Anacacho, An Allie Armington Mystery Read Free Page B

appropriate noises about the gaudy wares and
follow my hostess out into the evening air.
    We return to the house for a refill, then Reena
leads me to the second floor and proudly shows off six guest rooms
identically outfitted with handmade furniture from Nuevo Laredo.
When we get to my room, which is next to the master suite, she
takes a minute to show me the secret door leading from my closet
into hers, explaining my room used to be Paul’s as a child and the
door gave his mother easy access to him in case of illness.
    “ Now for the master suite.” She
pulls me through the double doors and down a wide hall to view the
king-size bed, which dominates the left side of the room. To the
right, a comfortable sitting area features an entertainment center
and a wet bar. Reena has good taste and she’s used it
well.
    A phone rings in the distance. In minutes Adelena,
the cook, appears at the door to announce the Señor will not be
home in time for dinner.
    “ Thank you, Adelena. Since there’s
just the two of us, we’ll dine in the tower.” Reena turns to me.
“You’ll need a warm-up suit. It’s quite chilly after the sun goes
down, but the view is spectacular.”
    I nod, waiting for further instructions from my
hostess, but all I get is a smirk. “Too bad. Paul must have
forgotten you were coming.”
    I feel my jaw go south. What was the point of that
statement? Is she trying to start a fight? I immediately regret my
decision to come and try to remember what Reena said to pique my
curiosity.
    It’s plain she’s drinking much too much. Reena
hardly drank at Texas. Said it muddied her mind—strange how
memories stick.
    And what’s with the pictures? Why did she carry on
like that when they were obviously taken down long before
today?
    Reena gives me a nudge in the direction of my room.
“Hurry up and change or you’ll miss the sunset.”
    By the time I reach the tower, I’m glad for the
protective cover of my warm-up suit. The still January air is
briskly crisp, but a piñon-wood fire crackles in a nearby
fireplace.
    As the sun’s last rays pink the horizon, Reena
motions me to join her at an imposing oak table bearing a pair of
tall, ornate candelabra.
    She chooses the chair facing the Anacacho Mountains,
then points me to the seat to her left so I can share the full
moon’s spectacular debut.
    The moment we are seated, Miguel appears to tend a
dumbwaiter built into one of the side-walls just as two steaming
bowls of fragrant tortilla soup rise from the kitchen below.
    The soup is followed by thick, juicy steaks and
crispy French fries. The meal ends with a piñon flan topped by a
smoky, chocolate-tinged, caramel sauce. All the while, Miguel keeps
Reena’s glass topped with red wine, while I allow myself the
customary two.
    By dessert we’ve exhausted all the usual chitchat
and finish our meal in silence until Miguel serves coffee.
    Wine glass empty, Reena motions him to open a second
bottle, then says, “I’m sure you talk to Susie often.”
    The truth is, Susie and I have remained close since
graduation and talk once or twice a month. I’m about to say so when
a red flag pops up. I lie. “We mostly talk on holidays. Susie’s
really busy with the kids. The baby’s just beginning to crawl, but
I guess you know more about that than I do.”
    “ Not really. I haven’t seen Susie
in over a year.”
    It’s all I can do not to snort since Susie has
recounted several incidences when Reena openly snubbed her.
    “ It makes me so mad,” Reena
whines. “Susie could have done so much better. I can’t imagine why
she picked that broken-down football hack for a
husband.”
    Del, anything but a hack, was about to sign on as
quarterback for one of the NFL teams when Reena dumped him for
Paul. Unable to concentrate on little else but his loss, Del was
sacked attempting his first pass in the opening game of the season.
Badly torn ligaments in his right knee sidelined him for good,
throwing him into an even deeper