels for our first stop—the
steam room, where we stretched out on teak benches strategically
placed below the level of the cloud which hovered near the
ceiling.

“I can’t tell you how good this feels,” she
said, laying her head down on a folded towel and closing her eyes.
“Ron is such a love, but he’s about to smother me.”

I couldn’t exactly picture my brother being
a love or an attentive smotherer, but I learned awhile back I don’t
have the same viewpoint of him as she does.

“Enjoy it while you can. It won’t be long
before he’s sitting in front of a football game on TV and wondering
where his dinner is.”

She chuckled. “I know. And I don’t mind at
all. It’s taken me this long to be ready for those things in my
life. Now I am. Plus, he’s really sweet to me, not to mention being
handy around the house. He’d surprise you.”

Color me surprised already. I deftly turned
the conversation toward the subject that continued to nag at me, no
matter how much I intended to forget it.

“Drake and I ran into Kent Taylor over at
Pedro’s last night. There were a couple of very official-looking
suit-and-tie types with him.”

I sensed her looking at me now. “And you
want to know if they’ve talked to me.”

“No—no I want this day to be about
relaxation for you.”

She actually laughed out loud. “Charlie, I
know you better than that. You’re a dog with a bone and you want to
know if they were able to wrap up the case.”

“Well … yeah, I suppose so.”

An indulgent smile. “Yes, the two men are
with the FBI. Darren Montenegro is with the local office here. The
younger one is Phillip Applin and he’s from Washington.” She
shifted slightly on the bench. “Special Agent Applin says there’s a
new director of his division and this new boss wants to clear up a
lot of old cases. One of those old cases involves Albert
Proletti.”

Her voice went a little quiet.

“How do you feel about that, knowing they
are after him again?”

A long sigh. “Well, if I’d known him as a
father and had ever been close to him I might be conflicted about
talking to the police. But he’s a stranger to me. Our one
introduction wasn’t pleasant so I can’t really side with him. Not
to mention the things we learned from Mom’s notebook and what we
heard on the tape.”

“True.”

“Mainly, they didn’t yet know the connection
between my mother and Juliette who wrote the notebook. I told them
what we’d discovered in the family Bible.”

“That was it?” Hardly seemed like enough to
bring a federal agent out from the east coast. I supposed the real
target was Proletti, though, bringing him in with or without the
supporting evidence the green box provided.

“I’m not sure why Phillip Applin is so
enthused about the case,” Victoria said. “I mean, he’s way too
young to have been with the FBI back in the ’70s or early ’80s. It
turns out his boss, Gilbert Ahern, was the one who originally
investigated the drug charges that sent Al Proletti to prison. I
got the impression Phil is out to do a stellar job to impress the
boss.”

“I wonder if the same team was looking into
the murder we heard described on the tape?”

She didn’t answer right away and a moment
later the attendant tapped at the door, warning us we’d had plenty
of steam. The next step was a cold-water plunge for me and a cold
shower for Vic, her bandaged areas wrapped in plastic. I enjoyed
the cold for about one-point-three seconds before I roared up out
of there in shock. The attendant met me with my comfy robe and all
was well again.

Stepping into a room with a small rock-lined
pond and a waterfall cascading from twenty feet above, I stretched
out on the curved chaise next to Vic’s and we stared, in stupor, at
the water and lush greenery all around us.

“I might be able to get used to this,” I
said, knowing full well that these little luxuries were always few
and far between for me. I normally have one eye on work and the
other on Drake and his helicopter business at all times. I’m not a
good relaxer. On the other hand, maybe I should learn to be.

I noticed Vic had become quiet, but not in a
relaxed way. Something was still bothering her.

“Okay, give,” I said.

“Well, this morning … there was more.” She
adjusted the turban over her hair and shifted her gaze to me. “The
three agents were talking to each other. I’d gone into the bathroom
and Ron was in the kitchen getting coffee refills. As I came down
the hall I heard them talking about really wanting to pin Proletti
on some old murder charges. I immediately thought about the tape we
listened to.”

