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  “Good, ’cause you owe me for that meal. And this restaurant don’t take cash.”

  He led me off to his iridescent tiled shower. Perfumed, lukewarm, we soaped up in a downpour.

  “I have a request,” I said thirty minutes later, when I’d regained my rational mind. We lay stretched out side by side on the satin sheets.

  “Guess what,” Zave mumbled, half asleep. “You’ve caught me in a good mood.”

  “Figured I had.” I trailed my fingertips over his shut eyelids. His lashes were beautiful, long and curved. “Remember Claudia Molina?”

  “The juvie brat?”

  “She’s a good kid, Zave. The thing is, I need to get her a volunteer position at the aquarium.”

  He opened his eyes and looked at me. “You’re going to use her for undercover? Sure that’s safe?”

  “She’ll be under strict orders to work only at the aquarium, nowhere else, and only during scheduled hours. Any chance you could make it happen? Maybe through Rod Steinbach, I thought.”

  “I told you, that man is not sweet on you. A few more complaints arrived on my desk. Steinbach thinks you’re an interfering stirrer.”

  I looked through the gauzy curtains at the flawless blue sky. “And you, I trust, replied that I’m nothing of the kind.”

  He rolled over on his side to face me. “I told my connection you are one hot little—”

  “Zave?” Our eyes were inches apart. “I’m dead serious.”

  “Fine. We’ll keep your name out of it.” He pressed his nose to mine. “Consider it done.”

  * * *

  I took a seat in the Sea Horse Snack Bar and watched Delia Foley at work behind the counter. Efficient and only as friendly as she needed to be, Delia dispatched each customer with a minimum of fuss. She liked her job, I realized. Here, she ruled her domain.

  When the line had cleared, Delia walked around the counter and approached my table. “Did you want something?”

  “I have a few more questions. Is this a good time?”

  She shrugged. “The customers come in waves. There won’t be anybody for thirty minutes, then you’ll look up and there’ll be ten people standing in line. I can talk, I suppose, but there’s nobody here to help me. If I get a customer, I’ll have to go.”

  “No problem.” I studied Delia. She looked nice, very put-together with her black hair arranged on top of her sleek head. It wasn’t hard to understand what Neil saw in her. But there was also an off-putting tension in the woman, a tension that never quite left her. She seemed almost hyper alert.

  “Anyway, Neil—I mean Dr. Thompson—he told me it’s OK to talk to you now.” Delia flicked a loose thread off the sleeve of her crisp yellow button-down blouse. “Because Dr. Steinbach told him it was all right, I suppose.”

  There it was again, that tinge of resentment I’d heard the other day. “You don’t especially like Rod Steinbach, do you, Delia.”

  “I like my job, OK? So I like Dr. Steinbach just fine.”

  “No, you don’t. He’s overbearing with the staff, am I right?”

  She folded her arms across her chest. “Maybe.”

  ”Delia, come on. Give me a break.”

  ”Yeah, well. It’s not like it’s a secret.” She shrugged. “Actually, nobody can stand him.”

  “Especially not you. Steinbach tells Neil what to do, even though Neil’s the director, and perfectly capable. You must hate that.”

  “Like I said, nobody likes the way Dr. Steinbach behaves.”

  “Especially not you,” I repeated, “since Neil’s your lover.”

  Delia’s mouth gaped open. It took a moment for her to recover. “How do you know that?”

  “You try to hide it, but I can see you’re a pair. Anyway, Neil and I discussed your relationship.”

  “What? Why would he tell you!”

  At last, I had Delia’s full attention. “Why? Because you’re his alibi. Neil told me you were together on the Friday evening Skye was murdered.” Of course, Neil had only reluctantly admitted it. But if I could drive a wedge between the two, I figured Delia would be more likely to talk.

  “I can’t believe Neil said that.” Her shoulders slumped. “But it’s true. My husband thinks I go to a cooking class at adult ed on Friday nights. Please, you need to keep it quiet. If Russ ever found out, he’d kill me. I mean it.”

  I recognized the real fear in her eyes, a fear I’d seen before in some women. “Delia, it’s none of my business. But have you thought about leaving your husband?”

