Mother-Daughter Murder Night(75)

“How’s that?”

“What if I told you Ricardo and your father had their own plans for the ranch’s future? A project that didn’t involve the land trust. Or you and your brother.”

“I’d tell you you were wrong. Which you are.” If Diana’s jaw were clenched any tighter, it could double as a vise.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because he told me.”

“Your father told you, or Ricardo told you?”

“I . . .” Diana impaled a piece of lettuce with her fork. “As I said. I’ve barely seen Ricardo in decades.”

“But he mattered to you.”

“He mattered to my father,” Diana snapped. She chewed in silence, her lips pressed tightly together.

Lana tried a different approach. “Let’s suppose for a moment the note I showed you was from Ricardo. That he was leaving the land trust to do something different. Something big. Maybe with your father, or maybe with someone else. How do you think Victor Morales would react if he found out Ricardo was working on a project behind his back?”

“Victor?” Diana looked relieved at the change in subject. Her face resettled into a buffed, placid surface. “Are you asking if I think he is capable of murder?”

It wasn’t what Lana had asked, but it was interesting that Diana interpreted it that way.

Diana rotated her fork slowly, hovering above her salad. “I don’t know. Victor is a slippery man. He plays in the sandbox of the fortunate, and he thinks he deserves their toys. But he is a man of words. Not one of action.”

“What do you think Victor would do with his words if he thought Ricardo betrayed him?”

“He would find a way to play it to his advantage. As would anyone, I imagine.”

“A situation you’ve found yourself in?” Lana asked.

There was a long pause.

“I have, at times, been disappointed by men,” Diana said carefully. “But betrayed? The men I involve myself with are far too intelligent to make that mistake.”





Chapter Thirty-Eight




It was career day at North Monterey County High, which meant all the students got herded into the gym after sixth period to begin thinking about their bright futures. As far as Jack could tell from the colorful banners hanging over the booths, there were three options: Silicon Valley if you wanted to get rich; agriculture if you wanted to stay home; or the military if you wanted to get out of town. Jack wanted adventure, but she didn’t think it came with a uniform or a gun. She floated around the tables, trying to avoid eye contact with the overcaffeinated recruiters. She spent a few minutes at the Monterey Bay Aquarium’s booth, where she picked up a free pen and a pamphlet about their global marine research. But the chipper lady behind the table didn’t know anything about the scientists tracking endangered bluefin tuna across the Pacific. She was pushing the glorious opportunity to stand in front of a tank and teach tourists about otters. Jack already had a better gig doing that.

“Jack!”

At the end of the row, at a scratched table with no banner and a few janky xeroxed flyers, Detective Ramirez was calling her name. The detective had on an emerald-green blazer and was standing next to a patrolman so young he practically could be a student.

“Detective Ramirez? You’re working the career fair?”

Ramirez pursed her lips at the wobbly folding table. “I was voluntold. Apparently a detective has to put in an appearance.”

Then she looked at Jack. “But I am glad to see you. I could use your help with something.”

“What kind of something?”

“It’s at the marina,” Ramirez said. “I’d prefer to tell you about it on-site. How much longer do you have to be here?”

Jack looked at her classmates shuffling around the tables spread throughout the gym. It was last period. No one would miss her.

“I could go now,” she said. She felt a twinge of guilt about her promise not to do any investigating on her own. “Should I ask my grandma to meet us there?”

“That’s your call.”

At this time of day, Lana would probably be taking a nap. And Jack figured a short field trip to the marina with a cop didn’t count. “I’m good. I can meet you there in twenty minutes.”

“You want to ride with me?”

Jack’s eyes flicked to the gun-shaped bulge on the detective’s hip. “I’ll bike.”



Jack arrived to a sea of cop cars parked at wrong angles around the marina parking lot. A young officer waved her through, and she rolled up to where Ramirez was leaning against a Buick.

“Now can you tell me what’s going on?” Jack asked.

“We’re taking a thorough look at your boss’s operation.”

“Paul? Is he here?”

“Mr. Hanley has vanished. But it doesn’t matter. We have a search warrant.”

They walked over to the fence behind the Kayak Shack and Jack locked up her bike.

“You know this Kayak Shack pretty well, right?” Ramirez asked. “You’d know if something was missing or out of order?”

“Um . . . I guess so? Things can get messy in the back. Still, I probably know it better than anyone.”