Page 26 of Mother-Daughter Murder Night

“The detectives just said he worked for the Central Coast Land Trust.”

“Huh.” Paul shoved the last of the calamari into his mouth and squinted out the window, where a seagull was eviscerating a tray of half-eaten hamburgers. “I don’t like those guys.”

“The detectives?”

“The land trust. I know it’s supposed to be good, land trusts, saving trees and otters and all that, but around here all they do is make rules and stick their pollution monitors where they don’t belong. If it were up to them, no one would ever go out on the slough. Let alone make a living off it.”

Paul motioned to Scotty for the bill. “I’ve kept you out way past lunchtime, Miss Lana,” he said. “Tide’s coming in. Time to head home.”

Chapter Fifteen

Lana and Paul stepped out of the yacht club and stumbled across the parking lot toward his car. Lana held Paul’s arm and counted out slow, careful steps. The martinis and the blazing sun hit her in rapid succession, two sharp jabs warning of a massive headache to come. She just had to make it to his car. Then she could go home and lie down. Possibly forever.

At step fourteen, Paul dropped her arm. Lana wobbled, then looked up to see a Buick double-parked on the gravel. Beyond it, a man and a woman were peering into Paul’s car.

Paul stomped toward them. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Mr. Hanley.” Detective Nicoletti straightened up and adjusted his tie. “It’s nice to see you again. We’re here from the Monterey sheriff’s department . . .”

“I know who you are. When are you going to stop harassing me?”

Detective Ramirez stepped in. She was wearing a jacquard blazer with a pattern so loud it ticked Lana’s headache up a notch.

“Mr. Hanley, this is a murder investigation. When we visited you on Monday, you assured us you would give us your full cooperation. Has something changed?”

Paul looked peevish. “No.”

“Well, unfortunately, nothing has changed on our end either. We can’t figure out how the deceased signed up for one of your kayak tours and then showed up dead in the water two days later. It seems no one saw or heard from him between the time he registered Friday night and the time his body was found on Sunday.”

Lana stepped around the cop car and forced herself to speak. She could deal with her pounding head later. This was an opportunity she had to take.

“No one at the Kayak Shack?” Lana asked. “Or no one at all?”

Nicoletti turned to her. “And you are . . .” His eyes scanned down from her perfectly bobbed hair to the hemline of her skirt.

“We’ve met.” She gave him half a smile and subtly angled her left hip in his direction. “Only last time, I was wearing a bathrobe.”

Ramirez cut in. “Ms. Rubicon. What a surprise. How is Jack?”

“She’s getting her feet back under her. No thanks to you.” Lana glared at Nicoletti. “I left a message, you know.”

“We’ve been busy, ma’am. Trying to catch a murderer.”

“Does this mean Jacqueline is no longer a suspect?”

“Your granddaughter is still a person of interest. As is Mr. Hanley here. Sir?”

“What do you want?” Paul asked. His eyes were cautious.

“Perhaps we could talk in private? In your office?”

“I’m not letting you snoop around in there. I’ve got rights, you know.”

“This is a voluntary interview, Mr. Hanley. Would you prefer to sit down at our station?”

Paul looked around wildly, as if he were casting for a better option. “Fine. We can talk at the Kayak Shack. Just let me clean it up first, so we all have a place to sit.”

Nicoletti stepped between Paul and the most direct path to his shop. “I’ll come with you.”