Miguel parked down the street far enough that we could see but not be seen. We stayed put, watching an old work truck pull up to the drive. A man drove and someone else sat in the passenger seat. The driver entered the gate code, the gate opened, and the truck disappeared onto the property. The landscaper, at last?
A solid ten minutes later, the gate opened and Cliff’s Beamer rolled out and hung a left. He was heading right for us. Miguel and I ducked out of sight as Cliff drove past. There was no way to know if he’d seen us or not, but we decided it was too risky to follow him, and to what end? Other than the fact that the spouse often did it, we had no reason to suspect that Cliff Renchrik had actually killed his wife.
Chapter 10
The next morning started out with a coffee date with school board member Katherine Candelli at The Coffee House across from Santa Sofia’s main pier. As I sipped on a caramel latte, Katherine dropped a bomb. She had had coffee with Nessa Renchrik the morning of the day she’d died. “Two school board members can get together,” she said, her words coming with a hyperquick-ness. She had energy to spare. “No problem. But three or more. Nope. Then it constitutes a meeting. Makes things tricky sometimes, especially when you’re friends, you know? Of course, we weren’t really friends. Just co–board members.”
That was an odd thing to say. Katherine, like everyone else I’d spoken with, except Nessa’s daughter, did not seem particularly fazed by Nessa’s death. “Did Nessa ask you to meet her?”
Katherine cupped her hands around her mug of herbal tea. It was a good choice. Coffee would exacerbate her high energy. “Yeah. Saw her the night before. There was a fundraiser. She asked me to meet her the next morning. I had a bike ride scheduled for ten, so we met at eight thirty.”
“What did she want to meet about?” I asked, excited to learn that Katherine had met with Nessa in the hours before her death.
“We had a vote coming up. Allocating funds,” Katherine said. “We didn’t agree.”
Ah. Another person Nessa was at odds with. “And she was trying to sway you?”
I wondered if she’d asked to meet with the other board members privately, too. From what I could tell, she seemed to be a true politician, lobbying to get what she wanted.
Katherine continued to speak in staccato sentences, punctuating her vigor. She shrugged, as if whatever Nessa was trying to do during their meeting, it didn’t make a bit of difference. “We have passions. Hers was different than mine.”
“What was her passion?” I’d asked.
Katherine let out a short laugh. Almost a scoff. “Surfing.”
“She liked to surf?” She’d looked fit in the photos I’d seen, but surfing? That was a tough sport that required a lot of upper body strength and great balance.
“Yep. She competed.”
My jaw dropped. “Like, actively competed?”
Katherine wagged her hand. It was more aggressive than a flutter. Quick, tight movements swept my question away. “No. When she was in college. She thinks—thought—every kid should surf. Builds character. That’s what she liked to say.”
My latte was gone and Katherine was taking the last sip of her tea. “Do you have any idea who would have wanted to do this to her?” I asked before she could end our meeting.
“Who wouldn’t?” she said. “I did.”
We both froze and she seemed to realize what she’d said. Her eyes opened wide and she chuckled. “Kidding. Of course I’m kidding. I didn’t. Do it. Kill her, I mean.”
I forced a smile. “Of course not.”
“I don’t know who did. She had enemies.”
“So I’ve heard.”
Katherine shoved her chair back and stood. “Gotta run. Biking twenty miles today.”
I thanked her for taking the time and watched as she left. She got into the driver’s side of a dark green minivan that had seen better days. She pulled out and leaned forward as she zoomed down the road, two hands on the steering wheel, looking one hundred percent focused on what was ahead of her. My spine crackled. She was off in a hurry.
The biggest takeaway from the meeting was that, as Candace had said, Nessa had had a cadre of people lined up ready to do her in.
I hurried into my car, threw it into drive, and eased into the road. I was no expert at surveillance, despite Miguel and me following Cliff Renchrik the day before. To save Miguel from York’s scrutiny, I would give it a go on my own. Once the road was clear, I slammed my foot down on the gas pedal and caught up to the green jalopy. Once I had Katherine in view, I eased off the gas and hung back.
