The next day I drove over to Uncle Bob’s and Aunt Veronica’s house. They had lived in the same sprawling hacienda-styled home with a horse corral in the back since I was a little girl. I drove south along the Promenade, turning before I hit the Avenue, and continued for about a mile inland to Ryder Ranch, a gated old-money enclave with a strict set of homeowner association building and landscape guidelines created to preserve its natural beauty and rural setting.
I breezed along the empty road until I came to the hitching post gate that marked their turnout and meandered along their winding driveway bordered by low shrubs. Their two-acre property featured succulents and other drought-resistant plants that aptly reflected Benning Brothers’ environmental sensibility and drought-tolerant landscaping practices.
Aunt Veronica opened the Dutch door as I raised my fist to knock. “Tory! You’re early. I thought your lunch with Sam wasn’t ’til noon. He’s over at our neighbors’ feeding their horses. Come on in.”
“I purposely came early because I wanted to talk to Uncle Bob beforehand. Is he around?”
She pushed back a highlighted strand of her chin-length bob and straightened out the beige Williams Sonoma apron she wore over a long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans. “You just missed him. He went to the store. He’ll be back soon. Can I get you some coffee?”
Perfect timing. Now I could quiz my aunt on what I believed to be untrue statements made by Uncle Bob. “That would be great. Thanks.”
I followed her into their large kitchen. She poured some coffee into two Franciscan Strawberry Fair cups, a cozy vintage pattern I’d come to associate with the hominess I’d always found at my aunt and uncle’s place.
“How’s Sam doing today?”
She reached over and patted my hand with her French-manicured hand adorned with a simple gold wedding band. “Thanks for asking. He seems to be okay. But you know teenagers, especially boys. Still waters run deep. But I consider it a good sign he’s channeling whatever he might be feeling into productive activity. He was up early to go to work at the nursery this morning and, like I said, now he’s feeding our neighbors’ horses.”
Knowing my uncle was due back, I delved right in. “How’s Uncle Bob? How’d his interview go at the police station?”
For a moment, she looked lost in thought as she pushed another loose strand of hair behind her ear. “He was annoyed because he said they asked him the same questions they asked him the night before.”
“They called me in too. Adrian implied that Uncle Bob might be lying because he’s hiding something or protecting someone. Do you think he is?”
She furrowed her brow, adjusted her round tortoiseshell glasses, and appeared baffled as she shook her head. “Gosh. I really don’t know, Tory. Did Adrian mention what he thought he was lying about?”
“He didn’t tell me. But I was there when he asked Uncle Bob questions the night of the murder after you left. Uncle Bob seemed very uncomfortable talking about Jo, especially about whether or not you and Sam knew she was Esmeralda. He implied that even though Sam worked for Esmeralda, he didn’t know Esmeralda was actually Jo, his birth mother.”
Aunt Veronica’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “That’s ridiculous. Of course we knew. Sam is the one who found out about her by searching online on an ancestry site, I believe. Then he told us.”
She pushed back in her chair, shaking her head. “We had told Sam he was adopted years earlier and that Bob’s sister was his biological mother. Your dad and Bob thought writing Jo out of our lives was the best route. Hence, they concocted the story she died in a car accident. But I couldn’t sit back without telling Sam his birth mother was still alive. Of course, at that point no one knew where Jo was living. We certainly had no idea she’d moved back to Santa Sofia. It was Sam who figured that out and tracked her down. As soon as we found out, we had her over for dinner one night. We were all very civil to one another because we were united in putting Sam first. I didn’t know how Sam or Jo would react, but they liked each other right from the get-go. Took it slowly. Sam working for her was a good way for them to hang out without any pressure.”
“When did all this happen? And why on earth would Uncle Bob lie? Or feel what appears to be a need to protect you and Sam? Why would the police care?”
She took a long sip of coffee. “The dinner was about six months ago.” She tilted her head back slightly, staring past me out the window. “Privacy, maybe? I can’t think of any other reason.”
A car door slammed. Uncle Bob entered, carrying a grocery bag, his thin gray comb-over doing a poor job of hiding his glistening pate. “Hi, Tory. You’re here early, aren’t you?”
“Yeah. Actually, I wanted to talk to you before lunch. I know Ernie gave you a hard time. How’d your interview with Adrian go?”
When I looked at his feet, my heart stopped for a second. He was wearing Wallington work boots, like those of the prints found in the parking lot and the maze. I did my best to maintain a poker face.
