“I mean you just shoot and you don’t even bother to try to steal anything?” said her husband. “That’s totally irrational. But that’s the age we’re living in.”
Milo said, “Things have gotten complicated.”
“Not complicated,” said Frank Rosales. “Simple and crazy.”
—
Milo handed out his cards and we left them standing in their doorway, wet-eyed and clutching each other. A black Porsche Panamera sat next to the Range Rover.GUM DDSon the plates.
“American success story,” he said as he drove away. “Doesn’t insulate you—so what do you think?”
I said, “Frank was right, Manny was assassinated. Targeted just like the others. So it had to be personal and despite what they think they know, he may have had a relationship that went bad. I know there wasn’t any evidence of that in his house but that could just mean it was long over. And that can mean lingering anger. It’ll be particularly interesting to see what’s on his computer and his financials.”
“Not gay.” He smiled. “If they’re right and we don’t find any women in his life, where does that lead? He lied about it? Or he was some kind of voluntary celibate?”
I said, “Like the sister-in-law said, all types.”
“Except all types don’t get murdered just for fun. There’s got to be something in this guy’s past.”
He phoned Sean.
“Hey, Loot. Just got out of Hamilton High. Principal says Mr. Rosales was one of their best teachers, dedicated, high standards, taught the smart kids, everyone loved him.”
“That’s the picture we just got from his brother and sister-in-law. No issues at all?”
“Not that the principal would cop to. Only thing I did notice—and it might turn out to be nothing—is when we were walking out and he was assuring me of all that, his secretary gave me a look.”
“What kind of look?”
“That’s the thing, Loot, can’t really decode what it meant and it was just for a second. Basically, I’d call bothered. Almost like she was annoyed with him. But maybe I’m looking for something that isn’t there. I circled back and gave her my card. She said, ‘Why would I need this?’ so maybe she ended up tossing it in the circular file. But who knows?”
“Good thinking, kid.”
“Grasping at straws, Loot.”
“Aren’t we all,” said Milo. “Let’s get to work on Rosales’s phone and his financials.”
“The phone and the computer are both password-protected so I dropped them off with Layton—that new tech whiz D I—and told him I’d initiate the affidavits. Soon as I get back, I’ll go to work on them.”
Milo hung up. “So nice when the kids turn out right.”
Chapter
33
I heard nothing from Milo for the next two days, which worked out perfectly; I was swamped with consults and report-writing.
During spare moments, I’d found myself drifting back to Paul O’Brien’s murder. If the Boykinses had hired a killer twice, no problem. But Vicki Saucedo’s family as contractors raised a question: With no criminal case filed, how had they known O’Brien was the one who’d O.D.’d and dumped their daughter?
The only answer I could come up with was that a witness had come forward but had been ignored in favor of a financial settlement. On the face of it, that seemed mercenary, but who was I to judge the monumental grief of a family left with a grievously damaged daughter?
Either way, I had nowhere to go with it.
At ten a.m. on the third day, Milo called.
“You have time for a summary?”
“Absolutely.”
