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He flashed his killer grin. “Thank you. It’s too late to call Cazares, but I’ll talk to him tomorrow after I get back from therapy.”
“Call him before you go, and don’t drive the same route you’ve gone before. Avila was following us. Victoria could too.”
“Maybe she’ll claim the body,” he offered. “The police could talk to her then.”
“How is she going to know her brother is dead? Maybe she doesn’t even know he was hurt.”
“She has to know he didn’t come home Thursday night. She might have seen the police searching their apartment, and that’s why she’s stayed away,” he replied.
Libby left the sofa to pour herself some Bailey’s and bought him a brandy. “She showed up so often, she has to have a place near here. Maybe rather than hit tourist sites and look at apartments, Maggie and I ought to canvass the neighborhood with Victoria’s photo.”
“Don’t bring Maggie into it.”
“Santos, really. She’d want to help.”
“No, I won’t put either of you at risk. Don’t tell her anything tomorrow.”
“I kept quiet tonight, but it didn’t feel right.” She paced in front of the coffee table as she sipped her drink. “Even if I didn’t tell her anything, she’ll see I’m upset and ask why.”
“Tell her I’m a squirrel-headed twit.”
“I won’t blame it on you. Are you being deliberately dense? That would be a lie to cover a secret I don’t see any reason to keep. I’m going to bed. Do you want me to call Manuel to help you up the stairs?”
“I’ll call him.”
“Fine, good night.” She went up to her room but was far too frightened to sleep. She put on her cat sleep shirt and got into bed but read rather than try to sleep. Unfortunately, Dickens’s involved tale didn’t help. She remembered the book Santos had been asked to write, and while she didn’t want to confront him over it, she was too curious about it not to ask. She went to Santos’s room, but hesitated briefly before knocking lightly.
“Come in,” he called.
He was in bed, wearing a T-shirt, and looked content to spend the night alone. She wasn’t. She closed the door behind her. “Why didn’t you tell Maggie about the book offer?”
He laid his novel on the nightstand. “Juan hasn’t talked to the publisher, and they may not want something other than the inside story I’m not telling. I didn’t want to talk about it in front of Rafael either. He knew only what my father wanted him to see, while I had more than twenty years with him.”
She sat on the foot of his bed. “But you didn’t know about Victoria.”
“Maybe she never met him. She wouldn’t be the first fan who wanted his baby. Her mind could be so twisted she’s actually convinced she’d had his child. We need to find her.”
Libby circled the bed to crawl under the covers. “I don’t want to think about sex tonight.”
Santos leaned over her and whispered, “Don’t think.”
His breath was warm on her cheek, and he smelled so damn good. She raised her arms above her head and giggled. “You aren’t playing fair.”
“I don’t care.” He silenced her laughter with a long, easy kiss and changed her mind before she could take a breath to argue.
Javier Cazares came to the beach house Monday morning. “I’ve been working along the beach, showing Victoria’s photo. Some women remember her from the time she worked at El Sol y La Luna. A couple also thought Rigoberto Avila looked familiar, but couldn’t recall where they’d seen him. I thought I’d continue along the beach houses today, unless you’d rather I do something more.”
“No, that’s fine,” Santos responded. “I haven’t heard from Nuñez, but I’ll call him in a minute. He’s probably waiting for Victoria to claim the body.”
“Was Rigoberto’s name in the papers?” Libby asked.
“It was given with the photos of the accident,” Cazares replied. “If she didn’t see the story, someone who knew them would have told her. There was a brief notice of Rigoberto’s death in one of the papers this morning, but it was in the back pages and could easily have been overlooked.”
“Nuñez will probably claim I should have seen it,” Santos responded.
Maggie looked into the den. “Am I interrupting?”
“Not at all,” Libby assured her. “We’re trying to find where Victoria lives.”
