Apples, Appaloosa and Alibis by Maria Swan (feel good novels TXT) 📕

“Someone set that car on fire,” Brenda said.

“Who? How do you know?”

“Monica, calm down and listen to the reporter, he just said some kids out riding their ATVs early this morning found the charred vehicle. They called 911 and reported it. That’s the trail they ride every Sunday morning, and the pile of charred metal was not there last Sunday.” Her voice sounded a bit shaky. I still couldn’t control my quivers. “Let’s sit down. Do you want a glass of water?”

I shook my head but sat on the edge of the couch.

We couldn’t see what was happening with the car. The reporter had moved away and was interviewing the kids who found the burned vehicle. They had tried but couldn’t find the license plate. It had been nearly three hours since the police, firefighters, and tow trucks got there according to the kids. They seemed quite excited.

Then something else must have happened because boys and reporter stopped talking for a minute or so. I grabbed Brenda’s arm. “What’s happening? They look stunned.”

“We have been asked to move back,” the reporter announced. “There are new developments.”

Just then a vehicle, possibly a van, drove by their camera, creating a lot of dust. And that was it. The screen changed and returned to the regular program.

“What happened? Where did they go?”

“Monica, you’re hurting me. What’s gotten into you? So they found the missing car. Whoever stole it probably burned it after finding out it belonged to a possible murder victim. Why are you so upset? Poor Mrs. De Aguilar has no use for the car where she is now. She’s at peace.” Embarrassed, I let go of her arm, “Let’s turn the television off,” Brenda said.

Just then the breaking news reporter reappeared, minus the kids. He stood near a make- shift parking lot. I noticed other media vehicles in the background, and you could tell the mood had changed. “We are asked to leave,” he announced. “Apparently in the wrecked, charred interior of the vehicle they found human remains, burned beyond recognition.”

Brenda dropped the remote.

SEVENTEEN

SHOULD I GO or should I stay? This must be the let’s pretend phase of my driving by Tristan’s house project. Deep down I knew at some point this afternoon I would find myself casually cruising by his place, just to look, mind you, as I had no plans of crossing the gate, assuming it was open of course.

The yummy food provided by Brenda had been digested a while ago, and I still paced my small living room debating the pros and cons of my plan. Well, the pros were bound to win. No doubt. I had to know.

On this Sunday afternoon I would find myself leisurely cruising by his house. Time to stop fighting the urge and go. I rummaged through my so-called pantry to see what item I urgently needed from the grocery store right now. Couldn’t think of anything. Probably because my brain wasn’t functioning straight, but I settled on salt. Yes, absolutely. After all, salt was essential to every meal. Essential. I liked that word, a lot. I showered, even washed and blew dry my hair, light make up, no need to overdo it.

I was just going to Fry’s for some salt. I put on some nice, casual, grocery-store-appropriate clothing and quickly walked to the garage I shared with Brenda, hopped in my leased SUV, and out to the store I went.

Once I was totally out of sight of Brenda’s place, I breathed easier, feeling a little less nervous. Sheesh, it’s not like I was going to rob a bank or something.

The Fry’s store at Tatum and Shea is humongous—I kid you not. I always think they should provide shoppers with roller skates at the door. It’s that big. Since I had no clue on what isle I could find the salt and I didn’t see anyone to ask, I walked around aimlessly until I found it, bottom shelf, same isle as rows and rows of spices. Good to know. I used the self-checkout, and soon I was heading toward the south side of Shea Boulevard.

With the plastic bag holding the lonely salt container sitting on the passenger seat, I slowly made my way to the Dumonts’ neighborhood. My heart pounded so fast you’d think I had a date with destiny instead of a casual drive to spy on the state of affairs of the love of my life.

Thankfully no one would recognize me in the leased SUV. Not that anyone would care about my driving by anyhow. The closer I came to the house, the harder it was to breathe. Would he be there?

Sudden memories of the first time I saw him came hurtling at me. I was delivering escrow papers for Sunny, my boss and Tristan’s real estate agent. He looked no different from the other construction workers up at the end of the unfinished driveway. Well, except for the ponytail and those eyes... amber velvet.

I shook away the image and slammed on the brakes. What the hell? In my soul I had built images of Rebecca and the dark elegance of Manderley, of all those old, forbidden mansions associated with lovers’ drama and spouses’ mysterious deaths. Never mind the blue desert sky and mild winter weather. A storm brewed in my mind.

The whole street looked more like a circus than an upscale estate. Cars cruising slowly, bicycles riding even slower, some just left on the sidewalks. Was there a parade? Did I miss the memo?

I inched forward, noticing two media vehicles. I recognized the local channel’s logo. And I couldn’t decide what to do. Never in a million years would I have expected this kind of crazy scene. What was everyone looking for? Did something else happened that I didn’t know about?

I did notice a tall chain-link fence newly installed around the whole lot where the fire-damaged home stood. As I approached at a slug’s pace, I could tell the temporary fence