“Coming right up,” José said, turning to face the grill.
Ernesto grinned. “You’re a green chile fan?”
“I love them.”
“Me too. My mother puts them in everything: enchiladas, alfredo sauce, scalloped potatoes, even apple pie.”
“No way. Apple pie?”
“I swear it. It’s actually delicious.”
“I’ve got to try that sometime,” I said as we moved to sit at a little table carpeted in white sand. Ernesto kicked off his shoes and buried his toes in it. I followed suit, slipping off first my boots, then my fuzzy socks. The sand was warm and dry and felt absolutely heavenly and completely at odds with the light snow that melted when it fell on the palm tree stretching over us, its trunk wrapped in red and white Christmas lights.
Ernesto scooped salsa with a corn chip, and I catalogued his every movement, gathering memories. It was kind of Ernesto to spend time getting to know me before our duet, and I was going to enjoy every second of this while I could. “This is just what I needed,” I said, sipping myagua fresca. “Thank you, Ernesto.”
“Please, call me Neto.”
A smile played on my lips. “Okay. Neto.”
“Which do you like better, singing or playing the violin?” he asked.
“Definitely violin. We’ve never had singers perform at the Christmas concert before, but Fred wanted to try something new. How about you—voice or guitar?”
“Voice. The guitar is fine, but the band is large enough that they don’t really need me to do much playing.” He smiled that crooked smile again. “Itisnice to have something to do with my hands, though, otherwise I’d look completely awkward on stage.”
I laughed. “Well, you’re going to have to figure something out, because you aren’t going to be playing the guitar when we sing together for the concert.”
He covered his mouth with one hand, his eyes widening.
“Don’t worry,” I said, placing one hand on his very toned forearm, “I won’t let you look awkward.” As if that were even possible. His other hand covered mine and my heart quivered wildly like when my teacher first tried to teach me vibrato. José appeared and Neto released my hand to receive the warm food.
I took a small bite, cautious because my gift amplified any imperfection in a dish and my senses were wide open, but I needn’t have worried. Thecarne asadawas tender, with smoky, crisped edges, and the citrus, green chiles, cilantro, and onion were perfectly balanced, with just the right punch of heat in the salsa. I sighed contentedly.
A group of carolers dressed in Victorian outfits trotted by on the sidewalk, singingIt’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas. I buried my toes deeper in the sand. I loved Christmas in Austen Heights, but I wasn’t ready to leave this beachy oasis just yet.
A caroler tipped his top hat to me, and his bright yellow waistcoat brought the image of Paolo, lying dead in his yellow sweater. I frowned down at my plate.
“What’s wrong?” Neto’s carefree smile melted into a look of concern.
“Sorry to bring down the vibe. I was just thinking about the murder.”
“That’s okay. It must have been harrowing.”
“It was,” I said. “And it’s even worse knowing that whoever killed Paolo is still out there. It could only have been one of the people who was at the sound check. But I don’t think it was Fred.”
Neto twirled the ice around in his glass. “I don’t think so either, and I’m worried it will get pinned on him. If the police think they’ve found the killer, they’re going to stop looking.”
“Good point.” I drummed my fingers on the table. I shouldn’t get involved. It was foolish for me to even suggest it, but I said, “What ifwefigured out who the killer is?”
Neto pursed his lips. “That might work. What do you know about the musicians that were in the building when Paolo was murdered?”
“Honestly, I don’t know who it would have been. None of the soloists seem like murderers.”
“Tell me about them,” he said, folding his arms in front of him. “I’ve watched a lot of murder mysteries with my dad.”
“There are only four people who were there,” I said. “Well, five if you include me. But it wasn’t me.”
“Of course not!” He shot me that heart-stopping grin, and it was an effort to continue speaking. “Fred vouched for you and I trust his judgement. Tell me about the others.”
