“I am supporting you!” Scott thundered. “I’m trying to make you face the truth but you’re so stubborn you’re blind to it.”
“What truth are you trying to make me face? That I don’t love you? That I’d rather be some rich party girl?” Rachel asked.
“That your dad killed Leon.” Scott said softly. “All the shouting in the world won’t change that.”
“No. I see it now,” Rachel said. “My dad’s in jail, but you don’t care. You only care about yourself. You only care that my dad is in jail because you’re somehow scared I’ll dump you because of it!”
Scott flinched. “That’s what you think?” His voice was soft.
“That’s what I think. You’re being selfish, Scott.”
“Okay.” Scott took a deep breath. “If you really think so little of me, maybe I shouldn’t be here at all.”
“Right,” Rachel said, wondering why she had this sinking feeling in her heart. She knew she should stop him, but instead, found herself saying, “Leave if that’s what you want to do. See if I care.”
*****
Chapter 20
The Game Plan
“Rachel!” Valentina grabbed her as she came out of the door, almost as though she’d been lying in wait. “There you are. Do you mind coming with me to the cottage? We’ve got a lot to discuss.”
“You know, I’m not really in the—”
“About your dad,” Valentina said, her tone pleading.
Rachel took a deep breath. She closed her eyes for a second, and when she opened them again, they were friendly. “Thanks for staying by his side, Valentina. Abuelita said you didn’t believe the allegations against him for a minute.”
“Not even for a second.” Valentina smiled. “I love your dad. What’s there to disbelieve?”
Rachel sighed. “I love my dad, too. But… for a second there I doubted him. He isn’t the man I remember, Valentina. Part of me thinks I’m just being an emotional fool—”
“Well, tell that part to shut up because we’ve got work to do.” Valentina grabbed Rachel’s wrist and began walking rapidly towards her cottage, dragging Rachel along behind her.
She took her in and walked to the coffee table, where various pages were scattered around.
“We’ve retained counsel for your dad. The best, obviously,” Valentina said. “So the good news is, he’ll be out on bail tomorrow. As soon as the judge signs off on it.”
“That’s awesome!” Rachel said.
“The bad news...” Valentina’s face dropped a little. “Well, the bad news is that your dad is in trouble. My dad was hit on the head with a little iron alarm clock that stood on the desk. Ryan’s fingerprints are the only ones on it.”
“Oh, my…”
“Yes. I know how it looks. I asked Ryan and he said he was probably just nervous and fiddling with the clock at some point. He does have a tendency to fiddle when he’s hyper. He even knocked a vase over when he came in and found…” Valentina paused. “Anyway. Second bad news. The only fingerprints inside that study are Ryan’s, my dad’s and Scott’s.”
“Okay.” Rachel felt her heart sink.
“But,” Valentina said, “there’s another piece of good news. The doorknob. The doorknob on the backdoor has absolutely no fingerprints on it. Neither my father’s, nor Ryan’s, nor Scott’s.” Valentina was almost triumphant. “You see?”
“I don’t see,” Rachel said. “That just seems to imply that Dad’s ‘intruder’ theory was false.”
“No, you don’t understand. If there wasn’t an intruder, then someone’s fingerprints would be on the knob. As it stands, the intruder must have worn gloves and it caused them to have wiped off Scott’s fingerprints when holding the doorknob.”
“Hmm,” Rachel said. She brightened. “You’re right, you know. Scott said that he personally checked the backdoor to see if it was locked before my dad came to meet yours. So Scott’s fingerprints should have been there!”
“Exactly. See! Ryan isn’t the killer. I know it.”
“Maybe we know it.” Rachel sighed. “But to anyone else, it’s going to seem like we’re clutching at straws. The absence of fingerprints isn’t a clue, really. At least, it’s not the kind of clue defense attorneys can build solid cases around.”
“Well, there’s more,” Valentina said. “Remember that private attorney my father had hired? The one who told him about Ryan’s, well, issues with Leon?”
“Yeah?”
“I contacted him.” Valentina said. “He told me he’d done some more digging. And, do you know what he’s found?”
