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Libby smiled and thought she’d been doing it all along
Javier Cazares made his final report for the day when Santos was still in the den. “I’ve discovered Fermin Ramirez is a highly respected defense attorney. With his close ties to Victoria and her father, he’ll give them a vigorous defense, if they’re charged with a crime. They may not be. Rigoberto’s gruesome drawings were sent to you, but there’s no witness to prove he or Victoria held the mirror in the arena. The house was entered through the elevator shaft, but no evidence was found to identify who did it. Even if a rifle were found, it would have been thoroughly cleaned by now, and there would be no way to prove who fired at you. Ramirez will probably have Victoria released this afternoon, but she should have been so frightened by her arrest this morning, she’ll think of a better way to contact your family.”
“I doubt it. The only piece of evidence we have is the baby,” Santos replied. “I’ll insist upon a DNA test. If the boy is an Aragon, then I’ll threaten to sue for custody. That should convince her to leave me alone.”
“Do you want custody of the boy?”
“No, of course not.”
“Would anyone else in your family want to take him in?”
“I can’t see my aunt doing it, but my sister might. I’ll have to ask them. My father had children with four different women. A fifth is a complication we don’t need.”
“I understand. What did you decide about your chauffeur?”
“I’m keeping him, but I frightened him so badly with the threat of dismissal he’ll show more loyalty from now on.”
“I hope so,” Cazares responded. He closed his notebook and slipped it into his pocket. “If there’s nothing else you need, I’ll mail my final bill.”
“I hope this is the last of it.” Santos thanked him, but he had the uneasy feeling they weren’t anywhere close to being done.
Santos and Libby were eating a delicious roast chicken dinner that night, when Mrs. Lopez entered the dining room and announced through primly pursed lips, “A Mr. Fermin Ramirez is here. Will you see him?”
Santos responded with an exasperated grimace. “The man certainly doesn’t waste any time. Show him in, and he can be the evening’s entertainment.”
The housekeeper left briefly and returned with Fermin Ramirez. She left him at the dining room door. The attorney offered an apology, but didn’t smile. “Forgive me for interrupting your dinner, but we have something very serious to discuss.”
Santos gestured to welcome him in. “As long as you’re not carrying any weapons, why don’t you join us? Would you care for something to eat or drink?”
“Mr. Aragon, this isn’t a social call. We should speak privately.?
? Fermin took a seat in the middle of the table, laid a large leather envelope in front of him and folded his hands on top. He was an attractive man with silver hair and hazel eyes, smartly dressed as he might have been for court in a navy blue suit, white shirt and a red-and-blue paisley tie.
Santos took another bite of chicken and chewed slowly. He sipped his wine before looking the man’s way. “Ms. Gunderson has been a witness to all the attempts on my life. If that’s what you’ve come to discuss, she definitely belongs here. Are you sure you wouldn’t like a glass of wine?” He continued to eat his dinner with a gracious display of fine manners.
Fermin refused the offer of wine, opened the leather envelope and took out several pages of notes. “I’m representing Luis and Victoria Ruiz. You’ve made several allegations against them, and they must stop.”
“What?” Libby cried.
Santos reached for her hand and squeezed lightly. “I’ll handle this. Mr. Ramirez, the police are investigating the murder attempts. You should be speaking with Detective Nuñez rather than us. I’ll have Mrs. Lopez show you out.”
“I’d hoped we could settle this as gentlemen,” Ramirez responded.
“It was no gentleman who flashed a mirror in the bullring, set a fire in the elevator here or took a shot at Santos,” Libby exclaimed, and she gave Santos’s hand a returning squeeze.
“There’s no proof my clients had anything to do with those unfortunate incidents,” Fermin insisted, his manner glass-smooth.
“This is a matter for the police,” Santos repeated. “I won’t bargain with you.”
“You may change your mind, Mr. Aragon. Miss Rubio has an issue that must be addressed.”
“Are you referring to her claim my father fathered her child? I want a DNA test before we begin that subject. If the boy is my half brother, then I’ll sue for custody and raise him myself. If you’ve no wish to share dessert with us, please go.”
Santos made his point without raising his voice. His body language projected an admirable cool, but anger lit his dark eyes.
Fermin returned his papers to the envelope and zipped it shut. “You’ve misunderstood, Mr. Aragon. Miss Rubio says you’re the father of her child.”
“Really?” Santos replied, apparently unconcerned. “While I resemble my father, most women could easily tell us apart. A DNA test will disprove her claim. I’ll have my attorney arrange for it.”
