Sooner or Later (7 page)

Buck went home and “found” the mutilated body. He called the cops, distraught, his voice choked with sobs. The evidence of a fight was all around: a table tipped over, vases smashed, her purse flung to the ground. The store owner corroborated his tale. And besides, Buck had planned his alibi perfectly. He told them he was at a concert in Santa Barbara the previous night, he still had the ticket stub in his pocket.

Buck was always a good kid, people said sympathetically,
a bit of a loner, but he surely looked after his mom. He was never even a suspect.

He inherited the house and the bank accounts. He wasn’t a millionaire but the money was his to spend as he wanted. He bought a three-year-old Porsche convertible, a Rolex and some smart clothes. With his mother out of the way, he could play the big shot he’d always wanted to be.

During the time Buck was in Hudson, what remained of that money had been held on deposit at a good interest rate that had brought him enough extra funds to pay for his pizzas and vodka. Now, it would be put to better use.

The hell with Delia, he thought, staring out into the dark night speeding past the train window. She’d only gotten what she deserved. The main function of her life, and her death, had been to show him his own power. He’d found killing easy after that. No need for much planning, the way he’d had to with her. Random killings, without motive, a stranger in a strange place, were almost impossible to solve.

He’d had the formula down pretty good, until the old woman had him locked up. Now her turn had come to join the elite. She was as good as his. And, as he had with Delia, he would take his time about it, plan things carefully. This time, he meant to really enjoy it.

D
AN EXITED THE FREEWAY AND HALTED AT THE STOP SIGN
at the turn to Olive Mill Road, in Montecito. The Explorer’s engine idled perfectly as he waited for the oncoming traffic to slow. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he observed uneasily the yellow Jeep coming up too fast. He couldn’t believe the driver would just keep on going, until, with a squeal of brakes, she rear-ended him.

He thumped his fist angrily against the steering wheel. He’d had the car less than a week and the stupid woman had already screwed it up. Had she been oblivious to the stop sign? And the traffic? Blood boiling, he leapt from the car.

“What are you, blind?” he yelled. “Or just crazy? Couldn’t you see me sitting at the stop sign, waiting for a break in the traffic? I guess you just meant to go straight through. And God help anyone who got in your way.”

“No I did not,” Ellie yelled back hotly, climbing from the Jeep. “And you might at least be civilized about this.”

“Civilized? Lady, I’ve had this vehicle exactly five
days. You want me to be
civilized?”
He stared angrily at the dent in the back of the Explorer, then turned and glared at her. She was wearing baggy white shorts, and a T-shirt, and even angry, he noticed that her slender brown legs went on forever. Her red hair whipped round her face in the breeze and she pushed it back impatiently, then glared at him.

He said, surprised, “Oh. It’s you.”

Ellie suddenly recognized him. It was the rugged blue-eyed macho man. She wondered how she had ever thought him sexy. “And it’s you,” she said coldly. “And if you don’t behave in a civilized fashion, I’ll call the police.”

He grinned at her, a mocking little smile that showed off his perfect white teeth and for some reason annoyed her. He said, “Lady, I
am
the police.” Then he remembered. He held up his hand. “Delete that statement. I
was
the police. Now I’m just Dan Citizen who’s mad as hell because his new car has been smacked up. Can you blame me?”

Ellie heaved a regretful sigh. “Of course I can’t blame you.” She looked disconsolately at the wound on the Explorer, then turned and gave the ancient Jeep a kick. “Oh, you,” she muttered, scowling.

Dan clapped an unbelieving hand to his forehead. And he had thought her “cute” when he first saw her.

“I apologize,” Ellie said stiffly. “My hair blew across my face just for that second. It’s horribly dangerous, I know, and I usually tie it back when I’m driving. It was all my fault.”

She fished her bag from the car and took out a card. “Here’s my name and address. And my registration and insurance. I guess that’ll take care of things.”

Dan looked at the name: Ellie Parrish Duveen. It had
a familiar ring to it. She was looking expectantly at him and he said, “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

“The cafe. You came in for eggs, no coffee.”

“But I know your name. I used to live around here when I was a kid. Didn’t you go to surf camp one summer?”

She stared suspiciously at him. “A long time ago.”

