Chapter 28 Leo

We’re supposed to leave to meet my dad in ten minutes. It’s barely enough time for Cora to fire up Mike’s desktop, access her cloud drop box, and print out the part of LeFeaux’s testimony where he talks about Cassandra’s neighborhood. We compare it to a Google image we find that was taken about six months after the murder and months before they brought the street through. It’s not much. Hell, it’s a shot so long we’ll be lucky if LeFeaux doesn’t laugh my dad out of the place. On the other hand, after reading LeFeaux’s testimony he doesn’t strike me as an exceptionally smart guy. I’m putting my money on this plan working.

I pop another prescription pain pill when Cora’s not looking. Our shower sexcapades did me in. I took the splint off to take a shower not expecting Cora to join me. If she finds out how bad it fucking hurts right now she’d feel guilty. The last thing I want her to feel about what we did in the shower is remorse. She seems to have accepted the boundaries I set. And if the shy, wicked smiles she keeps sending my way are any indication I left her satisfied, wanting more. Hell, I can hardly stop grinning like an idiot even with the pain.

We meet up with my dad at a coffee shop down the street from the office. He wanted us to meet him at the house, but there was no way in hell I wanted her to go through with my mom what she went through the last time they met. That shit was seriously fucked up. I don’t know how Cora lives with that kind of judgment from people who don’t know anything about her except that her relative was convicted of a heinous crime. I’m going to have to find a way to straighten things out with my mom about Cora.

Right now my dad is walking through the door with my old laptop under his arm and a frown so deep it nearly drags on the floor. What the hell happened now?

He slides into the booth across from us and passes me the laptop. “Call your mother.”

“Any news on the fire?” Cora asks.

“They’re sure it’s arson. I’m going to be up to my eyeballs in insurance forms for the next twenty years.”

No surprise there. “Do they have any idea who did it?”

“The power outage caused the security cameras to go down too.” Dad’s frown deepens. “Whoever did it knew what they were doing.”

“I’m so sorry,” Cora says. “This…all of this is because of me and Beau’s case.”

Dad puts a hand up to stop her before I can. “None of this is your fault. I don’t blame you any more than I blame Leo. Now tell me what you’ve been working on.”

The waitress appears at the table and takes our orders. As soon as she’s gone I fill my dad in on the things we’ve learned, including the inconsistency in LeFeaux’s testimony. I show him the printouts we brought.

“Nice work,” he tells us both, then to Cora, “I’m impressed that you thought to back up your files. You’ve got the instincts of a great detective. If I had the budget I’d hire you on at the agency in a minute. If there’s an agency at all by the time the insurance company gets finished.”

Cora looks like she’s going to apologize again, so I put my hand on her knee and change the subject. “We also might have a lead on the downstairs neighbor, Mrs. Wheeler. If we can find her it just might be the piece we need to blow this whole case wide open.”

“You guys make a great team,” Dad says.

He glances back and forth between us, no doubt taking in how close we sit and how my arm turns out toward Cora under the table. It’s probably obvious from where he’s sitting that my hand isn’t in my lap. We haven’t discussed what’s going on between Cora and me other than him telling me to stay away from her. If he only knew the dynamic between us, he’d laugh his ass off. I’m the one likely to get hurt here, not Cora.

“Thanks.” Threading her fingers through mine, Cora looks up at me. “I think we make a great team too.”

“Well. I’d better go. I’ll call you when I get done with Mr. LeFeaux.” Dad slides out of the booth. “Don’t forget to call your mother.”

We watch him walk out. He didn’t even touch the coffee he ordered.

Cora squeezes my hand. “Do you want some privacy?”

She’s not dumb. She knows the phone call to my mom likely won’t go well. I don’t blame her for not wanting to sit next to me while I defend her for something that’s not her fault.

“I’ll call her later.” I set the laptop on the table and turn it on. “First I want to see if we can find out any info on Mrs. Wheeler’s niece.”

It takes a while to get the old beast up and working and connected to the café’s Internet. I log on to one of the genealogical websites the agency uses to track people’s relatives. I looked mostly on Mrs. Wheeler’s side of the family, not expecting that her long deceased husband’s family might step in and take care of her.

The waitress comes by to give us a third refill right about the time I’m ready to give up. There are no Robins or Robertas with a last name that starts with a D on Mr. Wheeler’s side of the family.

“What about this one?” Cora points to a box on the screen with the name Alice Denise Rodriguez. “It’s the only name that’s vaguely close and has the right letters in it.”

I click on the box. Alice Denise Rodriguez is on the old side for a niece. She could be a younger cousin. I put her name into People Locator, a program we use to get people’s addresses. It’s surprisingly easy to find people these days. Too easy.

There are twenty people in the U.S. named Alice Denise Rodriguez. We sort through them, setting aside the ones who are too old, too young, or dead. When we’re done we’re left with no names to work with.

I sit back in my seat, frustrated. “Damn it. I thought for sure Zelda’s info was good.”

“I’ve learned not to get my hopes up.” I hate the dejection in her voice.

And I hate that I’m the one failing her. Sitting forward, I click out of that program and try another and another. No luck. Then a thought strikes. What if Alice Denise Rodriguez isn’t in the U.S.? I switch programs again. Her last name is Spanish, so I try People Finder in Mexico. We get thirteen hits. Lucky thirteen. We weed through them until we’re left with one name. I check the birthdate. It’s a match. All the hair on my arms stand up. Cora leans so far over me I can barely type. She must feel it too. That low buzz at the back of my head that tells me we could be onto something here.

Alice Denise Rodriguez lives in Ensenada. Just two hours away.

“This might not lead to anything,” I say, trying not to get her hopes up as high as mine. “We should call and see what’s what.”

Cora nods. She’s vibrating in her seat as she pulls her cell out and hands it to me. “Call.”

I open a new window and Google how to call internationally. Before I know it I’m calling Alice Denise Rodriguez in Mexico.

She answers after the second ring. “Hola?”

Shit. I didn’t figure on her speaking Spanish. I know enough to order a burrito and that’s about it.

“Hola,” I say in my crappy Spanish accent. “Habla inglés?”

“Yes,” she says with barely an accent.

I introduce myself as a private investigator looking for Edith Wheeler. I give her some bullshit excuse about old Edith being owed some money by the insurance company I work for.

“Do you know how I can reach Mrs. Wheeler?”

“Yes. She’s in an elderly care center here in Ensenada. I have power of attorney over her affairs. She’s quite infirm.”

I turn to Cora and nod. She grips my arm, her eyes wide. We fucking found Mrs. Wheeler.

“I need to verify she’s alive and your power of attorney before I can release the funds,” I tell Denise. “I’m in San Diego. I can be there around three. Will that work?”

“How much money are we talking about?”

“A little over twenty grand. I also have some papers that’ll need to be signed. Where should I meet you?”