He peered through his wire-rim glasses, following my gaze, and the smile left his face, replaced by the eye shifting he displayed during questioning the night of the murder. “Okay, I guess.”
“Uncle Bob, I’m going to cut to the chase. Adrian knows you’re not being straightforward with him. He asked me to find out why. Because if you don’t come clean and you continue to not tell the truth to the police, it’s bad for all of us, particularly me.”
He set the bag down on the counter. “He said that?”
I nodded.
“Well, tell him that’s my story and I’m sticking to it. I don’t need any young upstarts messing in my personal business. And that’s that.”
“Bob, don’t be rude! What are you hiding? Now you have me concerned. This isn’t like you. Do you understand what Victoria just told you? Not telling the truth to the police gets them very suspicious. It makes it seem like you’re hiding something criminal . . . you aren’t, are you?”
His face reddened as he became agitated. “Of course not. Trust me. I know what I’m doing. The truth, in this instance, will appear more damning to the police than my evasiveness.”
Exasperated, Aunt Veronica sighed loudly. “You’re impossible sometimes!” She threw up her hands and marched out of the room.
Uncle Bob gave me a weak smile and grabbed a bunch of carrots from the grocery bag. “Come on. Let’s take a walk.”
I’d always loved their spread--—the horses, the expansive property. To me, it represented the Old West part of Santa Sofia. We strolled over to their stable and dusty paddock. Uncle Bob handed me some carrots. I took them and then purposely dropped one, hoping to get a better look at his boot soles as I bent down to pick it up. But since the telltale nick of the killer’s boots was on the bottom, looking at the mud-caked edges didn’t help much. Star, a sorrel with a white blaze, and Luna, a smoky black roan with two white socks on her rear legs, galloped to the fence. Watching them enjoy their treat made it feel like old times, a feeling I wished I could freeze and preserve forever.
“So, tell me. What’s going on? Why are you acting so weird about Jo?”
“It’s nothing, Tory. I forgot Sam knew Jo was his birth mother. Simple as that.”
“You forgot? That’s a pretty important fact to forget, don’t you think?”
“Look, Tory. Don’t make this into a drama like everything else. Just let it go for once. Okay?”
Burn. “Ouch.” Like my father, Uncle Bob had a tendency to lash out when cornered. “Now I know for sure you’re hiding something. I could understand more if it only affected you, but you might take me down by lying. But that’s okay. I know you’ll come to visit me in jail unless, of course, I get the death penalty. But, God forbid you involve yourself in my drama. Thanks for your help. Not!”
I spun around to leave but my uncle tapped my shoulder with a carrot. “Luna and Star want another carrot.”
I grabbed the carrot and fed it to Star, while he fed Luna. My face was prickling with heat, but watching Star chomp the carrot while taking care to avoid my fingers cooled me off. I patted both horses and strolled back to the house with Uncle Bob in silence.
The quietude was broken by the sound of leaves crackling behind us. When I turned around, Sam was approaching on his bike. He was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and, like his father, Wallington work boots. I was momentarily taken aback and tried to conceal my reaction to his footwear with a hearty “Hello.”
“Hi, Tory. I hope you haven’t been waiting too long. I was feeding—”
“Your neighbors’ horses. Yeah, I heard. No problem. I got here early. Just catching up with your folks.”
“Let me change into some decent clothes. Back in five.”
Bob mumbled something about needing to talk to Aunt Veronica, ending any opportunity to inspect the soles of his boots. I waited for Sam in my car. I turned on the engine and listened to the news. The lead story was Jo’s death. I reflected on the revelation that both Benning males owned Wallington work boots like the ones that left footprints. The ones assumed to be those of the killer. Would the killer be so brazen to continue wearing the same boots out in public? Perhaps a reverse psychological strategy, to make it seem they weren’t the killer because the killer would have ditched the boots?
The other news on the radio was a wildfire update. The latest wildfire was only five percent contained and arson was suspected. Strong winds were predicted for the next twenty-four hours, with warmer temperatures.
The passenger door opened and Sam climbed in. His sandy-colored hair was slicked into spikes and he smelled like soap. He had changed into a fresh T-shirt and a darker pair of jeans. He still wore the Wallington work boots. Was it a sign of innocence or was it well played? And how could I sneak a peek at his soles to see if they had the incriminating nick? His parents stood in their doorway, waving us off.
I rolled down my window. “Uncle Bob, please think about what I said and talk to me before you sign your statement. Okay?”
Uncle Bob shrugged.
Aunt Veronica elbowed him. “Don’t worry, dear. I’ll make sure he calls you.”
