Fool's Moon, page 18
Once she reached the cross streets that the news stories had specified, Ruby pulled off onto the shoulder and opened her window to peer out. What she expected to see on the road before her, she wasn’t quite certain. Skid marks? Chalk outlines? Crime scene tape?
In reality, had she not known that an accident happened at that spot, she likely would have driven past without a second thought. For all that remained on the asphalt to indicate anything untoward had happened were the remnants of several road flares. That, and numerous small splotches of yellow paint, the latter no doubt having been used to mark the evidence.
To mark where her body had landed, came the unwilling thought.
She shuddered. She could only hope that Luciana had never seen the vehicle that had hit her, that she hadn’t know a final few seconds of terror.
A few feet ahead of where she was parked, Ruby spied something else. A bouquet of red roses lying on the grass between curb and sidewalk. It was a typical South Florida display of respect for those killed on the road, marking the spot with floral tributes. Later, no doubt, there would be more flowers … maybe candles and a stuffed animal or two.
“Something I can help you with, ma’am?”
The voice came from outside her open window … stern, female. Startled, she looked over to see a uniformed police officer—T. Washington, per her name badge—standing at a slight angle behind her. She clutched a small notebook but her gaze was fixed on Ruby, her dark features unreadable.
Double-checking the accident scene for more evidence, Ruby guessed. That, or waiting to see if the hit-and-run driver had returned to the scene of his—or her—crime.
“Sorry,” she replied. “Luciana—the woman who was killed here—was a friend of mine. I—I just needed to see where it happened.”
The cop’s stern expression relaxed a bit as she tucked the notebook into her belt. Still, she was all business as she replied, “I understand. You don’t mind if I take a walk around your vehicle, do you?”
“Not at all.”
She waited while Officer Washington, hand on pistol, made a slow circle around the Beetle. She was looking, Ruby guessed, for recent damage to it … this despite the fact the witness statement indicated it had been a dark-colored truck that fled the scene. But then she’d watched enough crime shows on TV to know that witnesses statements weren’t always correct.
The cop completed her inspection and, apparently satisfied, returned to the driver’s side window. She gave Ruby a nod.
“Sorry about your friend, ma’am. Now, I do need you to move along. We don’t want another accident here.”
Ruby obliged. She’d keep an eye on the obituaries to see if a wake was planned, so that she could go and pay her respects. That, and maybe add one of the prayer candles Rosa stocked in the store to the makeshift memorial. Since the next day was Sunday, the Botanica was closed, so she’d have time to make the trip back again … hopefully not under the watchful eye of Officer Washington. The gesture wouldn’t bring the woman back, but making the effort might give her, Ruby, a bit of closure.
But what about Luciana’s suspicions regarding her employer’s “accident”?
Ruby considered the question as she made the drive back to the Botanica. Had the housekeeper met her end in the same swimming pool as Mrs. Givens, she’d have been on the phone to the police in a flash. But Luciana’s death, while suspiciously timed, was surely nothing other than a tragic coincidence. It seemed like at least once a week that she saw news of a similar death while scanning the Palm Beach Herald headlines online.
“Face it,” she muttered, “you take your life in your hands any time you walk—heck, or even drive—in this town.”
And while Luciana’s death wouldn’t make the headlines beyond a day or two, Mrs. Givens’s death had received plenty of scrutiny … fair or not, simply because of her social status. Had there truly been anything nefarious about her drowning, surely the police would have found the evidence. It was probably best that she let both women rest in peace.
“Let it go,” she softly sang, channeling her inner Elsa from the movie Frozen. Time to accept the fact that advice wasn’t always taken, that warnings weren’t always heeded. In her role as Ruby Sparks, Tarot Card Reader Fairly Competent, she had met her responsibilities to the housekeeper.
But as she pulled the VW into the driveway, she couldn’t help but add, “I promise you, Luciana, that next time I’ll try to do better.”
