Abuelofrowned. “Friends can let you down, Anne. Just because he is good to you doesn’t mean he wouldn’t hurt someone else if he had a strong enough reason.”
“But I can’t think of any reason Fred would want to hurt him. Paolo was bringing publicity to the orchestra by performing with us. Fred wanted him there.”
“Well, be careful,Mija.”
“I will, I promise. Will you reach out to Victor and see if he knows anything?” Victor worked for the Austen Heights Police Department and had been a good friend ofAbuelo’ssince they were boys.
Abuelopulled out his old cell phone, the one he’d had since I was a little girl, and typed out a message with one finger. “Done.I’ll let you know when I hear back. Now, let’s get this food in the oven.”
He rolled the last enchilada and sprinkled an abundance of queso fresco on top before placing it in the oven, then poured the hot chocolate into three mugs. He handed one to me and placed one on theofrendabefore settling down into his armchair with the other to wait for our lunch to bake. I sipped the chocolate, smiling when the cinnamon hit my tongue.
Lunch was delicious as usual, and when we finished eating, I headed out to his shop with him. We chatted and listened to Pedro Infante whileAbueloand I worked on his ‘64 Impala. Or rather, he worked on it while I handed him tools. He might let me help in the kitchen, but the Impala was his baby and he didn’t trust anybody else under that hood.
The hours slipped by and I knew I should be heading home, but I hated to leaveAbuelo. I enjoyed spending time with him, and even thoughAbuelita’sspirit lingered in the house, he got lonely without the ability to fully interact with her. Besides, Ernesto had a hockey game tonight, so instead of seeing him I’d have to endure one of my mother’s parties.
Abuelo’sphone chimed loudly, and he wiped his hands on an old cloth before checking it.
“It’s from Victor,” he said. “They didn’t get any prints from the knife and they didn’t find any incriminating evidence at the scene.”
I frowned. They didn’t seem to be any closer to solving the crime than Neto and I were. I glanced at the clock. 5:30. “I’ve got to get going,Abuelo.”
“You’ve got somewhere to be already? It’s only 2:00.”
I looked back at the clock, and, sure enough, the hands had rearranged themselves to lie about the time. “Nice, try,Abuelita.” I pulled out my phone and verified the actual time. “I’ll see you next week.”
I kissedAbuelo'srough cheeks and made my way back to the front room where a full canteen of hot chocolate sat on the ofrenda. I kissedAbuelita’sportrait and thanked her as I headed out the door.
The wind cut through my sweater as I hurried out to my car and reminded me that I needed to switch those coats back. I started my car and turned up the heat but texted Cecelia before leaving.
Hey, are you missing a long, gray coat?
I would never wear dark gray.
Okay, thanks.
Did you notice anything unusual the day Paolo was killed?
Wow, you’re a detective now?
I could practically feel her rolling her eyes at me through the phone.
Just trying to get some answers.
I didn’t see anything.
Also, you should just let the cops handle it.
But I couldn’t. Not when they thought it was Fred.
I intended to drive home, but I found myself turning left instead of right and following the road to Fred’s house. I’d been there a few times when he’d held parties for the orchestra, so Iknew my way. I felt a little awkward as I stood empty-handed on his porch. I should have brought him soup or flowers or something.
I heard his hooves clomping against the floor as he approached the door. He was a little bleary-eyed as he answered, but smiled when he saw me. “Anne. It’s good to see you. Come in.”
He led the way into a small sitting room and gestured to a spot on the couch. A hockey game played on a massive TV that dominated one wall, and he switched it off before sitting in an armchair.
“I just wanted to check on you,” I said.
“I’m the one who should have checked on you,” he said, frowning. “I’m so sorry you had to experience that.”
