and who wore an expensive scent and who liked to pretend she didn’t speak that much English. A three-dimensional person, not the benign grandmotherly type I’d always seen her as.
She was already seated on a little wooden bench under a spreading pōhutukawa tree that someone had decorated with twinkling fairy lights, the sight of fallen starlight I’d appreciated more than once from my balcony. No red splashed the dark green of the tree today, the flowers dormant for the winter. It was Alice’s mother who was wearing red—a big puffy jacket that all but encompassed her.
“Elei.” Shanti laughed. “It’s not that cold!” She hurried over to the bench to take a seat next to the other woman.
At Elei’s feet sat a pristine white poodle. Princess, Alice’s pampered pooch. She was probably more groomed and polished than most people you’d meet, and had a sweet nature. No guard dog was Princess. Neither did she bark much.
She must’ve been at doggie daycare that time I went over to Alice’s.
The dog came over to nuzzle at me after I sat down in a wooden chair facing the two women. The chair was old and weathered but clean of moss. A small side table in a similar condition sat beside the bench seat occupied by Elei and Shanti; on it rested a mug of something. Coffee, maybe. I thought I could catch the faint hint of a rich scent.
“Hello, Princess.” I petted the curious poodle as she examined my moon boot. Alice’s dog liked me—I’d met her several times when Cora took her out for her evening walk on the days Alice was working the late shift.
Princess didn’t like Cora, but you’d have to be a dog person to pick that up. I’d never been allowed a dog as a child, but I’d get one after this was all done. Sell the apartment and buy a place with a lawn and be a normal guy with a dog.
Princess settled her warmth at my feet as I settled more deeply into my chair.
The tree was a dark spray of leaves and sparkling lights above me, but I could still see the stars off to the left, shards of diamonds in the blue-black. Cora, tall and thin, moved inside the house’s kitchen, but it was peaceful here. No car noise, nothing but the singing of the odd cicada who’d fallen out of rhythm with the seasons.
I’d sat with my mother in our own garden on a night like this once. She’d made us cocoa using pure, rich cocoa powder, dried milk, and sugar. “It’s better from scratch,” she’d said. “Isn’t it nicer than the hot chocolate mix?”
“Yeah.” Because she’d made it, and because we were sitting in the garden side by side looking at the stars. I’d pointed out constellations I’d learned about in school, and she’d smiled, asked me questions.
It had been a perfect quiet night.
“Elei.” Shanti’s voice murmuring in the night. “Aarav wants to ask you some questions.”
The older lady stared at me, her eyes dark and knowing and her steel-colored hair pushed back by a black headband. The darkness gave shadows to her cheeks, a whispered illusion of the young woman she’d once been. “About her.” She waved in the direction of the Cul-de-Sac drive . . . where my mother’s Jaguar had been parked that night.
28
My mother. Yes.”
Elei drank a little of her coffee before digging into her pocket and coming up with a packet of sweets, which she offered first to Shanti, then to me. I took a piece of the sugared jelly candy, allowing the flavor of limes to burst on my tongue.
“What you want know?” Elei said afterward, her broken English heavily accented but understandable.
“Did you see my mother the night she vanished?”
Lines furrowing her forehead. “Gone night?”
“Yes. The night she left.”
“Big rain,” she said. “Light.” She pointed up.
The lightning had cracked the sky that night, flashing against my irises and making the water on the street in front of me glow. The rain had hit with hard, slicing bites that turned my skin to ice and the road had been so slick, so difficult to—
“Aarav.”
Jerking my attention to Elei, I knew I’d missed something. “I’m sorry.”
Her face softened and she leaned forward to pat my knee. “You love pretty mama.”
My hand clenched on the top of the cane. “Did you see her leave that night?”
“Green car.” She pointed to the street, then frowned. “I no see. I . . .” She tapped her ear.