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Forgoing a graceful lead-in, Rodarte asked, “Why did you go to Austin yesterday?”
Out of the corner of her eye, she noted that Carter had finally moved. He took a small notebook and pen from his breast pocket. But it was apparent that he was merely reinforcement. Rodarte was the lead investigator.
“At my husband’s request, I went to handle a problem. There had been reports of luggage theft. Our handlers had been accused. One, as it turned out, was guilty. The Austin police have the reports if you care to check.”
“You took a SunSouth flight back?”
“The nine o’clock, last of the evening. On final approach for landing, the flight attendant notified me that I would be escorted off the aircraft. Your chaplains met me in the Jetway. They took me to a private lounge in the airport and told me that my husband had died. I didn’t learn that he’d been murdered until you told me.”
“Up to the point when you were escorted off the plane, you didn’t know that anything was amiss here at home?”
“How could I?”
“Phone call? Text message?”
“I didn’t know anything was amiss.”
“You’d been gone all day. Did you talk to your husband yesterday at any time?”
“Around noon, he called my cell to ask how things were going. Then I called him around six to tell him that the matter had been settled and that I would be on the nine o’clock flight back and not to wait dinner on me.”
“Just those two calls?”
“Yes.”
“Did Mr. Speakman have any appointments scheduled last night?”
“None I was aware of.”
“Well, apparently he did meet with someone here.”
She turned and looked at him.
“There was no sign of a break-in,” he said by way of explanation. “Whoever killed your husband was let into the house.”
“Manuelo would have answered the door.”
He frowned. “We still can’t find him, Mrs. Speakman.”
Last night when Rodarte had asked her help in reconstructing the crime scene, she had mentioned the aide. Rodarte had written down his full name. When she explained what Manuelo’s duties encompassed, the detective had ordered that the entire estate be searched. There had been no sign of the man.
“His room over the garage is still empty,” he told her now. “Bed is made, no dishes in the sink. Clothes in the closet. He doesn’t own a car, right?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“And none of the vehicles belonging to you and Mr. Speakman is missing. So how did Mr. Ruiz leave and where did he go?”
“I have no idea. The only thing I know with certainty is that he wouldn’t have left Foster alone.”
“Does he have relatives?”
“I don’t believe so. At least none I know of.”
“You’re sure he was on duty last night?”
“He’s always on duty, Mr. Rodarte.”
“Twenty-four/seven?”
