“Well . . . good. I brought dinner. Maybe you and the Zodiac hunter can tell me about it over fried rice.”
“I’ve decided to recalibrate my approach,” Lana said. “To focus on finding evidence. Not apprehending the murderer.”
“Seems wise,” Beth said. She looked apprehensively at the hammer, which was now sitting on the table next to Lana’s plate.
“The woman detective, Ramirez, she’s the one who should get the solve.”
“Very generous of you, Ma.”
Lana nodded. “But no one involved in the investigation is more qualified than I am to review these real estate documents.”
Lana held forth about the land trust, sharing what she’d learned from her visit. The land to the west of the Rhoads ranch was public. The land to the east was managed by the land trust. The ranch was a linchpin. For what, she didn’t quite know yet. But she was sure she’d figure it out.
“You still think there’s a connection between Mr. Rhoads’s ranch and Ricardo’s death?” Beth tried to keep the skepticism out of her voice.
“There’s more than one. Jack, can you get the list?”
Jack picked up an old Spanish test and flipped it over. The back was covered in neat lines of purple ink. “One,” she read. “Ricardo talking with Mr. Rhoads about the future of the ranch.”
Lana nodded to her to continue.
“Two. Suspicious note about taking a big project away from the land trust. Three. Mr. Rhoads’s daughter, Diana Whitacre, squirrelly about Ricardo at the wake.”
“She seems . . . complicated,” Beth said.
“Strong women often are. I like her. We’re having lunch later this week.”
Beth looked at her. “If you’re up to it.”
“Please. I got more sleep in that hospital than I have in months. If I have enough energy to get strapped in a box for my MRI and PET scans Thursday morning, I think I deserve a little reward afterward. Now, Jack”—Lana brandished a chopstick at the girl—“back to our list.”
Jack’s eyes darted from Lana to her mother and then back down to the sheet of paper. Lana kept waggling the chopstick until Jack finally spoke. “Four,” she said. “I thought of this one. Ricardo’s body may have been dumped on the ranch.”
Beth looked confused. “I thought you found him in the mud flats?”
Jack nodded. “The mud flats, the slough, that isn’t technically owned by anyone. But Prima and I were looking at the property above the flats, and—hold on. I’ll show you.” Jack got up and disappeared into the back bedroom.
“You sure this is a good idea?” Beth asked Lana.
Lana’s eyes were shining.
Jack returned with a large map in her hands. She moved aside the container of fried rice and spread out the map on the table. “Here’s the ranch. And here’s the land trust property, right next door. See?”
Jack’s thumb left a smudge of grease across the farmland north of the slough. The land trust property snaked along the water for miles before taking a sharp left turn up into the hills to the east. Beth could see small creeks crisscrossing the land, ignoring property lines. She’d explored the north bank a few times, bushwhacking past No Trespassing signs, her boots kissing mud every fifth step. Some creeks were former irrigation ditches, shooting in straight lines across what had once been fertile fields. Others wound and turned and curled in on themselves, dead-ending in marshy bogs. Only a couple creeks linked back to the slough. You’d have to be a real expert to know which were shortcuts and which went nowhere.
“I found his body here.” Jack made another oily mark on the map, this time in the water, about a mile up past the land trust boundary.
“He could have floated in from anywhere,” Beth said.
“Not anywhere.” Lana’s voice was sharp, teacherly. “Jack showed me. It had to be from somewhere on the northern bank. Probably one of the creeks that lead to the slough. Or an irrigation ditch. It could be one that links up to the ranch.”
“Couldn’t it have come in from the open ocean? Or somewhere up by the lettuce fields?”
“We don’t think so,” Jack said. “He was in the water for twenty-four to forty hours. On a weekend. Someone would notice if a body was floating in the open slough. We think he had to be in one of the side creeks. On private property. Like these.”
Jack pointed at the maze of blue lines between the ranch, the land trust, and the mud flats.