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  “The thing is, Donna, your husband doesn’t have an alibi for the evenings of the murders. He says he was out with a friend, but he won’t reveal the friend’s name. That’s a big problem.”

  “Of course it is. But wait till you hear what I have to say about that.” Donna pressed her hands to her cheeks for a moment, then folded them in her lap. “I know my husband is having an affair. And I’m sure that’s where he was—with her. He won’t say anything about it because he doesn’t want to hurt me.”

  The schoolgirl had transformed into Joan of Arc. I had to hand it to the woman, she was sticking by her man.

  “You impress me,” I said. “Most women would kick their husband’s butt out the door.”

  “Sometimes I feel that way. Maybe most of the time. But before all this happened, I was just too scared to bring it up, you know? Because I didn’t want to lose him. And now, I don’t want John to go to prison. No matter what happens, I don’t want him to—to—” Her face blanched. “Could he die?”

  Gabi got up from her desk and walked over to sit beside Donna on the couch. She took her hand in her own. “He’s not gonna die. Miss Jaymie will look into it, she’ll figure it out.” She gave me an encouraging look.

  “Let’s take one step at a time.” I studied the worn oak floorboards, searching for the right words. I didn’t want to frighten Donna any further, but I had to be frank.

  “There’s no doubt about it, it would help a lot if you could convince John to tell the police where he was that night. But there are other problems, too.”

  “Do you mean the way he went over and yelled at that family? The Rasmussens. John told them how mad he was about the abortion.” Her chin trembled. “Yes, he was angry, really angry. He was angry because Skye hurt Taryn, you know? She was so upset.”

  “I understand. But that shows motive on John’s part, I’m afraid.”

  “But he would never kill anyone—never! I know him so well, he just wouldn’t. He has a temper sometimes, but he’s not what you’d call aggressive. Never once has he hit me or our kids. And what—they say he murdered the boy for revenge? And then he killed a woman because she knew something? It’s just not him!”

  Gabi put an arm around Donna and gave her shoulder a squeeze. Then she looked at me expectantly. Apparently my PA thought I had an answer for everything.

  Donna Tactacquin rose to her feet and hoisted her bag to her shoulder. “Please. Will you help us?” She looked spent, and I couldn’t say no.

  “It’s like Gabi says, Donna. I’ll go for the truth. If that’s what you want, then I’ll take on the job.”

  “That’s what I want,” she said without hesitation. “John is innocent, I know it. I’m not afraid of what you might find.”

  “All right then.” I extended my hand, and she placed her own hand in mine.

  When the door closed behind her, I groaned. “Gabi, what have I done?”

  “The right thing, that’s what you done. I’m happy you said yes, Miss Jaymie. She’s a nice lady, and her daughter’s nice too.”

  “Let’s hope they don’t get hurt. Let’s hope I don’t uncover something they’ll wish they’d never known.”

  * * *

  I leaned forward in the hard plastic chair. “Donna knows about your affair. She wants you to tell the police who you were with on those Friday nights.”

  “I know. She came to see me.” John Tactacquin’s hands were cuffed with zip ties. He cupped the black receiver in both hands.

  “So it’s time, right? There’s no point in protecting your family anymore. Unless maybe you’re protecting somebody else?”

  “I told you. My family comes first.” He stared hard at me through the thick glass. “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Maybe not.” I shifted the cumbersome receiver to my other ear. “So help me understand. See, if Donna and Taryn are the ones you’re protecting, but they already know—” I flicked open a hand. “Doesn’t make sense.”

  He stared at me, mute. His mouth was pressed into a tight line.

  “Oh. I get it.” I sat back and stared at him. “It has to do with the woman’s identity, doesn’t it?” I nodded. “That’s it. For some reason it will hurt Donna and Taryn to know who she is.”

  He let out a puff of air. “Something like that.”

  “Listen, John. I don’t think you get it. The arraignment’s tomorrow. You’ll plead ‘not guilty.’ They’ll set bail at an impossibly high amount. The wheels will start rolling right away. And in the end—look, I’m not here to scare you. But in the end you could roll right onto death row. Is that a price you’re willing to pay?”

