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Manuel nodded. “It has. I’m sorry, I was wrong.”
Mrs. Lopez came to the door. “Detective Nuñez is here.”
“Please show him in,” Santos replied. “Let him speak before we tell him what we know.”
The detective appeared startled to find the den so crowded. “Mr. Aragon, perhaps we could speak in private.”
“Manuel, please go back to your apartment. Everyone else stays.”
Nuñez moved aside to allow the chauffeur to exit. “I’ve come with the grim news Rigoberto Avila died yesterday afternoon without regaining consciousness. He had no visitors, other than you and Ms. Gunderson. We can tie him to the drawings you received, but nothing more. If he started the fire or shot at you, there’s no evidence of it. We’re still trying to locate his sister.”
“Thank you for coming with the news,” Santos responded. “Why didn’t you call me yesterday?”
Nuñez looked down his nose at his notes. “I have other cases involving other victims.”
“Of course, but we might be in more danger than we were, and you put our lives at risk. That shouldn’t have happened.” He nodded to Cazares. “Fortunately, I have other resources. We’ve found Victoria’s father is a chauffeur at the white monstrosity with the aqua windows just down the beach. She may be staying with him. He could be the one who shot at me.”
The detective’s mouth drooped into a disgusted sneer. “How did you learn this?”
“We have a gift for detective work,” Libby volunteered. She smiled at Santos, and he nodded. “The man’s name is Luis Rubio.”
“I’ll call my men. We’ll warn your neighbors to stay indoors. Please do not leave your home until I say you may.”
Maggie waited until the front door had closed behind him. “I won’t leave today without hearing a detailed report on what’s been happening here. If there were fires and gunshots, why didn’t you call us to come home? Do Mom and Dad know anything about this?”
Libby had an answer ready. “Just like your slashed wrists, there’s no reason to alarm Mom and Dad over this. We didn’t tell you, because we wanted you to enjoy your honeymoon.” She moved toward the door. “Let’s see if Tomas has any of his delicious breakfast rolls and have coffee. I’ll tell you the whole story, or as much as we know thus far.” Maggie followed Libby from the room.
Santos urged Cazares to take a seat. “You’re parked in front. Would you mind waiting for the police and reporting what you see?”
“I would have done it on my own,” he responded. “If you decide to let your chauffeur go, I’ll help you find an honest man to replace him.”
“Thank you. I’ll let you know. Do you want something from the kitchen?”
“I travel with a cooler filled with my wife’s sandwiches and water, so I’ll be fine. I doubt it will take long for the police to search the house and make arrests, although I heard nothing about physical evidence against the girl and her father.”
“That’s true. Maybe Rigoberto Avila left a detailed diary that will implicate Victoria.”
“He was an artist. His thoughts would be in his drawings.”
Santos reluctantly agreed and let him go. He appreciated Cazares’s help but dreaded having to hire anyone new. He leaned back and closed his eyes. He’d known Manuel his whole life, but if keeping his father’s secrets meant more to the man than protecting his son, then the chauffeur’s loyalty was badly misplaced. He was sick of living in his father’s shadow, but this was the first time it had nearly cost him his life.
While Libby narrated an amazing tale, Maggie picked her slice of the delectable pastry into tiny crumbs and her coffee grew cold. “This is really too much to take in at one sitting. I should have taken notes. With the level of hatred involved, the odds are probably good the baby is Miguel’s. What’s Santos going to do?”
He appeared at the door, took his place at the table and reached for a cherry-topped pastry. “Now that you’re here, Maggie, why don’t we take a vote? Manuel deserves to be fired, but anyone else I hire might be equally disloyal for his own gain. Should I keep Manuel, who I know can’t be trusted, or hire a stranger who’ll betray me at his first opportunity?”
“Are those your only choices?” Libby asked.
“Do you see any others?” he responded, his glance dark.
“Let me talk to him,” Maggie offered. “Miguel’s death hit everyone very hard. Maybe Manuel is still dealing with his grief and didn’t realize the dangers inherent in keeping silent.”
“That shot on the balcony should have jarred him into reality,” Libby argued. She reached for a second pastry and took a bite.
“That’s one vote to fire him,” Santos said. “I know the staff here and at the ranch still think of me as a kid, but I’m a grown man and deserve their loyalty and respect.”
“You certainly do.” Libby touched his hand and had to use her napkin to remove a smear of cherry jelly. “I’m sorry. I still say fire him, and that ought to wake up everyone else who doesn’t see you as their boss.”
“What is it you really want to do, Santos?” Maggie asked, her voice gently soothing.
