“Clarence!” Rosa admonished. “You really shouldn’t say that. Not in the middle of a murder investigation.”
Clarence looked decently chastised. “I didn’t mean to rattle your cage, Rosa. I honestly didn’t even know the guy.” He wrinkled his nose. “You won’t mention it to your cop friend, will ya?”
20
With a mother who owned a highbrow fashion shop, Rosa most often wore dresses. But there was the odd day when she’d wake up in the morning with a sixth sense in wardrobe decisions. Today was one such day. She dressed in a chartreuse pair of capri pants with a floral-patterned, collared blouse. She used a wide yellow headband to push her chestnut hair back and off her face.
As soon as she was dressed, Rosa phoned Miguel at the station. Unhappily, she felt it her duty to relay the threat Nancy Kline had uttered to Gloria about Victor Boyd. As Rosa had hoped, Miguel invited her to join him on his visit to the Klines.
With the windows down, and the radio on—she sang along with Patti Page’s “How Much Is That Doggie In the Window?” giving Diego a quick apologetic look—the drive through town was pleasant. Landmarks that had once felt like home, were welcoming again, like the bakery, the town hall, the brick fire hall, and the school, which now had a new extension. New buildings and businesses like Ralph’s grocery and the Tastee Freeze ice cream parlor were feeling familiar as well.
Pushing her cat-eye sunglasses up along the bridge of her nose, Rosa cast a glance at Diego, who was partially inside the satchel sitting on the passenger seat of the Bel Air.
“Miguel didn’t specifically ask for you to come,” Rosa said. “However, if you behave and stay in the satchel, he might not notice.”
Diego meowed and pushed his little paws against the edge of the satchel, and with his back legs worked himself out of the bag.
“Diego! What did I just say about behaving?”
Perhaps Diego had an issue with the song about the dog, as he jumped onto the dash, then reached down with one paw, patting at the radio dial.
“Get down!” Rosa said. “I’ll turn it off.”
Rosa switched the knob and the car grew quiet. “Are you happy now?”
Diego stretched out on the dash, sunning his furry stomach. Rosa laughed. “Oh, Diego, you have me in stitches.”
When she pulled into the parking lot of the police station, Rosa reached for Diego and placed him back into the satchel. “It’s time to be serious. Now remember, be cool.”
Inside the station, Rosa told the policeman at the desk that Detective Belmonte was expecting her. He left, and soon afterward returned with Miguel on his heels.
Miguel took one look at her wriggling satchel—silly Diego just refused to cooperate—and frowned.
“After the emotional upheaval on display at the mansion last night, I didn’t dare leave him behind,” Rosa explained. “Aunt Louisa’s on a rampage, and I fear for Diego’s life, should he happen to cross her.”
It was an overstatement but had the desired effect of gaining Miguel’s sympathy. “I regret having to put you and your family through that.”
“All in a day’s work.”
Miguel drove the unmarked police cruiser to a middle-class neighborhood on the other side of town and parked in front of a split-level house.
“This is where they live?” Rosa asked. She’d only ever been to Nancy’s family home, which was far smaller and had housed a large family.
Miguel pushed the “three on the tree” gearshift into park. “This is the address Sanchez dug up.”
Rosa eased out of the vehicle, strapped her satchel over a shoulder, and felt Diego squirm inside. “Did you warn them we were coming?” she asked as they walked along the sidewalk and up the short driveway.
“No. In light of what your cousin Gloria told you last night, I thought a surprise visit might work in our favor.”
Miguel knocked at the front door twice, and Rosa’s stomach churned as they waited. Perhaps coming with Miguel was a mistake. Nancy would forever connect Rosa to what was sure to be an uncomfortable interview. Had Rosa had any hopes of mending fences, she was about to crush that possibility.
“Are you all right?” Miguel said.
“I don’t know if you remember, but Nancy was my best friend when I last lived here.”
Recollection dawned on Miguel, but before he could comment, the door opened, and Nancy stood before them, a look of curiosity on her face.
“Rosa?”
Miguel answered. “We’re sorry to interrupt you. Is your husband home?”
“He’s in the backyard with the kids.” Nancy narrowed her gaze. “What’s this about?”
“Just a few questions about the night of Mr. Boyd’s death,” Miguel replied. “We’re speaking with all the witnesses.”
“We’re hardly witnesses. We didn’t see a thing.”
“You might’ve seen something without realizing it,” Rosa added. “Something that will help us. Detective Belmonte only needs a few moments.”
Evoking the authority of Miguel’s position did the trick, and Nancy waved to the sidewalk that wrapped around the house. “Follow that path to the gate and let yourselves in. We’re in the middle of a game of croquet.”
Croquet? Rosa wondered. Croquet was a popular sport in England, and the thought of the game gave Rosa a small pang for home. She had no idea that Americans played it as well.
Rosa followed Miguel to a path along the side of the house, and sure enough, on the sprawling back lawn were several croquet hoops arranged in a course. Eddie Kline stood with three young boys who were staggered in height. Each held a mallet.
Miguel and Rosa stepped through the waist-high gate in time to see Nancy conferring with her husband. Eddie cast them a look of distrust. He then announced to his sons, “Fifteen-minute break, boys. Go get yourselves some lemonade in the kitchen.”
“I’m Detective Belmonte with the Santa Bonita Police Department,” Miguel started, “and I believe you know Miss Reed. She’s an
