Twilight (24 page)

“What the devil’s going on?”

She touched a finger to her lips, then led him back into the kitchen. When the door was closed behind them, she explained about Mrs. Fallon’s murder and her own discovery of the body. Although it seemed as if an eternity had passed since then, a glance at the clock on the stove indicated it was only midafternoon.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, unable to keep a lingering hint of suspicion out of her voice. “You didn’t say anything about coming out when I spoke to you earlier.”

“Maybe I just got lonely.”

“And maybe you knew about the murder,” she blurted without thinking.

He went very still at that. “What are you suggesting?”

His anger was almost palpable. Her suspicions withered under his hard look. “That it had already made the news,” she improvised hastily. “What did you think I meant?”

He regarded her silently, as if he was struggling with his temper.

“You thought I was suggesting that you had something to do with it, didn’t you?” she asked.

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” he retorted.

A telltale guilty flush crept into her cheeks.

“You did, didn’t you?” he asked incredulously. “You thought I killed her.”

“No,” she protested, then sighed. It was absurd to try to lie to him. “Okay, for just a minute, it crossed my mind that you were one of the few people who knew I intended to see her this afternoon and what I hoped to get from her.”

Before Rick could respond to that, O’Flannery interrupted. She hadn’t even heard him return. “And what would that have been, Mrs. Miller? What did you hope to get from Mrs. Fallon?”

“Information,” Dana said at once. Her gaze pleaded with Rick not to contradict her, even though she could see how furious he was with her at the moment. “I was sure she would know who Ken had been spending time with lately, if he’d argued with anyone. Secretaries know far more than we credit them with knowing, especially one as observant as Mrs. Fallon. Now we’ll never know what she knew,” she concluded, her voice breaking.

“Perhaps we will,” O’Flannery said, holding out an all-too-familiar black daybook.

“Where did you get that?” Dana demanded, even though she had a pretty good idea. She had placed one just like it beneath her mattress less than two hours earlier.

“You didn’t think I bought all that crap about you racing back here to phone us just to avoid contaminating the scene, did you? There had to be another reason you wanted to get back here, such as hiding some piece of information you wanted all to yourself.”

Dana couldn’t deny it, so she settled for regarding him sourly. She supposed this wasn’t the time to mention that he’d found it without a warrant.

“Anything in here?” he asked.

“I haven’t had time to look at it,” she admitted grudgingly.

“I should just take it down to headquarters and go over it there,” the detective said, then grinned slightly. “But, since you went to so much trouble to get it, I won’t.”

He joined them at the kitchen table, then cast a look at Rick. “I assume you’re interested in what’s in here, too.”

“Of course. I want to find Ken’s killer as badly as Dana does.” His gaze locked on hers. “I have my own personal reasons for wanting to prove that neither I nor anyone at Yo, Amigo was involved.”

O’Flannery watched the byplay between her and Rick, then nodded. “Okay, then let’s see what we have.”

He flipped the daybook open to January. Meeting after meeting had been entered in Mrs. Fallon’s neat, precise handwriting. There was nothing unusual about any of them. As far as Dana could see, they were the usual assortment of meetings necessary to conducting the business of the church, plus the regular weekly notation of Ken’s commitment to spend the evening at Yo, Amigo.

Most of the meetings had the time dutifully noted, but toward the beginning of February there were several entries that did not. Just a name had been jotted down.

“What do you suppose this means?” O’Flannery asked. “Are these people who dropped by without an appointment?”

“Exactly,” Dana said. “She always found that extremely annoying, even though Ken welcomed drop-in visits. I guess she dealt with her frustration by putting the names down after the fact.”

Tremayne’s name had been entered repeatedly, indicating his arrogant habit, which Mrs. Fallon’s scowls had obviously failed to correct. So had Peter Drake’s name and Miriam Kelso’s. Mrs. Fallon had always grumbled that people like that should have known better. “No one would walk into
their
offices uninvited and unscheduled,” she had protested often enough.