“We never should have let her leave with the Joan human,” Ophelia mewed from where she lay beneath the concrete table in the courtyard. “Luciana is dead now, and it’s all our fault.”
“We should have gone with her,” Brandon yowled in agreement from where he lay sprawled on the koi pond’s ledge. “We could have jumped in the car and stayed with her. We could have told her not to walk into the street.”
“But why did she run away from the place that was fixing her leg?” Zuki wanted to know from her spot lying next to the strangler fig. “Didn’t the Joan human wait for her?”
Ophelia gave her tail an angry flick. “I don’t know. I went up to Ruby’s bedroom and looked at her computer, but I didn’t see any pictures of the Joan female. So she must have left Luciana at the fixing place and gone home again.”
Then, shooting a glare in the direction of the koi pond, she growled, “This is all Philomena’s fault. If she’s so smart, she could have warned us about Luciana instead of making silly rhymes.”
She got to her paws and stomped over to the pond. Ignoring her brother, she leaped up onto the ledge and peered into the water.
“Philomena!” she yowled. “You’re a fake. You don’t know anything, at all! And I don’t care if you used to like me best! I don’t like you now.”
Brandon sat up as well, staring from her to the pond’s surface in interest. “I never did meet the koi. Maybe you can introduce me.”
“Forget that! Who wants to meet a stupid fish, anyhow?” she spat in the direction of the water. “All she’s good for is eating!”
With that last insult, Ophelia stalked back over to the table and lightly jumped up, making a deliberate turn of her back on the pond as she sat.
Zuki got up and padded over to the pond. “Philomena,” she called, “don’t be mad. Ophelia didn’t mean it. Did you?” she added with a look over her shoulder at the cat.
Ophelia hissed. “I did so mean it. What’s the good of knowing important things if you don’t share them? We’re the ones who should be mad, not her.”
“But I told you before, that’s how she is. Koi fish have a certain way of speaking, and we can’t make them change. Just like you can’t make a mouse not want cheese.” Turning her attention to the pond again, the pit bull added, “Philomena, please, come talk to us.”
Curious despite herself, Ophelia glanced behind her to see if there was any sign of the fish. Not surprisingly, the pond surface remained undisturbed.
Stupid koi was deaf, too.
And then Brandon gave a mew. “Look, I see something!”
Sure enough, the pond’s surface shimmered, ripples making the water lilies dance. A moment later, a large, red-capped white head slowly rose above the water to the accompanying sound of smacking bubbles.
Brandon’s round green eyes grew wider. “Is—Is that Philomena?”
“Yes, it is I. I cannot lie,” the koi burbled.
Ophelia snorted. “Well, maybe you can’t lie, Philly, but you sure can’t tell us anything we don’t already know.”
“Ophelia!” the pit bull snapped. “Be polite.”
To the koi, she said in a reverential tone, “Please forgive the rude feline. And now, this new cat is Ophelia’s brother, Brandon. He’s been eager to make your acquaintance.”
Brandon nodded. “Nice to meet you, Miss Philomena. I heard you were very old and very smart. Ophelia told me you knew without being told where I was living before I came here.”
“That is quite true. I knew all about you.”
“Well, then maybe you know about our human friend, Luciana,” Ophelia shot back. “I heard Ruby talking on the phone. She said Luciana got run over by a picking up truck last night. She’s dead.”
“That is so sad to hear. It was my own worst fear.”
Ophelia leaped off the table and rushed to the pond. “What do you mean, your own worst fear? You knew this was going to happen? Why didn’t you say anything?”
The koi gave a little bob—her version of a shrug, since she lacked shoulders. “You must ask the right question. That is just a suggestion.”
“Yoooowl!” Ophelia smacked the water with an angry paw. “Fine. All right, you dumb fish. Here is a question. Was Luciana’s death an accident or something else?”
