Normally, I would have eaten lunch by now, but I found I had no appetite. Stormy was upstairs in the guest room while Mr. Tuttles sniffed around the door.
I needed kitty litter, a litter pan, and some cat food STAT. I was also going to have to google the best way to introduce a cat to a dog, especially a dog like Mr. Tuttles who had a high prey drive. I couldn’t even imagine how guilty I would feel if anything happened to Angie’s cat.
The shopping kept my mind busy, which was a relief, as when my mind wasn’t busy, I just kept seeing Angie’s unseeing eyes over and over again. On the way home, though, I thought again about Angie’s words:
“There are sinister things going on in this neighborhood, Kate.” And now that I thought about it, I should have asked Angie to expound on what exactly was sinister, but we were interrupted by old Mr. Diamond.
#
He came hobbling out of his home, hurrying unsteadily on his cane, straight for us, as though he had been sitting by the window all morning, watching for us to walk by.
“Angela! We need to talk!” His tone was brusque, commanding, and if it had been anybody but Angie, they would have taken offense. Angie, though, was born to be a diplomat in another life. These things just ran off her back like water off a duck.
She immediately went from friend mode to HOA President mode, plastering on a smile and greeting him warmly.
“Good morning, Ed! What’s up?”
“I’m keeping my trees!”
“Oh, uh…”
“The shrubs! You said at the last meeting that in order to make the neighborhood more drought-friendly, you’re going to pull up all the shrubs and get rid of the all the tea olive trees!”
“Well, yes, but only the ones the HOA maintains, along the street and besides the parks. Anything on your property is yours. We wouldn’t touch those.”
“No, that’s what I’m talking about.” He pointed to the little pocket park in a common area next to his home, where a line of sad-looking, short olive trees stood between the park and his house. They were supposed to be shielding his home from the sounds and toys that might bother anybody living next to an area where rowdy children would gather, but they had hardly grown any taller or wider since they had been planted five or so years ago.
“It’s those!” He waved his cane vigorously at the shrubs. We all looked, and it was clear there was something wrong with them. The leaves were just starting to turn inwards, with a little browning on the ends.
“Oh, Ed, those trees are dying.”
“It’s nothing that a good arborist can’t fix!”
“I’m sorry, Ed. The irrigation system under them is 30 years old and leaky. I know they tried to fix them before they put in the tea olives, but clearly they missed a leak or two, and now all the extra water has given the tea trees a disease. Besides wasting water, it’s killing anything we plant here. It all has to come up.”
“They’re mine, they’re on my property, and they’re staying!” Ed stomped his foot like a toddler. “Besides,” he continued, “they remind me of my sweet wife. When they bloom, I can smell them, and they remind me of Isabelle, may she rest in peace. I remember the hotel in Rome. We stayed at the Palazzo del Sole and walked hand-in-hand to the beach. We honeymooned there. She was beautiful and kind, and we toured the wineries, stopping occasionally for a kiss. It was long before we had these newfangled phones all over the place, taking pictures of every moment. All I have now are the memories.” He got a faraway look in his eyes. “They had these trees, these little olive trees. THESE!” He shook his cane at the shrubs again.
“They’re not on your property, though, Ed. They’re on the HOA’s property. I checked after the last time you mentioned this, and the shrubs are all exactly one foot outside of your property line.” It figured that Angie would have looked up the property lines to be sure. That was so like her.
“They’re on my property! That old President, whatever her name was, even asked my permission to plant them, and I was more than happy to agree. You probably don’t understand. When these bloom, the scent takes me back to when we strolled on the beach, my Isabelle in her bikini and straw sun hat, and we danced until 4 am. She was so beautiful then! You know we were married 45 years?”
“I didn’t know that. I’m sorry. How long ago did she pass away?”
“She didn’t pass away. She left me. Haven’t heard a word from her since, except for the divorce papers she sent. Four, maybe four-and-a-half years ago now.” He looked at the ground, and now that he wasn’t so angry, I could see the defeated lines on his face.
“Is there any way we can keep the trees? They really do bring me such joy.”
“How about if we make a deal? I’ll have those trees be the last thing we take out this summer, and when they do come out, I’ll buy you a miniature olive tree for inside your house.”
A tear formed in Angie’s eye, and I had to turn away. I knew old Ed Diamond. His wife was a mean old lady, and the gossip, which I mostly tried to ignore, was that there’d been calls to the police due to multiple screaming fights at their house. But one thing I’d learned about human behavior is that sometimes people don’t realize how much they need each other until the other one is gone.
