Rosa no longer cared that she was being watched and judged, and broke into a run. If Diego decided to climb one of those palm trees, Rosa had no idea how she would ever get him down.
Pushing through the entrance into the bright sunlight, she prepared herself for the worst.
She scanned the treetops. “Where is he?”
Miguel shoved two fists into his pockets and grinned. “I think he wants to go home.”
Rosa followed Miguel’s gaze to her Schwinn bicycle. Diego sat in the handlebar basket, licking one of his paws as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
Rosa let out a breath of relief that turned into a nervous giggle. She slapped a palm over her mouth, feeling like a complete failure when it came to police professionalism. After a moment, she straightened her shoulders and walked as casually as she could to her bicycle. Lifting Diego, she placed him into her satchel and then put the satchel into the handlebar basket. Dratted Miguel hadn’t yet gone back inside, but instead he leaned against a palm tree as he watched her with interest.
“Don’t you have work to do?” Rosa asked.
“Oh, yes.” Miguel pushed off the palm with one foot. “I’d forgotten that cat rescue belongs to the domain of firemen. Good day, Rosa.”
Rosa swallowed her humiliation and pressed down on one pedal, launching her bicycle onto the sidewalk.
“I’m taking you home, Diego,” she said with a reproachful tone. “And if you’re not careful, I’m going to take away your deputy badge.”
Diego poked his head out of the satchel, meowed, then turned his back on her, like he was a prince and she was the hired hand.
Once back at the Forrester mansion, Rosa deposited Diego into Señora Gomez’s care in the kitchen. With a shake of her finger she said, “I’m still mad at you.”
“Oh, Miss Reed,” Señora Gomez said as she poured a bit of milk into a small bowl and placed it on the terra-cotta tiled floor. “What did Señor Diego do?”
Rosa relayed her story and Señora Gomez laughed, wiping a tear from her eyes. “I wish I could’ve been a fly on the wall.”
For the first time since it happened, Rosa smiled. “I suppose it was a bit humorous.” A little time and distance had a way of putting things in perspective. Being the laughingstock of the entire Santa Bonita police department wasn’t the end of the world.
Right?
Leaving Diego to his snack—Señora Gomez had produced a bit of tuna—Rosa grabbed an apple then headed through the house and up the long flight of stairs to her bedroom.
The room looked much the same as it did when Rosa had occupied it in the early forties. A canopy bed sat against the wall in the center of the room, its oak head and footboards carved ornately and matching the dresser, night tables, and a vanity desk that had an oval mirror and padded stool.
Dark curtains hung on square windows that overlooked the tennis court and a kidney-shaped pool. Besides her clothes, which she’d brought from England and a few pieces purchased in town since her arrival, Rosa had very few personal items. The stack of books that sat on one night table were a selection of novels she’d picked from the Forrester mansion library. Rosa ran a finger along the spines: the latest volumes from C.S. Lewis, Agatha Christie, and Erle Stanley Gardner. Rosa suspected Clarence was behind keeping the family library updated, but it was largely a collection of fiction, and what Rosa needed now was non-fiction, particularly on the subject of electricity.
Though Rosa had a basic understanding of how electricity worked, it bothered her that she didn’t understand exactly how the mechanics of the sabotage at the roller coaster ride had been executed. Her work at the aircraft plant had been basic at best.
Getting more detailed information required obtaining specialized textbooks on electrical engineering, not something the local bookstore would carry. No, if Rosa wanted to find comprehensive resources on the subject, she’d have to visit the local library.
The thought of that excursion made Rosa’s blood cool. She flopped onto the bed with a bout of light-headedness. Coming to America was meant to be a break from emotional memories. Rosa had envisioned herself lounging about the pool reading books and eating meals that contained pineapple and coconut. Long walks along the beach with the waves crashing loudly enough to block out her thoughts about Winston, who must be fuming with anger toward her now, and poor Vivien whose grave she hadn’t visited in almost a year.
Miguel Belmonte had to ruin it for her. Drat that man!
Rosa heaved herself off her bed with a long sigh. There was nothing stopping her from doing what she’d come to do. She didn’t have to involve herself in this latest case. She barely knew Victor Boyd, and Miguel was perfectly capable of solving the case himself. Surely, he’d been able to do his job respectably before Rosa arrived.
She’d stay out of this one, that was what she’d do. Plucking The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe out of the pile—one couldn’t get further from a blasted murder mystery than that—Rosa swapped her tennis shoes for sandals and skipped down the stairs in the direction of the pool. In America she wasn’t a police officer. She was just a girl on holiday! Surely Señora Gomez would make her a fruit salad with lots of fresh pineapple and coconut if she asked.
Just as she hit the landing, Rosa heard unfamiliar voices coming from the living room. Forgetting momentarily that she was a girl on holiday! she took it upon herself to investigate.
A quick peek revealed Grandma Sally drinking tea and watching television, which explained the sounds. Clarence occupied one of the chairs, an ankle braced over his knee.
Rosa announced her presence. “Hiya. What are you watching?”
Grandma Sally waved to the image on the black-and-white television. “The Edge of Night. Have you seen this
