Wolf in the Shadows - Marcia Muller [114]
“Who are you?” she asked.
“I’m working for RKI.”
Quick intake of breath.
“I know all about the kidnapping, how you and Stan and Diane planned it.”
“I didn’t—”
“I saw Diane at the hospital in San Diego this afternoon.”
“Diane! That can’t be. Gilbert said …”
“Said what?”
“She’s dead,”
“No, she’s in critical condition, but she’ll recover.”
“Gilbert said she died on the way to Ensenada.”
“She was stabilized at the trauma unit there and flown to San Diego. It was Fontes’s efforts that made it possible for her to leave Baja without being questioned about the shooting.”
“Oh, God!” Navarro put her hands over her face, fingers pressing hard against her eyes.
I asked, “Who shot Diane?”
She shook her head.
“You don’t know?”
Silence.
“There’s no point in concealing what went on down here.”
No reply.
I said, “I saw Stan in San Diego on Thursday.”
“You couldn’t have. Stan’s in Mexico City—” She bit her lips, pressed them together.
“Have you talked with him?”
“… No.”
“Then how do you know he’s really there?”
“Gilbert said—”
“Just as he said Diane had died.”
Navarro took her hands from her face and studied me. She seemed to be weighing what I’d told her. “All right, where in San Diego did you see Stan?”
“The county morgue. He’s dead. He’s been dead since Sunday night when he tried to pick up the letter of credit. Marty Salazar shot him.”
Twenty-Eight
Navarro’s reaction wasn’t what I’d expected. Just a slight hesitation before she said, “You’re lying.”
“I have an eyewitness to the shooting. He’s down on the beach.” Somewhere down there, and probably panicked at finding me gone. “And the San Diego police have made a positive I.D. on Stan’s body. They’ve been trying to contact you since shortly after you came down here.”
She studied my face, her expression giving no clue as to what she was thinking.
I reached into my pocket and took out a slip of paper on which I’d written Gary Viner’s name and phone number. “This is the detective in charge of the case. He’ll confirm.”
“It’s a setup.”
“You don’t really believe that.“
Her eyes moved to the paper. She bit her lip again, then reached for it. “I’ll call him. Wait here.”
Such bravado in spite of the gun I held both impressed and amused me. “No, that’s not how it works.”
“How, then?” Impatient now to get on with it.
“We’ll go over the wall the way I came. Down the beach to the access point, where I have a car equipped with a cellular phone. You’ll call Viner from there.”
Navarro crossed her arms. “How do I know—”
“You don’t. But you have no choice, do you?”
She shivered slightly, glanced at the door to the house.
“Let’s go,” I said.
She went ahead of me, crossing the wall clumsily, wincing when the cactus spines raked her skin. I had to give her credit: she never once cried out. When we were past them, I motioned for her to start down the slope. We descended and moved up the beach in tandem, keeping clear of what light the windows of the neighboring villas cast on the sand. Finally we reached the path to the parking area.
The Seville sat alone where Hy and I had left it. I urged Navarro toward it, then realized he had the keys. Why the hell hadn’t I—
“Jesus, McCone, I can’t turn my back on you for a minute!” Hy’s head appeared from where he crouched on the other side of the car. Nodding, he said, “Ms. Navarro.”
Navarro recognized him and stiffened.
“The eyewitness I mentioned,” I told her. “I believe you’ve met.” To him I added, “She’s decided to call Lieutenant Viner.”
“Smart choice.” He tossed me the car keys, held open the passenger’s door, and motioned her inside; shut it and leaned against it. I got into the driver’s seat, flicked on the electrical system, and lowered the passenger-side window so Hy could hear. Holding the phone up so Navarro could see I was dialing the number on the paper she clutched, I made the call and handed the receiver to her.
Navarro pressed it to her ear. After a few seconds her eyes grew wide and her fingers tensed; she asked the SDPD operator for