Mother-Daughter Murder Night(90)
Nicoletti appeared to take her nonresponse as noncooperation. He curled his lip into a sneer. “Look, lady, I get it. A younger man pays you some attention, flirts a little, makes you feel—how did my ex-wife put it?—makes you feel alive. And reason goes out the window.”
Lana glared at him. No way in hell she was going to bring up her theories now.
She caught a whiff of Nicoletti’s awful cologne, like rotted apples rolled in pine sap. Strangely, it made her think of Paul, the stink of his car, musky and sweet at the same time. She remembered what Jack had said about the skunk smell at his leased land by the creek, and how the official at the Farm Bureau had told her there was no licensed strawberry farm under Fruitful or Paul Hanley’s name. Something was coming together, a vague cloud of an idea that started in her nose and was slowly filtering up to her brain. But before the haze cleared, Ramirez spoke.
“Ms. Rubicon, you’ve helped us before. We need your help now.”
“Meaning?”
“If you know where Paul Hanley is, any idea regarding his whereabouts, we need to know.”
“Perhaps I could—”
Nicoletti slapped his notebook down on the table. “Perhaps you could stop playing cute and tell us what you know.”
Lana straightened up and fixed the man with a vicious stare. “Detective Nicoletti. I know you are under a great deal of pressure. I know you have not been able to solve this murder, despite having multiple weeks and the full force of your department behind you. I know you have treated me dismissively and bullied my granddaughter. I know you need a goddamned belt to hold up those sagging pants you bought off the discount rack. What else is it that you want to know?”
Nicoletti locked his jaw, his fists, and his hips. After an uneasy pause, Ramirez stepped in front of him.
“Ms. Rubicon,” Ramirez said. “I’ve observed that Paul Hanley seems to have a special relationship with you.”
Lana shifted her glare to the younger woman.
“He might have told you about someplace we wouldn’t know about. Please.”
Lana gave Ramirez a stilted smile. “I’m afraid you’ve overinterpreted my connection with Mr. Hanley. That day we were all together in his shop, that was the first time we met.”
Ramirez persisted. “Even the smallest piece of information could help us find him.”
Lana thought for a moment. What she needed now was time. Time to find hard evidence that linked Victor or Diana to the murders. Time to figure out what exactly Paul was hiding.
“He has kayaks,” Lana improvised. “Lots of them. He probably knows lots of secret places up in the slough. He might be camping somewhere. He might not even know you’re looking for him.”
“Have you heard him talk about camping?” Ramirez sounded doubtful, of either Paul or the prospect of sleeping outdoors for fun.
“No,” Lana admitted.
“Anyone else we should be talking to? A girlfriend? A business partner?”
There was one person. But Lana wanted to talk to him first. She shook her head. “I really don’t know him very well.”
“Understood. Well, thank you for your time.” Ramirez moved toward the door. Nicoletti unfroze himself and turned to follow her out.
“Oh, and Detective Ramirez?” Lana said.
“Yes?”
“If Paul is the murderer, I’ll do everything I can to help you find him.”
“I appreciate that. If he contacts you, call me. Lord knows you have my number.”
“Is everything okay?” Jack tiptoed out of the back bedroom and curled up next to Lana on the couch.
“I’m fine. You?”
Jack pulled at the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “It’s just a lot. Do you think Paul murdered Ricardo Cruz?”
“No. I had considered him a possibility before, but I honestly doubt if Paul ever even met Ricardo. There’s no motive. There’s no BATNA. Paul has something going on up by that creek, for sure. But I think someone’s setting him up to take the fall, the same way the sheriffs say he tried to set you up.” Lana looked up at the ceiling. “I wonder how that button got there.”
“Maybe someone hiked it down to the creek?”
“Maybe.” Lana yawned.
“Did my mom tell you when she’s getting home?”
“Eleven, she said.” It was only nine, but Lana already felt like it was way past her bedtime.
“I guess we should go to bed.”
“I guess so.”
Neither of them moved.
“There’s a Law and Order marathon,” Jack said.
“On it.” Lana grabbed the remote. “Can you get my legal pad?”
Chapter Forty-Six
Victor sounded delighted to hear from Lana, or as delighted as a person could be to receive a phone call on a Saturday at eight in the morning. He would love to see her, of course, as soon as possible. He was in Monterey County that morning, conducting a site tour of a heritage apple farm east of Elkhorn with some volunteers. She was welcome to meet him there.
Lana pulled herself out of bed and raided the crate where Beth kept her hiking gear. If Victor really was the murderer, she didn’t want to meet him empty-handed. Underneath a lightweight backpack and clunky boots, there was a pocketknife she couldn’t get open and a slim bottle of bear spray with a clip on the handle. She attached the bottle to the waistband of her pants, concealing it under an oversize blazer. Perfect.