Some of the names entered were kids, including several visits by Juan Jesus in the days right before Ken’s death. Since there had been no mention of his dropping by in January, his repeated visits in February seemed especially suspicious to Dana.

“Could he have known something?” Dana wondered aloud. She glanced at Rick. “Maybe he’d heard something on his weekends at home and it worried him.”

Rick looked doubtful. He also looked as if he could cheerfully strangle her for dragging the teenager into this.

“Only one way to find out,” he said eventually and with obvious reluctance. “He’s staying just a few blocks away, isn’t he? Let’s go talk to him and clear this up right now.”

“Fine,” Dana said, facing Rick defiantly. It wasn’t as if she’d accused Juan Jesus of killing anyone, just of knowing something about Ken’s murder.

“Hold on, you two,” O’Flannery said as they both stood up. “This is a police investigation, remember? If anybody’s going to talk to the kid, it’ll be me.”

Dana glanced at Rick and suspected he was about to argue, which would only cause O’Flannery to dig in his heels and start citing all sorts of ethical considerations. She jumped in first. “Couldn’t we all go? Rick knows him. Maybe Juan Jesus will be less frightened and more forthcoming with a familiar face in the room.”

The detective scowled. “I really hate it when civilians make sense. Okay, let’s do it.”

To her regret, he tucked the calendar under his arm. Apparently he had no intention of letting her hang onto the lone piece of potential evidence she’d discovered.

“Shall we all go in my car?” O’Flannery asked.

“Fine,” Dana said, just as Rick said, “No.”

She stared at him.

“Dana and I will take my car,” he said tightly. “We’ll meet you there.”

Judging from the tightening of his jaw and the fierce expression in his eyes, Dana had the feeling that for once in her life, she ought to jump at the chance to have police protection. Unfortunately, O’Flannery merely waved his agreement and headed for his car. She shot a tentative gaze at Rick.

“Okay, whatever’s on your mind, let’s hear it,” she said, bracing for a tirade.

He glanced at her. “What makes you think there’s something on my mind?”

“You didn’t arrange to get me all to yourself, so you could chat about the weather or kiss me senseless.”

His lips almost quirked into a smile at that. “Don’t be so sure about the kissing. There are times when you do tempt me beyond endurance.”

Despite her suspicions, despite everything, she was intrigued. “Really?”

“Really,” he confirmed. “Don’t let it go to your head, though. There are also many times I’d like to throttle you,
querida.
”

“And this would be which?”

He did smile at that. “Perhaps I’ll let you think about that for a bit.” His expression sobered. “In the meantime, I will try to think how to protect a good kid from the kind of interrogation you’ve drawn him into.”

“You blame me for drawing Juan Jesus into this?” she asked incredulously.

“I didn’t hear anyone else suggesting he might be involved, did you?”

“But I was just...”

“Just what? Trying to cast blame on the outsider, yes? You are more like the others than you would care to admit, I think. Maybe worse, because you hide your prejudice.”

“No,” she retorted defensively, shocked by his interpretation of her actions. “His name was there. I was just speculating out loud.”

“To a police officer,” he reminded her. “Not to me. Not to Kate. To a cop.”

She winced at his accusatory tone. “I want answers.”

“Any answers?” he asked. “Or the truth?”

“The truth, of course.”

He regarded her with obvious sorrow. “Sometimes I wonder,
querida.
Sometimes I wonder.”

26

J
uan Jesus Villanueva was a skinny and, at the moment, frightened sixteen-year-old. His eyes widened with alarm, and he literally shook when Rick introduced him to O’Flannery and explained that he was a detective.

“I didn’t do nothing, man.” He gazed beseechingly at Rick for support. “Ever since the
padre
brought me out here, I’ve played strictly by the rules. I swear it.”

Rick put his hand on the boy’s shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. “It’s okay. We just wanted to ask you a few questions. Nobody’s accusing you of anything,” he said with a pointed glance at Dana.

She smiled at Juan Jesus. “Truly, all we want is some help in trying to figure out what happened to my husband. Can you try to remember what was going on back in February, right before he was killed?”