“Thank you, my dear. You’ve made an old man very happy. That last president was a witch. She wouldn’t even talk to me, much less listen.”
I stifled a laugh. One minute ago, Beatrice was a kind person, consulting old Ed about what to plant near his home, and now she’s a witch. Is that old age or is he just changing the story to fit whatever narrative he feels like telling?
“I’m happy I could help.”
We watched him limp back into the house with his cane tap tapping on the sidewalk, and we resumed our walk. I glanced at Angie. “You really are a sucker, you know that?”
She laughed. “I probably am, but how could anybody not have wanted to help him with a sweet story like that?”
“How on earth did anybody decide to put olive trees there?”
“Tea olive trees.” Angie corrected me. “They’re a slow-growing evergreen that are pruned into a shrub. I’m not sure what the thinking was since that was long before I was on the board, but apparently tea olive trees are good in dry conditions, so they were one of the first things the old board was actually trying to do to save on water. Honestly, I think that was all just for show, since the homeowners were getting more and more angry at the monthly board meetings about the rising price of water and the fact the board was doing nothing to keep our dues down. Unfortunately, the irrigation underneath the tea olive trees was only patched and not upgraded before they were planted, so now it’s leaking like crazy right under those trees. It’s wasteful, and it made the conditions perfect for the fungus that invaded them.” Angie absently ran her hand through her loose locks. “The last board knew over six years ago that all of our irrigation needed to be upgraded, but all they did was authorize temporary patches. And they would have continued to do nothing if I hadn’t run for president.”
“You had to run. You had no choice!” I said, half-mocking her.
“Of course I did!” She laughed and gave my arm a gentle shove.
“What else does a retired lawyer do these days, anyway?”
“I wish it was the same as some retired businesspeople I know! I’ve been spending so much time trying to get this neighborhood back within budget and on track for our higher water bills, I don’t even feel retired.”
“Now, what were we talking about before we were interrupted?”
“Oh, it was nothing.”
#
I hadn’t pushed. I hated it when people tried to put their nose in my business, so I was always a bit self-conscious about being too nosy with friends, so I usually just let people talk. Typically, just letting people talk was a good way to get them to spill their guts, but unfortunately, Angie had not been forthcoming.
I wished I could go back to that moment and convince Angie to give me some clue. Anything. She knew there was something up, and now she was dead.
I returned home with the cat supplies and put them away, Mr. Tuttles dancing at my feet, when I heard a loud thump coming from upstairs, like a footstep or a something being dropped. I froze. Another thump and a click almost made me jump out of my clothes.
That was a door opening!
I immediately thought of Angie. She’d been attacked by an intruder of some sort. Were they coming for me now?
Instinctively, I turned sideways and pushed myself against the wall, edging towards the stairs. I wished I had a weapon.
Two tiny black eyes appeared from around the corner, up the stairs, and a little nose with black whiskers twitched.
“Stormy! How on earth-”
Mr. Tuttles bounded up the stairs, yapping and wagging, and I followed, yelling at him to stop.
Oh, King Tut, please don’t hurt that poor little kitty!
“Tuttles! Bad dog! Come!”
He didn’t listen because, well, honestly, he never listens to me. We’re more friends than we are owner and pet.
Stormy raced to the end of the hall, only to find a dead end. She turned and arched her back, hissing and spitting, while Tuttles bounced around her, yapping, just keeping his distance from her. Tuttles’ tiny little tail wagged faster than I’ve ever seen it move as he circled, first crouching, then pouncing forward, then crouching again.
“Tuttles!” I yelled, “Stop!”
Then it happened. Tuttles got too close, and Stormy’s front claws raked across his nose. He emitted a high-pitched yelp and retreated, ears down, tail sagging, and then gave me a look that said, “What have you done?”
I shook my finger at him. “It’s no less than you deserve. I tried to warn you!”
Stormy commenced licking herself as though she was above all the drama.
Tuttles tried to hide behind my legs. I inspected his nose and found that there was only a minuscule bit of blood. This was probably the best outcome we could have had.
All through dinner, Tuttles was silent, sticking close to me. When I sat on the couch to relax with a good book, a glass of wine and a bit of dark chocolate, I watched Stormy stalk into the family room as though she owned it, tail held high. Mr. Tuttles’ tail wagged, but he didn’t approach her, and I decided it would be all right between them eventually.
