The Secret of the Villa Mimosa by Elizabeth Adler Read Free Book Online

“You know, Dante and Beatrice. She’s famous enough. Besides, I don’t feel like a Rita Hayworth or a Queen Elizabeth the First.”
    “Mmm, Beatrice … Bea. Sounds good. And how about French, since it’s the first thing you have remembered?”
    “Bea French. It sounds great.” She laughed, pleased, pushing her terror of not knowing who she was temporarily away from her. “Now maybe I’ll be a somebody again, instead of an anonymous nobody.”

7
    I t was 7:00 P.M. two weeks later, and Mahoney had just finished his shift. Three hours late as usual.
    “You know you only do it just to make the rest of us guys look bad,” Detective Valentino Benedetti complained. “Why can’t you finish on time like the rest of us?”
    He was a tall man with a red face, a beer belly, and flat feet that were the bane of his life and the butt of every cop joke in the squad room. He was also known for working the fewest hours. Somehow he got away with it. Unless it was legitimate paid overtime, of course.
    They were sitting at the bar in Hanran’s, attempting to solve the day’s problems over a beer.
    “Why d’ya only drink that light crap instead of real beer, like Bud? What kinda cop are you anyways, Mahoney?”
    “A tired cop, Benedetti, that’s what I am. I’ve just spent four hours hanging around court, trying to get an ignorant felon put away for robbing his grandmother and then tying her to the bedpost with her stockings. Surprise, surprise, she died. He pleaded notguilty. He only meant to tie her up for a joke, he said. The fact that the stockings were tied around her neck and that she choked to death in front of his eyes meant nothing. He put on the performance of his life. Said he’s only nineteen, he loved the old lady, she had been a mother to him. It was just spur-of-the-moment kid stuff; he was a good boy really. And he had a stack of witnesses to prove it. As shameless a bunch of liars as you’re ever likely to meet. He got two years’ suspended sentence and fifty hours’ community work. Jesus, Benedetti! D’ya ever wonder why you’re a cop?”
    They downed their beers in silence, contemplating the inequities of the American judicial system. Benedetti ordered two more, and the barman slid them down the counter, along with a bowl of pretzels.
    “Y’ever hear what happened to the girl in Mitchell’s Ravine?” Benedetti asked, taking a deep swallow of Budweiser. “I mean, I know she didn’t die, and technically it’s not your problem. I just wondered if the assailant ever surfaced. Y’know, if he’d come back to try again in case she remembered who he was and told the cops?”
    Mahoney shook his head. “I’ve been tied up for the last couple of weeks. We got nowhere on the airlines check, nowhere on missing persons, and nowhere on fingerprints. Nobody came forward looking for her, and as far as I know, she’s still in the hospital recovering from the head wounds. The interesting thing, though, was the dog bite.
    “There are a lot of big houses in that area, and most of them have guard dogs. I had them checked, but suddenly they are all sweet family pets. All of them were in their nice homes being fed Alpo and steak and affection the night of the attack. At least that’s what their owners claim, and there’s no way to prove otherwise. And they all are solid citizens, families of wealth and standing, pillars of society.”
    He grinned mockingly. “But you and I know allabout pillars of society, don’t we, Benedetti? We know never to trust a man by the cut of his clothes and the amount of money in his bank account. Because underneath he’s just a man.”
    “Like you and me,” Benedetti replied gloomily, ordering another couple of beers. “Only without the big bank account.”
    Mahoney put up his hand. “No more for me, pal. I’m going to call the hospital and see if I can pay my young Jane Doe a visit before they close for the night. Thanks for the beer.”
    He strode through the crowded bar