Tralala… First off, a thank you to the wonderful people at Armida for making such wonderful wines, and having such a wonderful mascot, Wino. I was quite happy to share my Pringles with him while I was visiting. Next, I add a disclaimer for the cameo appearances of a couple of my other characters from other tales. They are property of me, and like Emily and Mischa, wonderfully up for rent. I hope you do enjoy the tale, for I enjoy writing. Ta-ta, have fun dear ones.
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Warm spring sun casts its rays over the park where the children are playing. Screams and peals of laughter float across the green jeweled lawns as mothers and fathers sit on benches, passing the time together, talking about the weather and how wonderful their respective child is doing. A beautiful blond haired baby is being pushed in a swing on the far side of the playground, away from the most rambunctious of the commotion. The dark sunglasses on the mother's face obscure her eyes, and the thick hair is pulled back in a ponytail that hangs from below a Giants ball cap. She is smiling at the baby girl, who giggles as the wind rushes in her face. Softly, if she listens hard enough, she can hear the mother's voice as she pushes the baby's swing.
"One for the money," a light push on the swing. "Two for the show," a little harder push now. "Three to get ready," the baby is squealing with delight as she s caught once again for another push, one that sends her higher than the others. "And four to go!" Carefully, the swing is slowed and she is lifted from its cradle by the mother, who spins her around and plants a kiss on her forehead. She walks to the stroller parked at the edge of the sand and arranges the straps out of the way before placing the little girl in the seat. She dutifully buckles the straps and puts a small hat on the baby's head, which is promptly removed and the bill is inserted into its mouth. The children from the other side of the playground run by, playing tag and obscuring whatever the mother has just said. Mother and daughter leave the park, making their way across the green lawn. She stands from her bench and follows. If she can't keep track of him, maybe she'll have better luck with her. Besides, the mother is the one she ultimately wants.
*****
She pulls the garage door opener from the satchel draped over the back of the stroller. She smiles as she watches the door lift and expose the garage to the sunshine. To the right is her car, a sleek, black Lincoln Town Car, a Cartier L edition no less. With the pleasant weather and with Mischa behaving so well, it just begs for a drive. Yes, that's what will help to relieve her anxieties, a pleasant drive putting the car through its paces. She pushes the stroller into the garage and leaves the door open as she takes Mischa inside. A few minutes later, she is returning with a freshly changed daughter and a diaper bag draped over her opposite arm. She situates little Mischa in her car seat and drops the diaper bag to the car floor. She glances out the garage, looking at the blue skies and debating where to go. She doesn't pay any mind to the woman walking the little Italian greyhound across the street.
Traffic is relatively light as Emily takes the car north and out of the city. The view from the Golden Gate is wonderful as she crosses it. As they cross into Marin county she slips a CD into the player, smiling as Aaron Copland comes over the speakers. She grins at Mischa in the rearview mirror, the little girl's light blonde hair being whipped by the wind. They speed north on 101, heading for the wine country. No matter what, Emily has to have a reason to go out and have her fun, and today's reason is to pick up some wine. She heads north to Healdsburg, listening to 'Fanfare for the Common Man'. The speed is the proper medication and her worries over the murder swiftly bleed away.
Mischa toddles next to Emily as they stand in the tasting room at Armida. She is doing better at walking, but knows enough not to leave her mother's side when they are not at home. The winery's official mascot, Wino, who is a large friendly dog, is sniffing at Mischa's head. Emily indulges herself and tries one of the Chardonnays while she chats with the server. After saying her goodbyes, she leaves with a bottle of the 2000 Gewurtztraminer. The vines have yet to turn green, but the scene from the little deck by her car is gorgeous nonetheless. A small pond with a fountain burbles in the foreground as the Russian River valley lays green and spread before them. She is in high spirits as they return to the Lincoln, and to her ringing cell phone.