  “I think about it all the time. But Russ can be trouble. If I asked for a divorce, he’d take the kids just to hurt me. They’re everything to me, you know?”

  “It’s complicated—I understand. I’m sorry.” And I was. Delia was managing the best she could in a tough situation.

  “Yeah, well. I need a smoke.” She got up and walked over to the entrance, pulled across a nautical rope, and hung a CLOSED sign on the post. She motioned to me, and I followed her outside to the deck.

  Delia took a series of drags on her cigarette before she spoke. “Here’s the thing: I can’t lose this job. It keeps me going. All day I’m near Neil. At night I can go home and do what I have to do, to survive.”

  “Neil seems like a good man.”

  “He is. He’s good to me. And everything was fine, you know? Perfect. Until Dr. Steinbach showed up.”

  “Sounds like he’s ruined things around here.”

  “Oh, he has! Like you said, he tells Neil what to do all the time. And Neil just does it. It’s like he’s under a spell or something.”

  I looked along East Beach. There was a chop on the water, and the little waves reflected the sun like thousands of mirrors. “What exactly does Steinbach do for the aquarium? I understand the board hired him as a consultant. But he seems to be running the show.”

  “He got hired to clean things up. Make everything more efficient,” she sneered. “I am efficient. But when I went in for my job review, Dr. Steinbach said I needed to sharpen up. Sharpen up—me!”

  “Review?” I turned from the rail. “Do you know if Steinbach reviewed anyone else?”

  “Cheryl Kerr. He really raked her over the coals. She’s been working here for twenty years, ever since the aquarium opened. Her mom lives with her, and Cheryl has to go home every day on her lunch hour, then rush home again after work. She doesn’t need that crap. And John Tactacquin, the guy who delivers our food supplies? For no reason, Dr. Steinbach told him he might lose his contract.”

  “Did he, now. Anyone else?”

  “I heard he was even rough on the volunteers. Some of them are kids, temporary, they don’t really care. But the permanent ones are retirees. Why should they come here if they aren’t appreciated? Three people quit, just like that. And we need the volunteers, that’s how the aquarium keeps going on such a tight budget.”

  “Sounds like people have reason to resent the guy.”

  “Oh, we all hate him.” She stubbed out her cigarette on the rail, then bent down and blew the ash into the sea. “Not the board members though, or the donors. They all think he walks on water.”

  Delia was opening up with me, and I decided to take advantage of the thaw. “How about Skye? People seem to have liked him. I guess he was nothing like his grandfather?”

  “You know, I thought he would be. I kept my distance at first. But actually, he wasn’t like that at all. To be honest, Skye Rasmussen was a sweet kid.” She straightened her back, and smoothed her hair off her forehead.

  “Well. I can’t talk all day. I’ve got to open back up.”

  “Sure.” I followed her to the door. “Just one more question before I go, Delia. You said you thought only four of you know the combination to the service door, right?”

  Delia was changeable. That sharp defensive look had returned. “I already told you. Me and Cheryl, Neil, and Dr. Steinbach.”

  “But Skye knew the combo, too. That’s how he got in after hours that night.”

&nb
sp; “He did?” She shrugged. “The volunteers are only supposed to come in when the aquarium’s open. Maybe Dr. Steinbach gave the combo to Skye.”

  “And there could be others, couldn’t there?”

  She tucked her shirt into her trim camel-colored slacks. “I suppose.”

  “It’s just that I’m wondering about someone, Delia. The guy you just mentioned, John Tactacquin. I’ve heard he comes in early, before the aquarium’s open. How does he get in, do you think?”

  “I have no idea.” Her voice had tightened. “Look, I’ve got to get back to work. Besides, I’ve told you everything I know.”

  Chapter Eight

  The gift shop on the ground floor was empty of customers. Cheryl Kerr was seated on a chair behind the counter, nibbling on something. She ducked her head when she saw me.

  “Hi, Cheryl, how are you?” I stopped to examine a collection of cuddly plush sea creatures, to give her time.

  “Oh—hi.” She dabbed at the corners of her mouth with her fingers. “Can I help you?”

  “Maybe. I was talking with Delia upstairs, and thought I’d stop in for a quick chat with you, too.”

