Spanish Dagger Page 9

  “Of course not,” I said gruffly. “It’s not wrong at all.” Love has to be based on intimacy. It’s impossible to trust somebody you don’t know, or be intimate with a man who keeps himself totally private and out of reach. And not knowing the truth about somebody you’ve let into your life can put you in danger. But things were bad enough already. I didn’t want to go there. “His parents,” I said. “Did he ever mention his parents?”

  “They’re both dead, I know that much. He didn’t have any brothers or sisters. There’s nobody left in his family. At least that’s what he said.” Ruby got up and found a box of tissues on the counter and sat down again.

  “How about his ex-wife?” Ruby knew he’d been married. She had mentioned it to me once.

  “She was a nurse, or maybe a doctor’s receptionist—something like that. They didn’t have any children.” She took out a tissue and a purple silk scarf came with it. “Oh, hell,” she muttered. “Another one.” She folded the scarf and put it down on the only clean spot on the table. “Or if they did have kids,” she added disconsolately, “he didn’t tell me.” She blew her nose on the tissue.

  I thought of the note I’d found under the pot in Colin’s backyard. “What was his wife’s name?”

  “I don’t know.” She blew her nose. “I don’t know where she is, either. He said they didn’t keep in touch.”

  I took a breath. It was probably time to tell her. “I don’t suppose he mentioned what he did before he came to Pecan Springs?”

  She shook her head mutely. Her lips were trembling.

  Another breath. “Then I’ll tell you what Sheila and McQuaid told me,” I said, and related the story of Dan Reid, ex-cop, ex-con, ex-mystery. I didn’t try to transform him into a hero, but as I talked, Ruby’s mouth stopped trembling, her shoulders straightened, and she became calmer. The story was allowing her to redefine him as a hero—a mythic definition, certainly, without any basis in provable fact. But I couldn’t object as long as it brought her some comfort, as long as it gave her a way of explaining what seemed so terribly inexplicable.

  “So he was in undercover narcotics,” she breathed eagerly, when I finished. “That’s why he wouldn’t talk to me about his past. He couldn’t!” Her eyes widened as she took the idea a step further, down the same dark path I had gone. “Maybe he was undercover for the FBI, or for one of those drug task forces!” And then one more step. “Do you suppose he was killed by one of the cops who went to prison? To get even, I mean.”

  “It’s possible.” I told her what McQuaid had said. “Cops who rat out their fellow cops make good targets.”

  “But I thought there was a witness protection program,” she protested.

  “He wasn’t a witness,” I said. “At most, he was an informant. Witnesses testify in public, so everybody knows who they are. That’s what puts them in danger.” But I knew that Sheila would check with the U.S. Marshals Service in San Antonio, where the Western District has its office. The marshals run WITSEC, the Witness Security Program. If Colin had been under their protection, she would find out. And in the process she might also find out the truth of what had happened in Dallas.

  I got on with it. “What about the people Colin hung out with in Pecan Springs, Ruby? He owned a business—he must have had friends, associates, maybe even a partner. Who were they?”

  She lifted her shoulders and let them drop. Her voice was flat. “No partner, at least none that I’m aware of. He knew the people who have businesses on the square, and he went to the Chamber of Commerce meetings. He had suppliers, of course, and customers. There must be a mailing list somewhere. Oh, and a college student who worked part-time in the shop.” Her mouth twisted wryly. “But he always said he preferred being a loner. That way, he’d know who he could trust.”

  I wondered briefly how in the world Ruby had managed to stay connected to this man for the five or six months the relationship—such as it was—had lasted. But down deep, I knew the answer to that: Colin’s remoteness had probably been part of the initial attraction. That’s happened to me. Mystery makes some men seem dangerous, sexy, alluring. But somebody had known him, at least well enough to leave that note. “Was he acquainted with anybody whose name begins with the letter L?”

  Ruby frowned. “L? What makes you ask that?”

