“He does. I always liked him. I mean, as a friend.”
“He’s good people.”
I savored the first of my tacos a while later, trying to tease apart the tastes and ingredients. Cilantro, certainly, and the crunch of radish and purple cabbage. Something in there was pickled, too, and a creamy sauce definitely had at least jalapeño-level hotness. I gazed toward the beach.
“Interesting.” I pointed to the beach. “Katherine Russom. I wouldn’t have thought she was into environmental stuff.” She walked with Paul, her arms crossed over her chest, as he shook his head.
“I would agree. She always seemed very much the consumer, and from what I saw at the reunion, she hasn’t changed much. Who’s the dude?”
“His name is Paul something, an environmental activist. Whom my mom apparently knew and was in the same group with.”
“What’s the group?”
“They’re trying to get a certain fumigant banned from this county and Ventura County, too. It’s airborne when farmers apply it and really toxic to people and animals who breathe the stuff. I met with Paul yesterday. He thinks the guy who owns the chemical company poisoned Mom.” Oops. We were talking about dying, after all.
Her nostrils flared. “You’re kidding me. What’s the company?”
“Agrosafe. They’re up in the industrial park in Goleta.”
“I’ve heard of them.” She peered at the beach, too. We’d sat on two adjacent sides of the table so we could both watch the ocean. “Katherine’s dad owns it, right?”
“Exactly. What do you know about the company?”
“Lemme think.” She tapped a blunt-trimmed unpainted nail on the table. “I read about a fumigant made by Agrosafe in one of the research journals I subscribe to, but I can’t think where.”
“Let me know if you come up with it.”
“Of course. But poisoning Jeanine? That seems like an extreme solution.”
“No kidding,” I agreed. “Also—how? How would anyone slip a toxin into her drink or her coffee? Would they have sprayed it into her house? It seems crazy.”
“It does.”
“Alana, you know about chemicals and stuff.”
She threw back her head and laughed. “You are so not a scientist, girlfriend. Chemicals and stuff. But yeah, I kind of do know about those things in my own small niche.”
“Would something like a fumigant be able to mimic the symptoms of a ruptured brain aneurysm?”
“I have no idea, Robbie. Really. Not my field at all. You’ll have to find somebody else to ask.”
“It was worth a try.”
The waiter returned. “Can I get you ladies something else?” He eyed our empty drink glasses.
“I’m still hungry,” Alana said. “I’d like the ahi poke.”
“You got it.” He loaded up both empty plates.
“I’ll have the popcorn shrimp, please.” I took a second look at the waiter. There was something familiar about him. “Wait, what did you say your name was?”
“Cody.”
“Cody Russom?” I asked.
His eyes flew wide. “That’s me. How did you know?”
“We went to school with Katherine.” I gestured to Alana and back to myself. “She’s your sister, right?”
He nodded once, looking wary.
“Have you graduated from Chumash?” Alana asked.
He blinked. “Yeah. I’m a sophomore at UCSB.”
“Nice to see you again, Cody. The last time I ran into you, you were a little kid.” I smiled at him. “I’m Robbie, and this is Alana. I think I’ll have a glass of the house chardonnay to chase down those shrimp.”
Alana ordered another margarita.
“I’ll put in those orders and get the drinks out to you right away.” He hurried off.
“Did he seem a little eager to get away from us?” Alana asked, looking after him.
“Maybe. But he’s probably busy. And who wants to sit and yak with a couple of older women who know his unpleasant big sister?”
She snorted. Which made me giggle, as always. Soon we were in the throes of unstoppable belly laughs until tears dripped from my eyes. The descending sun grew larger and as red as a monstrous celestial blood orange until it slipped behind the ocean.
Chapter 15
The next morning found me back at the sheriff’s office. I waited outside to avoid the crabby receptionist. Melinda Washington had e-mailed me last night and we’d arranged to meet here at nine. The sky was hazier today than it had been. I sniffed and smelled smoke. Sure enough, when I surveyed the mountains to the north, gray plumes rose up. California’s wildfire problem was getting worse and worse. When I was young we never had wildfires in the winter. Now it seemed like a year-round thing. I hoped they could contain this one soon, easily, and without any courageous firefighters losing their lives.
A tall woman with glowing dark skin, half-inch-long hair, and two-inch-diameter red hoop earrings matching her glasses frames and her red shirt hurried toward me from the parking area. A capacious red leather bag was slung over her shoulder and she carried a ceramic travel mug.
“Ms. Washington?” I asked.
“Yes. Are you Robbie Jordan?”
I stuck out my hand. “I am. Thanks for agreeing to see me.”
A broad smile crept across her face as she shook my hand. “Anything for a friend of Jason’s, and please call me Mel. Come on in, then.” Inside, she saluted the receptionist. “Good morning, Inez.”
Inez nodded without looking up. I followed the pathologist, her red heels tapping the floor, through a doorway into a big room filled with desks. Several people in dark green shirts murmured on phones, worked in front of computer screens, or did both at once. We went through another doorway into a cramped office with only a high transom window, but at least it had a door for privacy. I hoped the AC was working.
“Please sit.” She pointed to a chair next to her desk and plopped down in the wheeled chair. “Wait one moment while I see if I have any fresh ones this morning.” She clicked on the laptop in front of her and tapped and scrolled with red-painted nails for a few minutes.
I inwardly cringed at the words fresh ones as I gazed around the office. Several official-looking certificates were framed on the wall. A pair of sensible black
