Rosa smiled back. “Your secret is safe with me.”
Once Joyce had disappeared into the building, Rosa turned the Bel Air around and headed for Ralph’s. She had to be out of something.
The enormous sign with the name RALPH’S in red script was visible from the opposite end of the strip. Rosa pulled the Bel Air into one of the angular parking spots in the large attached lot, grabbed her purse, and headed inside.
The supermarket was new to Santa Bonita since the war and this was the first time she’d been in such a large shop. In London, there were myriads of places to shop for one’s food and personal needs, but they tended to be smaller and specialize. One shop for bread, another for meat, another for fruit and vegetables. With so much land available per capita in America, businesses could afford to take up more space. Everything a shopper needed could be found under one roof.
A sense of awe settled on Rosa as she wandered down each aisle, every shelf stocked from floor to as high as one could reach with canned and boxed goods. On the perimeter of the store, more produce, dairy, and meat could be found than could possibly feed all the citizens of Santa Bonita.
The abundance of the 1950s was in clear contrast to the scarcity Rosa remembered when she’d lived there in the 1940s.
However, she was not at the market to admire and shop, but to find one very tall employee. She spotted him easily, stocking shelves in the cereal section. He paused when he saw her approach.
“Can I help you find something, ma’am?”
“I’m actually looking for you, Mr. Welks.”
His eyes flashed with confusion. “Do I know you?”
“I’m an old friend of Joyce’s. Rosa Reed.”
“Ah.” Don said, resuming his task of removing bags of Quaker Oats oatmeal from a cardboard box and placing them onto the shelf in neat rows. “She did mention you. Back for a visit from England, huh?”
“That’s right.”
“What’cha want to see me for?”
Rosa decided to get right to the heart of the matter. “I saw you fighting with Mr. Boyd on the night he was murdered.”
Don’s long arm stilled, then he removed the last bag of oats from the box, delivered it to its spot, and faced Rosa.
“Hmmm. Joyce told me you were a lady cop in London. Doesn’t compute why you’re poking at a crime in California.”
“I happened to be the one to find the body,” Rosa said. “And I work as a consultant with the Santa Bonita police.”
Rather a half-truth in this situation, but Rosa left her statement unqualified.
Don let out a long breath through his nose, then checked his watch. “I can take a short break. Can we take this outside in ten minutes?”
“I’ll be waiting beside a white and yellow Bel Air.”
Rosa used the ten minutes to select a yellow and brown package of peanut M&M’s and a bottle of Coca Cola.
A cheerless lady at the cash register announced, “That’ll be twenty cents.”
Rosa fetched two dimes from her purse and placed them on the counter. One of the first things she’d done after arriving in Santa Bonita was to take the British pound notes she’d brought along and exchange them at the bank for American dollars.
She had eaten half the M&M’s when Don Welks, with his long-legged gait, strolled toward her. Rosa twisted the top of the bag and shoved it into her purse.
“Let’s make this quick, okay,” Don Welks said without preamble.
“What were you and Mr. Boyd arguing about?”
Don shoved his large fists into the pockets of his pants, the hems uncuffed and barely reaching his ankles.
“I don’t see why it matters?”
“It makes you a suspect, Mr. Welks. If you don’t talk to me, I can promise you that you’ll soon be talking to the police.”
Don Welks whipped out one hand and held out his oversized palm. “All right, all right.” His shoulders slumped as if he’d lost all his fight and he leaned up against the Bel Air, a transgression Rosa could forgive, especially since it wasn’t her vehicle.
“I did something stupid, okay?”
“Was Mr. Boyd blackmailing you?” Rosa stared at the man with compassion. Blackmail was a common motive, and unfortunately made murderers out of perfectly nice people.
Don grabbed the back of his neck, his expression collapsing with a sense of grief. “I shouldn’t have married Joyce.”
Rosa thought of the reason behind Joyce’s doctor’s visit. “You don’t love her anymore?”
“No, that’s not it. I love her too much! But I don’t deserve her. I should’ve listened to her father. He said, he said, if I really loved her I should let her go, let her live the life she was born to live.”
“What did you do, Mr. Welks? What was Victor Boyd holding over you?”
“I don’t have a lot of money, Miss Reed. You can tell that by the kind of job I have. I wanted to do better. I spent two years in community college.”
Rosa hoped it wasn’t to study anything involving electricity.
“It’s where I met Joyce,” Don continued. “She was a Kilbourne and didn’t need a job to make money. She was there to have fun and meet boys. Unfortunately, she met me.”
“And the two of you fell in love.”
Don glanced over at Rosa. “Yes. Passionately. And—I take full responsibility for this—she got pregnant.”
Rosa hadn’t been aware of a child. Don hurried to fill in the blanks.
“Mr. Kilbourne was furious, of course, and immediately made plans for Joyce to be sent away to have the baby, give it up, and come back to her life here like nothing had happened. That, and I had to promise to leave town. Joyce doesn’t know this, but he offered me five thousand dollars to step out of her life.
“But Joyce would have none of that idea. She insisted that we marry. How could I say no? I loved her and she was carrying my child.
“Mr. Kilbourne is the kind of man who is used