  “Ramona?” The kitchen door opened, and Doris shuffled into the room, clutching the fuzzy pink blanket under her chin like a child. “Ramona, where is Ruby? Somebody has to tell her about the car. Some horrible woman stole my car yesterday and locked herself into it. The police had to come and—”

  Ruby got up and put her arm around her mother’s narrow shoulders and turned her back toward the door. “You can stop worrying about the car, Mom,” she said comfortingly. “It’s all taken care of. Let’s go back and lie down. Remember what the doctor said? You need lots of rest, especially with our big move coming up tomorrow.” She was speaking in the artificially cheerful tone that people use to invalids and small children. “It’s going to be a big day, remember? You’re getting a brand-new apartment! Won’t that be fun? And somebody will be there to help you out and make sure you get your medicine.”

  Doris scowled. “I can’t understand what’s keeping Ruby. That girl never does what she promises. She said she would bring me some chocolates and—” The door swung closed behind the two of them, cutting off her petulant complaint.

  I sat for a few minutes, finished my coffee, and rinsed out my cup in the sink. A team of hardworking ants was diligently transporting a treasure trove of bread crumbs across the counter, skirting a puddle of chocolate-chip ice cream that had melted and solidified. I turned around as Ruby came back into the room, pulling off her Scrunchy and running her fingers through her loosened hair. She looked very tired.

  “What about Grammy?” I asked. “Does she know what’s going on here?”

  Ruby frowned. “Grammy has been in Dallas for the past month, with Ramona. She and Mother don’t get along, you know, and she said she needed to get away. Maybe she saw what was happening and felt she couldn’t cope. She’s eighty-five.” She gave me a harried look. “What about Colin’s arrangements, China? You see how things are here. I can’t go back to Pecan Springs until Ramona comes. And maybe not even then, depending on—”

  “Don’t worry about coming back right away,” I said comfortingly. “Missy can help. We’ll manage.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Stop worrying. The autopsy report won’t be back until Monday or Tuesday, and they won’t release the body until the middle of the week. I—”

  I broke off, feeling like a jerk. I shouldn’t have mentioned the words autopsy or body. Ruby’s eyes were glazing with tears.

  “I tried to stop loving him,” she said, half gulping the words. She stood in front of the window over the sink, looking out at the pretty green courtyard beyond, where a pair of elderly people, a man and a woman, progressed slowly along a sidewalk. The man, gray-faced and frail, was hunched over an aluminum walker. The woman had her hand on his shoulder, guiding him with a loving touch. “It’s been hard, but I did, mostly. I’ve been forcing myself to get used to the idea that Colin and I weren’t going to grow old together, like that couple out there.” She shook her head sadly. “Now I really have to do it. Get used to it, I mean. Get a life without him. He’s gone for good now, and there’s no tomorrow. Not for us. Not even for him.” The tears spilled out of her eyes and ran down her cheeks.

  “You’re strong,” I said. “This thing with your mom is awful. Colin’s death is even worse. But you’re the strongest person I know, Ruby. You’ll make it. You’ll be okay.”

  I wasn’t just saying this to make her feel better. Ruby might temporarily lose her bearings, especially when her heart is involved, but she’s a whole lot tougher than she looks. She has survived a philandering husband, an ugly divorce, and the unexpected reappearance of the daughter she had given up for adoption. She survived breast cancer. She’ll survive this—not without pain, not w
ithout scars, but she’ll survive.

  She took another tissue, wiped her eyes, and blew her nose. “Lucita,” she said, and threw the tissue into the trash.

  I frowned. “Lucita?”

  Her voice was harder, and there was an edge to it. “You were asking whether Colin knew somebody whose name begins with an L. Yes, he did. He knew a woman named Lucita.”

  “Ah,” I said.

  Ruby pulled a paper towel off the roll, and when she did, the whole roll came down and bounced across the floor. I went to pick it up and saw, sticking out of one end, a green and white scarf. Wordlessly, I folded it and put it with the purple scarf.

  Ruby rolled her eyes and used the towel to attack the ants trekking across the counter. “A month or so ago, I was in Colin’s shop. He was out back, checking in a UPS delivery, and I was watching the counter for him. A woman phoned. She said her name was Lucita.” Ruby’s mouth tightened and her eyes held a hurt look. “She sounded like she knew him pretty well. And she was really urgent about talking to him.”

  Poor Ruby. Jealousy is a sword. But who hasn’t been pierced by it? Who could blame her? “Did she say what she wanted?”

