“He’d do that?” Beth always thought of Hal Rhoads as the kind of man who lived and died by his word.
“Dad was a pretty wily businessman when he wanted to be. He said sometimes you gotta get close to your enemy to get rid of him.” Martin smiled. “I saw him catch a rattler once. He scooped it up and slammed its head in the dirt in one continuous motion, all before I even got a good look at it. Three months later, he had a new hatband. Dad knew how to handle a snake.”
“I’ll tell my mom to avoid getting bit.” Beth smiled back at him. “You know, she’ll probably grill me about any juicy clues you might have to offer.”
“I did see an otter signaling suspiciously at a harbor seal yesterday.” He raised the stub of his churro into the air. “To maddening parents!”
Beth lifted her last bite in his direction. “Amen to that.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Late at night, the bungalow’s kitchen bore an unfortunate resemblance to an interrogation room. Beth had never registered the similarity until she walked in and found her mother at the table in her bathrobe, back straight, dark shadows under her eyes accentuated by the glow of the single light bulb. Lana had removed Beth’s homemade lampshade two weeks earlier, when it dumped a palm frond in one of her protein shakes.
“How was your date?” Lana asked. She had Beth’s glue gun in one hand, twirling it around her finger. Beth hoped it wasn’t plugged in.
“It wasn’t a date.”
“Fine. How was it?” Lana was sipping something, jet fuel probably, and speaking in a familiar clipped tone.
“Good.”
“How good?”
“About as good as you can expect when you’re having burritos with a guy whose father just died.” Beth stared at her mother. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”
Jack stood up from the couch. “Prima, tell her.”
Lana put the glue gun on the table. She ran a hand through her patchy, close-cropped hair. “I’m concerned Martin might be involved in the murder. Murders.”
“Really.” Beth felt her frustration building. “You’re concerned that a man whose father just died, who wasn’t even in town when Ricardo died, may have killed them both?”
“Did he know Ricardo?”
“I didn’t ask. It didn’t matter. He was in San Francisco the Friday Ricardo died. He didn’t get here until Saturday. He’d barely even heard about it. It was awkward to bring it up, and I didn’t want to get too weird. But I did it. For you.”
“Where exactly was he?”
“Where was he when?”
“That Friday.”
Beth stared at her mother. “He was at a nanotech pitch event. For investors. His start-up builds robots that assemble circuit boards. Microscopic ones.” She frowned. “I think I have that right.”
“Where was this tiny pitch conference?”
“Next time I’ll tap his phone, Ma.” Beth shook her head. “Seriously. He’s a good guy. Smart. No ax-murderer vibes. We had more in common than I expected.”
“Anything I should know before I see his sister tomorrow?”
“There was one thing.” Beth paused for a moment, relishing the naked interest on her mother’s face. “Apparently Victor Morales is harassing them about donating the ranch to the land trust.”
“From what Victor said at the wake, it was what Hal Rhoads wanted.”
Beth shrugged. “Not according to Martin. He says whatever his father signed was just for show.”
“Are you going to see him again?” Jack asked.
Something was hiding in Jack’s question, and Beth couldn’t tell if it was hope or concern. Her voice softened. “It wasn’t a date, honey.”
“But could it be?” Lana said.
“Excuse me?”
“Could you turn it into a date?”
Beth wasn’t sure what her mother meant. She wasn’t ready to get into a discussion about how rich tech guys weren’t her idea of boyfriend material.
“I know he’s not a lumberjack,” Lana continued. “But if we needed more information from Martin, could you put on a skirt and . . . ?”
“Ma!”
“You’re right. A tank top and jeans are probably better. You have good shoulders.”
“Ma, you’re not pimping me out for your investigation.”
“You just said yourself he’s not a murderer.”
“You know what?” Beth leaned across the table, swallowing up the light in her bomber jacket. “If you want to manipulate people, that’s your business. You’ve got a big day tomorrow, right? Seeing Martin’s sister and Victor Morales?”