Rosa tested the mechanism by pulling the string. She put some force behind it and nearly lost her footing on the ladder, but the bucket still barely budged. On closer inspection, Rosa could see that a metal beam holding up the roof was in the way.
Strange. Rosa remembered where Diego had found a drink of water near the back edge of the platform—on the side furthest from the controls. She reached up and turned the pail ninety degrees. This time, when she pulled the string, the bucket tipped easily. The bucket was rigged so it could only tilt in one direction—away from the controls.
Speaking immediately to Miguel was crucial. The prank with the water could not have caused an electrical malfunction since it didn’t dump anywhere near the controls.
Jimmy Thompson’s prank had not caused the death of Victor Boyd.
8
The Santa Bonita Police Department looked nothing like Scotland Yard headquarters in London. During the day, the red-clay tile roof and white stucco exterior of the smaller Spanish mission-style building shone brightly under the California sun. Now, in the last wisps of dusk and under a moonlit sky, it had the essence of a holiday resort.
Rosa parked the Bel Air and walked up the palm-tree-lined sidewalk, but when she pulled on the glass front doors of the police station, she was surprised to find them locked. Her mind was on high alert from the evening’s events, and she’d been prepared to barge through a busy office to find Miguel. She rapped on the glass door with two knuckles.
There was movement in the office behind the reception counter, and a second later, a young policeman in uniform unlatched the door. She hadn’t met this officer, and she wondered if he always worked nights.
“Ma’am? How can I help you?” he asked, opening the door wide to let her inside.
“I’m WPC Rosa Reed, a friend of Detective Belmonte’s.” Rosa thought her use of the word “friend” was optimistic, but the truth of their relationship status was complicated. “I’m the one who found the body at the boardwalk. I must speak with him as soon as possible—before he finishes his interview,” she added.
The policeman locked the door behind them and led her through to the open office area. This section, filled with cubicles, was dimly lit, quiet, and empty of other officers, which was a complete contrast to how it had been in the daytime when she’d been here.
“I believe Detective Belmonte has finished in the interrogation room,” the policeman told her. “But please, wait here, and I’ll check.” He disappeared down the hall where Rosa knew Miguel’s private office was.
Only seconds later, the policeman returned with Miguel on his heels.
“You didn’t arrest him, did you?” Rosa spouted. The policeman headed down the hall to the reception area, leaving her alone in the cubicle-filled space with Miguel.
Miguel perched on the edge of a desk. “Well, good evening to you too. And, no, I didn’t make any arrests. Delvecchio wanted a full report by morning, so I’m working on that and hoping Richardson will have some photos developed for me soon.”
Rosa fanned her notebook. “I discovered something before leaving the boardwalk that will exonerate Jimmy Thompson from any manslaughter charges.”
As Miguel listened intently, Rosa explained the mechanics of the bucket placement. “I believe someone rigged the bucket to dump when Victor handled a pole with a hook on the end. The bucket could only turn in one direction—away from the control panel and toward the back of the platform. I found the pole out by the roller coaster’s fence. I also looked over the control panel closely, and there were no signs of moisture.”
Miguel nodded, deep in thought. “Dr. Rayburn said the wet patch on Victor’s shirt was water. We can theorize that as he headed out of the back of the platform with this pole, it pulled on the bucket, splashing him as he stepped off. But what was the pole doing there, and how did Jimmy know that Victor would grab it.”
“Not sure, we’ll have to ask Jimmy. I would guess it’s something that’s used regularly. Perhaps to clear the track of any debris or unjam the chain drive on the tracks.”
Miguel tapped a pen on the desk and looked at Rosa for so long, it bordered on uncomfortable. But when he spoke again, it was clear his mind was still firmly fixed on the case.
“At any rate,” he finally said, “it looks like Jimmy didn’t even know enough to realize he was innocent.”
“It seems so.” Rosa cleared her throat. “At the very least, I think it would be prudent to question him again in the morning about the bucket positioning and the pole.”
“Agreed.”
The overhead light cast shadows under Miguel’s eyes, but Rosa thought some of it might be pure fatigue.
“Any chance you’d let me sit in on that?” Rosa asked. She knew her request could step on toes, but she was sincerely interested in what had happened to Victor Boyd.
“Well, since you found the body and key evidence,” Miguel said, “I think it only fair to bring you in, once again, as a consultant. If Delvecchio agrees.”
Rosa felt a flutter at this seal of approval and unconsciously moved a strand of her chestnut hair back into place. Rather than letting herself bask in this, she changed the subject.
“What was responsible for Victor’s electrocution, if not Jimmy’s prank?”
Miguel shifted on the desk and twisted his lips in deep thought. “Electrical malfunction?” But even as Miguel said the words, Rosa sensed he didn’t believe them. She didn’t either.
“The fair manager, Mr. Henderson, insists his regular maintenance is thorough,” Rosa said. “And from what I saw from Skip—the carnie who shut off the roller coaster—his employees are trained well.
“Mr. Henderson is eager to get the roller coaster up and running again,” Rosa continued. “He wants to get his electrician in first thing tomorrow to look over the roller
