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  “A common ground,” Sonny repeated. Had it ever been so? Had the Anglos and the Chicanos and the Indians ever truly found that ground, or had the old patrón system simply been given a new twist, and those in power were still using those without power.

  “I believe the arts can be the bridge between the different cultures, a bridge between science and the desire to preserve the natural. My company will preserve the beauty of the land. But I am a realist. I know it is not always the ‘land of enchantment.’ Men with evil in their hearts also migrate to the center.… Who do you think killed Gloria?” he asked suddenly.

  “Why do you ask me about Gloria now? After avoiding me all this time?” Sonny asked.

  “You want to find the person who murdered Gloria, and I want to help you,” Morino said.

  “I’ve been working on that, and calling you to try to get some help—”

  “I have grown cautious since Gloria was murdered,” Morino interrupted. “I’ve had my men follow you. I am sorry, but you understand. Do you think the gardener the police have arrested is guilty?”

  “No,” Sonny answered.

  “No, of course not,” Morino said after a pause. “But the police seem determined—”

  “To cover up certain facts,” Sonny finished his thought.

  “Cover up?” Morino whispered, then he nodded. “Frank Dominic is a very powerful man.”

  “Yes, he is,” Sonny agreed. “But so are you.”

  Morino shook his head and frowned.

  “Don’t be modest,” Sonny pressed. “You snap your fingers and you can put your hands on enough money to help Gloria with whatever she needed. I couldn’t do that.”

  For a moment Morino’s hands trembled. He sipped his sake.

  “You gave Gloria a lot of money just before she was killed,” Sonny said, leaning forward, taking a chance. “But the police don’t know that. I think when I find the money, I’ll find Gloria’s murderer.”

  Morino hesitated. He filled the cups again then leaned back in his chair. A breeze stirred and he seemed to shiver.

  “So,” he finally said, softly as if in a confessional, “you found out about the money.”

  Sonny drew a deep breath and also leaned back in his chair. “Her brother had asked her for the money, and she came to you. How much did you give her?”

  “What I had in my safe, maybe a hundred thousand. No more.”

  “You gave it to her? Just like that?”

  Morino leaned back and nodded, then in a whisper softer than the brush of wings from a nighthawk, he said, “I loved her. I truly …” Then he whispered again. “But it wasn’t for her brother.”

  It was Sonny’s turn to listen. He had assumed the money was for Turco. “He needed the money. Gloria was going to help him.”

  Morino shook his head. “Is that what you think, Mr. Baca? You are wrong. I will tell you the truth because I want Gloria’s murderer brought to justice. And because …” He paused, and Sonny knew he was deciding how much he should tell. “The money was for Gloria. She was going away. She would be gone for a year, maybe two. During that time she would—”

  “Have your child,” Sonny finished.

  Morino looked surprised. “Ah, you know more than I thought,” he said, almost inaudible.

  “I know she was pregnant when she was murdered. And the child was yours.”

  Morino sighed. “Our love bore fruit. But it was as much a curse as a joy.”

  “It complicated things.”

  “It affected Gloria very much. For the man, it is easier. But she had to make a difficult choice. I felt for her. I tried to help, but she couldn’t decide. One moment she said she would have an abortion, the next she was determined to have a child. The decision was painful to her.”

  “Had she told Frank?”

  “I think so. But during those last few weeks her mind was confused. She would swing back and forth.… When Dominic had the body cremated, I was almost glad. Glad I would not have to explain. Now I know I can’t live with that lie. I have to tell someone. You were related to her, you are trying to find her murderer, so I’ll tell you. Gloria did ask me for money, but she said nothing about her brother. She was going to go away, live out of the country for a while. We talked about her going to Brazil.… She was a lonely woman, Mr. Baca.”

  “Sonny.”

  “Thank you. I will call you Sonny. And you must call me Akira,” he said and refilled their cups. “I have done business throughout the world, so one acquires an instinct. I know I can trust you.” He raised his cup as if toasting the setting sun, the gathering gray clouds over the West Mesa.