“What?” Rachel asked.
Valentina smiled, and took out her phone. “It’s all suggestive, but I’m beginning to build a theory around it…Tony.”
“Tony?” Rachel frowned.
“Tony has a history of gambling,” Valentina said. “I knew that. It even got him in trouble with a mafia boss once.”
“I thought he got in trouble with the mafia boss because he dated his ex-wife?”
“Did Denise tell you that?” Valentina laughed. “No. The truth is, Tony’s always had problems losing at poker. He’s always convinced he can create a good strategy that’ll make him millions but he’s never found one. He always loses, and loses badly. Your father rescued him more than once.”
“Wow...”
“Yes. Wow. Last week, Tony met with a man named Big Bob,” Valentina said. “He’d been gambling again, obviously. My PI hasn’t figure out what he owes but, I guarantee you, it’s a pretty big amount.”
“Wait…hang on…” Rachel held up a hand. “Before you go any further, it can’t be Tony. I mean, I’d love it if my dad were off the hook, but it can’t be Tony.
“Why not?” Valentina was excited. “Don’t you see? Tony didn’t want Leon controlling the firm. He wanted it to be Ryan. Or better yet, if Ryan gets arrested, then Tony gets control of the shares and the firm. He was desperate for money, and—”
“First of all, Tony’s rich,” Rachel said. “He can’t be desperate for money.”
“Oh, yes he can. He’s rich but he doesn’t have much liquid cash right now. He tends to gamble it away, you know. His own investments are all tied up in real estate. So it’s plausible that Big Bob was threatening him with something bad.”
“Okay,” Rachel said. “Even if that is true, there’s still one thing that proves Tony’s innocent.”
“What?”
“Tony was with me,” Rachel said. “When your father got attacked, Tony and I were walking on the beach, behind Leon’s cottage. Mason came running to tell us what had happened.”
She thought this would stop Valentina, but Valentina’s smile only widened.
“Ah yes, Mason,” Valentina said. “I was coming to him.”
Rachel leaned forward, intrigued. “What about him?”
“See, Mason’s wanted to be an artist ever since he was little,” Valentina said. “Problem is, Leon didn’t want that. He didn’t think that was a ‘real job’. Kind of old-fashioned that way.”
“Kind of a jerk,” Rachel mumbled.
“Either way, Mason was frustrated. He was being forced to work long hours at Leon’s firm, where his father always had an eye on him. He wasn’t even being paid well. I looked into his finances — he’s paid the same as the lowliest intern in the company. Leon liked to keep a tight fist on Mason’s money.”
“Wow.”
“So now, Mason is rich,” Valentina said. “Really rich. Seem like a motive to you?”
“It does!” Rachel exclaimed. “But wait. What’s his alibi for the night Leon died?”
“He doesn’t have one,” Valentina said. “Mason claimed he was asleep in his own cottage. No one knows for sure. But there’s more. My PI managed to get this still from a video recording in a restaurant.”
Valentina took out her phone and showed Rachel a grainy black and white image. It showed an outdoor restaurant with ironwork chairs and fine cutlery. Mason sat on one chair, a big g
rin on his face, while Tony sat on the other, animatedly saying something.
“I know it’s not proper proof,” Valentina said. “But, trust me, as someone who worked in that firm, I know for a fact that Mason and Tony never spoke to each other. So what were they doing having lunch out?”
“Plotting?” Rachel asked. “You think they were plotting to kill Leon and frame my father?”
Valentina nodded. “Bingo. Mason gets money, Tony ends up getting control of the firm. Win-win situation.”
“But...” Rachel hesitated. “Tony seemed so fond of Dad.”
“Sure,” Valentina said. “He was trying his hardest to act like he’s—”
There was a bang on the door, and both of them looked up, startled. It was followed by another bang and then another.
“I know you’re in there!” a voice thundered. “Open this door. Open it now!”
Valentina cowered, looking from Rachel to the door, too afraid to stand up. Rachel got up and flung the door open, her shoulders squared and her chin up.
