The Scent of Lies: A Paradise Valley Mystery (9 page)

“I don’t care if she knows about us.”

“Well, I do. The time is just not right to tell her.”

“Ricardo, I’m pregnant! You find the right time to tell her, or I will!” She screamed her ultimatum.

“Shhh! Keep your voice down.”

She walked over to the stairs and looked up to the top. “Delia,” she hollered boldly.

Ricardo grabbed her by the arm and dragged her into the dimly-lit living room. “You’re such a child,” he muttered angrily.

“You’re hurting me.” She struggled to pull free.

“Stop it, right now. You’re being stupid and unreasonable—and you’re going to screw up everything.”

“Did you just call me stupid?” Her eyes grew big and wild.

“Well, you’re acting like it,” he barked.

Anna slapped Ricardo hard, and he slapped her back. She stepped back with a look of surprise. Then her eyes flashed to the side as if something caught her attention. “Who was that?” Anna snapped, putting her hand up to her burning cheek.

Ricardo spun around to look, but the person was gone. It had to have been Marcela. “It was nobody, just the help,” he remarked, turning his gaze back at his mistress. “I warned you to keep your voice down. Now you’ve gone and done it.”

Ricardo was furious. Anna was ruining his plans. Looking past her, through the front window, he noticed someone outside of the house. An old man with a leashed dog stood on the sidewalk, under a street lamp, watching them through the large front window. He hurried away when Ricardo spotted him.

“I hope the housekeeper didn’t hear you say you were pregnant.”

“Why not? Everyone’s going to know soon enough, when I start showing.” She looked at him smugly.

He grabbed her by the upper arms. “But not now—I keep trying to tell you,” he said through gritted teeth.

She yanked her arms free from his grip and wrapped them around herself in a protective gesture. “You told me you loved me, Ric. Was it all a lie so you could get in my pants??”

“Of course not, Anna, I do love you, but I need you to trust me. I’ll take care of things, just not tonight. Please, you need to go before you mess everything up.”

“You keep saying that. Mess what up?” she asked, suspiciously. Her voice had become softer, but no less intense.

“I can’t tell you right now.” He looked toward the dining room, hoping Marcela hadn’t heard too much. “I’ll call you in the morning. We’ll talk then.”

“I don’t know what to think,” Anna said, shaking her head, wiping her cheeks with her hand. “I have to get out of here.”

“I agree.” Ricardo walked to the door and opened it.

She cast him a look of disappointment and rushed out. Ricardo followed her outside and watched as she got in her car and drove off. Standing on the porch for a moment, he looked over at a man sitting in a dark car parked across the street. He nodded to the man and stepped back inside.

* * *

“Ricardo?” Delia called out as she came down the stairs. “Ricardo?” There was no reply. She assumed he had gone out again, as she had suspected he would. Dressed in an ivory silk robe, with her dark wavy hair cascading around her shoulders, she was prepared to curl up on the sofa in the family room and spend the rest of the evening watching an old movie.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs and walked past the living room, she spotted her husband lying on his back on the living room rug. His white shirt was soaked with blood and a knife was stuck in his abdomen.

“Ricardo!” she yelled at the top of her lungs and rushed to his side.

“Help me,” he gasped, struggling to breathe. “The knife...”

In shock, Delia pulled the knife out.

Marcela came running into the dining room in response to Delia’s cry. She let out a terrifying scream at the gory scene on the floor of the living room.

Kneeling beside her husband’s body, Delia stared down blankly at the bloody kitchen knife in her hand.

“Help me,” he moaned again, almost imperceptibly, weakly grabbing hold of Delia’s wrist.

“Ricardo,” she called out, shaking her head violently. “No! This can’t be happening.”

“Delia...” he gasped.

“Call nine-one-one, Marcela!” she ordered.

“Marcela,” the man cried out with his final breath.

“Oh, my God, Miss Delia!” The housekeeper stood frozen.

“For heaven’s sake, Marcela, go call the police!” Delia shrieked. “I think my husband is dead!”

Chapter 8

Isabel and Camille followed Emily into the kitchen, anxious to know why she rushed away from the table, leaving Colin with a perplexed look on his face.

“He seemed happy to talk to me when he thought I was a real estate agent, but I couldn’t stand his condescending attitude when I told him I was starting work as a private investigator,” Emily explained through gritted teeth. “What exactly did you girls tell him about me?”

“We told him you were a Realtor,” Isabel began, “we weren’t sure how the PI thing was going to work out for you.”

“But we also told him you were pretty and sweet and lots of fun,” Camille added.

“Hmmm. I’m not sure this is going to go anywhere, girls. Sounds like he’d prefer his women helpless and in need of a big strong man.”

“That’s not fair. You’ve hardly given him a chance,” Isabel scolded.

Emily’s phone began to ring and she dug it out of her purse where she left it on the kitchen counter. “It’s Delia. I’d better take this.”

“Hello,” she answered as she walked out on the patio.

“Oh, Emily. I’m so glad you picked up.” Delia sounded distraught. “I left you a message earlier, but I hadn’t heard back from you. And now this?”

“What’s wrong, Delia?”

“Ricardo is dead!”

“What?” Emily shouted. Camille and Isabel’s heads turned to the patio at her loud voice. “Tell me what happened.”

“I don’t know. I went upstairs to take a bath and when I came down he was lying on the floor in the living room with blood all over his shirt and a knife sticking out of his stomach.”

“Did you call the police?”

“Yes, I had my housekeeper call them. I was too much in shock.”

“Are they there yet?”

“No, not yet. Can you come over? I could really use someone to help me through this.”
 

“Don’t you have any family or close friends you’d rather have there?”

