“Oh, no. I don’t think so.”
“Won’t you tell me?”
“Elena, there are some things I can’t talk about.”
I was silent for a moment. “They suspect me, you know.”
“That’s silly. You wouldn’t kill anyone.”
“But you told them what I said to Frank, that someone ought to kill him. Why did you do that, Vic?”
“Elena, I’m sorry. But I thought it would be better not to cover it up. I mean, someone would have told, and they might not have put it in so favorable a light.”
I didn’t consider his mention of it especially favorable, but I held my tongue. “Now that I’ve been named acting director, it looks even worse to the police.”
“Nonsense. You were the logical choice for the job. And don’t worry about the police; they’ll find the real killer, and then we can get on with our business. What do you bet they offer you the director’s job?”
I shrugged. Right now, it didn’t really matter.
“Don’t look down your nose at it. It’s a plum for someone your age.”
“Maybe.” I was thinking about my new duties and all the things I had to do before the opening. I would need to rely heavily on Vic in the next few days. Perhaps he should have Frank’s keys to the museum. But something kept me from mentioning it. For now, I’d keep both sets.
I stood up, yawning. “I’d better be getting home. And you should, too. We’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”
Vic stood up. He got his jacket and followed me out. The mist was still sheeting across the lawn. I set the alarm, and Vic and I walked through the fog to our cars.
seven
I didn’t go home, of course. Instead I drove across town to the district near Santa Barbara City College, where Tony lived. It wasn’t exactly a rundown area, but it was filled with fast-food stands, health food stores, and other businesses catering to students. Even at this hour and in this fog, young people wandered along the sidewalks and congregated on street corners. It hadn’t been so many years since I’d been a student myself, but now I felt out of place among so many fresh faces. I wondered why Tony had chosen to live here, then remembered Susana was in her first year at the college. Tony’s street was all apartments, complex after complex, all of them with floodlit facades and pretentious names. Tony’s was called the Lanai, a stucco building with a Hawaiian motif, built around a central court with a swimming pool. A chandelier shaped liked the head of a tiki god hung on a chain in the arched entryway. In the courtyard the imitation Hawaiian torchlights were dimmed by the mist. I stood by the pool, studying the second tier of apartments where Tony lived. They were all dark except the middle one. I moved closer and spotted the number-207. It was Tony’s.
Half-past midnight was not a good time to go calling. But, then, Tony had been unavailable all day. I could say I needed to talk to him about the situation at the museum. And the lateness of the hour might catch him off guard. I started for the wrought iron stairway, then paused when I heard car doors slam and footsteps coming from the street.
Tony’s voice said in Spanish, “Home at last.”‘ I ducked under the stairs, into the foliage of a large fuschia bush.
Tony and Susana came through the archway and crossed the courtyard. He carried a suitcase, and his thin shoulders slumped as if he were exhausted. Susana walked along in her usual bouncy gait, snapping her gum. They climbed the stairs, and moments later I heard the apartment door slam.
I remained under the stairs, fuschia blossoms tickling my cheek. Where on earth had Tony been? And for how long? When had I seen him last?
I thought back to the afternoon before. Yes, he’d been there when we’d set the tree of life in place around five o’clock. That would have given him less than thirty-two hours to go-where?
And what should I do? I could rush up there and demand to know where he’d been. Probably, though, he wouldn’t let me in at this time of night. And if he did, he wasn’t likely to tell me what was going on, since he’d gone to some length to hide it already. If it had something to do with Frank’s murder, the situation could turn ugly, even dangerous.
Could Tony have been in the museum when I left last night? Quarreled with Frank and killed him? Then somehow managed to slip out? He might have come home, packed a bag and run. But if he was on the run, why had he returned? No, Tony had gone away for another reason, something Susana’s call about his alleged illness had been designed to cover up. I thought of all those other calls in the last six months. They came at three- to four- week intervals, and Tony was usually sick for five or more days. Maybe Tony had been away on mysterious business each time. That was a lot of traveling.
I slipped out from under the stairs and looked up at the apartment. The living room lights, behind closed draperies, were still on. I’d been to Tony’s place only once, at Christmas time, for one of those awful parties for business associates that everyone wishes the host didn’t feel obligated to throw. Thinking back on that party, I pictured the layout of the apartment.
The living room ran the full length of it and opened on the other side to a balcony overlooking the parking lot- one of those design idiocies that contemporary California builders were always committing. The kitchen was also at the rear, and had access to the parking lot by a stairway. I hurried out of the courtyard to the street.
There at the curb was Susana’s little Triumph. I went up and felt the hood. The engine was hot. Tony’s car would probably be parked in the stall that went with the apartment. I walked down the driveway toward it and located his new Mustang. The engine was cold; it must have been sitting there all day.
The curtains of the apartment’s kitchen were drawn, but light shone through them. I crept up the stairs to the little service porch. The window was open slightly and I could hear Tony’s and-Susana’s voices. They were talking in the clipped accents of South American Spanish, made harsher by anger. I moved closer and peered through the place where the curtains didn’t quite meet.
Tony stood at the counter, pouring what looked like whiskey into a glass. Susana was in the center of the kitchen, her arms folded, one foot tapping on the floor. She tossed her mane of teased black hair and said, “What do you mean, you’re giving it up?”
“Just what I said. I am not going to do it again.”
“But, now that Frank is dead, it will be all yours.”
“Mine and Robert’s and Vic’s.”
She dismissed the others with an imperious wave of her hand. “But mainly yours.”
I was surprised. This was not the giggly sixteen-year-old Susana I knew.
“That doesn’t matter. I told you, I am through.”
Now Susana reverted to type, her lower lip pushing out in a pout. “But the money! Where will we get the money for all the pretty things?”
Tony sipped from his glass and set it down on the counter. “Don’t worry about money, my love. Now I will become director. The job pays much more than education director.”
“But as director, you could carry on your other business easily.”
His face darkened. “Enough! I hate those trips. I have decided.”
“You won’t get the job anyway,” Susana said spitefully. “Not with that Elena around. She’ll see that you don’t get it. She wants it herself.”‘ She spoke my name with a venom that took me aback.
Tony went up and put his arm around Susana. “Don’t worry about Elena, either. She is no problem.”
“So there will still be money?” She looked up at him with wide, childlike eyes.
Tony caressed her cheek. “Yes, money and pretty things. Whatever you want.”
“Money for a television for the bedroom? And maybe a week in Hawaii?”
“Yes, love.”
“Maui. That is where all the beautiful people go. We will go to Maui.”
“Yes, love.” His hand moved down her throat toward one of her full breasts.
This I didn’t need to witness. I turned away.
The distance between the service porch and the balcony off the living room was only a few feet. I went over to