“I think I taught you to surf. You were just a little kid, long and stringy with a mop of red hair. I remember now, it was always getting in your eyes even then.”

Ellie inspected him warily for a minute. Of course, how could she forget … he’d been the heartthrob of the beach….

The big wide smile lit up her eyes as she remembered. “We called you Danny Boy. I think I even had a crush on you. All the girls did, even though you were an older man.”

“I was eighteen years old. And you must have been about eight or nine.” They looked at each other, smiling. “How time flies,” he said finally. “And how about that
Danny Boy?”
he added, wincing.

“I seem to remember your Irish eyes were always smiling then,” Ellie retorted smartly. “What happened since, to make you so angry at the world?”

He shook his head at the female way she’d just managed to twist things round. “No man’s eyes, Irish or otherwise,
smile
, when his brand-new vehicle has just been severely dented by another driver. Female and old acquaintance notwithstanding.”

She laughed then, a soft rich sound that reminded him again of melting chocolate. “Couldn’t fool you on that, huh? I just thought I’d give it a try. It always works on
Seinfeld.”

“This is real life, Ellie Parrish Duveen,” he reminded
her, busily writing down his new address for her, and the name of his insurance company. “Business is business.”

“Tell me about it.” She sighed dramatically. Then she read his address. “Running Horse Ranch,” she remarked, surprised. “It’s been on the market for years. Don’t tell me you bought it?”

“Yup. Why?” He was beginning to suspect he knew the answer.

She hesitated, avoiding his eyes. He obviously hadn’t heard about the jinx. “Oh, no reason. It’s really pretty around there.” She glanced at the traffic circling them. “We’d better get going. It was nice to meet you again, Dan Cassidy. Good luck with the winery. Maybe I’ll be able to buy some wine from you before too long.”

“I’ll take you up on that,” he promised as she got back into the Jeep. He eyed her through the rearview mirror as he drove off. “Cute” was definitely the wrong word. If she hadn’t wrecked his new van, he would have called her beautiful. He sighed regretfully, then put her out of his mind and drove to the cottage he’d rented at the beach. Just until he got his property in shape. It shouldn’t take long, a month at the most.

It wasn’t until later, sitting alone on the deck of his newly rented beach house, enjoying the view of the ocean, that he remembered who she was. One of the mega-rich Parrishes who lived in a palace up on Hot Springs Road. Lottie Parrish had been one of the society leaders in the area, head of all the smart committees, opening her fantastic house for charity balls and garden parties. He seemed to remember talk of a butler and uniformed housemaids and a French chef.

He wondered why Ellie was driving the beat-up old Jeep when she could easily have afforded a new Mercedes if she’d wanted. He guessed she enjoyed playing at being a regular working girl, like everyone else. Except, remembering
her opal eyes, and her voice, soft as poured chocolate, he thought that Ellie Parrish Duveen definitely was not like everyone else.

The next evening he was out on his deck overlooking the ocean. He’d put in a long, hard day walking his property, all forty dried-out acres of it. He’d been told that a manager was supposed to be looking after the place for the previous owner, but he’d disappeared and, it seemed to Dan, no one had set foot on the ranch in years. That morning he’d taken out ads for a winemaker, and spoken to a building contractor about fixing up the house. Tomorrow, he would start work on getting the stables into shape.

He poured a glass of wine and stared moodily at the opalescent sky. The color reminded him of Ellie Parrish Duveen’s eyes. “Ah, the hell with work,” he said, fishing her card out of his shirt pocket and dialing her number.

“Ellie’s,” she said. Just the single word in that soft voice made him smile with pleasure.

“Can I help you?” She sounded more than a little distracted, as though she had the receiver pressed to her ear and was doing three other things besides talk on the telephone.

“I just thought I’d let you know the Explorer isn’t as bad as it first looked. Nothing the body shop can’t hammer out tomorrow.”

“I’m glad to hear it, Danny Boy.” There was laughter in her voice. “And so, I’m sure, will my insurance company.”

“I was just wondering …”

Ellie stopped inserting figures into the cash register and fiddling with change. She pressed the receiver closer to her ear, shutting out the background music, the chatter
and clatter of dishes. She was smiling as she said, “What
exactly
were you wondering?”