Rick felt him shudder, but the kid bravely forced a nod. “The
padre
was good to me. I’ll tell you whatever I can if you think it will help.”

“Thank you,” Dana said. “Maybe we should go inside, where we’ll be more comfortable.”

Juan Jesus shook his head. “I’d rather stay out here. There’s no point in dragging the Wilsons into this.” He gazed at Rick, studiously avoiding making eye contact with O’Flannery. “What did you want to know?”

Rick glanced at the detective for permission to do the questioning. The other man nodded.

“Do you remember back in February if you were stopping in to see the
padre
a lot?” Rick asked.

The boy looked relieved by the question. “Sure,” he said without hesitation. “A couple of times a week.”

“Why?”

“Is it important?” he hedged.

“That depends on the answer,” Rick told him. “Do you have something to hide?”

“Not the way you mean.” He looked chagrined. “Okay. You’re not going to believe this, but I was having trouble with Spanish. I mean, I can speak it and all. Hell...” He glanced at Dana. “Sorry. I mean, that’s all anyone talks at home, but I never learned to write or read the stuff, not the way you have to to pass a class.”

“Why didn’t you ask your parents or Maria for help?” Rick asked.

Juan Jesus regarded him with disgust. “You gotta be kidding. I’d never have heard the end of it. Mama would have had me at the kitchen table all weekend long with all the old books she brought from Mexico. I didn’t want to waste my time like that.”

“So you went to Ken for help?” Rick asked.

“He’d told me from the start I could always come to him if I had a problem. Believe me, this was a big problem. He tutored me a couple of hours a week.” He grinned. “Brought my grade up to a B-minus, too.”

“And that’s the only reason you were spending time with him?” Rick persisted.

“Sure.” He stared at them all curiously. “Why? What did you think was going on?”

“Never mind,” Rick said. “You’ve been a big help.”

“Wait,” Dana said. “Could I ask one thing, Juan Jesus?”

Rick scowled at her. “Dana...”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind,” the teen said.

“Thank you. I was just wondering if anything unusual ever happened while you were with my husband.”

Juan Jesus looked perplexed. “Unusual how?”

“A phone call that seemed to upset him, maybe, or an argument with someone. Did anyone drop in unexpectedly?”

Rick had to admit the questions were logical ones. Other names had been noted on those days when Juan Jesus had been in Ken’s office. Perhaps he had overheard or seen something.

“People dropped in all the time,” the teenager said. “It made Mrs. Fallon loco. She used to get this pinched expression on her face, like she’d smelled a dead rat or something.”

“So you didn’t find anything odd about any of these drop-in visits?” Dana persisted.

“Not really,” he said. Then his expression turned thoughtful. “Except this once. I got there and heard somebody inside crying. I figured somebody had died, the way they were wailing. Mrs. Fallon hurried me out of the office. She made up some errand for me to run. In fact, she couldn’t hustle me out of there fast enough.”

Dana’s shoulders sagged with disappointment. “So you never saw who was in the office?”

“Sure I did. She was too rattled to think clearly, so the errand was a snap. It only took me a minute, and by the time I got back, the crying had stopped, but the door was still closed. Just when I thought Mrs. F was going to send me off on another errand, the door opened and this lady came out. She practically knocked me down, she was in such a hurry. I’ve never seen anybody look so furious in all my life, not even on the streets back home. She looked mad enough to kill somebody.”

As if he realized what he’d said, his eyes widened with shock. “You don’t think...?”

“We don’t know what to think,” Rick insisted quickly. He didn’t want Juan Jesus to start speculating. The rest of them were doing quite enough of that. “That’s why we’re exploring all sorts of possibilities. You don’t know who this woman was, do you?”

Juan Jesus shook his head. “Nah. I’d never seen her before. And the
padre
had this confidentiality thing. He acted as if it had never happened. So did Mrs. F. I figured it was none of my business.”

“What did she look like?” Dana asked.

