“I know what he is...now. The first time I heard his moniker was from the lips of two men sent here to kill me.”
Troy’s eyes bugged out. “That’s it, then. He is in Rocky Point like I suspected, and you know who he is.” Troy grimaced. “It’s not surprising they want to kill you. You can’t identify those guys?”
“That’s why she’s suspicious of everyone she meets—especially people who abduct her at gunpoint.” Rob still had a grip on his own gun beneath the table. Could they trust this guy? If Troy were working for the cartels, Libby would be dead by now.
Libby fished her tea bag from her cup and watched the drops fall back into the steaming water. “What info was I supposed to give you about El Gringo Viejo? Did I know the man? Associate with him?”
“You and I weren’t even sure this guy you knew was El Gringo Viejo, but if those two thugs sent here to murder you mentioned his name, it’s a good bet he is.”
“I know him?” Libby abandoned her soggy tea bag in the saucer and folded her hands in her lap. “How would I know someone like that?”
“You’re an artist. You have some fancy art gallery in town.” Troy’s eyes narrowed to slits. “The man with the big villa on the outskirts of town likes art. He’d contacted you before I did.”
“The big villa on the cliffs overlooking the water.” Libby’s eyes grew glassy as she stared into her teacup as if hoping to read the tea leaves to her past there.
Troy scooted closer to the table. “You remember that?”
“I’ve seen a hypnotist.”
Rob nudged her foot beneath the table. She must already trust this guy, but he’d rather do a little private investigating of his own first.
“Smart move.” Troy snapped his fingers. “You didn’t remember anything else?”
“I remembered the art gallery, but Rob and I had already done some sleuthing of our own and we deduced that I was Libby James, an artist and gallery owner in Rocky Point.” Libby slid a glance at Rob, and he shook his head.
If Troy noticed the gesture, he didn’t react. Rob didn’t want Libby telling Troy about the dead body she remembered, or anything else, until he had a chance to check him out.
Rob blew out a breath. “Look, what’s your name? Your last name. And why are you investigating El Gringo Viejo? How did you know he was in Rocky Point when the Border Patrol, DEA, FBI and the Federales don’t know where he is?”
Troy plunged two fingers into the front pocket of his wrinkled shirt and pulled out two business cards. “One for you, and one for you.”
Rob picked up the card Troy had placed in front of him on the table. “Troy Paulsen, private investigator. Oh, look here. You have a license and everything.”
“That’ll make it easier for you to run me, won’t it, lawman? I even have a license to carry that gun you’re holding on me.”
“You don’t have a license to draw that gun on an innocent woman.”
“I’m sorry, Libby.” Troy spread his spatulate fingers on the Formica. “I needed to talk to you, and I knew you wouldn’t remember me and our meeting. I was never going to hurt you. I was afraid to approach you in Paradiso with the cartel watching your every move.”
“Don’t remind me.” Libby put her hand to her throat.
“Maybe you need to adopt some better business practices, Paulsen.” Rob flicked the corner of the card. “You still didn’t answer me. Why are you nosing around El Gringo Viejo, and how’d you get this far?”
“PIs aren’t under the same rules and constraints as law enforcement. We can get information in ways you can’t and from people who wouldn’t give you the time of day. I know people in low places, lawman, unlike you.”
“You have no idea.” Rob twisted his lips. “Who hired you? Because I know you’re not tracking down a cartel supplier out of the goodness of your heart. Is it one of the cartels? If it is, this stops here and now. Libby’s not going to be involved with that business.”
“No, no, nothing like that. I was working for Adam Hart.”
Rob bared his teeth. “That’s a lie. Adam Hart is dead, and I know the person who killed him.”
“I said I was working for Adam Hart. I know he’s dead, but it’s not because he was looking for El Gringo Viejo.”
“Not directly.” Rob waved off the waitress hovering with the coffeepot. “Why are you still on the job if your client is dead? Hoping to cash in big if you bring EGV down?”
“Funny you should call him EGV. That’s what she calls him.”
Rob swallowed. “Who?”
“My new client, the person who hired me—Adam Hart’s sister, April Hart, or I guess she’s April Archer now. She hired me.”
Chapter Fifteen
Libby gasped as Rob’s stomach sank.
She dug her elbows into the table and propped her chin in one hand, as she leaned toward Troy. “April hired you to find EGV because she thinks he’s her father.”
“Wow. How do you know all that? Oh, yeah.” Troy smacked his forehead. “She’s married to a Border Patrol agent herself. You obviously know April, and you know what she believes.”
“Does she know about this?” Rob wagged his finger back and forth between Libby and Troy. “Does she know you came to Paradiso to meet someone from Rocky Point who could ID EGV?”
“She doesn’t know nothin’. I don’t operate that way. Her brother didn’t much like it, but I play it close to the vest. I don’t give my clients nothin’ until I can bring them results. April?” Troy dusted his hands together. “She doesn’t even know what I look like. I contacted her after her brother died, told her what was going on and asked her if she wanted me to continue
