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Galen’s sister closed the memorial with another song. While Ana told her how much she enjoyed her voice, Lieutenant Montoya appeared at her shoulder. “Mr. Campos had a lot of friends,” he remarked.
“Don’t you?” Ana asked before she could catch herself.
“Perhaps, but I won’t be able to count them at my memorial service. Is there anyone here who seems out of place?”
Ana refrained from mentioning him, but nodded toward two well-built men who might possibly be bodybuilders. “There are people here I don’t recognize, but those two might have been the S&M models.”
“I noticed them and plan to question them when they leave rather than disrupt the memorial. By the way, Robles and Mesa toured local gyms but failed to learn anything significant. As for today, I thought your remarks were especially touching.”
“Thank you. They were sincere.” She saw Gian Carlo on the opposite side of the patio, apparently staying out of the lieutenant’s reach, and hurriedly covered a yawn.
“A late night?” Montoya asked.
“Yes, and a very enjoyable one. Will you excuse me?” She turned away before he could object and circled the crowd to reach the refreshment table. There were plates of cookies, small cakes, and candies along with wine and lemonade. She took a cup of lemonade and sipped it while she scanned the group. Valeria and Lourdes were talking with a male model Ana worked with occasionally. Apparently the three were close friends. With a lean build, he didn’t look suspicious, and in the soft-spoken crowd, no one appeared to be hiding murderous intentions. She made her way to Gian Carlo, who now stood alone.
“I’m ready to leave whenever you are,” she confided.
“Now would be fine with me. Let’s tell Galen and his wife good-bye.”
Galen winced as they approached him, but Ana focused on his wife. “This was such a nice memorial for Jaime. Thank you so much for hosting it.”
Lena looped her arm through her husband’s before she nodded to acknowledge the compliment. “Let’s hope we won’t have another such sad occasion anytime soon.”
Gian Carlo agreed and took Ana’s hand as they left the patio by the side gate. He opened the door of his MG for her and looked back at the house. “Why do you suppose Galen married her?”
She waited for him to get into the driver’s seat. “Maybe her father had the money to finance his first collection, or they fell madly in love when neither had a dime.”
He turned the key in the ignition and revved the engine. “Whatever the reason, we can say we were here. Is there anywhere you’d like to stop on the way home?”
A long walk would have been so nice with Alejandro, but she’d had enough of Gian Carlo’s company. “Thank you, but I’ve things to do at home. Don’t you?”
“Sure, but I do my best to avoid them. What’s your next job?”
There was no news on the Almodóvar film, but she wouldn’t have mentioned it if there were. “I’m working with a French shoe designer, Lamoreaux. He wants only my legs, however.”
Turning left, he looked toward her. “You do have great legs. Oh hell.”
He’d taken the turn too fast, and Ana grabbed for the dashboard to brace herself. He wrestled with the wheel. The tires screamed for purchase, and the sports car skidded out of control. She saw a bright flash of blue sky.
Orlando Ortiz had been rushed to the hospital closest to his home, and, certain a moment of garbled speech wasn’t serious, he was an extremely poor patient. He submitted to a CT scan under duress, but no blockage or bleeding was found in his brain. “I told you there was no reason for alarm.”
His doctor disagreed. “You probably had a TIA, or transient ischemic attack. The symptoms your wife observed were real, but quickly passed. She was correct to insist you come to the hospital, however. I’ve warned you to quit smoking. Alcohol and a high-fat diet are also contributing factors in strokes. You need to make some changes in your habits soon. When was the last time you went on a vacation? Do you ever sail on one of your cruise liners?”
Thoroughly annoyed, Orlando shook his head. “I’ve no time to waste on vacations.”
“Clearly you’re a Type A personality. They believe they thrive on stress, but the opposite is true. They often die of massive strokes long before their time. You have young boys to consider. What about your eldest son? Is he any help to you?”
Orlando barely contained a rude snort. “He intends to be an architect and build homes for the poor. He’s not interested in the business.”
“That’s unfortunate. I want to speak with your wife before you go, but you must regard today’s episode as the warning it is and make your health a priority.”
Orlando nodded, and checked his watch, eager to go.
Alejandro found his stepmother in the emergency waiting room. She was a petite woman with henna-tinted hair and several years too young to be his mother. They were polite to each other but had never really bonded. He sat down beside her. “How is he?”
Carlotta grabbed his hand. “He always knows everything, but when I couldn’t understand him, I told him slurred speech is a bad sign, and I refused to wait for him to
get worse. His doctor met us here and is seeing him now.”