  “I didn’t do it!” he exploded into the phone. “Don’t you get that? I’m innocent of all of it! Why the hell should I injure my family, maybe even destroy them, over this bullshit?” His nostrils flared. “Look. The cops will figure it all out in time. They’ll find out who killed Cheryl Kerr, and the boy. And when they do, I want my family back. I want everything to be … to be…”

  “The way it was before Skye and Cheryl were murdered? Don’t count on it.” I held his gaze. “By the way, the police aren’t going to look for anyone else, not now. Why should they? You’ve got motive, no alibi. And you had access to the scene of the crimes.”

  “You don’t believe me, do you.” His shoulders drooped. “If you don’t believe me, what the hell are you doing here?”

  We stared at each other through the glass. I was about to say I was doing it for Taryn and Donna. But that wasn’t entirely true.

  There was a drive in me to uncover the killer, to not let him get the better of me. To show myself, and everyone else, that I had what it takes.

  “Actually, John, I do believe you. But I’m pissed off at you. How can I help you if you refuse to help yourself?”

  A deputy entered the cubicle and stepped behind John’s chair. He said something I couldn’t hear.

  “I can’t,” John said into the phone. “I know what you want, but I just can’t give it to you.”

  With both hands John Tactacquin hung the receiver on the wall, then heaved himself to his feet and shuffled out of the booth.

  * * *

  “Miss Jaymie, I tried to call you!” Gabi jumped up from her desk the instant I stepped in the door. “You should of been here.”

  “What, did you get tempted and polish off all the pastries?”

  “Don’t tease like that.” She picked up a key ring and walked around the desk, dangling it out in front of her like a fishing lure. “Mike was here and he dropped something off. Something you lost.”

  Like a cat following a ball of string, I focused on the bobbing key. It was attached to a tarnished metal disc. Gabi pulled it away, just to tease. Then she relented and dropped it into my hand.

  The disc was vintage—vintage Chevy. I’d never seen it before. “What’s this?”

  “Huh. I thought you were a detective.” Gabi was trying hard to hold down a grin.

  “The key—it feels familiar.” I rubbed it between my thumb and finger. Light dawned.

  Gabi clapped her hands together. “I knew you’d figure it out! Mike left it around the corner on Chapala. No parking places in front.”

  My mouth fell open, and she laughed. “Miss Jaymie? You’re gonna catch flies.”

  “Wait, I gotta tell you one more thing,” she said as I headed for the door. “Mike, when he walked in, he saw my rose.” She touched the elegant purple bud with one finger. “And you know what? First he didn’t look so happy. Then he looked real mad. And he said, ‘Who sent the flower?’ And when I said it was my boyfriend Angel”—Gabi pointed a triumphant finger at me—“he got a really big smile on his face! You should have seen him, Miss Jaymie.”

  I rested a hand on the doorknob. “Maybe he was happy for you.”

  “Sure. Mike’s a nice guy. But that smile, it was way too big.”

  “I told you. Mike has a girlfriend. And she’s young and cute.”

  Gabi waved a dismissive hand in the a
ir. “Young and cute, who cares about that? Not Mike. No, he loves you. He don’t care how old you are. And he don’t care what you look like. And that is not gonna change.”

  “Thanks—I think.” I hurried out the door, the key clutched in my hand.

  As I jogged around the corner into Chapala, my heart prepared to burst into song. A row of cars extended up the block, but nothing blue caught my eye.

  Something candy-apple red did, though. Shit!

  That aging boomer down in LA, the one who’d purchased Blue Boy from the charity and renamed it Dudette, had apparently painted it red. Brodie would never have painted Blue Boy, and if he had, red would have been the last color he’d have picked.

  Slowly, I walked down the block and stopped at the car. That is, I was pretty sure it was the one. The red El Camino was in such prime condition that it was hard to be certain. I walked around to the driver’s door and slipped the key into the lock. Oh, yes. It turned like a knife in warm butter.

  I opened the door. There was no metal-on-metal grating sound. I climbed in.

  Dear God, the seats were resprung and reupholstered. I shut the door. My eyes pricked with tears.

  It was Brodie’s car, all right. And yet, it wasn’t. There were no initials scratched into the dash. No bits of driftwood and sand underfoot. And I knew without looking: no dope tucked in the visor.