Mason stood there, his hair standing up in clumps and his eyes wild. He pointed one accusatory finger at Valentina.
“You,” he said, his voice a low hiss. “What’s your game? What are you trying to do?”
Valentina shrank back some more. Rachel stepped in between them.
“Calm down,” she said to Mason. Let’s talk about this like adults.”
“Adults? Sure, I can be an adult. I’ll be adult enough to have Valentina arrested for…for…gross breach of privacy!”
“What are you talking about?”
“I got a phone call from my roommate,” Mason said. “Some PI was around, trying to bribe him into telling him things about me. Can you believe that? She’s trying to get me framed!”
“She’s doing no such thing,” Rachel said. “If you’re innocent, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“Oh yeah? How would you like it if I sent private investigators to find out every skeleton in your closet? How about that?”
“Go ahead,” Rachel said. “I’m an open book.”
“Easy enough to say that,” Mason said. “When you don’t have powerful enemies trying to frame you. This is all a game to these people. They just want control over the firm. Your father and Valentina are in it together. What kind of daughter stands by and supports her father’s attacker? You’re shameless, Valentina!”
“Look, don’t go around throwing accusations.” Rachel said. “They haven’t proven anything—”
“I’ll throw lawyers at her if she doesn’t call off the PI,” Mason said. “Consider yourself warned, Valentina. Whatever game you’re playing, I can play it, too. I’ve got money now, remember? I can destroy you if I want!”
With that, he exited the cottage, slamming the door behind him as he went.
*****
Chapter 21
Cake Again
“Wow,” Valentina said.
It took her a while to recover from Mason’s outburst. She seemed truly shaken by it. But, in a minute, Valentina was on her feet again, beaming. “Did you see that?” Valentina said triumphantly. “Mason was afraid of us! You can’t say he wasn’t!”
Rachel bit her lip. “He seemed more angry than afraid.”
“Oh, but it’s the kind of anger that always has fear as it’s root,” Valentina said. “We’re on to something, Rachel. I’m sure of it. We’re close. Really close.”
Rachel hoped so, but wasn’t very sure.
“What we need,” Valentina said, “is a trap. A way to make them confess. What do you say?”
Outside, the sun had begun to set. Bursts of pink and purple converted the sky into an artist’s delight, while the azure ocean looked a dull gray. Rachel’s stomach gave a grumble, and she realized she’d barely eaten anything all day.
“Can we discuss this over at the big house?” Rachel asked. “I’m starving.”
“Same,” Valentina said. “To be honest, I haven’t had much of an appetite since Leon died. Hey, I have an idea. Remember that wine cake? There isn’t a wedding to go along with it, but maybe we can cut ourselves a slice.”
“Are you sure? Abuelita said it should stay wrapped up for three to five days.”
“That’s for the rum and wine to really soak in.” Valentina nodded. “But personally, I’m always too impatient. It should be fine by now. Let’s go attack it.”
Rachel bit her lip. “I don’t know… Abuelita might not approve.”
“Don’t you worry about that. I grew up stealing desserts from under her nose,” Valentina said. “Come on!”
They walked to the big house, shadows lengthening around them. Rachel felt the shadows in her heart lengthening, as well. She’d pushed the fight with Scott to the back of her mind, but now, she couldn’t help but feel she’d been a little bit mean to him. She’d accused him of being selfish when, really, he was the furthest thing from it. He’d been trying his hardest to get her mother off the hook and he really hadn’t suspected her father until Dr. Gomez had been attacked. Could she really blame him for it? One thing she knew — Scott didn’t have a mean bone in his body. She really regretted implying that he’d only wanted her father behind bars because he disliked him.
“What’s the matter?” Valentina asked, seeing the frown on Rachel’s face.
“Do you really have to ask?” Rachel smiled.
Valentina looped a hand around her shoulders and gave Rachel a side hug. “I know. It feels rough right now, but hang in there. We aren’t going to let anything happen do your dad, alright? I love him too much.”
