Lady Blues Read online

  Lady Blues: forget-me-not

  A Gus LeGarde Mystery

  Aaron Paul Lazar

  This is a work of fiction. All concepts, characters and events portrayed in this book are used fictitiously and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2014 by Aaron Paul Lazar.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, except brief extracts for the purpose of review, without the permission of the publisher and copyright owner.

  First Edition, March, 2014

  Cover art by Kellie Dennis

  Published in the United States of America.

  Dedication

  To my dear Grandma Lena, who died from Alzheimer’s disease.

  &

  Ella Fitzgerald, whose sultry voice soothes my woes and raises my spirits to a level of unparalleled joy.

  Acknowledgments

  Huge thanks to Sonya Bateman, my long time critique partner, for her constant and unwavering support. I’ve learned more about writing from Sonya than from anyone else over the past decade. Generous and always open to frank discussion, she’s been a port in the storm for me on many occasions. Please check out my favorite book of hers, Broken Angel, as well as her urban thrillers at: http://housephoenix.wordpress.com/.

  To Robin P. Waldrop, who inspired me (okay, she nudged really hard) to try my hand at a new venture and who encouraged me along the way by offering insightful critiques and catching my dumb errors. See her very popular YA paranormal romance books at:

  http://robinpwaldrop.com/

  Heartfelt appreciation to Sonia R. Martinez for her good-natured assistance and judicious edits. Sonia is my favorite food writer, who hails from Hawaii, who never fails to bring a smile to my face. See her articles and photos at: http://www.soniatasteshawaii.com/

  Joan Miller, I truly appreciate all the hard work you put into finding my errors and inconsistencies. I wouldn’t feel right unless you read through my manuscript before publishing, and I will always picture you and Gretchen’s cat Jessie reading at night outside by the chiminea.

  Cindy Taylor—one of my all time favorite book reviewers—has written stunning reviews for my books for years now, and I was thrilled when she offered to beta read this book as well. You made the return of Mrs. Pierce to Gus’s kitchen a much more believable scene. And thank you, Cindy, for all the years of support.

  Sheila Deeth is the author of a wonderful book entitled Divide by Zero. Like a human patchwork quilt, this dramatic family novel provides intimate glimpses into the minds of dozens of characters who will fascinate you. Sheila has always had a knack for picking up on the tiniest inconsistencies. Thank you for volunteering to help me again, and for reading and reviewing my books over the years. Once again, you saved me from quite a few embarrassing plot contradictions.

  Thank you, Kellie Dennis, of Book Cover by Design, for your help with our cover art. I love the cover you designed and stand in awe of your expertise. Way to go!

  Janie Adams recently discovered LeGarde Mysteries and offered to join the “inner circle” of the Beta Readers’ Team. Thanks so much for your support, Janie, and for finding those pesky errors.

  Ardy Scott has long been involved in my books as a treasured cover artist for Twilight Times Books. But more than just creating beautiful covers, she has absorbed and understood my characters and created the most moving and meaningful artwork to represent my books. Now she’s joined the ranks of our inner circle, and I’m grateful for the astute edits she has suggested.

  Thank you, Ardy, for making Lady Blues a better book than it would have been without your ideas.

  Maria Benzoni Lombardo lives on the same gorgeous ridge over the Genesee Valley that we do, and we have been friends for years. She is reading and reviewing my audio books, and recently offered to try her hand at Beta reading. I’m very glad she did! Maria, thanks for finding the errors I made. I so appreciate your “catches” and valued your input.

  Jenny Woodall writes under the pen name of Victoria Howard, and has become a wonderful author friend from “across the pond,” in the UK. After we got past our UK/USA variances in writing styles, we have helped each other with stories, genre classification, and more. Thank you for taking the time and for making the effort. Jenny’s best-selling romantic suspense books can be found here: http://www.victoriahoward.co.uk/

  Joan H Young, we have just discovered each other’s mysteries this year, and I must say I love your work. Thank you for taking a critical look at my manuscript even though you are as always swamped with multiple projects and much snow blowing in your driveway up north! You really have an amazing knack for finding typos and mistakes, thank you for spending so much time on this. Joan’s cozy mysteries can be discovered here: http://www.booksleavingfootprints.com.