She drove, never altering her posture or hand position on the steering wheel. I stayed a few car lengths behind her. We drove for just under ten minutes until, finally, Katherine pulled into the parking lot of Santa Sofia’s outdoor mall. Twenty-mile bike race. Hah.
Why had she lied?
The parking lot was moderately full. I didn’t know if there were enough people milling around the mall for me to melt in and not be seen, but I’d give it a try.
By the time I parked, Katherine was out of her car and heading toward the cobbled walkways. I left my car and tiptoe-ran, darting amid the cars, until I was close enough to see—but not be seen. Her arm was extended in front of her and she held something. A small mirror? A compact?
I got a little bit closer. Ah, it was a cell phone.
My first impression of Katherine Candelli was that she had lived her first forty-eight years outside and under the full force of the sun’s UV rays. She was unnaturally tanned and prematurely leathery. Her ordinary brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail, strands falling loose around her face. But extreme sun exposure hadn’t slowed her down. The woman was quick. She speed-walked through the outdoor mall, weaving through the casual shoppers, chatting on the phone the entire time.
She suddenly stopped and turned. To look in a shop window? Or had she sensed that she was being followed? I darted into a storefront, turning my back to her. A moment later, I sneaked a peek. She’d continued on her way, completely absorbed in her conversation, oblivious to everyone and everything around her. She held her phone out in front of her face, talking animatedly to whoever was on the other end of the line. She had it on speakerphone! If only I could get close enough, I’d be able to hear both sides of the conversation.
She kept walking. I darted to the next store, falling in beside a group of young adults who cruised along at a casual pace. We approached the mall’s fountain.
Someone screamed in the distance behind me.
Everything slowed to slow motion.
Katherine’s head slowly turned toward the sound. I reacted without thinking and dove behind the fountain. My body hit the hard ground with a bruising thud. I tucked. I rolled. I was sure she’d seen me. I held my breath, waiting for her to barge through the shoppers and confront me.
But nothing happened. Nothing besides a gaggle of mall-goers who did see my nose dive staring slack-jawed at me. I ignored them and army crawled to the corner, peering around it. Katherine was a good hundred and fifty yards away and still walking away from me. In one incredibly smooth move that I hadn’t known I had in me, I hopped up and took off after her. A straight line was the quickest route between two points, so that’s what I took. I leapt over an abandoned fast-food bag, dodged shoppers and small children, and swerved around the occasional bench, keeping Katherine in my sights the entire time. I slowed as I came up behind her, still leaving some space between us. She still had her cell phone out in front of her, the tinny voice coming from it loud and clear.
“I need a black dress for the funeral,” Katherine said. “The dog got to the one I had. Tore out the hem.”
“You and that damn dog,” the female voice on the other end of the line said.
“Yeah. He’s out of control—”
“I know, but you love him.” There was a pause before the voice said, “She didn’t deserve it.”
I came up short as Katherine stopped walking.
“Maybe,” K
atherine said as she started up again and made an abrupt turn into a public restroom.
I caught the voice’s gasp and her saying, “Are you saying she did deserve it?” before Katherine disappeared.
I weighed my options. I could fall back and hide, waiting for her to come out, then keep following her. Or I could sneak into the restroom to eavesdrop on her conversation. The smart thing to do was fall back and wait. After all, she might not still be on the phone. And if she caught me, there was no way to explain how I ended up at the same outdoor mall she did after just meeting with her at The Coffee House.
In the end, there was no way I couldn’t try to hear more. I pressed my back against the wall as I moved into the bathroom, creeping along to stay as hidden as possible. I could hear Katherine’s voice. I peered around the corner, holding my breath and hoping the coast was clear. I was in luck. No one was in sight. Two of the three toilet stall doors were ajar. The third was closed. The conversation between Katherine and whoever she was on the phone with echoed in the small space. Apparently, Katherine had no problem doing her business while chatting with her friend. Gossip waits for no one and nothing.