  “Gloria was special. A beauty that was deep. Perhaps the Mexican woman is like the Japanese woman. It is not only the beauty of the body that attracts, but some inner beauty. I was alone and far from home. The affair was good for both of us; it was fulfilling. But it could not last. There was something in Gloria that needed to punish me. I became the husband or the father she needed to punish. I do not wish to make excuses,” Morino said. “I do feel I am much to blame for her murder. I wanted to help her. But there was something else, perhaps the real reason I gave her the money. She called me the night she was murdered.”

  “To blackmail you?” Sonny said.

  “Such an ugly word,” Morino answered. “Anyway, she called and told me she needed the money immediately. I got the money ready and she came here for it. I had never seen her so distraught. The woman was haunted. Like she was afraid she was going to die.”

  He paused.

  “It was as if a strange power took hold of her. She knew when she was not herself. When we parted, she kissed me. She was dressed in black, as if she was going to a funeral. Then she said something that made me truly fear for her. She said she was afraid of her group.”

  “What group?” Sonny asked.

  “She was involved with a group. People that read her mind, told her what was to happen in her life. I know very little—she kept these meetings very much to herself—but recently each time she had a meeting with her group, she returned extremely nervous.”

  “Did the group have something to do with the money she needed?”

  “Now, I think it did. She wanted to go away, she told me. To have the baby. Somewhere where the group couldn’t reach her. “They will take the baby from me,’ she said. I felt her terror. I doubted if she really had anything planned. If she could get away, she said, she would be all right. Eventually she would return, and we could see each other again.”

  “Did she mention names?” Sonny asked.

  Morino shook his head. “There were times when she seemed to be in a trance. ‘I have been with my group,’ she would laugh. ‘We can see the future,’ she would tease me one moment, then turn on me. ‘There is no future for you here, Akira,’ she told me. It was as if something took possession of her. I realized this group, whoever they were, had much power over her. She could get no help from her husband, perhaps that’s why she turned to me. I mistook her need for love. Anyway, I feel I could have saved her.”

  “How?”

  “I went to her home the night she was murdered, and had I been there moments earlier, she might not be dead.”

  “You were in the house?” Sonny asked.

  “Yes. I am speaking freely tonight because I, too, want the murderer revealed. If there is some way I can help find whoever killed Gloria, then you have to know. I know Mr. Dominic must have paid well to keep Gloria’s pregnancy a secret. To erase everything, he had the body cremated. A few days ago I received a phone call. Someone very kindly asked me to drop all my dealings with the mayor, to forget about bringing the plant here, to go away and forget this city, or they would go to the press and expose Glorias pregnancy.”

  “Who?” Sonny asked.

  “It is easy to suspect Mr. Dominic,” Morino answered. “It has to do with politics. If I can’t deliver on the plant I have proposed, he blames Marisa Martinez. And if she loses the election, I fear for this city—”

&
nbsp; Morino’s face grew pale; he looked tired. “But I believe the call came from the group that Gloria feared. Maybe they know I was there the night she was murdered. I have thought since then, perhaps they were hiding in the house when I walked in.”

  The silence grew tense as Sonny listened to Morino’s revelation.

  “When were you there?”

  “I think a few minutes after she was killed.”

  “Alone?”

  “Yes. You see, I felt the fear in Gloria when I saw her. She took the money and left me, but I couldn’t rest. I decided to drive to her place. It was after midnight, the house was dark, the front door open. I called, then I let myself in. There were suitcases in the hall, as if she was going on a trip. Big travel bags. Four or five. I thought, ‘Good, she is still home.’”

  But there were no bags by the door by the time I got there, Sonny thought. They were no doubt gone by the time the cops got there, or Howard would have mentioned it. Had Dominic removed her luggage before the police arrived? So he wouldn’t have to explain she was leaving him? Or had the murderers taken the bags?

  “Go on.”

