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“We’ve watched her grow up. She lived with her mother but came by our home to visit her father from time to time. Luis is a kind, non-assuming man. He wouldn’t have anything to do with murder.”
“They’re both fortunate to have such a loyal friend,” Maggie complimented.
“I want to see if Santos needs anything. Will you excuse me?” Libby went inside and checked the den first. Santos was stretched out on the sofa with his arm thrown over his eyes.
He looked up. “You might as well come in.”
“I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I wasn’t asleep.” He moved his legs over. “Come sit with me.”
She sat by his feet and rested her arm along the back of the sofa. “Will your lawyer be able to handle the DNA testing so you can stay out of it?”
“He’ll handle whatever I pay him to do. That’s the way my world works.”
Libby pulled off his shoes to rub his feet. “Good, then you can stay out of it until decisions have to be made.”
“You mean I can pretend to stay out of it. This is splattered all over me. It’s a sad legacy for such a cute little boy.”
“He is cute, isn’t he?” She knew right where to rub to soothe his dark mood. “I’m glad I stayed with you when my family went home.”
“I can’t imagine why.”
He was wearing shorts, and she leaned over to kiss his left knee. “Damn, even your knees are handsome.”
“So it’s just my looks?”
“No, your looks wouldn’t be enough. It has to be more.”
“Tomas’s cooking?”
“You’ve caught me; that’s it. Although I like having the magic clothes hamper in my bathroom. Everything I put in it turns up clean and folded the next day.”
“You don’t have that same service at home?”
“No. The sorority house has washing machines in the basement, and I’m responsible for my own laundry.”
“What if I employed a terrible chef and had no maids to do your laundry?”
Libby enjoyed teasing him, but her true purpose was to keep him from becoming so depressed he wouldn’t speak to her. “I’d volunteer to cook and take my clothes to the Laundromat. Do they have them here?”
“I
think so. Now stop distracting me. I’m trying to decide what to do with Manuel.”
“I’m sorry. I’d forgotten about him.”
“Well, I can’t. There’s someone at the front door. Maybe it’s Nuñez finally.” He sat up and ran his fingers through his hair, put on his shoes but left the laces untied.
Mrs. Lopez ushered in the detective. He looked even more annoyed than usual. His cheeks were nearly as bright a red as his hair and mustache. He opened his notebook and ruffled through the pages. “I’m giving you a report merely as a courtesy, Mr. Aragon. Victoria Rubio fled the Ramirez home as we entered. We would have apprehended her without your help, Ms. Gunderson. If you mistakenly believe you have other opportunities to aid the police during your stay in Spain, rethink them. Other than cursing us all, Victoria provided no useful information.
“Fermin Ramirez has become Luis and Victoria Rubio’s attorney. Other than to search the chauffeur’s apartment, we were unable to get any information from him. Luis would not even admit to knowing Rigoberto Avila. We will untangle this all soon, however.”
“Did the chauffeur have a rifle?” Libby asked.
“No, he did not, and Fermin Ramirez doesn’t own one.”
Libby left the sofa but moved away from the detective. “Rigoberto asked if I’d like to go sailing. Does the Ramirez family own a sailboat?”