With stealth I didn’t know I possessed, I slipped into one of the empty stalls, staying close to the opposite wall so Katherine wouldn’t see my feet. I quietly closed the door. As I reached for the latch, though, it swung back open. The lock was broken.
The talking in the stall next to me suddenly stopped. Had Katherine heard? Did she know she was no longer alone in the bathroom?
I held my breath. Five seconds. Ten seconds. Fifteen seconds. Was I busted—?
And then Katherine started talking again. “Sorry about that. I had to respond to a text.”
I silently exhaled, relief washing over me. I extended my arm, pushing the door closed again, holding it with my fingertips.
“No problem,” the voice said. “But seriously, what do you think happened?”
“What, to Nessa?”
“Yes, to Nessa. She was killed!” The voice grew shrill on that last word.
Katherine gave a harsh chuckle with not a trace of mirth. “A million people wanted her dead. Not a single one of them is crying over it.”
The voice gave a sharp inhale. “I can’t believe you’re saying that.”
“Marge,” she chastised. “You know it’s true.”
Marge. Marge. Marge. I repeated the name in my head, finally landing on who it was. It had to be Margaret Jenkins-Roe. She was one of the board members. I had high hopes for a conversation with her since Katherine had definitely been holding out on me. It wasn’t a new theme, but I did want to know who she thought had it in for Nessa. Maybe Marge would give up that information.
“Kath, you’re speaking ill of the dead. It’s not right.”
Katherine sighed; then the toilet flushed. “You’re right, but if I’m being honest, I’m not going to miss her. And the vote went our way last night. You know you’re happy about that.”
“I still don’t understand why she was so against the funding for technology in schools.”
The stall door next to me swung open with a creak and Katherine moved to the sink. I peered through the crack at my stall door, listening intently. She set her cell phone on the counter as she washed up. “Because it was for Chavez Elementary.”
There was a moment of silence before Marge said, “Really? Is that why?”
Katherine turned and leaned against the counter, holding her phone out in front of her again. Her eyes swept the stall doors, landing on mine. “That Cabrera woman, don’t you remember?”
Marge sucked in a breath. “Oh my God. I remember her.”
I willed them to continue so I could get the lowdown on the Cabrera woman, whoever she was. Instead Katherine gave an ambiguous grunt. Her eyes were still on the stall door I was hiding behind, but now they had narrowed. “I have to go, Marge. I’ll call you later.”
She hung up before Marge could reply. Katherine gripped her phone and took a step toward the stalls, her arm outstretched. I backed up, trying to melt into the stall. I braced myself, knowing I’d be found out in a split second, but just as her fingertips would have reached the door, her cell phone rang. I slammed my hand over my mouth, stifling the yelp that had climbed up my throat. Katherine let out her own startled squeak and jumped back. At the same time, a group of chattering teenage girls blew into the bathroom. They completely ignored Katherine.
Since I’d moved back to get out of Katherine’s line of sight, I was no longer holding the stall door. I held my breath as it started to swing toward me. I could barely see the girls, but the stall was small. There was nowhere to hide. Any second, they’d see me and the jig would be up.
But luck was on my side. I could see Katherine now and she was no longer looking in my direction. She had her phone pressed to her ear again. “Someone’s poking their nose into Nessa’s—”
She broke off and shot a glance at the teenagers who all crowded in front of the mirror. Luckily, my position wasn’t revealed in the mirror.
“Hang on, Jerry,” she said, and just like that, she left the bathroom and was gone.
I stayed put and leaned against the side of the stall, finally letting out the breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding. My heart pounded in my throat. That had been too close a call. What would I have said if she’d caught me?
“Doesn’t matter,” I whispered, trying to calm myself.
