Faye Kellerman - The Burnt House

She couldn’t imagine Cindy and Koby coming this early. Maybe it was one of Hannah’s friends. She wiped her hands on her apron, threw open the door, and found herself looking at two strangers in their seventies.

The man was wearing an ill-fitting suit and tie; the woman was wearing a green dress, black orthopedic shoes, and had her gray hair knotted into a bun. They were dark-skinned Hispanics with wrinkled faces that had endured lots of sun damage. The woman was carrying an old-fashioned, patent-leather structured bag that was looped around her arm. She was also holding a plate of fresh and dried fruit. They looked as if they had just come back from church-fifty years ago.

“Hi.” Rina smiled. “Can I help you?”

The woman spoke. “We’re looking for Lieutenant Decker.”

Rina kept smiling, wondering what she should do. Peter was always telling her to be very careful, that things happened when they were least expected. For all Rina knew, the two of them could be A-list terrorists.

A terrorist with a fruit plate?

“I believe he’s still at work,” Rina told them. “Would you like me to give you the address of the police station?”

“We called,” the man groused out. “They said he’d left for the day.”

“Oh.” Again, Rina smiled but still didn’t let them inside the door. “So he must be on his way home. Is there something I can help you with?”

The woman’s eyes watered. “Your husband was very kind to us.”

“And you are?”

“Sandra and Peter Devargas.”

Immediate recognition. Rina said, “Oh, please come in.”

“We can wait outside,” Peter grumped.

“You look very busy,” Sandra said.

“I’m always busy,” Rina said. “Please come in.” She stepped away from the threshold. “I insist!”

Reluctantly, the couple walked inside the living room. The woman said, “This is for your husband and you. Just a little something.”

“Thank you so much.” Rina relieved her of the fruit plate. “Please sit. Would you like something to drink? Water? Iced tea?”

“Something smells good,” Devargas said. “I guess anything would smell good after eating fast food for the last twenty-four hours.” His wife poked him in the ribs. The man said, “What?”

Rina smiled. “Thank you for the compliment. I happen to be cooking for our Sabbath, which we observe on Friday night. I made plenty of food. Would you like to stay for dinner?”

Devargas said, “That sound-” Another poke. “What? The woman asked us.”

“We’re fine, but thank you,” Sandra said.

Rina chuckled. “Honestly, it’s not a problem.”

Devargas shrugged, but Sandra was reluctant. Having dealt with older, ethnic women her entire life, Rina felt something click inside her head. “Really, do stay. I’m having a lot of people. I could always use another pair of hands.”

Sandra’s knuckles were white from clutching her purse. “Well, if you need some help, I’d be delighted to help you.”

“Great. You can make the salad. Just leave your coat and handbag on the couch. Peter will hang it up.”

“Where do I hang it?” Devargas asked.

“Sorry, I meant Lieutenant Decker. He can do it when he gets home, which should be pretty soon. Mr. Devargas, you sit down and relax while you can. There are going to be a lot of people coming in and out in the next half hour. If you wouldn’t mind catching the door, it would help me out.”

“Of course he wouldn’t mind.” Sandra followed her into the kitchen. As soon as she stepped into the warm, humid space, the old woman relaxed. “Just point me in the right direction.”

Rina gave her salad vegetables, a big bowl, and a knife. Sandra washed her hands meticulously and began slicing vegetables. They worked a few moments without speaking. Then Sandra said, “I’m so sorry to be barging in on you like this.”

“Please. My house is a bus station,” Rina said. “People in and out. They follow the food.”

“Yes, wherever there is family, there’s a meal.” The old woman sliced and diced the tomatoes with practiced skill. “Please understand my husband’s frankness. He isn’t used to fast food. I love to cook and I cook for him. And he is right. Everything does smell very good.”

“Thank you.”

“What are you making?”

“Well, this here is called a kugel, which is just a Yiddish word for pudding. Yiddish is the language that the Jews spoke in Europe. I made two kinds of kugel tonight-a sweet noodle pudding and a potato pudding.”

“Oh, it all looks so wonderful.”

“And this big pot here is a stew for tomorrow’s lunch. It’s called chulent. Jews aren’t allowed to cook on Saturday, but if we start the dish on Friday, then we can eat it hot on Saturday.”

“That’s interesting. What’s in it?”

“Meat, potatoes, beans, barley…but really you can put whatever you want in it.”

“So your husband doesn’t eat it?”

“No, Peter eats chulent. He loves chulent.”

“But how does he eat it if he’s a vegetarian?”

Uh-oh. Rina smiled. “He isn’t really a vegetarian, Mrs. Devargas. We’re kosher. We can’t eat meat unless it has been ritually slaughtered according to our laws. So he tells people he’s a vegetarian whenever he’s in a bind and doesn’t want to insult anyone.”

“Oh…oh, I see.” Sandra nodded. “Well, it was nice of him to tell me that, then.”

“He told me that the food you served him was absolutely fantastic. Now that you’re here, I’ll ask you for the recipes.”

“It was just simple cooking.”

“That’s the best kind.”

Sandra smiled and blushed. “Slow cooking. We do a lot of slow cooking, too, especially on Feast Day. For the Santa Clara Indians, it’s August twelfth. If you’re ever in Santa Fe at that time, you must come and eat with us so we can return the favor.” She paused. “I’ll make sure that there will be lots of vegetarian dishes that you can eat.”

“That would be great. What do you cook?”

“So many dishes you can’t even imagine. The dancing goes on from dawn to dusk. The climax is a beautiful corn dance. My daughters…” Sandra looked the other way. “My daughters are very good dancers.”

“Do you dance?”

A hint of a smile. “Sometimes. Do you?”

“I kick up a storm at weddings.”

“Best time to dance.”

“Absolutely.”

Sandra finished the tomatoes and went on to the cucumbers. “It’s nice of you not to ask why we’re here.”

Rina said, “I try not to get involved in my husband’s business.”

“But you know who we are.”

“Yes. The case made headlines and Peter…Lieutenant Decker was very involved.”

“He helped us so much…with the situation.”

“Thank you, I’m sure he’ll appreciate hearing that.”

“Yes, I don’t think I ever thanked him properly.”

“That isn’t what I meant at all,” Rina said. “I’m sure you thanked him profusely, but you just don’t remember.”

“Maybe you’re right.” Sandra put down the knife. “But we didn’t come here to thank him, Mrs. Decker. We came because…” A sigh. “We need his help.” Sandra looked at Rina. “Maybe you can help. I have to say that it’s easier for me to talk to a woman than a man…even your husband. So if you don’t mind, maybe I can talk to you.”

“I don’t mind at all.”

Sandra set her shoulders square and began to talk. “This is the situation. As you know, my daughter, Beth, was murdered. There’s no debate on that. The problem seems to be who did it. The case never even got to trial. Belize Hernandez pleaded guilty to a lot of lesser charges and he is serving some time in prison…not as much as he would have if he had been convicted of murder, though.”