“It was kinda hard to tell. She was tall and skinny, I remember that, but she was wearing this big, floppy hat. It covered up most of her face.”

Rick glanced at Dana to see if the description rang any bells. He recognized a spark of excitement in her eyes and gathered it had, though she was remaining tight-lipped about her suspicions.

“Anything else?” he asked O’Flannery.

“No.” The detective smiled at Juan Jesus. “You’ve been a big help, son. The
padre
would be proud of you.”

Juan Jesus glanced at Rick for confirmation. Rick nodded. “He would be, you know.”

“I owe him a lot,” the boy said, gazing at Dana. “You must miss him a lot, huh?”

“Yes,” she said softly. “A lot.”

“If you’d ever like me to come by, maybe help out with your kids or something, I could. I hung out with them sometimes at the church, after my lessons. They’re pretty cool for little guys. I’m the youngest in my family, so it was kinda fun to be around kids younger than me. I felt like a big brother, instead of being the baby.”

Rick saw that Dana was genuinely touched by the offer. Tears sparkled in her eyes.

“They would like that,” she said. “And so would I. When they come back from Florida, I’ll call you.”

“They’re in Florida? Awesome. Frankie’s down there, too.”

All of the color seemed to wash out of Dana’s face at that. “Frankie who?” she demanded so harshly that Juan Jesus looked taken aback.

“Frankie Vincenzi,” he responded at once. “He’s in my class at school, or at least he was until his mom sent him and his kid brother off to Florida to stay with his grandparents.”

“When was that?”

“A couple of weeks ago, I guess. Maybe longer.”

“Do you know where in Florida?”

He shook his head. “I don’t remember. Geography was my second-worst subject. Maybe if I heard the name, it’d come back to me.”

“Orlando? Miami? Tampa?” Dana suggested.

Rick stared at her, stunned by the desperation he heard in her voice.

“Nah, it wasn’t any place that big.”

“Think, please. Was it Clearwater? Fort Myers?”

Juan Jesus’s expression brightened. “Yeah, that’s it. Fort Myers. I knew it sounded like some military base or something.”

Rather than looking relieved that Juan Jesus had remembered, Dana looked as if she might faint. Rick touched her arm. “Are you okay?”

“I have to get home,” she said shakily. “Right away.”

Rick glanced at O’Flannery, who was watching Dana intently. “Are we through here?” he asked him.

“For the moment.”

“Are you coming back to the house?”

“No. I have some things I want to follow up on at the station. I’ll catch up with you two later.”

The minute they were back in the car, Rick turned to Dana. “Okay,
querida,
what’s going on?”

“Just take me home, please. Hurry. I have to call my parents.”

Suddenly it all added up. Her panic. The mention of Fort Myers. Frankie Vincenzi. He turned on the engine and sped out of the Wilsons’ driveway.

“You are leaping to conclusions again,
querida,
” he said, even though he’d just done exactly the same thing.

“What conclusions?”

“That Carolina Vincenzi’s children are the ones taunting your boy.”

“It has to be,” she insisted. “But it’s more than that. You heard Juan Jesus’s description of the woman in Ken’s office that day. It had to be Carolina.”

He regarded her with confusion. “And if it was?”

“Didn’t you hear what he said? He said she looked mad enough to kill.”

“And from this you’ve concluded that she was behind Ken’s murder?”

“It makes sense,” she insisted.

“No,” he argued. He tried to inject a note of reason. “What was her motive?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted with obvious reluctance. “Whatever they were fighting about.”

“Do you know a court of law that would permit this as evidence?”

She scowled at him. “I don’t give two figs about evidence. I want to protect my boys. She knows where they are.”

“So do dozens of other people,” he reminded her. “Everyone in the congregation knows that you took them to Florida to be with your parents. It would not be so difficult for anyone to get the address from the church office. I’d be willing to bet you even received condolence notes down there, didn’t you?”

She shuddered at that and covered her face with her hands. “Oh, God, why didn’t I think of that? I should never have told anyone they were there.”

“You weren’t thinking clearly.”