I waited till the chatty girls left the bathroom before I came out into the open, my mind processing what I’d heard. The second phone call Katherine had taken had to have been Jerry Zenmark, the only male school board member. A chill wound through me like a swirling ribbon cinching my insides. It was Katherine’s words, as much as the harsh tone her voice had taken when she’d said someone was nosing around, that had me on edge. She cut off, but I knew she’d been about to say into Nessa’s death.
And I knew she’d been referring to me.
Chapter 11
After the near bathroom stall collision with Katherine Candelli, I hightailed it home. “It was a close call, Agatha,” I said, scratching the pug’s smooshed head.
She looked up at me with her bulbous eyes and gave me a slow blink.
“No sympathy, huh?” I said. “I get it. If I stayed in my lane, I wouldn’t have had a close call. But, Agatha, I don’t have a choice. York has his sights set on Miguel.”
Agatha opened her mouth in a big, lazy yawn. “Fine,” I said, opening the French door to let her outside. “Go on.”
She didn’t budge.
I bent down to give her a little nudge. “I’ll be right out. Just let me get my computer.”
Agatha snorted, then trotted outside, disappearing into the blossoming flower garden.
Tracking down @MarisasMama, aka Lulu Sanchez-Patrick, turned out to be easier than I thought it would be. I simply searched her name and Google came up with the answer. She worked for a law office as a paralegal. I called to schedule an appointment. Her first available was Friday morning at eleven o’clock. “I’ll take it,” I said. Agatha reappeared and found a sliver of sunlight, lying down in it. I gave her a thumbs-up. Success!
“What’s the consultation about?” the receptionist asked me.
“I’d rather not say. It’s personal.”
“Got it.” I heard the click click click of her finger pads hitting the keys of a keyboard. Making notes in the calendar app.
With that appointment made, I turned my sights back to the school board.
It had taken a while and a lot of skimming through Google’s findings to figure out what Cabrera woman Katherine Candelli and Margaret Jenkins-Roe had been talking about, but eventually I found her. Sylvia Cabrera. Her name came up in a random mention in connection to Seaside Property Management, but from the conversation between Katherine and Margaret, there had been some negative issue with Sylvia and Nessa and whatever happened at Chavez Elementary.
No matter how many times and ways I searched, I couldn’t turn up an
ything specific. The only address I could find for a Sylvia Cabrera was on the outskirts of town. There was no time like the present. I texted Miguel my plan—someone had to know where I was—brought Agatha back in, and headed out with the address plugged into my maps app on my phone. It took a good twenty-five minutes to get there. There turned out to be a trailer park. It had neat shrubs on either side of the driveway entrance and the abodes were well kept, with flowerpots in front of some and window boxes on others.
I drove slowly through the neighborhood. Here and there, a curtain pulled back as if someone was watching, or miniblinds fell back into place as if someone had been watching before retreating to some place away from the window.
I found Sylvia’s address toward the back, threw my car into park, and got out. I was nowhere near catching a killer, but something in my gut told me Sylvia was going to help me get to the truth.
Just as I caught a glimpse of the back end of a blue pickup truck parked behind the home, the sound of a car driving through the center street caught my attention. It slid into the space next to my Fiat, nearly taking me out in the process. I jumped out of the way and blinked. Then blinked again. What in the world . . . ? It was Mrs. Branford’s old Volvo.
The passenger door flew open and there she was in her lavender velour lounge suit and her spiffy white sneakers.
“Mrs. Branford? What are you—” I broke off. If she was in the passenger seat, who had driven? I bent to peer through the open door. If someone had come up to me and brushed me with a feather, I would have fallen right over. Olaya Solis sat in the driver’s seat.
“What are you doing here?” I asked her, followed by an amended, “What are you doing here?” Then I looked from Olaya to Mrs. Branford and said, “What are you both doing here?”
“We’re here to help you, of course,” Mrs. Branford said. She swung her body sideways, placing her cane on the ground to support her as she stood.
Olaya circled around and joined us. “Penelope, she does not take no for an answer.”
Death Gone A-Rye Page 10