The doorbell rang, and I startled, sending Mr. Tuttles into a fit of running and barking. I checked my camera app and saw Javier Mendez leaning against the door frame.
“Tuttles, sit!” I commanded, and I almost fell over when Mr. Tuttles actually sat. He could be a good boy when he wanted to be. Maybe he was feeling a little humbled by our new tenant with claws.
Javier Mendez, Chief of Police, tall, dark, and effortless, held a bottle of whiskey. He’d never looked better in his black tshirt, and tight-fitting jeans.
“Javier…I….”
“I’m just here because I thought you’d need a little company tonight. I’m so sorry for your loss, Kate.”
I searched his face, looking for anything more, but all I could read was a gentle kindness. I closed my eyes for just a moment, remembering how strong he’d always been when I’d needed it.
“Come on in.”
Mr. Tuttles went nuts. He ran around in circles yapping until Javi leaned over and rubbed the little dog’s head and gently pulled his ears in only the way Javi could. “How are you doing, Little Man? It’s good to see you, too.” Tuttles sighed and lay at his feet.
Javi busied himself with pulling glasses out of the cabinet, clearly remembering where everything was kept. His knowledge felt comfortable, like an old coat I hadn’t worn in years. He poured three glasses and handed me one. “I only met Angie a few times. I remember her as being smart and capable.” I nodded as tears formed in my eyes, and for a second I couldn’t breathe.
The whiskey’s warm scent of oak and vanilla brought me back to long nights of easy conversation while Javi cooked for the two of us. Being with Javi had made us both feel young, at least at first.
“She was the best friend anybody could ever have,” I said. “I know it sounds so cliche, but it’s true.”
“You’d only be friends with the best.” We clinked our glasses together. “Here’s to Angela.” We both sipped, the whiskey burning my throat in a good way. Javi took the third glass and slowly poured it down the sink.
“She would have loved this - the ceremony of it.”
“Did she drink whiskey?”
“No, good point. You should have brought red wine instead.”
He chuckled. “How about you? How are you doing?”
“I’m just in shock. It’s all been a bit much. I had to call her daughter, Harmony, and tell her.”
Javi nodded and took my hand, pulling me close. “I can’t imagine how hard that was.”
It felt good to be wrapped in his arms again, strong and sturdy, breathing in the scent of expensive soap and worn leather. Tears streamed down my eyes, and that felt good too. I’d been holding it in for too long.
I took a step back, and he gently wiped the tears off my cheeks with his thumb. “Kate, I—”
“Shut up,” I told him.
He put his hand on my back and leaned in, kissing me hard, pulling me closer, as though he’d been wanting to do this for the last several years. I knew I should push him away, but I couldn’t. Not right now. Not tonight.
I laid my head on his chest and he stroked my hair. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“I know,” I whispered back.
And then he was gone.
#
Crawling into bed, I pushed thoughts of Chief Javier Mendez out of my mind and let my let my thoughts wander to Angie.
What could I have done to prevent this? If I had been a better friend, a better listener, maybe Angie would have confided in me as to what potential danger was lurking in our seemingly happy little neighborhood.
Silent tears flowed once again as I thought about Angie laying on that floor, covered in blood. Her open eyes were beseeching, trying to tell me something, asking me to take action. If only I knew what action to take.
What happened to you, Angie? Who could possibly have done this?
Angie and I met over ten years ago when she moved into the Sunhaven neighborhood with her husband, Jack, and daughter, Harmony. She was there for me when my parents each died, and I was there for her when her husband moved out. A retired patent lawyer, she was in amazing shape for a woman in her mid-sixties, walking every day, going to yoga classes twice a week, and playing tennis with friends many mornings before it became too hot in the day. She always had a glimmer of amusement in her eye and a kind thing to say about everybody. “Gotta stay sharp!” she said when she explained the rules of Wordle to me after I retired. I loved our morning walks, but I had no interest in yoga or tennis, and we simply texted each other the night before to see how the next day would unfold and if we had time to walk together. I loved that before I retired from business, Angie would get up before dawn to walk with me and Mr. Tuttles. We were companions, friends who accepted each other without judgment or jealousy.
People like Angela Beech? They only come around once in a lifetime.
My heart felt heavy as I mentally told my dear friend goodbye.