  I turned the key in the ignition, and the engine purred sweetly to life.

  There was a certain advantage to starting the first time, I grudgingly admitted. And a renegade thought snuck into my mind. Brodie would have hated the red, but me … I kinda liked it.

  “Forgive me, brother,” I whispered.

  I pulled out from the curb, turned a corner, and headed down to the beach.

  * * *

  I turned right at the bottom of Las Positas, passed Dog Shit Beach, and drove up the little palm-studded canyon leading to Yankee Farm Point. Then I pulled over at the top of the cliffs and drank in the view, one of the biggest and bluest in the world.

  I was confused. How had Mike come by the Camino? And why? Sure, he knew how much my brother’s car meant to me, and how I’d tried to buy it back after I’d donated it to charity. But why had he bought it for me, an ex-girlfriend? Didn’t compute.

  I relaxed down in the comfy seat, took out my cell, and made the call. “Mike?”

  “Hi, Jaymie.” His voice was friendly, laid-back. Very cool.

  “I’m sitting here in Blue Boy. I can’t believe it. What’s … what’s the story?”

  “What’s the story? It’s a gift, Jaymie. From Dad to you. He had me trace the owner.”

  My heart swelled. “It’s too much. Why?”

  “You’ll have to ask him.” Mike paused. “You know he’s always liked you. I have a feeling Dad’s tying up loose ends.”

  “How is he doing?”

  “His mood’s pretty good. But physically … not so great. He’s gone downhill since you saw him.”

  “But that was only a couple of weeks ago.”

  “Yeah. Well, they took him away from Little Panoche. He went kicking and screaming, but Trudy didn’t have a choice. The kids had to start school, and she needed to go home. I thought about staying up there with him, but he needs Trudy now. And two hundred plus miles is a long way to commute.”

  “I’m really sorry. I know how much Bill wanted to stay up at the ranch.”

  “We don’t always get what we want. Not even at the end.”

  “No, we don’t.” I gazed out into the channel. I thought I saw a whale spout, not too far off shore. “I’ll phone your dad tonight. And I’ll shoot up to San Luis to see him as soon as I can. After all, I need to take him for a spin in my snazzy new ride.”

  “He’d like that, Jaymie. If I were you, I wouldn’t wait too long.”

  * * *

  “Damn it’s early.” Claudia let the front office door slam behind her and stomped on through to the kitchenette. “Hi, Jaymie. What’s in the fridge?”

  Gabi turned from the counter, where she was filling the carafe at the sink. “Hey! Don’t come in here and stick your head in our refrigerator like that. Ask first, like you would if—”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Claudia emerged with a soft-drink can in her hand, then slammed the refrigerator door. “Jaymie says we’re a team. Right Jaymie? All equal, all the same.”

  “Do not close that door so hard,” Gabi bristled. “When I was your age, if I acted like you, my mother tied me to a tree.”

  “Good idea. I see a tree for you outside the window. Jaymie, got any rope?”

  “Both of you, stop.” I turned from the whiteboard and glared. “Two innocent people have died. And a man’s in jail, maybe on his way to death row, for crimes he may not have committed. Can we keep a focus on the big picture, for once?”

  Both girl and woman avoided my eyes. Gabi spoke first. “Sorry. This kid here, she rubs me up the wrong way. But I gotta be professional, stay focused.”

  “I’m in a bad mood,” Claudia muttered. “My mom wouldn’t get out of bed this morning. She’s probably still there.”

  We were all silent then. It had been just over a year since Lili Molina’s murder, and we knew Teresa, Claudia’s mom, was struggling with depression. She’d never gotten over the death of her elder daughter.

  “Sorry, mija,” Gabi said softly. “Sometimes I forget.”

  “I’m sorry too, Claudia,” I said. “Maybe—I don’t know. Maybe I’m asking too much. I’m not sure you should be involved in all this.”

  “No,” Claudia said quickly. “I want to do it. It keeps me from thinking too much about stuff. And besides.”

  “Besides?”

  “I decided I’m gonna be a detective.”

  “Investigator.” I smiled. “You’re making a good start.”

  “Oh yeah, I am. I got something important to tell you.” She set the can down on the worktable.

