“You’ve been more than helpful, Mr. Thompson. Thank you. You can go now.”
Jimmy drained his soda in one last long gulp then slapped the empty bottle down onto the table. “But if I were you, I’d spend my time looking at Henderson.” He pointed at Rosa. “Trust me on this one.”
Back in Miguel’s office, Rosa slumped into a chair across from Miguel who sat at his desk. Past the point of purring, Diego was curled up in Miguel’s arm, fast asleep. Rosa kept her eyes on her notebook because the sight of an attractive police officer cradling a sleeping kitten was simply far too adorable. Especially this police officer and this kitten.
“So, we’re back to listing every single person either of us recognized at the boardwalk,” she said.
“We both know people who had the motive to kill Victor Boyd,” Miguel said in a soft voice as if not to awaken Diego.
Rosa could probably have mentioned that Diego slept soundly through everything from Ferris wheel rides to her raging aunt, but she enjoyed Miguel’s soft tone too much to do that.
“But who had the means?” he continued. “Who at the fair would have had the rewiring know-how to instigate the murder?”
Rosa shook her head. “I’m afraid that doesn’t eliminate any of the girls from my group of friends. When I was in school, we all worked at the aircraft plant together. I wasn’t as skilled at rewiring as some of the others. Joyce was especially skilled. I’m not from this town, and even I know a handful of people who had motive and the means to do this.” Rosa tapped her pen on her notepad. She had already listed Marjorie, Nancy, Pauline, and Joyce. They had all known and hated Victor, but Joyce had left before Victor had died. However—
“Don Welks,” Rosa said.
Miguel raised a brow. “Huh?”
“From the top of the Ferris wheel, I saw Don Welks—that’s Joyce Welks’s husband—speaking with Victor Boyd. The conversation was short, but it didn’t appear too friendly.”
“Are you sure? From that distance, it would be easy to get a fella mixed up.”
“Mr. Welks is an extremely tall man,” Rosa said. “Head and shoulders above everyone else, and he wore a distinctive bowling shirt.”
Miguel hummed. “Worth checking into the guy.”
Rosa added Don Welks to her list, then drew a question mark beside Pauline’s name.
“All the girls in the higher grades worked at the aircraft plant, except Pauline. She worked with her dad throughout the war, so I have no idea about her electrical wiring know-how.”
Miguel motioned to Rosa’s notebook. “Why don’t we start with your list and go from there? Even if none of them are guilty, our inquiries could lead us in the right direction.”
“Yes, one must start with what one has,” Rosa murmured. It was what her father, Basil Reed, had often said while working as a chief inspector for Scotland Yard.
Miguel smiled, both dimples making an unnerving appearance. “You sound so very British when you talk like that.”
Rosa straightened. “Like what?”
“Like the Queen. ‘One must—’”
“Pfft,” Rosa protested. “How would you know? When did you ever talk to the Queen?”
“I haven’t. She hasn’t seen fit to include our little pueblo in her holiday plans so far, but I have seen newsreels. You talk just like her.”
Rosa didn’t know if she should take that as a compliment or not. “Well, you talk like Desi Arnaz.”
“He’s Cuban!” Miguel feigned a look of shock, but a slight smile teased his lips.
“Oh, right. Sorry about that.” Rosa grimaced at her mistake. Not everyone who spoke Spanish in America came from Mexico. “Yes, well, I am very British, and I shan’t apologize for that.”
Their eyes locked. The eleven years since Rosa had lived in Santa Bonita—sounding very American by the end of it—stretched between them.
“I’d never ask you to,” Miguel answered softly. He cleared his throat, and his dimples disappeared. “I see that Gloria is not on your list—”
Rosa’s head snapped up.
“It’s just a matter of form,” Miguel added quickly. “She was part of the grouping at the fair that night. I’m just suggesting that you not reveal details if you decide to ask her questions.”
Reluctantly, Rosa added Gloria’s name to her list. “I think we can quickly clear Gloria. She wasn’t even on the boardwalk when the rigging or the death occurred. She’d gone to the Lobster Bar to use the facilities and got caught up chatting with the manager there.”
With his free hand, Miguel stopped petting Diego and scrawled “Gloria” and “Lobster Bar” on the notepad in front of him. “I’ll follow up on this one and see what I can find out about the other employees at the fair.”
Rosa hated that Gloria was officially a suspect, but she figured the sooner Miguel investigated her alibi, the sooner the police would clear Gloria from suspicion.
“And that’s everyone you knew at the boardwalk that night?” Miguel asked in confirmation.
Rosa nodded as she stood and reached for her kitten. Miguel handed Diego over, then with a look of resigned determination said, “Thanks again for your help, Rosa. Please do continue on with what remains of your vacation.”
It sounded like a dismissal.
Rosa wasn’t about to be dismissed.
11
Diego, however, had other plans. Wriggling out of Rosa’s arms he sprinted out of Miguel’s office and down the hallway toward the front door.
“Diego!”
Rosa grabbed her hat and satchel and made a run after her cat, flushing with acute embarrassment as the policemen stared, some with mirth pulling on the corner of their lips and others with looks of derision, clearly disapproving of Rosa’s decision to bring a cat with her to the precinct, or possibly they disliked that Rosa came in at all.
She slowed her jog and lowered her voice. “Diego!”
Miguel dashed past her, leaving a waft of musky cologne in his wake, but just as he was about to reach her