  “I called out to her. The silence in the house was unbearable. I could smell the perfume of lilacs, candles burning. I thought I heard a sound, like a person breathing. I called again and walked slowly to her bedroom. There was a light, the flickering of candles. I entered her room, looked at the bed, and there she was. I thought she was asleep. Everything was so neatly laid out. I went to her and touched her. She was dead.”

  Morino paused. It was not easy for him to talk about the death scene.

  “I was shocked. She was as beautiful in death as she had been in life. There was no apparent cause of death, only the pale, lifeless figure. The body I had known as warm, the troubled woman who swung from love and charity to a woman possessed by spirits, was now cold. I still carry the sensation with me. I think it is the first time I have truly felt grief for a person. It was grief that covered my fear. If only I had come in time, I thought.”

  He paused and drew a sigh of relief. Akira Morino had seen the woman he loved and who carried his child on her deathbed, probably moments after she had been killed.

  “I left quickly. I must admit I was frightened. I felt there was nothing I could do. She was dead, and I was panicked. I knew if I was found there, I would be accused. I got in my car and drove away, but as I pulled out of the driveway Mr. Dominic drove in.”

  “Dominic? Are you sure?”

  “Oh yes, I recognized his car, then his face was illuminated by my car lights. Perhaps he recognized me. It was a strange moment, captured in that frozen second. I stared at him. It was a haunting face coming out of the dark. I thought there was anger in it, or hate. I understand he’s told the police that he did not arrive home until next morning. He is lying.”

  Sonny stood and walked to the edge of the balcony. Below in the shadows of dusk, the streets were deserted. He didn’t want to feel sorry for Morino, but he did. He wanted to keep his emotions out of the way, but he found himself believing the man. Damn! He had seen the body of the woman who carried his child only moments after she was killed! And he had been unable to share his grief in any way. Until now.

  Sonny turned and looked at Morino. “Why are you telling me all this now?”

  “I know there is no reason why you should believe me,” Morino replied. “I can only say that I loved her. I truly loved her. As you must have loved her.”

  What did Gloria tell him? Sonny wondered. Her image swept over him, not the frozen, cold image of her dead body but of the night she made love to him, her fragrance, the warmth of her body, the sweetness of her whispers. Feeling the pain of the memory, Sonny feared his voice might give away his emotions.

  “I could not live with this secret. I want to get to the truth, and so I have told you everything,” Morino said.

  Sonny believed the man, but he needed time to fit the pieces together. It was almost there, at the tip of his fingers, something palpable he could feel.

  “You have trouble back home,” Sonny said, and for a moment considered telling Morino about the paper trail he had accumulated. But why kick a man when he was down?

  “Ah, my board is old-fashioned.” He smiled. “We Japanese must stop making business with the world and then retreating to the safety of our culture.”

  “You, too, must know the stranger,” Sonny said.

  “Yes, we need to know the people we deal with. If I get my board to build the plant here, it is not just to make money, but to make ourselves anew with the richness we find here.”

  His head sank to his chest. Sonny stared at the man, feeling sorry for him. He had gambled a lot, on the new plant, and on his affair with Gloria.

  But Morino recovered. He took a deep breath. “My favorite time of day,” he said, looking out at the blue clouds now tumbling out of the west. The distant sound of thunder rolled in the clouds. Like a blessed trumpet sound, the sound was a benediction, the first thunder of the season.

  “Rain,” he said, “finally rain.”

  Sonny sniffed. Yes, rain was gathering in the front rolling in, and the thunder was its precursor.

  He turned to Sonny bowed slightly and shook Sonny’s hand. “I have told you what I know. Please, find whoever killed Gloria. Buenas noches,” he said and turned and walked away.

  His assistant appeared at the door.

  Quite a confession, Sonny thought as Morino’s assistant led him out. Who do I believe? Dominic or Morino? He went down the elevator and out into the street. As he drove home, the dark cloud overhead burst loose.

  The roar of thunder filled the valley, and everywhere a sigh of relief went up. The ozone of the lightning flashes across the valley mellowed the tensions that had been so high. Hurried rain, falling fast and furious and sending people jumping across gutters suddenly full, and hurried flashes of welcomed lightning. The streets wore a sheen of neon lights as the summer rain covered the asphalt, and the people of the valley hurried home to find relief in love.

