“So Verdadera Libertad lives on.”
“Renamed. La Reina de la Libertad.”
“The queen of liberty,” Ramirez said. “Very modest.”
“Indeed.” Lana took a tentative sip of beer and shot a glance over at the men congregated by the bar. “Did you really think Paul was the murderer?”
Ramirez smoothed her hair back, the gold tips of her fingernails turning it into a glittering stream.
“I don’t have the luxury of operating solely on my own judgment. But I never entirely agreed with Detective Nicoletti about Paul Hanley. There was too much that didn’t fit. There was no meaningful connection between him and Ricardo. And according to the records on Ricardo’s phone, that kayak tour booking was made near a cell tower in San Francisco. I was curious about other possibilities.”
Suddenly, Lana remembered something Gaby had told her. “Ricardo used a flip phone. It probably didn’t have a pass code. So Martin wouldn’t have had trouble using it to make that call.”
Ramirez nodded. “He was very careful about covering his tracks. Dumping the body in the creek confused the evidence, and running up and back to San Francisco was pretty clever. But he also took stupid risks. Like holding on to that pannier and setting the fire at the land trust. He told us he didn’t know if Ricardo had other hard copies of the plans for Verdadera Libertad or notes in his files. So he went up there in his dad’s truck to obliterate any potential materials related to the project, just in case.”
Lana brushed a finger over the memory of the stitches on her cheekbone. “But if I had seen him in that truck . . .”
“Exactly. Risky.”
“Did you suspect him right away?”
“No. When you first told me about the Rhoadses, I was playing catch-up, processing the information you gave me about Diana and Ricardo. I tracked down that story about that suspicious death in England. But that young duke? His death certificate was kept from the press, but I was able to get a coroner’s report. He died of a brain aneurysm. There was no foul play.”
Lana felt a twinge of sheepishness for her mistaken casting of Lady Di as a black widow.
“So?”
“So you had it wrong about Diana Whitacre. But I was still interested in the Rhoads family. I found some old pictures of the ranch in the county archives. That cattle brand—I had a feeling it might be our missing murder weapon. The way Ricardo Cruz was struck, the pattern in his skull was more complicated than an arc. The coroner thought he was hit twice with the same object, a shovel maybe, but the pressure was identical for both impressions, which would be hard for someone to do, especially in the heat of the moment. I thought it was one blow, from one weapon with an unusual shape. And the corner of an R, of the right size, swung in the right direction—that would fit.”
“Why didn’t you go up to the ranch earlier to check it out?”
Ramirez sniffed. “No way some rich ranching family lets me in without a warrant. And Nicoletti was fixated on Paul Hanley. The longer Paul was MIA, the more intent Nicoletti became. He made me swear I wouldn’t do anything that didn’t have a straight line to finding Paul. So when you texted me about Paul, I saw my opportunity to check out the ranch.”
“A shame you couldn’t get there a little bit sooner.”
“Oh, I did. But the house was empty. You all must have been in the barn already.”
“Why didn’t you come in?”
“I didn’t know what I was walking into. I did a quick survey of the cars. Trying to guess how many I might be up against. And that’s when I saw it.”
“Ricardo’s bike pannier.”
Ramirez nodded. “It clicked. Of course we had to test it later. But I knew.”
“Me too,” Lana said.
“Great minds think alike.”
Lana breathed the words in. Held them.
“It was stupid of him to keep all that evidence,” Lana said.
Ramirez shrugged. “He might have felt safer that way. Or he was arrogant enough to think he was in the clear. Lots of criminals would rather hold on to evidence, keep it under their control. It certainly made life easier for us. Ricardo’s bike bag. The cattle brand. We also found traces of Ricardo’s blood and Martin’s skin cells on one of the wheelbarrows in the barn. That initial tip you gave us about a strange farmer dumping something in the middle of the night? We’re pretty sure you saw Martin, dropping Ricardo in the creek by Paul’s land. And then there was the car.”