Sixth Grave on the Edge(92)

“I’m a little surprised you aren’t more concerned.”

“I would be, normally. He is too old for her, but have you seen that girl?”

Amused, I said, “She’s a knockout, I know. Which is reason enough for my concern.”

“Yeah, but again, Quentin is wonderful, Charley. I’ve never seen Amber so smitten. Except when she sees Reyes Farrow.”

“She does like them older, doesn’t she? Speaking of Quentin, what about the girl in the cable car? Miranda. What did you find out about her?”

She looked into her glass of water and took a drink before answering. “I meant to tell you. We’ve just been so busy. I left the case file on your desk.”

My interest piqued. “And?”

“It looks like she had a very hard life, Charley. I didn’t get very far with the file, but I managed to get a copy of her autopsy, the investigation of her disappearance, and the court transcripts of her mother’s trial.”

“Where is she now? Miranda’s mother?”

“She’s in the women’s correctional facility outside Santa Fe.”

I nodded in thought. “Looks like I’ll be making a trip to Santa Fe very soon. Did they give you a cause of death?”

Cook took another drink. “They said most likely blunt force trauma to the head. She was there over a month before they found her body, so it was hard to get an exact cause.”

Since Cookie wanted to talk about Miranda’s case about as much as she wanted her fingernails pulled out with pliers, I veered back to the subject of Amber. “I’m glad that rascal of yours admitted the truth.”

Cookie relaxed the tight grip on her glass. “I am, too. She was more worried about my reaction to her lying than her skipping school and leaving campus with a boy.”

“Told you,” I said with a wink. “I knew it would eat her alive.”

“Yeah, I totally played it up like she’d broken my heart and I would never be the same again.”

“And she fell for it?”

“Hook, line, and sinker.”





19

Do you believe in love at first sight,

or should I walk by again?

—T-SHIRT



Having just received a delivery, Reyes came in from outside with a woman following in his wake. A very familiar-looking woman. One with a determined gait and fire in her eyes. The minute those eyes landed on me, I ducked under the table, my head landing in Cookie’s lap.

“Tell her I’m not here!”

Cookie coughed, then glanced around frantically. “What? Why? Who?”

“Mrs. Garza. Tell her I’m not here.”

“She already saw you,” she said through gritted teeth. “She’s coming this way.”

“Pretend like I passed out and call an ambulance.”

“I am not calling an ambulance to cover for you.”

“No, really, it’ll work.”

“Charley Davidson, they have better things to do with their time than—”

“I can see you from here, Ms. Davidson.”

From underneath the table, I could see Mrs. Garza, too. Though only her bottom half. She had a killer bag slung over her right shoulder, turquoise with a woman’s face painted Día de Muertos style, and if I wasn’t mistaken, she was wearing an amazing pair of Rocketbuster boots. One of which she was tapping impatiently.

That woman had the best clothes. Then again, I was probably paying for them, thanks to her son, aka my investigator, Angel. She’d recently figured out I was the one sending her money every month and insisted I tell her what was going on, why I was depositing five hundred dollars into her account every month. That was until Angel blackmailed me into a raise. Now it was a cool $750, but I figured he was worth it.

But Angel didn’t want her to know. He was so adamantly against it, I couldn’t help but comply. What he didn’t take into account was the fact that his mother was smart. She knew there was no uncle the minute Angel and I concocted the excuse. But what else could I have said? He just did not, under any circumstances, want her to know the truth.

He said it was because his death had devastated her and he didn’t want her to have to go through that again, but she seemed to handle the prospect of another explanation better than he did. Could there have been something more to Angel’s reluctance? I’d wondered that a lot since she came into my office that day. It had been only two weeks. She wouldn’t be put off for long. I could tell by the determined set of her jaw. She wanted answers. Answers I could give her only if I betrayed Angel.

She finally had enough of waiting and leaned down to peer at me under the table. “I’m not leaving until you talk to me.”