  Steven Moynier: Steve, we just met on Facebook through our amazing Aileen Aroma (publicist) and it’s been so much fun getting to know you. Thanks for taking a look at Lady Blues and for your ideas and catches, and best of luck on your upcoming book!

  Gabriela Scholter, you read Lady Blues in less than one day and came back with a dozen excellent catches. I so appreciate your support and feedback, and thank you for your amazing speed and quality in your beta reading. Hope life is treating you good in Stuttgart!

  Thanks to Maria Caperna, who suggested the name Bello Mondo Manor for the Alzheimer’s nursing home in this story. Who would have imagined long ago in Kodak that we’d be here, now? Pretty cool. ;o)

  Cover Art by artist extraordinaire, Kellie Dennis at Book Cover by Design http://www.bookcoverbydesign.co.uk.

  Chapter One

  I strolled along Main Street with Siegfried, my best friend and brother-in-law, unable to shake the song repeating in my head. I’d played it for my Opera 101 class yesterday at school, and since then, kept hearing Marcelo Alvarez singing “Che gelida manina,” from La Boheme. Because Camille and I had seen him perform in this role last fall in New York City, it made me long for Lincoln Center, or at least a really good hot pastrami sandwich from a decent deli.

  Why I thought of food at that particular moment was a mystery, because we’d just finished a big breakfast of scrambled eggs, home fries, and bacon at Clara’s Diner. I shrugged and let the warm spring air caress my face and bare arms. The sun felt good after the lingering cold of March. I reveled in the feeling of freedom, happy to have no appointments or chores looming in the near future, and looking forward to a leisurely stop in the village bookstore.

  A warm breeze teased across the Genesee Valley, filling me with a curious sense of exhilaration. Just past the bagel shop, from the top of the ridge where our historic village of Conaroga, New York perched, I stopped for a minute to enjoy the view. Rolling hills swelled in the distance, coated green with winter wheat.

  I wanted to stay put and soak it all in, but Siegfried was rapidly disappearing into the crowded street. With his blond ponytail swaying behind him, his long legs ate up the ground.

  I hurried after him. “Hey, buddy. What’s going on?” I wasn’t sure why our trip to the bookstore warranted such an effort.

  He frowned, walking faster. “Ja.”

  What kind of an answer was that? Had he even heard me? “Sig? You okay?”

  I loped for a few paces and caught up with him. Rushing along the sidewalk in front of Victorian homes with deep porches and brightly-colored gables, we finally reached the commercial part of the village, jogging side by side past quaint shop windows offering flowers, travel dreams, gourmet pizza, and works of art.

  A bus belched smoke and rumbled past us, its gears grinding. The advertisement on its broad side read, “Got Milk?�
� Beneath the text, a smiling actress wore a milk mustache.

  I glanced down at my black tee shirt. The slogan, “Got Opera?” had produced a few confused grins from customers at the diner, where Siegfried and I enjoyed our breakfast.

  “Hey, what’s the hurry, big fella?”

  Siegfried didn’t answer.

  I wasn’t sure why he seemed so distracted, but I responded when he motioned for me to quicken my pace because over the years, I’d learned to trust his sixth sense and recognized something in his expression that spelled danger.

  We crossed the street, almost at a run now. Siegfried frowned at something on the other side of the road. I followed his line of sight and realized he wasn’t headed for the bookstore, but for Thom Kim’s tailor shop.

  Siegfried had been doing a lot of business there lately. A man of his height required the help of a tailor from time to time, but he’d found dozens of excuses for alterations in the past few months. A loose button here, a burst seam there. He’d been visiting the shop almost twice a week, and I wondered why.

  “Why are we hurrying?” I asked again.

