Shadow's Lady (A Pajaro Bay Cozy Mystery + Sweet Romance) (11 page)

"As protection against wayward criminals?" she asked.

He almost laughed. The woman had guts, talking to a dangerous killer like that. He was going to miss her. "I doubt he'd be any good at protecting you from danger," he conceded. The old dog hadn't an aggressive bone in his body. "But I don't want him. He's just a stray I found, and I've got no place for him. You keep him."

"Okay," she said. He patted the dog on the neck, then turned his head away from them.

Let them go
, he told himself.
Let them go.

It didn't take Lori long to gather up a few things, and soon they headed down the steep steps in the cliff to the Coast Guard boat tied up at the dock.

"How much does this cat weigh?" Vince said, shifting Ophelia's carrier from one hand to the other.

"What's the matter, Vince? Need me to take it for you?" Sam joked.

"No, thanks, ma'am. I don't need another lecture about how your handsome, gorgeous, macho boyfriend could lift it with one finger while carrying you over mud puddles at the same time—"

"—Well, he could," Sam said.

"Cut me some slack. I'm a tired old married man with a pregnant wife and a colicky son and I haven't—"

"—slept in three days," Sam finished for him. She made a motion like playing a violin. "Poor thing."

Lori followed behind with Shadowfax as the two continued to tease each other, but she wasn't really listening.

At the dock, Vince handed the carrier to Sam, and then helped Lori board the boat.

As she settled into a seat she tried to wrap her head around what had happened in the last couple of days.

"You okay?" Sam asked.

Lori nodded. She really was okay, even if this had been the strangest experience in her whole life. But where to go from here?

Sam headed into the cabin. Lori could hear her reporting in to the Coast Guard base.

Shadowfax stuck his big, bony head on her lap as if he could sense her mood. She petted him absentmindedly.

Vince sat down next to her. "So how did you end up with this mutt?"

"Long story."

"I thought you weren't big on dogs," he said.

"I wasn't. I mean, I'd been planning on maybe getting a dog some day." She looked down at Shadowfax. "But I was picturing something a little smaller. Like maybe a Chihuahua."

Vince laughed. "This one's about as far from a Chihuahua as you could get."

She had to pull herself out of this mood. It didn't matter what Matt was doing now, whether he was okay, whether he was under arrest. None of it was her problem. "So how's the restaurant plan going?" she asked Vince.

"We found the perfect spot. If we can get enough money together we should be able to open the place by summer. It's that little spot with the big picture windows, right down the street from Santos' Market.

She frowned. "Isn't that a burger place?"

"It's lousy food. We're just waiting for the guy to go out of business. I'm thinking of calling the county health department and reporting that he puts rats in his hamburgers."

"You wouldn't!"

Vince shrugged. "He's a jerk. The sooner he's out of business, the better."

"And the sooner your wife can start her sandwich shop."

He grinned at her. "All's fair in love and war."

"I am not hearing any of this," Sam said from the cabin.

"Yes, Ms. By-the-Book," Vince said.

"You wouldn't really...?" Lori asked him.

He laughed. "Of course not. Veronica would kill me if I pulled a stunt like that."

"Sam might, too."

"No maybe about it, Lori," she said. "He knows better." She glared at Vince. "Cast off, Seaman."

He got up and went to free the boat from the moorings. "Yes, ma'am."

Sam looked down at the dog. "Does Ms. Zelda know about the dog?"

"She doesn't even know I'm coming."

"She will by the time we get to shore. The grapevine will take care of that."

Shadow bumped her with his big head. "I wonder where I can hide him?"

"Does she have a horse stable?" Sam asked. "You could put a saddle on him and call him a pony."

"What am I going to do with you, dog?" she asked, but Shadow just licked her face.

And then the engine roared to life, Vince and Sam expertly got the boat underway, and Lori turned to look at the gray water passing by, her thoughts as churned up as the sea beneath them.

•••

A short time later, Sheriff's Deputy Joe Serrano's pickup wove its way through Wharf Flats—the narrow rows of cottages lining the marina. Ophelia meowed in her cat carrier on the seat next to Lori, and Shadowfax barked happily from the truck bed.

"Thanks for the ride," she told Deputy Joe.

"No problem. When I heard you'd been trapped out there alone with Matt DiPietro, I had to make sure you were all right. I haven't seen Matt in years, but I've heard enough to be glad to see you safe and sound."