  The newscaster on the radio said a slow-moving low-pressure system was moving up from the south, and it held plenty of moisture. At least two days of thick clouds coming up from the Gulf. Relief from the June heat was on its way.

  Sonny smiled, then grinned, then laughed. He rolled down his truck window and let the cool rain splash against his face.

  “Gracias a Dios!” he cried. Rain had come.

  26

  By the time Sonny got home, the clouds that had crept up from the south covered the valley; the sudden thunderstorm dumped fast, then became a steady drizzle drumming on his flat roof. Rita was waiting for him. She had prepared chicken enchiladas smothered in red chile, easy on the cheese, Sonny’s favorite. Rice, beans, hot tortillas on the side.

  She greeted him at the door and they kissed in the rain.

  “Isn’t it wonderful!”

  “Beautiful! Beautiful like you!” He smiled and pulled her inside. “I feel like—” He paused, sniffed. “Chicken enchiladas?”

  “I thought you’d be hungry.” She smiled and led him to the table. “Eat first.” She winked. “We have all night.”

  “You took the night off?”

  She nodded.

  “All right! Let’s party!” He washed his hands, wiped his face with the towel, and sat down to eat. As he ate, he told her about his visit to Morino.

  “Madre de Dios,” she said when he finished his story, “imagine being in the room just after she was killed. He was in danger—”

  “If he’s telling the truth,” Sonny reminded her.

  “Ay, there’s the rub, como dice Shakespeare. I’ve seen him interviewed on TV, so handsome and so gentle.”

  “Gentle men also kill,” Sonny said as he got up and took his dishes to the sink.

  “Not the one I know,” she whispered and hugged him.

  “Let’s not discuss anything that has to do with the case tonight,” he whispered back. “Just you and me.”

  “
Enjoying the rain.” She smiled. “That’s just what I had in mind.”

  He held her and looked into her clear brown eyes. “I love you, Rita.”

  “And I love you, Elfego.”

  “Let’s—”

  “Uh-uh. Dishes first. Remember, we have all night. I don’t want to rush.”

  “I’ll volunteer to do the dishes, and you—”

  “I’ll get ready,” she said, kissing him warmly, her moist lips and the look in her eyes promising a night of love. “Don’t take too long,” she whispered and disappeared toward the bedroom. They had promised each other that come hell or high water, tonight was theirs. And with the rain filling the house with fresh air and drumming on the flat roof, it couldn’t have been better orchestrated.

  Sonny smiled as he ran the hot water over the dishes. Then the thought crossed his mind that he still wasn’t okay. Maybe he should smoke some grass. Like the spiked wine Tamara had given him. He wouldn’t have had a problem then!

  He finished the dishes and left them to dry in the rack beside the sink. He was feeling an urgency and he didn’t want to screw it up. It was going to be okay, he didn’t need to smoke. He walked into the bedroom where Rita waited. She had put fresh sheets on his bed, showered, and slipped on one of his T-shirts.

  “Got any mota?” he asked.

  “No,” she answered. “Do you want some?”

  “No, just thought—”

  He paused by the open window. Damn! Why had he asked?

  “Qué piensas?”

  “Enjoying the breeze,” he said, stripping off his shirt. “The rain.”

  He looked out the window and enjoyed the coolness of the rain, the soft breeze of night stirring. Lord, it seemed like ages when they had last felt rain, heard thunder, smelled the fragrance of the hot earth as it gave up its rich aroma to the rain.

  Rita came and stood beside him, wrapping her arms around him. They stood together, enjoying the warmth of their bodies leaning against each other. The sweet fragrance of rain and wet earth enveloped them. There was nothing like that smell in the high arid plateau. The desert earth was like a woman suddenly opened by the voluptuous caress of the lover. The rain and the earth mixed and rose within the thin veil of mist-cooled night.