“Thanks, Aunt Veronica! Bye!”
After a ten-minute drive, we pulled up to Cheeseburger Boutique. The restaurant had recently opened in a standalone building in the Olive Branch Mall. Located in the foothills of Santa Sofia, the mall had splendid mountain and ocean views. One of the reasons I’d chosen Cheeseburger Boutique was that lately I’d been craving comfort food. Who could blame me, given everything I’d been going through? Despite increasing my intake of burgers, pizza, and desserts, I’d been losing weight, a not unwelcome consequence I attributed to the stress I’d been experiencing since the deaths of my family members, coupled with my newfound, stress-relieving gym addiction.
Another reason I’d chosen Cheeseburger Boutique was we’d done the landscape design for their outdoor seating area, and I’d wanted to see how the landscape had developed. That was one of the things I loved most about landscape architecture. Unlike buildings, plants thrived and became more attractive over time. Plus, I’d always tried to patronize our clients’ businesses. But the most important reason I’d chosen Cheeseburger Boutique was because of Sam. I figured the best way to get to a teenager’s secrets was to ply him with burgers and fries.
The furnishings were hipster chic—lots of wood surfaces and natural materials. I had specified both the exterior and interior plantings. I pointed out to Sam one of the live-plant wall hangings that had turned out better than I’d expected. I made a mental note to mention how happy I was with the installation to our nursery people.
I ordered a single cheeseburger with all the fixings and a vanilla milkshake. Sam opted for a double cheeseburger, fries, and a chocolate shake. There were plenty of empty tables, so we hung around the counter waiting for our order until it was ready.
“How’s work at the nursery? Are they keeping you busy?”
Sam’s eyes widened for a second then returned to normal. “It’s okay.”
“What do they have you doing?”
“I’m basically helping Jed move stock, keeping up the nursery inventory, unloading truckloads of soil and fertilizer, stuff like that.”
“Cool. Do you like that?”
“It’s okay.”
He was a strong strapping young man who was perfect for such a job. But Sam had always been more than simply brawn. He did well academically, a regular on the Dean’s List. “How’s school?”
He blushed. “Did my mom snitch about my grades?”
My emotions took a dive, as if his statement opened up the floor of a guillotine. But I tried hard to keep my facial expression unperturbed. “Um, no. What about your grades? I take it not good?”
“Not lately. I can’t get over my counselor sending my mom a notice because my grades dropped a little.” He swore under his breath.
Again, I was taken aback since, in my mind, my cousin was still a little freckle-faced boy who didn’t even know swear words existed. “I’m sure that was done because your counselor cares and knows you’re capable of better. Why have your grades gotten worse? You must be upset about your birth mother’s murder. But that just happened a couple of days ago. Something else troubling you?”
He avoided eye contact and started to fidget. We’d always had a good relationship with open communication, and I could tell by his pursed lips he was ready to clam up.
“I don’t mean to pry. Just know I’m always here if you want to talk. I know it’s hard with your parents, even though they’re well-intentioned. Sometimes they can come off as being super judgmental.”
He nodded. “It’s just with school, sports, and then working for the nursery and everyone else, I’m sometimes too tired to stay on top of my homework.”
“Maybe consider cutting back on jobs. Do you need to work so much?”
“I feel like everyone depends on me. Not Esmeralda now, obviously.” His voice caught when he uttered her name. “But Jed, Paloma, Blanche. I hate to let them down.”
“That’s a lot of pressure. I’m sure you help all of them a lot, but I think they’d survive if you cut back your hours. Also, it’s all physical work. Lugging and lifting. You must be exhausted every day.”
He nodded. “I am. I can barely keep my eyes open some nights.”
His words percolated in my mind for a minute. “Hey! I have an idea. I’ll be finding out soon whether Benning Brothers wins the bid for the Hotel Santa Sofia condo project. If we luck out, I’ll need a temporary part-time project assistant with technical skills. You’ve always been so good with computers. Maybe substituting one desk job for a couple of manual labor jobs for a while will let you conserve your energy better for studying. And you can also do your homework here in the office in between assignments. Hopefully that will help you bring your GPA up again. Would you be interested?”
“Seriously? I’d love that.” His animated response said it all.
“Great! We should hear any day now. If we get the bid, the job is yours.”
“Cool. Thanks, Tory.”