"When did you see him before?"

"I went to school with him back when we were kids." It was hard to picture either Matt or the deputy as kids.

"So your family's from around here?"

"Not from down here at Wharf Flats." He said it firmly, distancing himself from the neighborhood they were driving through. "I'm from a ranch outside of town. My dad worked for the Madrigals for a while, then bought a place of his own when I was ten."

Madrigals. The family that had taken in the Aiden's orphaned daughter in the old story. "So you know the Madrigal boy who played football with Matt?"

Joe laughed. "Kyle Madrigal? He pulled some strings to get me this job."

"How'd he do that?"

"The Madrigal name carries a lot of weight in this town. It also doesn't hurt that he's the mayor."

"And you helped him get elected?"

Joe looked kind of surprised by the question. "He didn't need my help. He's a Madrigal. He could be anything he wanted. I don't even think he put his name on the ballot, and they elected him mayor."

"And a boy from Wharf Flats? Could he be anything he wanted?"

"Not in this town," Joe said.

They lapsed into silence.

Lori looked up. Perched high on the cliffs overlooking the wharf the famous Stockdale cottages marched along in a tidy row, looking down at them from on top of the world.

Aunt Zee had owned one of the clifftop homes since her Hollywood days. Lori had always loved the pictures of the famous cottages, each with its funny little arched roofline, its pastel trim and handmade tile, and its flag flying proudly in the bay's ever-present breezes. That was the image of Pajaro Bay on all the postcards and tourist brochures, and the cottages were even cuter in person than in the pictures Aunt Zee had shown her. Even Aunt Zee's mansion, starkly different from the tiny Stockdales with its soaring white stucco walls and glossy black tile roof, fit in somehow with Pajaro Bay's quirky charm.

But now she saw the houses on the cliff as a young boy raised in Wharf Flats might see them—out of his reach, a fantasy land far above the working wharf and the fishing boats that were the backbone of the village.

Deputy Serrano turned the truck onto the road leading up the hill. Soon enough the truck pulled to a stop in front of Aunt Zee's house on Cliff Drive.

"Is Ms. Zelda expecting you?" he asked.

"No. This is Tuesday, so I assume she's playing canasta with the florist. But I've got a standing invitation to drop in any time."

She picked up the cat carrier and then motioned to the dog, who bounded out of the truck to scamper around her, nuzzling her feet. "Of course, her invitation was to me, not to a hundred-pound dog."

The deputy set her one suitcase beside her on the driveway. Then, with the promise that he'd be happy to take her back to the island in his boat "any time, just give me a call," he left.

Lori picked up the suitcase, the cat carrier, and the dog's leash, and headed around the side of the house. She put Shadowfax in the back yard, a stretch of perfect green lawn ending in a black iron fence that skirted the cliff edge. While the dog rolled in the grass, she used the key Aunt Zee had given her to let herself in by the patio door.

Inside, she set down the cat carrier and suitcase and looked around. The house still took her breath away. Unlike anything else in Pajaro Bay, it had the soaring ceilings, elegant curves, and luxurious finishes of a true art deco mansion. The two-story high living room ceiling was covered in a silver-and-black pattern of repeating lotus leaves, like something out of an Egyptian tomb. The patio door she'd just entered wasn't the usual rectangle, but instead was a single, black-framed glass door surrounded by more lotus shapes of glass that framed the ocean view outside.

On the opposite wall stood a fireplace that was shaped exactly like the lotus door, but made of jet black marble, trimmed in silver. Above the hearth hung the famous life-size black-and-white Warhol painting of Aunt Zee dressed in the beaded silver gown from the film
Lost Love
. Aunt Zee had always joked that the painting was better looking than she'd ever been in reality.

White-and-silver Le Courboiser cubed sofas and chairs were scattered about the large room in conversation groupings. The TV was hidden in a black lacquer Chinese armoire with gold leaf trim.

The whole effect was like stepping onto a movie set, which Lori imagined was why it suited Aunt Zee so well.

She released Ophelia from her traveling crate. Ophie stalked away to pout beneath the white sofa. Her fluffy gray tail stuck out, and she whipped it back and forth to express her displeasure.