  He burst into a sprint, shouting now. “Look!” He lunged ahead of me, his sea blue eyes trained on the top floor of the building.

  I smelled it before I saw it, then looked up.

  Smoke.

  It poured from the upper floor where Thom Kim lived with his sister, Lily. Although the street teemed with people, no one seemed to have noticed the smoke. We careened along the sidewalk, pushing through shoppers and students.

  Cursing because I left my cell phone in the car, I grabbed the nearest student texting on his phone. He stared at me through black dreadlocks as if I were attacking him. Which I guess I was, in a way.

  I pointed up. “Call 911. Tell them there’s a fire.”

  The crowd parted, staring and pointing at the smoky building. The boy with the phone gawked at me, as if locked in a trance.

  I shook his arm. “Call 911!”

  In that instant, he came to life, stabbing at his phone. “Okay. I’m on it.”

  Siegfried and I rushed into the building. No one stood behind the sales counter or in the work area in the back of the shop.

  “Where are they?” I said, hurriedly searching behind doors and cabinets.

  “Upstairs,” Siegfried said with certainty, pointing toward a back staircase.

  We scrambled toward the stairs, entering a cloud of thick, choking smoke.

  A woman’s cry came from above.

  “Lily!” Siegfried shouted, covering his mouth and nose with his shirt. He scaled the steps two at a time with me right behind him.

  A hoarse bellow came from the left in what had to be Korean, Thom’s native language. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of movement, followed by a burning rafter crashing to the floor, but smoke quickly obscured my view.

  A flicker of orange flames bloomed in another doorway, flaring to the ceiling. The fire was spreading fast.

  “Professor,” Siegfried yelled over the roar of the inferno, peering into the darkness. “I can’t see!”

  On the far side of the building, a window cracked and exploded, allowing the smoke to shift and clear just enough to give us a view of the bedroom, where I now headed to search for Thom Kim.

  “There!” I said, pointing to the man pinned beneath a fallen timber.

  Fire crackled along the wall and licked orange-red near his arm. The bed, fully engulfed, leapt with flames.

  A scream erupted farther down the hall.

  Lily.

  “Get her!” I shouted over my shoulder, stumbling toward Thom.

  Siegfried quickly ducked into the smoke, following the direction of her cries.

  The wall of heat blasted me, nearly melting my resolve. Stooping low, I took a deep breath and crawled toward Thom. I pulled hard on his arm, but couldn’t budge him. He uttered a low moan. The fire had reached him and his sleeve was starting to burn.

  Grabbing his jacket from a nearby chair, I slapped it over his arms, extinguishing the flames, then kicked repeatedly at the scorched beam until it finally moved. Breathless, I half-dragged, half-carried Thom out to the hall, stumbling backwards away from the fire and denser smoke. With a concerted effort, I slung him over my shoulder.

  A blast came from the rear of the building.

  Oh my God. Siegfried. Lily.

  Horrified, I searched the smoke for my friend, shouting his name. “Siegfried!”

  The black cloud rolled with a vengeance now, completely obscuring my vision. I struggled to breathe and reached for the stairway rail, trying to balance. Tears bathed my eyes, but failed to cool the inflamed tissues. I wanted to pull my shirt over my mouth and nose, but it was impossible with Thom on my back. I didn’t want to drop him.

  Siegfried stumbled out of the darkness and crashed toward the stairway with Lily in his arms. Tinier than her brother, she clung to Sig’s neck, still conscious. Choking with relief, I followed them down the stairs and into the street with Thom draped over my back. The fire roared above, creeping up the outer walls, and sparks fell to the sidewalk. Breathing hard, we ran away from the burning building.

  Wailing sirens approached in the distance.

  Thank God, the fire department.

  In front of the old cinema, two students reached out to help me carry Thom farther down the street.

  Holding his legs, I walked with them, noticing the gash on his forehead and the angry burns on his arms and face. “Careful,” I said. “He’s badly burned.” I looked down at my own arms, which prickled and throbbed, but they weren’t nearly as bad as Thom’s.

