“What is the sister’s name?”
“Nelinda somebody. I don’t know her last name. The cook’s name is Luisa Sandoval, but she doesn’t speak English. Her daughter, Carmen Perez, owns the café.” Was I nervous-rambling or what? “The sister overheard the ex talking to someone about how much money Walter spends on his gambling addiction. So I was wondering if he found a way to kill Paul, to remove the threat to Agrosafe’s profits, because he is desperate for money.”
“Interesting.” Detective Gifford nodded slowly.
“I assume you’ve checked into Walter’s alibi for the day Paul died, or the night before.”
“I am not free to divulge the details of our investigation. I also understand you paid a visit to Grace Fujiyama, Etxgeberria’s housemate.”
“Yes.” The guy was good. He wasn’t consulting notes and had all these names in his head. Had Grace told him I’d been there, or had he been back to the apartment? “I went to the house yesterday.”
“For the purpose of?”
Should I tell the truth or fudge it? “She found Paul dead, in the same way Liz Stover found my mom. I guess I wanted to sort of reach out to her. And also find out what she knew.”
“Which was?”
“Well, she said your people were there, and a detective asked her questions. Was it you?”
“Yes.”
“She told me you took Paul’s lunch container,” I went on. “Did you find—” I stopped when he held up his hand. Rats. “I get it, you can’t tell me.”
“Precisely.”
“What about the oleander leaves your team took? Are you looking for that toxin, too?” The stuff grew everywhere, mostly because it was so hardy, drought-resistant, and beautiful when it bloomed.
Gifford only shook his head.
I gazed at the tall bookshelf full of thick reference volumes behind him. It was oddly comforting to see a library still stocking dictionaries, thesauruses, almanacs, and volumes of local history printed on real paper with sturdy bindings. For people to pull down and peruse in person, rather than wandering over the Internet in search of the same information. A shame those books didn’t contain the answer to who killed Paul.
“Ms. Jordan? Do you have anything else you’d like to share?”
I flashed on Cody and on what Katherine had said about him butting heads with his father. “Walter’s son, Cody, is waitstaff out at Boathouse at Hendry’s Beach. He’s a sophomore at UCSB, and he said he’s part of the group trying to ban his father’s product. Earlier, Katherine had told me Cody and Walter totally butt heads. Father and son fighting because Cody is opposed to his dad’s livelihood? I can see it.”
He tilted his head, as if I’d finally told him something he didn’t already know.
“And there’s one more thing. I went to the movies last night downtown. By myself. Someone followed me back to my B-and-B when I was driving. They tried to run me off the road.”
His eyebrows met in the middle and he looked sideways at me. “Did you see who it was? Could you identify the vehicle?”
“I couldn’t see who was behind the wheel. I’m driving a small rental. All I know is this vehicle was bigger, like an SUV or maybe a truck, and had really bright headlights. I was only saved by a police car coming toward us with lights and siren on. My would-be attacker backed off and disappeared.”
“What street was this on, and what time?”
“The movie got out at nine thirty, so nine forty-five, ten, sometime around then. I was on Del Vista at the time.”
“Did you report the near attack?”
“No. I didn’t have the make of car, the plate number, or anything. I know Walter owns a big SUV. Also, Carmen, the owner of the café, told me she heard someone in the night trying to break into the cottage in back where she lives with her mother.”
“I’ll see what I can find out.”
“Thanks.” I cringed at my thoughtlessness. Carmen hadn’t wanted to call the police. “Carmen said she didn’t report the intruder because she and her mom don’t like police. I don’t know if, as immigrants, they’ve suffered police brutality or what. But if you talk with them, please be gentle.”
“I will do my best. Terminating this interview at twelve twenty-two.” He clicked off the recorder and stood. “I thank you for your time. Here’s my card. You happen to learn anything new, please call or text as soon as possible.” He drew a card out of his shirt pocket with two fingers and slid it across the table.
“I will.”
“And, Ms. Jordan, I need to officially caution you to stay well away from anything having to do with Etxgeberria’s death. We don’t know if it was from natural causes or was criminal homicide. But if the latter is the case, we have a very dangerous person out there, and you have already nearly become a victim. We do not want a second homicide to occur. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.” I stood and held out my hand. “I understand completely. I’m flying back to Indiana on Saturday morning and fully intend to make my plane, alive and well.”
Gifford shook my hand. “A wise choice.” He turned to go.
“Detective?” I waited until he looked at me. “Good luck.”
Chapter 36
Alana picked me up for the appointment with Katherine at a little before one. Ten minutes later she parked on the street in front of a house built in a style I would call Late California Ugly: a newer-construction stucco building low in front with a second story rising up behind. The garage jutted out in front of the house, eight-foot walls surrounded the back of the property, and a deep green manicured lawn in front was wasting the region’s precious water resources. An equally wasteful big honking SUV sat in the driveway. The neighborhood barely qualified as Montecito. It was so far on the outskirts of the exclusive conclave, it should have been called Montecito Lite.
“This is it?” I asked. “I don’t think I ever came here while we were in school together.”
“This is