There was a scratch at the patio door. She got a big bowl from the kitchen (a jadeite piece that looked the least breakable of anything there), filled it with water, and took it out to the dog. He lapped it up happily, then bumped her, apparently to express his appreciation, and lay down on the lawn and rolled some more.

That was settled. Lori wished Aunt Zee was home. Even the silent handyman, Sandy, would be someone to tell the story to, but no doubt he had gone with Aunt Zee. She felt like she needed to talk about the last few days with somebody, and there was no way she was calling her parents.

Calling.
Getting a new phone would have to be a top priority. She wondered if Santos' Market carried phones. If not she'd have to order one online.

She went back inside and scribbled a note:
Z.—Ophie's hiding in the house; I'll explain about the dog in the back yard. May I stay here for a day or two?

She left the note on the kitchen table, then went out the front door. To see about getting a phone, she told herself, but she knew that wasn't why she was heading downtown. As she walked she realized she was looking at the streets of Pajaro Bay differently—the way a small boy from the wrong side of town might see them, full of closed doors and no admittance signs. If only she understood what had turned the little boy who had been friends with the deputy into a notorious criminal.

She tried to convince herself it was just idle curiosity. It was human nature to be fascinated by a puzzle, and Matt DiPietro was a whopper: a vicious killer who adopted stray dogs and read poetry in his spare time; a man who could kill another human being but who fussed over her when she got a headache. If she were the rebellious type, she would date Matt just to really freak out her parents. Fortunately, she was more of a by-the-book person. A man like Matt DiPietro was the opposite of everything she wanted in her life.

She reached Calle Principal, the main drag in town. The wet pavement was a glossy black ribbon between the little Stockdale buildings and tiny alleys that made up the downtown area. A single car went past with a swish as the tires kicked up a spray of water. Then it was gone around a corner and she was alone on the street again. Not much seemed to be happening on this gloomy January day.

On her left was the town's tiny medical clinic, where someone with an injured ankle and hypothermia would most likely be recuperating. On her right was the general store.

What happened to her pirate from now on was none of her business. She turned resolutely away from the medical clinic, and instead stepped into Santos' Market to see if they'd restocked the cookie aisle.

The little grocery store was quiet except for one female clerk talking to an older woman in a pink parka.

Both women looked up at her, curious.

"Do you carry phones?" She asked. "Cell phones, I mean."

The clerk shook her head. "We have batteries, bluetooth headsets, and chargers. But we don't have any phones in stock. We can order one for you, though."

Lori nodded. "I guess that's what I'll do, then."

The clerk took care of her, the woman in the pink parka offered her opinions on whether the gold phone or the silver one was better, and between the three of them they soon had the phone ordered. Lori paid with her credit card, and then the clerk announced, as if it were news: "You're Ms. Potter's niece, from the lighthouse."

Lori nodded. "Her great-niece. She's my mother's aunt. How did you know?"

"You look like her," Pink Parka said. They both nodded. "Like she was at your age, you know. But without the silver evening gown, of course." The ladies laughed at the joke. "You know the picture." Pink Parka imitated the pose that had been immortalized in the Warhol, and in the countless copies of it.

Lori smiled politely. "Uh huh." Not like she hadn't heard it before. But she felt even less like the confident heroine than she usually did.

"You've watched her films, haven't you?" the clerk asked.

Lori nodded. "Thanks for helping me with the phone." She turned to go down the pet food aisle, but both women followed her, apparently happy to have found some new entertainment.

"So," Pink Parka said, cornering her in front of the dog food. "What are you buying today?"

"I haven't decided," Lori said, trying to sound as uninteresting as possible.

The woman leaned forward, obviously bursting to talk to her. "So what was it like?"

"What was what like?" Lori responded, wary of the take-no-prisoners expression on the woman's face.

"Being alone...." She paused dramatically. "With Him."

"Him?" Lori said, pretending she had no idea who Him was.

"The Shadow," Pink Parka explained in an exasperated way. "The murderer. You were alone with him for days and days, right?"

"Not days and days. Just a day."
Or three, but who's counting?
"Excuse me," she said, and walked away to get some of whatever was in the next aisle.

But the woman wouldn't be put off that easily. While the clerk wandered back toward the front of the store to wait on someone, Pink Parka followed Lori around the corner to the baking supplies aisle, and watched, apparently fascinated, while Lori pretended to read the label on a lemon chiffon cake mix.