  Cheryl’s eyes were large behind her big glasses. Her pale lashes were sparse, the lids swollen and red. “Oh—OK. Yes, I guess it’s all right.”

  “I want to talk with you about Skye’s murder. To help his family.”

  “M—murder?” Her eyes grew rounder. “I thought the boy—I thought he just, you know—fell in.”

  “No, we don’t think that’s what happened. Mind if I ask you a question or two?”

  “Of course I don’t mind.” She fiddled with the top button of her pale pink cardigan. “Is there any reason I would?”

  “John Tactacquin, then. What do you think of him?”

  “Think of him?” She blinked several times before she answered. “I don’t really think about him at all. He’s OK, I guess. Sometimes he drops off candies for the gift shop, like those PEZ containers over there. Usually he comes in before I get here, and just leaves the stock on the counter.”

  “So he knows the security code for the back door?”

  “I don’t know. I guess so.” Cheryl lifted her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “You need to ask Delia that, she’d know for sure. Mainly he’s here for the café.”

  I nodded. Cheryl was relaxing a little, and it was time to broach a less comfortable topic. “Delia told me Dr. Steinbach’s been raking everyone over the coals. Job reviews, he’s calling it. How about you?”

  “Me?” Cheryl flushed. Her skin was so pale I could see the blood rise like mercury in a thermometer.

  “I understand he was rough on you.”

  “Um, I guess so.…” She picked up a pen and made some scribbles on a pad.

  “Look, Cheryl. I know you’re concerned about your job. Who wouldn’t be? But I’ll be discreet about anything you tell me.”

  “There’s nothing to tell. Dr. Steinbach—he—”

  “Yes?” I put an encouraging smile on my face. Anything to make this canary sing.

  “Oh, I don’t know, he just said…” Abruptly, her defenses fell. It was as if a wall came tumbling down. “He said I was overweight, sloppy! Too—too ill-groomed. ‘Not the image the aquarium wants to project.’” Her voice quavered in anger.

  “I don’t blame you for being mad.”

  “I always look neat, I’m always clean. I don’t have fancy clothes because they don’t pay me anything. And I told him that, I said how dare he, how dare he talk to me that way!”

  “Steinbach shouldn’t have said those things, Cheryl. If they were to fire you, you’d have ammunition for a lawsuit.”

  “He’d just deny it. Dr. Steinbach is slippery. And oh, so full of himself! Cock of the walk, you know?” Cheryl gripped the pen. I noticed her knuckles were white.

  “Not anymore,” I reminded her. “Not since his grandson died.”

  “No.” Just like that, the fire went out of her.

  “No, that’s true. Not anymore.”

  * * *

  A man knelt on my office step. I saw him lean back to admire his handiwork: a pristine white rose slipped into a water bottle. He got to his feet and caught sight of me.

  “Miss Jaymie?” Angel was short, compactly built, with a worn brown face and gnarled hands. He wore brown work clothes. Everything about Angel was brown—of the good earth.

  “Yep, that’s me. You must be Angel?” He was rather plain-looking, this angel, but his smile was positively beatific. Gabi, I thought, you lucky girl.

  “An-hel,” he corrected as he stuffed a carpenter’s pencil in his work belt. He reached out his hand and I extended my own. His skin was rough and dry as a gardening glove.

  “An-hel, of course.” I smiled back at him. “The roses—they’re so beautiful.”

  He bobbed his head, somewhere between a nod and a bow. “The rose, she is the queen of the flowers.”

  “I can’t argue with that. Did you want to see Gabi today? You usually bring her rose first thing in the morning, don’t you? Before she arrives.”

  He shifted the work belt around his ample middle. Loaded down with a trowel, a weeding tool, and three or four different types of clippers, it must have weighed fifteen pounds. “Yes. I wanted to talk to her. But I guess she’s not here.”

  “Today’s her cleaning day. Sparkleberry, you know? She comes and goes.”

  Again he nodded, that curious little bob. “I have to go to work now. Very nice to meet you, Miss Jaymie. Gabi, she talks about you all the time.”

  “Nice to meet you, Angel. Gabi’s so happy these days.”