“But I should have been. From the beginning I believed that Ken’s death wasn’t an accident. I should have been more cautious. What kind of investigator am I if I can’t even think to protect my own kids?”

“You were not thinking as an investigator at the time,” he reminded her gently. “You were thinking exactly as you should have been, as a grieving wife and worried mother.”

She sucked in a deep breath and visibly steadied herself. “Yes,” she said, her tone suggesting a strengthened resolve. “That was exactly what I was doing, but no more.” She peered out the window, then pointed. “Take a left at the next corner.”

“But that’s the opposite direction from your house.”

“I know.”

He regarded her suspiciously. “Where are we going?” he asked while he made the turn she’d indicated. Apparently he had no willpower at all where she was concerned. Going along with her harebrained schemes was a habit he really should concentrate on breaking.

“Where else?” she said. “We are going to pay a call on Carolina Vincenzi.”

That was not exactly what Rick had had in mind when he’d cautioned her against leaping to conclusions, but he could see from the determined set of her jaw that there would be no talking her out of it. She’d decided to go straight to the source for her answers and, unfortunately, he couldn’t fault her logic, even if he did question the impetuous timing of her decision.

“Do you have a plan?” he inquired.

“What sort of plan?” she replied testily.

“Do you know what you intend to ask her? What are we looking for?”

“For starters, I want to know what she was wailing about in Ken’s office that day, to use Juan Jesus’s phrase.”

“And if she chooses to lie?”

She sighed at the suggestion. “Hopefully, my gut instincts will kick in, and I’ll be able to tell.”

Resigned to helping her in this folly, he said dryly, “Just in case, perhaps you should settle for keeping Mrs. Vincenzi occupied while I poke around elsewhere in her house.”

She gaped at that. “You’re going to search the house while she’s in it? No, it’s too risky.”

“And what you intend is not?”

She had no argument for that. “But how?” she asked eventually.

“You leave that to me,” he said, figuring it was best she not know exactly how skilled he was at breaking and entering. Maybe he’d lost his edge, anyway. It had been a long time. Perhaps he would be caught red-handed, just as she had been at Yo, Amigo.

“Does she have a housekeeper?” he asked.

“No. I think she has a maid, but not full-time.”

“Well, hopefully the maid will be off.”

“And if she’s not?”

He grinned. A maid was the least of his concerns. “I can be very persuasive when I put my mind to it.”

She scowled. “I’m not so sure I like the sound of that.”

“No need to be jealous,
querida.
I will always save my best efforts for you.”

“I am not jealous,” she insisted indignantly. “For some reason, I’m just worried about your sorry hide.”

“You leave the worrying to me. I will drop you at the corner, then circle the block to park in the back. Keep your eyes open. When you see the car in the front again, then you can wrap up your conversation with Mrs. Vincenzi.”

“What if she happens to hear you creeping around inside?”

“She won’t,” he assured her. “Not if you irritate her sufficiently. She will, perhaps, be wailing again. That should cover any noise I might make.”

“Not that I doubt your snooping skills,” she said, “but do you have a plan? Do you have any idea what you’re looking for?”

“Same as you,
querida,
something that would give her a motive to kill.”

“Or the weapon,” Dana suggested belatedly. “My God, Rick, what if she has a gun?”

“If it’s
the
gun, then we’re in great shape.”

“Not if it’s aimed at us,” she said, her expression suddenly dire.

“Don’t chicken out on me now.”

Her chin rose. “I am not chickening out,” she insisted. “You’re the one who’s always preaching caution.”

He grinned as he slowed at the corner. “What do I know?” he asked with a shrug. “Go,
querida.
”

She opened the door and slid out, casting a worried look back at him as she slowly closed the door.

“Be careful,” she said, then turned and marched intrepidly down the block.

Rick watched her go with a renewed sense of admiration. She truly was a remarkable woman. With a sudden flash of insight, he realized that he had fallen in love with her. Despite her infuriating habit of blaming him for murders he hadn’t committed, he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.