  Ruby took down another towel, wet it, and went after the remaining ants, then after the patch of solidified ice cream, scrubbing with a vengeance. “She just kept saying that she had to talk to him.”

  “Did she leave a number?”

  “Yes. She said it wasn’t her usual number and she didn’t think he had it. She wanted him to call her back as soon as he came in. I wrote the number down, and when he finished with the delivery, I told him about it.”

  “Did he call her?”

  “Not while I was there. He just sort of shrugged it off, like it wasn’t important.” She threw the paper towel away, opened the cabinet under the sink, and got out a bottle of spray cleaner. “But then, that was the way he always was,” she said, spraying the countertop. She picked up a sponge. “He was so private. Lucita could’ve been a very significant other and he wouldn’t have let on. Especially to me.”

  Lucita. It sounded Hispanic. “Did she have an accent?”

  “Oh, yes. Very south-of-the-border. A cigarette voice. Seductive. Sexy.” She was scouring the counter now, hard. “What’s all this about an L name? Why are you asking?”

  “Sheila wanted to have a look at Colin’s house before she sent her investigators in. She didn’t much like the idea of going in there when she heard about the dog. So—”

  “Rambo!” Ruby whirled, her eyes widening. “Omigosh, China! The poor puppy! I’ll bet he hasn’t had anything to eat for days!”

  Poor puppy? “He’s fine,” I said. “I gave him a package of weenies and a can of dog food for dessert and put him in his run. There must be a Rottweiler Rescue in Austin or San Antonio. I’ll call around and see if I can find somebody who will come and pick him up.”

  “No way,” Ruby said emphatically. “Rambo needs a good home. He needs somebody who understands him. Somebody to love him.” She lifted her chin in a defiant gesture. “I’m taking him.”

  “You?” I was surprised. “But he’s a Rottweiler, Ruby. He’s as big as a house. Bigger. He’ll eat your cats! He’ll eat you!”

  “Oh, pooh,” Ruby scoffed, swiping the sponge across the counter. “Rambo is a great big sissy. He won’t bother the cats—he’s afraid of them.”

  I stared at her, incredulous. “That monster muscle dog is afraid of a little-bitty pussycat?”

  “And thunder, and loud motorcycles. Rambo has lots of phobias. But underneath it all, he’s a very sweet Rotti, and very well trained. Colin got him from somebody who trains scent-detection dogs. And yes, I’m taking him. Colin would want me to.” She pressed her lips together with that familiar I-have-a-mission look. Having failed to convert Colin to a life of love and commitment, she was going to redeem his dog.

  Who am I to argue with one of Ruby’s missions? “Okay,” I said. “If that’s what you want.”

  “But I can’t get him right away. Can you go over to Colin’s house and feed the dog and take him for walks until I get back?”

  “Yeah, I guess,” I said slowly. “Sure, I can do that.” Once I got over my initial surprise, it didn’t seem like such a bad idea. Rambo needed somebody to take care of him, and Ruby needed somebody to take care of. And if it didn’t work out—if the dog wasn’t the cream puff she thought—there was always Plan B. Rottweiler Rescue.

  Ruby came back to the subject. “L. Why did you ask about L, China?”

  “I was waiting for Sheila when I looked down and saw a piece of paper sticking out from under a pot near the back door.” I repeated the text from memory, not exactly, but close. “I didn’t tell Sheila I read it,” I added. “I had more or less promised I wouldn’t snoop.”

  “It must be the same person who called the shop,” Ruby said. She rinsed off the sponge and threw it into the sink.

  I paused, frowning. “You said you wrote down the phone number. Where?”

  “On the calendar next to the cash register. One of those page-for-every-day things.”

  I thought. “Was Colin in the habit of leaving the pages on the calendar, or did he tear them off and throw them away?”

  “He always left them on, in case he wanted to look back over—” She stopped. “The number is still there, China. I’m sure of it. I wrote down the name, too. Lucita.”

  “But Lucita might not be the same person who wrote the note,” I said. “And even if she is, she may have had nothing at all to do with Colin’s death.” In fact, it’s unusual for a woman to knife a man—unless he’s sleeping and she stabs him in the back. A man who is awake and on his feet is usually capable of taking a knife away from a woman.