  “We are both happy. But…” He frowned and rested a hand on his work belt.

  “But?”

  “I am worried.”

  “You don’t have anything to worry about. Gabi is lucky to have met you, and believe me, she knows it.”

  He bit his lip and looked at the ground. “But that is because … she don’t know.”

  Uh-oh. So Angel was too good to be true, after all.

  Suddenly I didn’t want to hear any more, didn’t want to know. “Look, I’ve got to get to work now too, it was nice—”

  “Please.” He raised a tentative hand. “You know Gabi, you know her so good. I want to ask you, what I should do?”

  Angel was dragging me smack-dab into the middle of something. His eyes had moistened. “What’s wrong?” I felt my common sense slipping away.

  “My mother, she took me back to Guadalajara when I was four. I lived there most of my life.” Angel opened his mouth to speak, closed it, opened it again. “But … I was born in Los Angeles.”

  “So you are a—” The word stuck in my throat.

  “A citizen. Yes, I am a citizen of the United States.”

  “And of course, Gabi doesn’t know.”

  “No.” Angel sighed. “Right when I met her she told me, she don’t want no boyfriend who is a citizen. So I said nothing. I thought maybe later I would tell her … but now it would be worse, you know? Because I waited so long.”

  “I understand. But sooner or later, you’re going to have to confess. Maybe sooner would be better.” I put a reassuring smile on my face. “She really cares about you, Angel. I’m sure she’ll accept it.”

  “Do you think so?” A smile brightened his countenance. “I’m glad I told you, Miss Jaymie. Thank you for the good advice.”

  * * *

  I set to work in the kitchenette. First I located my roll of blue painter’s tape and a marker, then broke open a fresh pack of index cards. I was ready to construct a rogues’ gallery of suspects.

  One by one I taped names to the wall. One card per suspect. When I was done, I perched on the edge of the table and considered them.

  Delia Foley. Neil Thompson. Cheryl Kerr. Each of these aquarium employees had shaky alibis for the time period in question. No motives, though. Delia and Cheryl hated Rod, but that animosity hadn’t seemed to extend to his grandson. And none of the three seemed l
ike killers—though I knew better than to trust that observation.

  My eyes moved on to Skye’s so-called friends: Porter Logsdon and Vanessa Hoague. Their alibis needed a closer look. Unlike the employees, both Vanessa and Porter just might have had motives for murder. I was hoping Claudia would come up with something, because those two weren’t about to open up to someone of my advanced years.

  Then there was Taryn Tactacquin. I’d checked into her alibi. She’d babysat for the Kleins on the evening of Skye’s death, just as she’d said. What’s more, the Klein kids had been allowed to have a friend around, and the little boy’s mom had stopped by the house to check up. I shifted Taryn’s card to the edge of the wall: she was pretty much out of the picture.

  Then I turned to the members of Skye’s family.

  Rod Steinbach could be aggressive and, even at his age, possessed a considerable drive for power. But his grandson’s death had hit Steinbach hard. It was extremely unlikely he’d have harmed Skye. Even so, I left his card in place.

  Melanie and Dave Rasmussen were even less likely to have killed their son. Stranger things had happened, but I moved their cards to the margin.

  Steven Steinbach, on the other hand, I wasn’t so sure of. He loved his sister, that was clear. But Rod had favored Skye over Steven. I wondered: how had Steven felt about that?

  I needed to have a talk with Steven Steinbach. Conversations on the phone never worked, at least not for me. I had to see people’s expressions, observe their hesitations and sideways glances. But Steven had left for home right after he’d spoken with me. And home was San Francisco, four hundred miles to the north. I would give it some thought.

  My attention shifted to the card I’d saved for last: John Tactacquin. Taryn was a good kid, but that wasn’t going to stop me from focusing in on her dad. Motive and opportunity: the man had it all.

  Yeah, Steven Steinbach could cool his heels up in SF, at least for now. Tactacquin was the guy in my crosshairs.

  I shoved up the window at the back of the kitchen and parked my butt on the sill, the better to plan my attack. Just as my mind began to move forward, the front door banged open.

  “Hola!” Gabi trilled as she breezed into the office. I winced. The woman was so relentlessly upbeat these days.