As in the past, Philomena began a slow spin while her eyes took on a silvery glow. She gave a final rotation and then halted. In a burbling voice, she intoned, “The accident, it was intended. And the bad things, they have not ended.”
Ophelia exchanged shocked glances with Brandon and Zuki. Not only had the koi confirmed their suspicions, but she claimed that more bad things were to come. As that realization sunk in, they began mewing and barking all at once.
“We have to warn Ruby!”
“We should go back to the old house and get the son!”
“We have to tell the humans with badges and guns about Luciana!”
The roosters, hearing the commotion, came running from the side yard, adding their clucks and crows to the cacophony.
“What.”
“Is.”
“Wrong?”
“Can.”
“We.”
“Help?”
The only silent one was Philomena. She floated at the pond surface for a few moments longer before she began to sink back into its depths again.
“Stop!” Ophelia cried as she noticed the fish’s retreat. “You have to tell us more. Who is behind all of this?”
“Just one question per day,” the koi burbled. “It is always that way.”
“One question? That’s not fair! This is important. You must—”
“Wait,” Brandon cried, cutting his sister short. “Is that one question a day, period, or one question a day per feline? Because I have a question for Philomena.”
Philomena halted her downward progression. Resurfacing, she smacked a few bubbles and then gurgled, “This time, I will allow it. But only if you meow it.”
“Meow it?” Ophelia sputtered. Normally, when more than one species was present, everyone spoke the same universal multispecies tongue rather than their own languages. “Do you even understand feline?”
Zuki nodded her blocky head. “Of course she does. Philomena understands every language … bird, mammal, fish, or reptile. She even knows insect talk.”
“Fine. Brandon, go ahead and ask her a question in feline. But it’s only one question, so make it a good one.”
Her brother was silent a moment, considering. Then he nodded. “Okay, here it goes. Meow, mew-mew. Meow-ow-ow. Mew. Me-OOW!”
Which Ophelia translated for Zuki’s benefit: Where do we find the human who is responsible for hurting Luciana?
The koi started to spin again, while the trio watched. Finally, to the accompaniment of the roosters’ clucking, Philomena snapped a few bubbles and proclaimed, “It takes a pill to fix what’s ill. The rat may be bold, but the trail is not yet cold.”
Ophelia snorted. “That’s it? You’re talking about the ‘rat’ again?”
“Maybe there’s another rat we don’t know about?” Zuki suggested, earning another snort from her friend.
Brandon’s whiskers drooped as the koi sunk from sight, leaving behind the usual trail of silvery bubbles. “I thought I asked a good question. Philomena likes to talk in puzzles, doesn’t she?”
Zuki trotted over to the pond and raised a paw to give the feline a comforting pat. “That’s just how koi are. Don’t worry, Brandon, it was a good question. And we’ll ask another one tomorrow. In the meantime, all of us—even the roosters—should keep our eyes and ears open to see if we can find this rat before it finds us.”
Seventeen
Early Monday morning, Ruby had just unlocked the cash register when her cell phone tucked beneath the counter began to ring.
The sound made her jump. Other than a trip to Luciana’s makeshift roadside memorial to leave a candle, she’d spent a quiet Sunday working on her thesis without a single phone call to break the silence. The cats had seemed unusually subdued, too, almost as if they’d understood her when she’d told them that something bad had happened to their human friend.
She’d noticed later that they and Zuki were spending a lot of time in the courtyard near the koi pond. What that meant, she had no clue, but as long as everyone stayed dry, she was fine with their curiosity. For herself, she’d needed the mental break that came with a phone-free day.
Now Ruby glanced at her cell’s display and realized the number belonged to the same unknown caller from the night of the party … the one who had left the drunken message. Maybe the woman had sobered up enough to make an actual appointment. Curious, she answered with her usual spiel.
“Thank you for calling Botanica Santa Rosa, this is Ruby, how can I help you on your spiritual journey?”