I glanced around to be sure the attendants
were nowhere nearby. We were alone, and the splashing water worked
effectively to muffle conversation.

“Where Proletti basically admitted he’d
buried a body in concrete.”

“Right,” she said. “The agents sounded
happy, I mean, practically gleeful to have that tape in their
possession. The DC guy said his boss told him they’d never catch
Proletti because he was always sneaky and very careful not to get
caught.”

“Well, it seems like he was.” Going to
prison on drug charges was far less serious than for a cold-blooded
murder.

“I kept thinking of the way the notes tie
together with the tape, how my mother had been visited by some
local lawman, a deputy I think. I really got the feeling she was
suspicious of this lawman, that she didn’t fully trust him.”

“I saw his name—something like Reddick?
Maybe I skimmed over that part too quickly and didn’t catch her
underlying feelings.”

“Or maybe I just imagined it. She didn’t
really spell it out, whatever she didn’t like about him.” She
adjusted her robe and sat up straighter. “There was more. Agent
Applin played the tape again. There were actually two phone calls
on it. We had shut it off after we thought Proletti left the room …
well, he came back and the tape started up again.”

Proof that Ron’s guess was right—the machine
had been sound activated.

“What was the second call about?”

“He doesn’t address the person he phoned by
name, so it was obviously someone who would know his voice. I don’t
remember the conversation word for word but it was along the lines
of, ‘You better see that no one comes around causing trouble for me
on this.’ Money must have changed hands because he refers to
‘making it well worth your while’ and ‘you owe me’—things like
that.”

I mulled that over. “Did the FBI men know
who he was talking to?”

“If they knew, they didn’t say so to me, but
I gather they didn’t. They asked me if I knew anything about it. Of
course I didn’t.”

If she’d interpreted her mother’s notes
correctly, I suspected the other person on the line would have been
this deputy, Reddick. If that was the case, the deputy could very
well be back in Florida waiting for Al Proletti to be returned to
the state, although it seemed hard to believe he would take the
chance that Proletti wouldn’t implicate him with the FBI and take
them both down.

Then again, I didn’t know any of the players
in this game and had no idea what the situation on the east coast
was. It could be that Reddick had died of old age in the
thirty-plus years since these calls took place.

I chided myself for getting involved at all.
When our spa attendant came back, informing us that our masseuses
were ready, I gladly dumped the whole subject of criminals and
evidence and gave myself over to the pleasure of warm scented oil
rubbed into my skin, my muscles fully relaxing. Judging by the soft
breathing from the other table in the room, I guessed Victoria felt
the same.

All too soon we were back in the dressing
room, sipping cool water from crystalline plastic cups.

“I think I’ll ask Ron out on a date
tonight,” she said, finding her clothes and heading for one of the
little cubicles to change. “Both of us could use a break from
hanging around the house and feeling worried all the time.”

“Sounds like a great idea.” I dressed
quickly and hoped her nonchalant attitude would carry her through
the coming days.

With Al Proletti still on the loose, it
worried me that he might confront her again. The thing to do would
be to immediately tell him the FBI had all the evidence and law
enforcement were keeping a close eye on her. Maybe that news would
send him scurrying back to Florida if he hadn’t already gone.

I rested easier that night, assuming the FBI
men had gone back to their own territory and Al Proletti most
likely was on his way back to Florida—I mean, who watches a
mobster’s business when he’s not around? He can’t turn important
decisions over to just anyone, right? When you think of it,
mobsters really must lead a restricted life, unable to travel
freely if there are wanted posters out with their faces on them,
stuck with a defined territory, afraid of both the law and the
hierarchy of their mobster bosses. It was probably a fluke that he
could break away long enough to confront Victoria and then search
her house. The more I thought about it the more confident I felt
that he’d left New Mexico days ago. By the next morning I learned I
was wrong on nearly all counts.