  “Are you okay, Professor?” Siegfried said, coming up close behind us.

  I nodded, catching my breath. “I think so. You?”

  Still carrying Lily, he gave a curt nod in return. “Ja.” Soot smeared his face and arms. His ponytail had come undone, and his hair flowed over his shoulders in a snarled tumble. Backlit by the light of the fire, he reminded me of an angel warrior.

  Two fire trucks shrieked to a stop in front of the burning building, delivering firemen who raced to set up the hoses. A kind young woman came toward us with a blanket, laying it on the sidewalk. She helped us gently lower Thom to the ground.

  The owner of the bagel shop dragged a chair onto the sidewalk, motioning to Siegfried and Lily. “Set her down right here ‘til the ambulance comes.”

  “Okay.” Siegfried tried to put her down, but she wouldn’t let go. Still coughing, he stuck a hand out to stop the well-meaning spectators who tried to pry her off him. He waved them away. “Nein. I will hold her.” He dropped into the chair with Lily on his lap.

  Wild-eyed, she looked around with panic in her eyes. “Thom?” A slew of words I didn’t understand followed, trailed by a long bout of coughing.

  I tried to calm her. “Thom is there, Lily.” I pointed toward her brother who lay on the blanket nearby.

  Well-meaning volunteers surrounded him and blocked her view, thankfully hiding his condition from her. Within minutes, however, an ambulance skidded around the corner and screeched to a stop twenty yards from us. The bagel shop owner ran into the swelling crowd, waving her arms to get their attention. “Over here.”

  The van backed toward us and two EMTs leapt to the street, sprinting in our direction.

  Chapter Two

  Ten minutes later, emergency personnel loaded Thom into the ambulance. A heavyset balding attendant with sweat beading on his forehead approached me. “You folks hurt?”

  I ushered him to Lily’s side, ignoring my throbbing arms. “We’re okay,” I gestured to Siegfried and me. “But she might need help.”

  The name on his jacket said S. Orlowski. He glanced at my arms, then raked his gaze over Lily and Siegfried, wiping perspiration from his forehead with his sleeve. “Damn hot. Maybe you should move back some more.”

  We stood a good distance from the fire, but the virtual wall of heat still simmered too close for comfort. Even though the firemen attacked th
e blaze with their hoses and had blocked off that part of the street, I felt a sudden urge to listen to the medic and run, putting as much distance between the fire and myself as possible.

  Lily froze when the EMT came closer. She ducked into Siegfried’s arms, shrinking from Orlowski’s touch.

  “You okay, Ma’am?”

  Siegfried raised his hand. “She does not speak English,” he said. “She is afraid.” His voice cracked and warbled on the last few words.

  Surprised by the level of emotion in his voice, I watched him carefully. Was it a post-traumatic reaction? I moved nearer, trying to hide my own shaking hands. Strange how long it took for the reaction to set in after one’s adrenaline slowed down.

  “Lily?” I said. “Are you hurt?”

  She burrowed deeper into the safety of Siegfried. His eyes flushed with overwhelming tenderness. In spite of her sooty clothes, I didn’t see burns on her skin. Siegfried and I both had begun to recover and breathe more normally, too.

  “Maybe we should just keep an eye on her?” I said.

  Orlowski shook his head with disapproval, glancing back at the ambulance. “It’s your call. But if this little lady gets worse, you’ll have to bring her to the ER. Meanwhile, we can’t wait. We’ve gotta get that guy into the burn unit.”

  We thanked him, and he hurried back to the ambulance. Skirting the vehicle, he hopped into the driver’s seat, turned on the siren, and tore north in the direction of Rochester Memorial Hospital.

  Lily watched the ambulance leave and color drained from her face. “Thom?” she moaned.

  Siegfried held her tightly and spoke to her in German, uttering soothing words she couldn’t possibly understand. It seemed to calm her.

  “Sig?”