  “Claudia, hold that thought for a moment.” I took the marker into my hand. “Let’s work systematically here. These are the suspects we’re looking at.” I printed the names across the board: Delia Foley, Steven Steinbach, Neil Thompson, Vanessa Hoague, Porter Logsdon, John Tactacquin.

  “Miss Jaymie?” Gabi lifted a finger. “I think you gotta add one more. That guy Dr. Steinbach. He was a jerk when he came in here. I got a bad feeling about him.”

  “Rod Steinbach is a jerk, and I don’t trust him either. But I can tell you he was devastated when his grandson died. By all accounts, they had a close relationship. Plus, we know Steinbach has solid alibis. The evening Skye died, he was at a board meeting. After it finished he went directly to Melanie’s birthday party.”

  “And what about when the gift shop lady died?” Gabi pressed.

  “The Steinbachs and another couple were having tapas at the Figueroa Café.”

  Gabi looked disappointed. Her horse wasn’t in the running. “Know what? I’m gonna double-check on that. My friend’s primo is a waiter there.”

  “Good idea. Anyway, I’ll jot down his name, just because he’s a sonofabitch.” I wrote Rod’s name at the end. “Now, let’s go through them one at a time. Delia Foley.”

  Gabi firmly shook her head. “Delia is my cousin, my own prima’s daughter. I don’t know too much about her but I know she’s a good mom to her kids.”

  “What kinda reason is that?” Claudia scoffed.

  I hadn’t told Gabi about the mean things Delia had said about her. Delia might be a good mom, but she was no generous soul. “Delia does have an alibi,” I continued. “In fact, Delia and Neil share an alibi: they’re lovers, and they were together the evening Skye died.”

  “She cheats on her husband?” Gabi looked surprised. “I guess she’s not the kind of person I thought.”

  “Her husband beats her,” I said. “Being with Neil, I think that’s how she survives.”

  “Oh!” Gabi bit her lower lip. “You gotta try an’ help her, Miss Jaymie. Even if she is a suspect.”

  “When all
this is over, I’ll talk to her. In the meantime, we’ve got two suspects, Neil and Delia, confirming each other’s alibis. That’s shaky in anyone’s book.”

  “What about motive?” Gabi asked.

  “In Delia’s case, I don’t see it. She seemed to like both Skye and Cheryl. She doesn’t like Rod Steinbach, though. She says he threatened her job.”

  “But that’s not enough, is it?” Claudia asked. “Not enough to make you actually kill a guy’s grandson.”

  “I’d have to agree. Besides, Steinbach put other people through the wringer too, not just Delia. Cheryl Kerr and John Tactacquin, for example. He even leaned on some of the older volunteers.”

  “What about that Thompson guy?” Gabi asked. “Does he have any motive?”

  “Not that I can tell. I suppose Neil Thompson’s job performance could be under fire, because he does seem anxious about something. But he’s tight with Rod Steinbach.” I walked over to the open kitchen window and watched a hummingbird challenge a big carpenter bee plying a pink-flowering sage.

  “It’s all kinda shaky,” Gabi observed.

  “Uh-huh,” I agreed. “Nothing adds up.”

  “Now it’s time to talk about Vannie and Port,” Claudia said. “Remember, I got some news.”

  “I know you do, Claudia.” I turned back to the room. “But let’s save the kiddies for last.”

  “OK, Steven Steinbach,” Gabi continued. “You told me he’s got a alibi like cheese.”

  “A cheesy alibi?” Claudia guffawed.

  “Swiss cheese,” I replied, “full of holes. He claims he was on a liquor run for his sister’s birthday party at the time Skye died. The police could check the store’s sales for that day, and the store camera—it’s tricky for us to obtain that info. Anyway, Steven Steinbach had enough time to visit both the liquor store and the aquarium, too. And Skye would have let his uncle inside.” I perched on the window frame, facing the room. “Steven resented the relationship between Skye and Rod, but he didn’t seem to blame Skye for that. Again, I can’t see a sufficient motive for murder.”

  Claudia walked up to the whiteboard, picked up the marker, and drew slashes through three names: Delia, Neil, and Steven. “I’m not erasing them. Just one line, so we can move on.”