“Emily, I don’t have any family nearby and as for close friends, well, I haven’t had time for them in years. My work has been my life.”

“Well, when you put it that way…” Emily started to say.

“And I’m sure the police are going to try to blame this on me,” Delia went on.

“Why do you say that?”

“I was so shocked, I wasn’t thinking straight. I pulled the knife out and Marcela came in and saw me with it in my hand. Oh, my gosh, what was I thinking?”

“Calm down, I’ll be right over. Do you have a lawyer you can call?”

“I have a couple of attorneys that help me with business matters.”

“No, you need a different kind of attorney.”

“I assumed so, but I don’t know any.” Delia’s voice was wobbling with distress.

“I’m at a friend’s house right now. Her husband is a top defense attorney in the area. Do you want me to ask him to come too?

“Yes, please,” she pleaded.

“We’ll be there soon. Don’t say anything—we’ll figure this thing out.”

Emily stepped inside and explained to Isabel she had to leave—there was an emergency.

“I don’t understand. What’s happening?” Isabel asked.

“Sorry, I can’t tell you right now, but I have to talk to Alex in private. Could you ask him to meet me on the patio right away?”

“Sure,” Isabel said. “Hey, Alex,” she called as she approached the dining room.

Alex came out to the patio and Emily explained the situation to him. He agreed to go to Delia’s home with her. While he ran upstairs to change out of his shorts and flip-flops and put on something more appropriate, Emily went to the dining room to make her apologies and say her good-byes.

* * *

Colin looked up from his plate as Maggie came breezing through the doorway, flashing a broad smile at the crowd already eating at the formal dining table.

“Hey, y’all. So sorry I’m late,” Maggie announced. She gave Emily a hug and greeted a few more people around the table. “I better go grab a plate before all the food’s gone. I’ll be right back, Em, then we can chat.”

“Sorry, Maggie, but I have to go. I have an emergency.” Emily leaned in and whispered into her ear, Maggie nodded and walked away.

“A real estate emergency?” Colin asked. Emily frowned at him and she was gone out the front door with Alex. “Sorry, did I say something wrong?” he called after her.

Maggie had piled salad greens on her plate along with a small piece of grilled chicken. She sat down in the empty chair next to Colin.

“I don’t think we’ve been introduced.” She looked at him, not hiding her interest. “My name is Maggie.”

“I’m Colin, Colin Andrews. It’s nice to meet you, Maggie.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” she drawled, seeming to studying him intently.

His gaze returned to the front door. “Where do you think Emily went?” he asked.

“Well, I don’t know. She said somethin’ about helpin’ out her client.”

“So it
was
a real estate emergency.”

“No, silly, she’s workin’ as a private investigator now. She told me it had to do with that case, where she’s following that rich woman’s no-good, cheatin’ husband.”

“Maggie,” Isabel chastened her, sitting on her other side, overhearing Maggie breaking Emily’s confidence.

“Oh, no!” She covered her lips with her fingertips, turning her head to look at Isabel, who was frowning at her, then to Colin. “I don’t think I was supposed to tell anyone about that.” She whispered, leaning in toward him, “You won’t say anythin’ to Emily about this, will ya?”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” he assured her.

“By the way, if you don’t mind my askin’, what line of work are
you
in? A strong, handsome man, like you,” she questioned, then took a small bite of her chicken.

“I’m a police detective.”

Maggie gasped and almost choked on her food.

“Are you okay?” Isabel asked, patting her on the back as she coughed.

Colin was rescued from Maggie by the ringing of his cell phone. He swiveled out of his chair and went to the kitchen to take the call. Within minutes he came back in and it was his turn to make his apologies and run.

* * *

On the drive over, Emily explained to Alex in detail all that she had been doing for Delia, as well as what she had just told her on the phone. By the time they arrived at Delia’s house, several police officers were already there. One officer was trying to get answers from Delia as she sat in a chair at the formal dining table, in full view of her husband’s body that was still lying on the floor.

Emily walked in, not stopping to knock, with Alex close on her heels. The officers spun around at the sound of the front door opening. They had already strung yellow crime-scene tape across the opening from the foyer to the living room and between the living room and the dining room. “Emily!” Delia cried out.

“I’m sorry.” A uniformed female officer rushed down the hallway from the kitchen to the foyer, her arms outstretched like she was trying to herd them back to the door. “You can’t be in here. This is a crime scene.”

“I called them,” Delia said. “He’s my lawyer.”

“And what about her?” the female officer asked, staring directly at Emily.

“She works for me,” Delia and Alex both said at the same time, which startled them all.

“What we mean is she used to work for Delia, now she’s working for me,” Alex said sternly, looking the officer in the eye, almost daring her to challenge what he said.

“You can come and talk with your client,” the officer said, “but you’ll need to go through the kitchen. I can’t have you traipsing through the living room.” She motioned down the hall to the kitchen.

Passing through the kitchen with the female officer, Emily noticed the housekeeper sitting at the breakfast table talking to an older, heavy-set officer, who looked up as they walked through.

“What’s going on?” he asked the female officer.

“The wife’s attorney,” she said, pointing at Alex as they all kept moving.

He nodded and went back to interviewing the housekeeper.

“I don’t want you saying another word, Delia,” Alex instructed his new client as he entered the dining room. “My name is Alex Martinez.” He handed a business card to the officer questioning Delia. “And this is Emily Parker, my investigator.” Alex looked over at Emily and winked. Her eyes widened with surprise for a second then she caught herself before she gave her surprise away.

“Officer Donnelly,” said the male policeman standing next to Delia, “and that’s Officer Sanchez.”