Page 108 of Mother-Daughter Murder Night

The call was brief. Diana thanked her for the notes on her financial models, and then issued another request for help, which was something between a demand and an invitation. One Lana was more than happy to accept.

“I’d be delighted to assist you with your presentation to Martin tonight,” Lana said. “Anything to help a woman entrepreneur.”

She had eight hours to get ready. Lana forced herself to eat a full breakfast, choking down an entire container of cottage cheese with a sorry imposter of a bagel. She planned her outfit carefully, pulling out her best Chanel suit, her Gianvito Rossi black pumps, and the wig that itched, the bob she’d worn to lunch with Diana earlier in the week. She didn’t want any reason for the woman to suspect she was sick, to see her as anything less than formidable.

As she lined up her pills for the day, Lana pondered Diana’s invitation to dinner. Was it sincere, or was it a trap?

Diana claimed she wanted help negotiating a phased buyout with Martin, and that she hoped Lana could help her play hardball on the numbers. Which could be true. Even if Diana had killed Ricardo and Hal, she might still need Lana’s help to get what she wanted.

But the more Lana thought about that, the more it bugged her.

If Diana had willingly killed two men—including her own father—to gain control of the ranch, why hadn’t she killed Martin when he stood in her way? What would happen if she couldn’t convince him to accept the buyout now?

Lana’s mind splintered into possibilities. Maybe Diana didn’t want to kill Martin. Maybe he was important to her in some way that other men in her life were not. If Diana could get Martin to see things her way, she wouldn’t have to hurt him.

Or maybe she already had her younger brother’s support. Maybe Martin had helped her cover up her crimes, and now he and Diana were lying about it, trying to distract Lana from finding out the truth with a fake disagreement about the future of the ranch. Maybe the dinner was a ruse designed to get Lana up to the ranch and put an end to her investigation. In which case, she’d need some backup of her own.

Lana dialed the number, praying this time the woman would pick up.

“Ramirez.” The voice popped out at her halfway through the first ring.

“Detective Ramirez, hello. It’s Lana. Lana Rubicon.”

“Have you found Mr. Hanley?”

“No, but I . . .” She steeled herself. “I think I’ve found the murderer.” Lana quickly explained what she’d figured out about the secret land project, and DR, and Diana’s past fiancé, and the timing of it all.

“I see.” There was a long pause.

“I’ll text you the picture of the old news story right now,” Lana said.

“But you don’t know where Paul Hanley is?”

“Look at the photograph,” Lana urged. “You’ll see how it fits together.”

“And Mrs. Whitacre is where currently?”

“I’m not sure. Probably at her home in Carmel. But she asked me to have dinner with her tonight at the Rhoads ranch. Six o’clock. I was thinking you could maybe come with me. As my date.”

There was silence on the line.

“We’re modern women,” Lana said. “It’s not impossible.”

“Ms. Rubicon, I can’t go with you to a dinner party.”

“Don’t you want to talk with these people about their connection with Ricardo Cruz?”

“Maybe at some point. But right now I’ve got my partner and the chief breathing down my neck to get a certain shaggy-haired kayak shop owner into the station stat.”

“But—”

“Look, Ms. Rubicon, I’m not saying your information isn’t interesting. But right now the only thing we’re focused on is the whereabouts of Paul Hanley. Are you sure you don’t know where he is?”

Lana had learned enough to guess what Paul was up to with his Fruitful enterprise. She thought again about his precious cooler, the one he’d asked Scotty to pick up from the docks. She knew what she had to do.

“If I find him, I promise you’ll be the first to know.”

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