*****
Evening, six o clock, the sun is staying up later, and it is pleasant to come home during the daylight. As Dr. Antonio Rinaldi turns his Jaguar onto the street he sees an old blue 1964 Ford Fairlane parked in his driveway. It is a well restored automobile and sports fender tags denoting that it has a 289 Hi-Po engine under its hood. The license plate on it read "BLUCLUE", he notes as he taps the button to open the garage. The rumble from the Jaguar fills the garage as he pulls in. He cuts the engine and steps out, the smell of exhaust and spring air heavy in the garage. His wife's Lincoln is still cooling as he passes to the door leading into the house. As he closes the garage door behind him and steps into the laundry room, he wonders what she has been up to today.
The light smell of honeysuckle greets him as he comes into the hallway. He removes his coat and hangs it in the closet before heading for the kitchen. Before he gets there, the scent of honeysuckle grows stronger and he can hear another female voice coming from the kitchen. He steps in and finds his wife seated alongside a petite red haired woman, both sipping tea from china cups. The red head turns and smiles as his wife rises form her chair.
"Ummmm. You're home, I must have lost track of time. Anyway, Lissie, this is my husband, Dr. Antonio Rinaldi." He watches as the visitor rises and extends a slim hand to him. He takes note of the sidearm she wears snugged against her ribs and the badge that is dangling on a cord around her neck. His wife is continuing with introductions, hand laid on his arm. "Antoni, this Lissie Shaw."
"Hello." he takes the hand and feels the strength in her grip. "It is a pleasure to meet you."
"As it is you." her voice is that of a soprano. She smiles and releases his hand, turning slightly towards his wife. "Amelia, you'll look over the stuff I gave you and let me know?"
Emily Amelia nods and smiles. "Of course. Do you still want to have playgroup on Friday?"
Lissie is grabbing her purse from beside the chair and withdrawing a card from the outside pocket. "Of course. Just ring me if anything changes." she hands the card to Emily Amelia and nods to him. "Dr. Rinaldi." she steps out of the kitchen and makes her way to the front door. Nothing is said until the sound of the Fairlane's engine is heard. Emily steps away and slumps into the chair she was previously occupying. She trailed her fingers across the slim manila file folder that lay before her, taking the card and tapping against the file then lifting it and tapping it against her teeth. Dr. Rinaldi smiles at that, then reaches for the card.
"You have picked up some rather odd habits, dear." he comments, looking at the police seal emblazoned on the card.
"Only from you." she replies, flipping the folder open.
"Elizabeth Shaw, Inspector. Special Investigations Unit, SFPD." he read from the card.
An absent nod as his wife looks through the folder. "She wants my help if they get another murder." she is scanning the police report.
"The Berkley Murder? Will you help her, Emily?"
"Hmmmm. Prolly. She was asked in on it because they thought it was a serial killer that she had been working on for the past few years. It wasn't." she slid a sheaf of photographs from the folder and passed them to him. "Look, tell me what you think."
He does as she instructs, maroon eyes glowing as he studies the pictures. The woman lays face down on the pier, and the resulting carnage is very, very familiar. Emily looks up at his soft intake of breath, watching him.
"Bloody Eagle." she informs him, slim manicured finger tapping the photo. The woman's lungs have been pulled from her back and spread like wings. He knows this, he has done this. That man from the hunting show. The obnoxious one. Donnie Barber, yes that was him. He had removed his sweetbreads and those of the deer. Strange. As he looks more closely at the photo he can see the same incisions on the woman's back. His eyes flick up to meet Emily's, and the answer is on her tongue before he asks the question.
"She was butchered. The sweetbreads and the liver were removed." he could see the distaste in her eyes for the next thing she said. "You haven't been doing things, again, have you?"
"No. I would not kill without a purpose, Emily."
She points a finger at the photos, slim and decisive. "Then they have a copycat on their hands. Unless, there is another cannibal running around the Bay Area who likes the way you do things."
A grim smile touches his lips. "We cannibals are a rare breed." he slides the photos to her, watches as she places them back inside the folder and closes it, hand resting on top. He reaches out and gently strokes her middle finger with his index finger. "I am going to advise you to help the police, Emily." she meets his eyes and sees a protective glint in them. "But I am going to caution you to be very, very careful with this one."
*****