She stood abruptly and marched to the door. “You have more than enough evidence already to get the police to swear out a warrant on Shelbee. Instead, you’re going to allow a killer to cover his tracks.” She shoved the door open with her foot. I guessed our chat was at an end. Seemed my detecting skills were shaping up nicely.
* * * *
I called my aunt’s cell to report what little I’d learned.
“Where are you right now, Auntie?”
“Angelina hired us to tail Brad,” she replied. “I’m at the Four Seasons having a mojito, waiting for him to come out of the bathroom with the barmaid.”
“Ha ha. Do you want to hear what I learned from Pilar’s friend?”
She sighed. “Not now. I’m still dealing with the case your cousin screwed up. The client wants that boy’s head on a plate.”
“I thought it was just a misunderstanding.”
“My son’s description of the problem as a misunderstanding was a bit of an understatement. I’d give you other choice words, but not over the phone. At any rate, you’ll have to keep handling the Heinz case.”
“Handling? As in making decisions?”
“Don’t panic.”
“Don’t panic? It’s a little too late for that!”
“Listen, I love you and want to be supportive. I just can’t deal with your drama right now. Come back to the office and type up your report.”
“I was going back to your house to soak my feet. They’re killing me.”
“Well, maybe tomorrow you’ll wear sensible shoes.”
* * * *
When I returned to the office, I found a woman with ash blond hair, clad in a tan running outfit sitting alone at my desk. She clutched a huge khaki purse.
I asked the beige lady, “Does Ms. Turnbow know you’re here?” My aunt didn’t want me to call her aunt in front of clients. Said it wasn’t professional.
“Are you Nonni?”
“Yes. Do I know you?” I sat on the edge of my desk and looked down at her.
“No, but you’ve met my father. Emmett.”
“And?”
“He and I haven’t seen eye to eye these last few years. Not since he decided to keep working for that tiny tyrant, Chef Clyde. But he’s still my father. If something has happened to Pilar, my father might be in danger, too.”
“Are you suggesting that Pilar’s been hurt, or worse? And your dad might be next?”
“It’s common knowledge that Clyde sabotaged competitors in the past in order to win cooking competitions. Who’s to say he didn’t take his shady behavior to the next level?”
Emmett’s daughter was looking down at her cradled purse. When she raised her eyes to meet mine, they were glossy with tears. “Pilar would not leave before showcasing her family recipes on national TV. It doesn’t make sense. Why not wait until after the Gastro Gambles to leave?”