way and started teaching yoga. My guess is that she saw David getting into financial trouble and wanted out, asap.”
Maybe that was the reason Rita referred to David as her ex, rather than admitting she was still married to him.
“Not that it makes any difference to your situation,” I said, “but the police are leaning toward ruling Rita’s death an accident. If anything comes to mind that might change that, you could tell the police or give me a call at that number on the card I gave you.”
Gerald glanced at the wrinkled card, which he’d kept in his clenched fist. “Sure,” he said.
I didn’t get the feeling that any outcome to the Rita investigation would take priority over Gerald’s other problems, but it was worth a try. I left a couple of minutes later and headed toward the parking lot. I saw a woman walking toward me with her head lowered. “Dina? You okay?” I asked.
“Charlie?” The voice was soft.
Dina Carlotti stepped out from between two cars. Her eyes looked moist and her smooth dark hair was rumpled. I repeated my question.
“Um, yes, I think so.” She walked toward me, wadding the fabric of her tote bag in her fingers. “I have been thinking so much about poor Rita.”
“Well, it’s sad. But you hardly knew her.” I thought of the way Rita had practically forced Dina into one of the yoga positions, despite her back injury. “Not to speak ill of the dead, but she wasn’t exactly the nicest person any of us have met.”
“That is true. She just . . . I saw what a struggle she had in life.”
How well did Dina know the dead woman?
“Didn’t you just meet her on Monday, like the rest of us? I mean, she hardly shared her life story with us in these three days.”
“Oh, I did not mention? Rita and I attend some yoga seminars here in Santa Fe last summer. She was only recently separate from her husband. I think there were many problems with money. She talk about going back to California for a better job.” Dina fiddled with the tote handles again. “I did not know her well, but her impression is of a lady who knew better times. She once had money to spend and to travel. She told me she once watch me perform in Venezia.”
Interesting.
“What about this week? Did you talk to her much?”
“No. Sadly, she did not recognize me at first. I introduce myself, then she remember, but was very, how you say, distracted. I asked her to have dinner on Wednesday, that is tonight, and we would talk. Maybe then she would tell me how her life was going. But now . . .” Her eyes welled up again.
I moved forward and hugged her. “Oh, Dina, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize . . .”
She gripped me tightly for a few seconds then pulled away.
“I know. A sad person, Rita was.” She took a deep breath and swiped at her eyes with the heel of her hand. “Nothing to be done, though. It is time for my massage.”
“That will help,” I assured her, patting her shoulder as she walked away. I tossed my bag on the front passenger seat and started my car, mulling over the past hour’s revelations. How coincidental was it that three people in our group just happened to know Rita from elsewhere? And wasn’t it a tad early to consider a suicide verdict when Rita had made dinner plans for tonight? Even if she’d been feeling down, it seemed that meeting an old friend, someone she’d confided in before, would be incentive enough to stick around for another day or so anyway.
I didn’t like the accident theory and I didn’t like the suicide option. So what was left? Well, with any luck the police would begin to piece it together soon.
I really didn’t relish the idea of becoming sucked into a murder investigation.
Chapter 13
Drake stared at the horizon. The Santa Fe Airport came in sight, sitting out in an open spot with nearly three-sixty views. Some light industrial businesses flanked it on the east side, toward the city, while acres of native piñon and juniper stretched off in every
Maybe that was the reason Rita referred to David as her ex, rather than admitting she was still married to him.
“Not that it makes any difference to your situation,” I said, “but the police are leaning toward ruling Rita’s death an accident. If anything comes to mind that might change that, you could tell the police or give me a call at that number on the card I gave you.”
Gerald glanced at the wrinkled card, which he’d kept in his clenched fist. “Sure,” he said.
I didn’t get the feeling that any outcome to the Rita investigation would take priority over Gerald’s other problems, but it was worth a try. I left a couple of minutes later and headed toward the parking lot. I saw a woman walking toward me with her head lowered. “Dina? You okay?” I asked.
“Charlie?” The voice was soft.
Dina Carlotti stepped out from between two cars. Her eyes looked moist and her smooth dark hair was rumpled. I repeated my question.
“Um, yes, I think so.” She walked toward me, wadding the fabric of her tote bag in her fingers. “I have been thinking so much about poor Rita.”
“Well, it’s sad. But you hardly knew her.” I thought of the way Rita had practically forced Dina into one of the yoga positions, despite her back injury. “Not to speak ill of the dead, but she wasn’t exactly the nicest person any of us have met.”
“That is true. She just . . . I saw what a struggle she had in life.”
How well did Dina know the dead woman?
“Didn’t you just meet her on Monday, like the rest of us? I mean, she hardly shared her life story with us in these three days.”
“Oh, I did not mention? Rita and I attend some yoga seminars here in Santa Fe last summer. She was only recently separate from her husband. I think there were many problems with money. She talk about going back to California for a better job.” Dina fiddled with the tote handles again. “I did not know her well, but her impression is of a lady who knew better times. She once had money to spend and to travel. She told me she once watch me perform in Venezia.”
Interesting.
“What about this week? Did you talk to her much?”
“No. Sadly, she did not recognize me at first. I introduce myself, then she remember, but was very, how you say, distracted. I asked her to have dinner on Wednesday, that is tonight, and we would talk. Maybe then she would tell me how her life was going. But now . . .” Her eyes welled up again.
I moved forward and hugged her. “Oh, Dina, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize . . .”
She gripped me tightly for a few seconds then pulled away.
“I know. A sad person, Rita was.” She took a deep breath and swiped at her eyes with the heel of her hand. “Nothing to be done, though. It is time for my massage.”
“That will help,” I assured her, patting her shoulder as she walked away. I tossed my bag on the front passenger seat and started my car, mulling over the past hour’s revelations. How coincidental was it that three people in our group just happened to know Rita from elsewhere? And wasn’t it a tad early to consider a suicide verdict when Rita had made dinner plans for tonight? Even if she’d been feeling down, it seemed that meeting an old friend, someone she’d confided in before, would be incentive enough to stick around for another day or so anyway.
I didn’t like the accident theory and I didn’t like the suicide option. So what was left? Well, with any luck the police would begin to piece it together soon.
I really didn’t relish the idea of becoming sucked into a murder investigation.
Chapter 13
Drake stared at the horizon. The Santa Fe Airport came in sight, sitting out in an open spot with nearly three-sixty views. Some light industrial businesses flanked it on the east side, toward the city, while acres of native piñon and juniper stretched off in every
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