  “I’m aware of that,” Ruby said impatiently. “But something tells me that this is important. You need to go by the shop on your way home and get that phone number, China.”

  “I do not need to do that,” I replied firmly. “The shop is locked, and I am not the sort of person to break and enter. It’s bad for my reputation. Anyway, investigating the shop is Sheila’s job. The police have probably already taped it off and—”

  “Of course the shop is locked,” Ruby interrupted, “but you don’t have to break and enter. I have a key. Colin always said that if something happened to him—if he was in a wreck or sick or something—somebody ought to be able to get in.” She opened a drawer, pulled out a towel, and began to dry her hands. “Well, something has happened to him, and I need to get in and find that phone number. But I can’t leave my mother right now, so it’s up to you. I’ll get the key.”

  “Ruby,” I said, “you are drying your hands on a silk scarf.”

  Ruby wadded the scarf and threw it into the sink. “Who the hell cares?” she snapped, and left the room.

  I scowled. This wasn’t the first time Ruby had insisted that we embark on a harebrained scheme. There was the time she’d talked me into driving out to Carl Swenson’s place in the predawn dark to investigate his greenhouse, which turned out to be full of a stunningly healthy crop of marijuana. We were still there when the cops arrived. Or the afternoon when her Inner Guide had led the two of us into the basement of an abandoned school in the little town of Indigo, where we stumbled over a very dead body. Or—

  I stopped. While the greenhouse expedition had nearly gotten us arrested, and finding the body in the basement had been a truly horrifying experience, the end results had been positive. If it hadn’t been for Ruby, somebody would have gotten away with murder.

  “Here’s the key,” she said, coming back into the room. She put it into my hand. “Do it tonight. Then call me and tell me what you found.”

  “I really think I ought to tell Sheila about Lucita’s phone call,” I said cautiously. “It’s not a good idea for me to—”

  “You can tell Sheila about it afterward,” Ruby said. “If you tell her before, she’ll go find the phone number and we won’t know what it is. What’s more,” she added reasonably, “telling her about th
e phone call means that you have to tell her that you snooped. If you hadn’t read that note, how would you know to ask me if Colin knew anybody whose name begins with L?”

  I hesitated. Nancy Drew Wilcox had a point. Of course, Sheila wouldn’t arrest me for snooping. She would probably only give me a lecture. But still—

  “Go around the back,” Ruby said. “The key opens the alley door. There’s an alarm keypad on the wall to the right. The code is nineteen sixty-three.” She paused, frowning. “At least, that’s what I think it is. To keep the alarm from going off, you have to put in the code before you open the door.”

  Alarm? I blinked. “Really, Ruby, I don’t think I ought to—”

  “I’m pretty sure it’s nineteen sixty-three. That’s the year Kennedy was killed, right? Or was it 1962? Anyway, when you get in, go through the back room and into the front of the store. The calendar should be on the counter right next to the register. Go back about a month. I think it was a Thursday. Or maybe a Friday.” She puckered her forehead, thinking. “I’m sure it was Friday, because we went to Krautzeheimer’s afterward and had the Friday-night special.” Her eyes clouded. “That was the night I told him I didn’t love him anymore. It was a lie, and he knew it, but it was the best I could do.” She pressed her lips together. “If I had known he was going to be murdered—”

  “I don’t think going into the shop is a good idea,” I said.

  “But it’s the only idea we have,” Ruby cried passionately. “And I have a stake in this, China! I loved Colin, and in some ways, I’ll probably keep on loving him for a long time. I don’t want to leave this to the cops, but I can’t do it myself because I can’t leave my crazy mother.” She fixed her gaze on me, and it was fierce. “I’m counting on you, China Bayles. Don’t you let me down.”

  I didn’t want to argue with her. And anyway, the idea of getting that phone number seemed to have given her a different energy. Maybe it gave her a sense of control. The comfort of doing something, anything. I put the shop key into the pocket of my jeans. I would give it to Sheila and tell her about Lucita’s urgent call and the phone number on the calendar. She could put two and two together and come up with L, and I would be off the hook.