Mother-Daughter Murder Night(89)

Lana had a sudden flash of Paul’s loaded-down kayak on the day Jack got stuck in the creek. Whatever he’d been hiding on his leased land, he must have dug it up and brought it to the marina.

“He did a good job clearing out,” Ramirez continued. “But he missed one thing—”

She took out a small plastic bag and laid it on the table. Inside, there was a single button, smeared with mud. Nicoletti was watching Ramirez with a forced smile, as if he wished he were the one who’d found it.

“Have you seen this before?”

Lana and Jack shook their heads.

“It’s from Ricardo Cruz’s jacket. There’s trace patterns of his blood on it, which can be roughly dated to the week he died. We believe it came off just before he was dumped in the water.”

“Conclusive evidence I was right,” Nicoletti broke in. “Ricardo Cruz was on Hanley’s leased property. He was killed in the jacket this button came from. And then splash, into the creek.”

“You think Paul—”

“We’ll be arresting Mr. Hanley for the murder of Ricardo Cruz,” Nicoletti said. “Just as soon as we can find him.”

Ricardo’s bike. Ricardo’s button. It was damning evidence, but it didn’t make Paul a murderer. There still wasn’t a weapon or a motive. As far as Lana could tell, Paul had the least to gain from killing Ricardo, let alone Hal Rhoads. But maybe the sheriffs knew something Lana didn’t.

Lana knew how to catch flies with honey. But when time was of the essence, a shot of vinegar to the eyes could be quite effective. She looked straight at Nicoletti and scoffed.

“Paul Hanley, a murderer? Ridiculous. Too obvious. Why would he kill someone and then float him down the slough in a life vest from his own company? Not to mention keeping the bike. Even Paul isn’t that stupid. I didn’t think you were either.”

Nicoletti scoffed right back. “Please. You think you’re so clever. Mr. Hanley tried to frame your granddaughter. He knew the tides. He’d know where and when the body might come out. He killed Mr. Cruz and dropped him in a creek Friday night. Then he made a fake booking with Ricardo Cruz’s phone for a Saturday kayak tour, tossed the phone, and hid the bike.” Nicoletti pointed a meaty finger at Jack. “You guided that Saturday sunset tour.”

Jack nodded, her eyes big as plates.

“And Mr. Hanley wasn’t around that evening.”

“He met a woman,” Jack said.

“The lovely Tatiana. His vanishing alibi.” Nicoletti had a smug look on his face. “The bastard set you up.”

“I don’t believe it,” Lana said. She looked at her granddaughter. “Paul may be a dope, but he isn’t violent, is he?”

Jack nodded. “I just sort of thought he was a loser.”

“Exactly,” Lana said. “He isn’t the type.”

Nicoletti barked out a single “Ha!” that echoed in the small kitchen. “Let me tell you something, lady. There is no type. I’ve met nerds who were scared of their own shoelaces but still managed to kill their girlfriends. I’ve met little old ladies who buried their husbands in their gardens and stood there crying over their peonies. I once collared a gym teacher who hacked up a boy before basketball practice. The only type I’ve ever run into is the type who is desperate enough to kill someone. Which is everyone, given the right circumstances.”

Jack bolted up from the table, her face a mottled gray. “Excuse me,” she said, looking at Lana. “I’ll be in my room. Your room.”

Lana glared at the detective. “You just had to swing your dick around, didn’t you.”

“What I had to do,” Nicoletti said, glaring back, “is impress upon you how serious this situation is. Mr. Hanley is a murderer.”

“Allegedly. What’s his motive in this fantasy you’ve cooked up?”

“We think they were in business together, Mr. Hanley and Mr. Cruz, doing something illegal in that valley across the slough.”

“Fruitful,” Lana said.

“Exactly.” Nicoletti waved a meaty hand. “Mr. Hanley leased the land, and Cruz’s roommates told us he was spending more time in Elkhorn than he needed for his job, that he had some kind of secret situation going on down here. He wouldn’t tell his roommates what, so we’re thinking it wasn’t aboveboard. They were working together. They had an altercation that Friday. Hanley hit Cruz, hard, with something rounded and metal, maybe a posthole digger or a shovel or that Maglite he wasn’t able to produce for us. And then later that night he dumped him in the creek.”

Lana kept her face impassive as she considered what he was telling her. Was it possible she’d made an error, and the big project Ricardo had left the land trust to do was not with Hal but with Paul? Or that Ricardo was meeting up with Paul instead of Diana? No. Those ideas were ridiculous. Verdadera Libertad was real, and so were Ricardo’s liaisons with Diana. Ricardo’s secret activities at the slough were pleasure, not business. Lana was sure of it. Almost.

She was about to open her mouth and wipe the smile off Nicoletti’s face when she realized her evidence about the affair was just as circumstantial as his about the illegal business partnership. And despite what she’d boasted to Jack, she didn’t yet have conclusive evidence that Hal Rhoads had been murdered. She couldn’t tell the detectives her theory. Not until she had rock-solid proof.