The caller was silent for a moment; then, as she was about to hang up, a man’s voice asked, “What’s your address?”
A man?
Several possibilities flashed through her mind. Maybe the female caller had been using this guy’s phone instead of her own, and he was trying to figure out who she’d called. Or, more unsettling, maybe this was a jealous spouse or boyfriend trying to track down unknown contacts in his sig other’s call history.
Or maybe the guy had simply been embarrassed the first time around to call for himself, and so had put a female friend up to it.
Since the unknown man’s voice didn’t sound particularly threatening, she gave him the address along with the major cross streets to look for. She had started on the parking explanation—they were fortunate to have three actual spots for the shop, but beyond that, it was street parking only—when he hung up on her in mid-sentence.
Maybe not threatening, but definitely rude.
“Have a good day, yourself,” she muttered into the silent phone.
He might not even show up, she told herself. But, just in case, she tucked her phone into the pocket of her blue-and-black-striped harem pants where she could get to it quickly. She also made sure that a spray bottle of Florida Water—which substance, she knew from personal unfortunate experience, stung like heck when it got in one’s eyes—was close at hand. And, of course, Zuki was behind the counter and could be in chomping range in seconds should things go terribly wrong.
But an hour later, she’d almost forgotten the call. It had been a busy start to a Monday. She’d made several small sales already—male and female candles to a young Haitian woman; a vial of “Come to Me” oil to Lana, the middle-aged trans woman who ran the antique shop the next block over; and a St. Mark prayer card and silver medal to an elderly Hispanic gentleman—as well as scheduled two readings for later that day. She’d just returned to her spot behind the counter, after doing a bit of stocking, when the bells on the front door jangled and a man in his mid-thirties strode in.
Her first impression was that he reminded her of a Cuban Tony Stark … the Robert Downey, Jr. character from the Iron Man movies. That was, if Tony Stark wore khaki cargo shorts and a black pullover with his name and company embroidered on it.
This guy had the same dark hair and eyes, similar chiseled features and lean build. He also affected the same razor-precise facial hair as the comic character … sharply cut goatee and thin, Fu Manchu-style mustache. But the scowl on his face better befitted another comic book character: The Incredible Hulk.
He stomped his way over to the counter and tossed down a business card. “This you?” he asked without preamble.
She didn’t need to pick it up to recognize the card as one of hers. And though he’d spoken only two words, she didn’t need to hear more to know that he was the same man who had called earlier. And it was obvious that he was not a happy camper.
“I’m Ruby,” she confirmed. “Can I help you with something?”
She casually shoved her glasses into place while at the same time giving the snoozing Zuki a nudge with one foot. The pit bull silently rose, positioning herself alongside Ruby. Unless the man leaned all the way over the counter, he’d never see the dog. That was, not unless he did something requiring an introduction to Zuki’s not-so-sweet side.
The man’s scowl, meanwhile, had deepened. Picking up the card again, he flapped it in Ruby’s direction.
Now she noticed that he had a brightly colored tattoo on his right biceps, though she couldn’t quite make it out, partially covered as it was by his shirt sleeve. Still flapping, he demanded, “I want to know why my aunt had this in her purse.”
Ruby bristled, feeling rather like Brandon when his stubby tail went all bushy. She’d encountered a few people of this type before. Obviously a skeptic, which in itself didn’t bother her. But she couldn’t stomach the self-righteous types who not only proclaimed that the Botanica and everything associated with it was bunk, but also felt compelled to rail against anyone who believed.
Keeping her tone polite yet curt, she replied, “Where or when she got my card is your aunt’s business. If you have any concerns, maybe you should ask her directly.”
“Yeah. Well, I can’t exactly do that.”
He dropped the business card again and reached into one of the pockets of his cargo shorts, pulling out a phone. She doubted it belonged to him, given its bright pink case covered in rhinestones. And in the next instant, she realized with a gasp that she’d seen that very same phone case just a few days before.