Our burgers were ready. We grabbed a table on the patio by another living wall hanging that looked spectacular and were silent for a couple of minutes, save for our raving about how good the food was. A thriving landscape, a cheeseburger and shake, and a happier cousin. My day was made. It was great to see him act carefree again, and I hoped I’d be able to hire him so his parents and I could keep a closer eye on him while he was grieving the loss of his mother.
We got back in the car. I smelled smoke in the air I hadn’t smelled earlier. I pulled out of the shopping center lot and stopped at a four-way intersection. “I sure hope they can contain the fire before the wind picks up again. Smells like it’s getting close to civilization.”
Sam sighed. “Hopefully they will. I didn’t know it was going to get windy.”
“Yep. Heard it on the radio while I was waiting for you earlier.”
We continued down the highway that led us out of the foothills and back to town. I glanced in my rearview mirror and let out a sigh of annoyance. There was a white car three cars behind me that had been with me since we left the shopping mall. This was getting old. I decided to not get upset until I got closer to town, where there would be more street choices to go in different directions. The road we were on was the main highway between the mall and downtown Santa Sofia. I was so intent on the white car, wondering if it was even the same one I’d thought had followed me before, that I flinched when I saw, too late, a white pickup truck loom ominously close in my driver’s side mirror. The next second the pickup truck pulled even closer and then purposely sideswiped us. Luckily, I had seen it in the nick of time and was able to steer off the road onto the gravel shoulder to dodge the full impact. I then swung back to the highway in time to avoid the steep cliff beyond.
“Whoa! What the . . .” Again, Sam swore under his breath. But this time I couldn’t blame him. We could have been killed.
At the next turnout, I pulled over to get my wits about me. My hands trembled on the steering wheel. “Wow. That was intense. That truck sideswiped us on purpose. I saw it approach us in my mirror.”
Sam looked at me. “Whoa, that was some serious road rage.”
“Road rage? For what? Driving in the slow lane?”
“I don’t know.” He twisted around in his seat. “Someone’s parking behind us.”
A white car pulled up in back of us and I locked the doors. “Great. Now what?” I tried not to let my burgeoning hysteria show in front of Sam as my imagination galloped away, thinking the sideswiping truck and the white car were in cahoots to make me stop and pull over. I was still shaken from our near miss but grateful for my apparent race-car-driver quick reflexes and pretty darn proud of my Wonder Woman ability to dodge danger.
I watched in the rearview mirror as the driver’s door opened. Jake Logan stepped out and trotted over to my window. “Are you guys okay? I saw your near miss.”
I let out a deep breath of relief and turned to Sam. “It’s okay. I know him. He’s a PI.”
Sam and I both got out of the car.
“Wow, I’ve never been so happy to see a familiar face. Jake, this is my cousin, Sam. We were just run off the road. Luckily my hands are always at ten and two on the steering wheel and I managed to keep control of my car and strong-arm us back onto the pavement to keep us from pitching off the cliff.”
“Yeah, I saw the pickup swerve into you, but that’s all I saw. You think someone ran you off the road on purpose? Did you see who it was?”
“Yes. I’m positive it wasn’t an accident. And no, it happened so fast I was too busy steering the car to get a look at the driver.”
Sam peered over the cliff. “Yep. Definitely road rage. We were lucky. We could have been splattered all over the ravine.”
I bit my tongue over Sam’s graphic image and rolled my eyes apologetically to Jake. I was so relieved that it was Jake that it wasn’t until later I reflected on the coincidence of Jake being right there after we were run off the road. Jake insisted on following us back to Sam’s house to make sure we got there without further incident. Then he did the same while I drove myself home, not leaving until I was safely inside.
A half hour later, I decided to take Iris for a walk along the beach. We both had nervous energy that needed to be burned off. I threw on a quilted puffer vest and buckled Iris into her leopard harness. We trotted the couple blocks to the beach in unison, both of us taking in the brisk sea breeze. The wind was already picking up, boding ill for the firefighters. On the walk, I had a lot to think about. What was Uncle Bob hiding? What got Sam upset enough to affect his grades? Why did a road rage incident happen randomly? Why was Jake Logan everywhere I went?
As the wind kicked up, I told Iris it was time to head home. We forged the two blocks back from the beach, bucking the invigorating blast of air that blew my hair straight back away from my face and gave Iris the look of a troll doll. I’d left my car in the driveway but, after seeing twigs and branches being blown down on the walk home, I decided to move it into the garage for the night. As I approached, I noticed a note on my windshield tucked under my wiper blade. A shiver went down my back as I read its menacing, all-caps warning: MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS OR NEXT TIME YOU WON’T BE SO LUCKY!