“Why?” Rachel asked, looking at Valentina suddenly. “I mean, Valentina, you’re young, rich, beautiful. You could have had any man you liked. Why my dad?”
“The age gap freaks you out a little, doesn’t it?” Valentina smiled.
“Not just that...” Rachel hesitated. She didn’t want to admit it, but she wasn’t sure if her father loved Valentina the way Valentina loved him.
“I love him because he’s the smartest man I’ve ever met,” Valentina said. “I love him because he’s so fierce and protective and generous with his friends. I love him because even if he’s blunt, he’s always honest. Enough reasons?”
Rachel smiled.
“Not to mention, he looks like George Clooney.” Valentina grinned. “Which is something that might have escaped your notice, being his daughter. Your dad is seriously hot.”
“Ew.” Rachel made a face.
Valentina threw back her head and gave out a deep, rich laugh. “Your face… I’ll treasure that expression.”
They were at the big house now, and Valentina opened the fridge, taking out the foil-wrapped cake. “Ready for a feast?”
“I’m ready for Abuelita’s wrath,” Rachel said. “Are you sure we should be doing this?”
“Stolen cake tastes the best.” Valentina grinned. “Come on, bust out some plates, will you?”
Rachel rummaged around in the drawers and took out two plates and some cutlery. Valentina was rubbing her hands in glee and dramatically licking her lips.
Rachel paused for a moment, plates in hand, and smiled at her. “You look genuinely happy,” she said. “I mean, despite everything that just happened — Leon died, your father’s in the hospital, your wedding got canceled, your fiancé got arrested — and still, you manage to look genuinely happy.”
Valentina gave a rueful smile. “Got to find joy in the small things, right?” There was a slight tremor to her voice, and Rachel felt suddenly guilty. No, Valentina wasn’t happy. She was a shaking mess who was trying to cheer Rachel up.
She was right, too. Being depressed and gloomy wouldn’t help things. Right now, the best thing they could do to help catch the killer was have a sharp mind. And some sugar would definitely help boost their brain power.
Rachel cut two generous slices of the dark cake and slid one over to Valentina. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s see if Abuelita was able to teach me well.”
Smilin
g, Valentina took a bite of the cake. She scrunched up her face and made a delighted little squeal. “Yep. Yep. This tastes just like Abuelita made it herself. Amazing!”
Not sure what to expect, Rachel took a bite. There was a symphony of flavors within the cake — the boozy dry fruits mixing with the warm spices of the flour, the caramel adding it’s own velvety texture and, finally, the rum and wine mixing together to create an alcohol-rich environment. The first adjective that came into Rachel’s mind was “rich”. That’s what this cake was — dense, rich and absolutely decadent.
“You see why it’s mostly used in celebrations?” Valentina smiled. “Can’t really eat this on a day-to-day basis.”
“Don’t try me. I could.” Rachel smiled. “I could eat it for breakfast, lunch and dinner every day for the rest of my life.”
“Your doctor would probably want a word with you about that.”
“Valentina,” Rachel hesitated, “I’m sorry.”
“What? Why?”
“When I came here, well, I’d judged you in my mind before I even met you,” Rachel said. “To be honest, I didn’t approve of Dad marrying you.”
“I know,” Valentina said. “It was fairly obvious, actually.”
“Yeah… well… you’ve stayed by his side in a situation where anyone else might have left,” Rachel said. “I really appreciate it.”
Valentina shrugged, though her cheeks turned a little red. “I was prepared to make my vows to him. I still am. Nothing’s changed for me. I know who he is.”
“I don’t know,” Rachel said. “Do you? Do you know how he views marriage?”
“As just another contract?” Valentina nodded. “I know.”
“Well, then...” Rachel stared at her. “Wait, you know?”
“Well, yes. I agree with him, too.”
“Y-you what?”
“I mean…” Valentina hesitated. “I think you’re misunderstanding him and me. When your father says marriage is just another contract, he means both parties have to put in work. Both parties have to decide what they want out of it. That’s what he always told me when I complained about Denise and Leon and their bomb of a marriage.”
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