Maya stopped to listen, expertly balancing plates of salad with hazelnut vinaigrette. Was Ellie actually giving a man the time of day instead of her usual brush-off?

Dan said, “For instance, can you tell me why, though Montecito is on the edge of the Pacific, the sun sets over the mountains and not the ocean?”

“That’s because the coastline faces south at that point and the Santa Ynez mountains run east to west. Confusing, I know, for newcomers, but a fact of nature, Mr. Cassidy. Anyhow, you can’t fool me, you already knew that. In any case, what are you doing watching the sunset over the ocean? I thought you were inland, at Running Horse Ranch?”

He heaved a regretful sigh, remembering the way it looked. “Unfortunately the ranch house needs a bit of work before it can be termed habitable, except by rats and gophers and a few swallows up in the chimney. Humans demand a little more in cleanliness and comfort. That’s why I’m in a rented cottage on Padaro Lane, watching sunsets, all alone….”

“And lonely,” she finished for him, glaring at Maya who was still eavesdropping.

Maya rolled her brown eyes, intrigued, then hurried off to serve the salads. Ellie was definitely flirting.

Dan said, “You’ve got it, Ms. Parrish Duveen. And that brings me to my other question. I know you’re a busy working woman …”

“And you’re about to become a busy working man …” She was still smiling, hugging the phone.

“True. In the meantime, I guess even you must get a night off? I thought it might be a good opportunity to check out the competition. Say dinner at Chinois?”

Ellie laughed at the idea. “Danny Boy, I’m no competition
for them. I’m just a speck in L.A.’s ocean of little cafes.
They
are in the big leagues.”

Then she gave her stock reply that she gave any guy who asked her out these days. “Look, I’m sorry, I just don’t have any free time right now. Maybe later …”

Her voice trailed off, and he said quickly, “Right. I understand. Work comes first.”

“Thanks anyway,” she added, a touch regretfully, but she could already see customers looking restless, wondering why their food had not arrived. “I’ve got to go.”

“Sure. Anyway, it was nice to meet you. Again.”

“Goodbye,” she said, sounding edgy as she put down the phone.

Maya stood, arms folded, chin belligerently sticking out. She always kept a worried eye on her friend, but even she hadn’t been able to penetrate the work ethic of the past year and persuade her to take time out for a social life. That’s why she was excited when she caught on to the fact that Ellie was talking nicely,
to a man.

“You showed him the door pretty firmly. Did I miss something? Or was someone asking you out on a date?”

Ellie nodded. “He was.”

“And?” Maya held up a protesting hand; she already knew the answer. “No, don’t tell me. You said you were too busy. For God’s sakes, woman, you can’t go on like this. Celibacy is okay, if that’s what you choose, but at least share a few hours’ conversation with the guy. There’s real life out there, Ellie. I mean, there’s got to be something besides this.” She swept her arms wide, knocking over a bottle of wine. “Now look at what I’ve done. It’s all your fault!”

Ellie grinned. She knew Maya’s explosive temperament, she’d lived with it long enough. “I simply told him I was too busy right now,” she said, calmly picking up the bottle and getting a cloth to mop up the wine.
“And if you paid a little more attention to the customers, instead of eavesdropping on my conversations, you’d notice that table three is waiting for menus.”

Maya glared at her, then flounced off in a huff. “The lamb couscous is off tonight,” she announced icily, venting her ire on the customers as she handed out menus. The three men at the table stared at her, astonished, and she grinned shamefacedly. “But Chef Chan’s peppered ahi is divine,” she added sweetly. “I recommend it
personally.”

She only wished she could have recommended a guy for Ellie, and a night out instead of the everlasting work.

M
AYA
M
ORRIS HAD BEEN
E
LLIE
’
S BEST FRIEND SINCE COLLEGE
. She had arrived in Phoenix from the East Coast, a Manhattan Jewish girl through and through—blond, beautiful, know-it-all, and with a fast mouth. And Ellie had arrived from the West Coast, all tumbling red hair and long legs, perfect manners, clumsy, bighearted, and with a wild look of newfound freedom in her wonderful eyes that spelled trouble, even to a connoisseur of “trouble” like Maya. It was as though they recognized each other, instantly. They were soulmates, two of a kind.