Read Online Cappuccino Twist by Anisa Claire West - Free Book Online
Authors: Anisa Claire West
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faint, I rang the doorbell and waited. Footsteps clattered and stopped at the door as I felt instinctively that the person on the other side was gazing out of a peephole. A tense mom ent passed as I fretted that I would be ignored again just like at Jacinta’s estate. But slowly, the door moved open as an attractive woman with short raven waves looked skeptically at me.
“May I help you?” She asked in formal Spanish.
“Yes, I’m looking for Maria Elena Garcia.”
“I am Maria Elena. Who are you?”
“May I come in?”
“Not until you tell me who you are.” The older woman stubbornly blockaded the doorway and crossed her arms over her chest.
“I’m Marlena Falcon,” I stated simply, sensing that she would slam the door in my face if I withheld my identity for another second.
“Falcon?” Her face paled just as Marcelo Sanchez’s had. “You are related to Silvia Falcon?”
“Yes, she was my grandmother’s sister and…”
“And what do you want from me? Why are you at my house? How did you get my name and address?” The flurry of questions was like a blinding snowstorm where the direction to take is unclear. I had no idea which question to answer first.
“Well…” I faltered. “You know her murder has never been solved and…”
“And what does that have to do with me?!” Maria Elena demanded stridently as the wheels turned in my head at her intensely emotional reaction.
“I don’t know what it has to do with you. Or if it has anything to do with you. That’s what I’m trying to find out. I know that she was involved with your father at some point.”
“Do not speak of my father! Your aunt Silvia was a homewrecker. She ruined my parents’ marriage! My mother was never the same after that disgusting affair.” Maria Elena lashed out at me as though she had been bottling all this anger for the past 50 years.
“I’m sorry about the affair. It was wrong of both of them,” I emphasized as her eyes blazed. “I never knew my aunt Silvia. And I’m sure she wasn’t perfect. But she didn’t deserve to be murdered. I just want to know…”
Maria Elena interrupted me ferociously, practically baring her teeth at me. “I don’t care what you want to know! I’m not obligated to talk to you! Get off my property!” Lowering her voice, she sneered, “You know you look like that whore Silvia. Except she was prettier than you.” With those crude words, the infuriated woman slammed the door in my face.
Defeated, I walked back to the car where Eduardo was humming along to a Grover Washington, Jr. song, completely oblivious of the hideous confrontation that had just taken place. “That was fast,” he said. “Any luck?”
“None whatsoever. Unless you count bad luck. I’ve had more than my share of that on this trip.” I slumped in the seat, feeling like Nana had asked me to grant an impossible request. I wasn’t a magic genie or fairy godmother. I was just an ordinary woman from the Lower East Side. There were no mystical doves or secret messages in a bottle to help me solve this crime. As much as it killed me to admit, I was beginning to see why the police had sealed the file on this murder. If the weapon had been a pillow, there wouldn’t have been any blood evidence to work with. And DNA science hadn’t yet come on the scene in the 1960’s. So all they had to work with were circumstantial clues and an assembly of uncooperative suspects.
“Don’t worry. Your luck will turn,” Eduardo said gently, switching off the radio.
“Maybe you can just drop me off at the inn. I’m not feeling too well,” I said glumly as he pulled onto the main road.
“Are you sure? I had a nice spot picked out for us to have lunch.” Disappointment was crystal clear in Eduardo’s voice.
“That’s really sweet, but I just want to rest for the afternoon. Can we take a raincheck?”
“Of course we can.” Somberly, Eduardo
“May I help you?” She asked in formal Spanish.
“Yes, I’m looking for Maria Elena Garcia.”
“I am Maria Elena. Who are you?”
“May I come in?”
“Not until you tell me who you are.” The older woman stubbornly blockaded the doorway and crossed her arms over her chest.
“I’m Marlena Falcon,” I stated simply, sensing that she would slam the door in my face if I withheld my identity for another second.
“Falcon?” Her face paled just as Marcelo Sanchez’s had. “You are related to Silvia Falcon?”
“Yes, she was my grandmother’s sister and…”
“And what do you want from me? Why are you at my house? How did you get my name and address?” The flurry of questions was like a blinding snowstorm where the direction to take is unclear. I had no idea which question to answer first.
“Well…” I faltered. “You know her murder has never been solved and…”
“And what does that have to do with me?!” Maria Elena demanded stridently as the wheels turned in my head at her intensely emotional reaction.
“I don’t know what it has to do with you. Or if it has anything to do with you. That’s what I’m trying to find out. I know that she was involved with your father at some point.”
“Do not speak of my father! Your aunt Silvia was a homewrecker. She ruined my parents’ marriage! My mother was never the same after that disgusting affair.” Maria Elena lashed out at me as though she had been bottling all this anger for the past 50 years.
“I’m sorry about the affair. It was wrong of both of them,” I emphasized as her eyes blazed. “I never knew my aunt Silvia. And I’m sure she wasn’t perfect. But she didn’t deserve to be murdered. I just want to know…”
Maria Elena interrupted me ferociously, practically baring her teeth at me. “I don’t care what you want to know! I’m not obligated to talk to you! Get off my property!” Lowering her voice, she sneered, “You know you look like that whore Silvia. Except she was prettier than you.” With those crude words, the infuriated woman slammed the door in my face.
Defeated, I walked back to the car where Eduardo was humming along to a Grover Washington, Jr. song, completely oblivious of the hideous confrontation that had just taken place. “That was fast,” he said. “Any luck?”
“None whatsoever. Unless you count bad luck. I’ve had more than my share of that on this trip.” I slumped in the seat, feeling like Nana had asked me to grant an impossible request. I wasn’t a magic genie or fairy godmother. I was just an ordinary woman from the Lower East Side. There were no mystical doves or secret messages in a bottle to help me solve this crime. As much as it killed me to admit, I was beginning to see why the police had sealed the file on this murder. If the weapon had been a pillow, there wouldn’t have been any blood evidence to work with. And DNA science hadn’t yet come on the scene in the 1960’s. So all they had to work with were circumstantial clues and an assembly of uncooperative suspects.
“Don’t worry. Your luck will turn,” Eduardo said gently, switching off the radio.
“Maybe you can just drop me off at the inn. I’m not feeling too well,” I said glumly as he pulled onto the main road.
“Are you sure? I had a nice spot picked out for us to have lunch.” Disappointment was crystal clear in Eduardo’s voice.
“That’s really sweet, but I just want to rest for the afternoon. Can we take a raincheck?”
“Of course we can.” Somberly, Eduardo
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