As she reached the bottom of the stairs and walked past the living room, she spotted her husband lying on his back on the living room rug. His white shirt was soaked with blood and a knife was stuck in his abdomen.
“Ricardo!” she yelled at the top of her lungs and rushed to his side.
“Help me,” he gasped, struggling to breathe. “The knife...”
In shock, Delia pulled the knife out.
Marcela came running into the dining room in response to Delia’s cry. She let out a terrifying scream at the gory scene on the floor of the living room.
Kneeling beside her husband’s body, Delia stared down blankly at the bloody kitchen knife in her hand.
“Help me,” he moaned again, almost imperceptibly, weakly grabbing hold of Delia’s wrist.
“Ricardo,” she called out, shaking her head violently. “No! This can’t be happening.”
“Delia...” he gasped.
“Call nine-one-one, Marcela!” she ordered.
“Marcela,” the man cried out with his final breath.
“Oh, my God, Miss Delia!” The housekeeper stood frozen.
“For heaven’s sake, Marcela, go call the police!” Delia shrieked. “I think my husband is dead!”
Chapter 8
Isabel and Camille followed Emily into the kitchen, anxious to know why she rushed away from the table, leaving Colin with a perplexed look on his face.
“He seemed happy to talk to me when he thought I was a real estate agent, but I couldn’t stand his condescending attitude when I told him I was starting work as a private investigator,” Emily explained through gritted teeth. “What exactly did you girls tell him about me?”
“We told him you were a Realtor,” Isabel began, “we weren’t sure how the PI thing was going to work out for you.”
“But we also told him you were pretty and sweet and lots of fun,” Camille added.
“Hmmm. I’m not sure this is going to go anywhere, girls. Sounds like he’d prefer his women helpless and in need of a big strong man.”
“That’s not fair. You’ve hardly given him a chance,” Isabel scolded.
Emily’s phone began to ring and she dug it out of her purse where she left it on the kitchen counter. “It’s Delia. I’d better take this.”
“Hello,” she answered as she walked out on the patio.
“Oh, Emily. I’m so glad you picked up.” Delia sounded distraught. “I left you a message earlier, but I hadn’t heard back from you. And now this?”
“What’s wrong, Delia?”
“Ricardo is dead!”
“What?” Emily shouted. Camille and Isabel’s heads turned to the patio at her loud voice. “Tell me what happened.”
“I don’t know. I went upstairs to take a bath and when I came down he was lying on the floor in the living room with blood all over his shirt and a knife sticking out of his stomach.”
“Did you call the police?”
“Yes, I had my housekeeper call them. I was too much in shock.”
“Are they there yet?”
“No, not yet. Can you come over? I could really use someone to help me through this.”
“Don’t you have any family or close friends you’d rather have there?”
“Emily, I don’t have any family nearby and as for close friends, well, I haven’t had time for them in years. My work has been my life.”
“Well, when you put it that way…” Emily started to say.
“And I’m sure the police are going to try to blame this on me,” Delia went on.
“Why do you say that?”
“I was so shocked, I wasn’t thinking straight. I pulled the knife out and Marcela came in and saw me with it in my hand. Oh, my gosh, what was I thinking?”
“Calm down, I’ll be right over. Do you have a lawyer you can call?”
“I have a couple of attorneys that help me with business matters.”
“No, you need a different kind of attorney.”
“I assumed so, but I don’t know any.” Delia’s voice was wobbling with distress.
“I’m at a friend’s house right now. Her husband is a top defense attorney in the area. Do you want me to ask him to come too?
“Yes, please,” she pleaded.
“We’ll be there soon. Don’t say anything—we’ll figure this thing out.”
Emily stepped inside and explained to Isabel she had to leave—there was an emergency.
“I don’t understand. What’s happening?” Isabel asked.
“Sorry, I can’t tell you right now, but I have to talk to Alex in private. Could you ask him to meet me on the patio right away?”
“Sure,” Isabel said. “Hey, Alex,” she called as she approached the dining room.
Alex came out to the patio and Emily explained the situation to him. He agreed to go to Delia’s home with her. While he ran upstairs to change out of his shorts and flip-flops and put on something more appropriate, Emily went to the dining room to make her apologies and say her good-byes.
* * *
Colin looked up from his plate as Maggie came breezing through the doorway, flashing a broad smile at the crowd already eating at the formal dining table.
“Hey, y’all. So sorry I’m late,” Maggie announced. She gave Emily a hug and greeted a few more people around the table. “I better go grab a plate before all the food’s gone. I’ll be right back, Em, then we can chat.”
“Sorry, Maggie, but I have to go. I have an emergency.” Emily leaned in and whispered into her ear, Maggie nodded and walked away.
“A real estate emergency?” Colin asked. Emily frowned at him and she was gone out the front door with Alex. “Sorry, did I say something wrong?” he called after her.
Maggie had piled salad greens on her plate along with a small piece of grilled chicken. She sat down in the empty chair next to Colin.
“I don’t think we’ve been introduced.” She looked at him, not hiding her interest. “My name is Maggie.”
“I’m Colin, Colin Andrews. It’s nice to meet you, Maggie.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” she drawled, seeming to studying him intently.
His gaze returned to the front door. “Where do you think Emily went?” he asked.
“Well, I don’t know. She said somethin’ about helpin’ out her client.”
“So it was a real estate emergency.”
“No, silly, she’s workin’ as a private investigator now. She told me it had to do with that case, where she’s following that rich woman’s no-good, cheatin’ husband.”
“Maggie,” Isabel chastened her, sitting on her other side, overhearing Maggie breaking Emily’s confidence.
“Oh, no!” She covered her lips with her fingertips, turning her head to look at Isabel, who was frowning at her, then to Colin. “I don’t think I was supposed to tell anyone about that.” She whispered, leaning in toward him, “You won’t say anythin’ to Emily about this, will ya?”
“Your secret’s safe with me,” he assured her.
“By the way, if you don’t mind my askin’, what line of work are you in? A strong, handsome man, like you,” she questioned, then took a small bite of her chicken.
“I’m a police detective.”
Maggie gasped and almost choked on her food.
“Are you okay?” Isabel asked, patting her on the back as she coughed.
Colin was rescued from Maggie by the ringing of his cell phone. He swiveled out of his chair and went to the kitchen to take the call. Within minutes he came back in and it was his turn to make his apologies and run.
* * *
On the drive over, Emily explained to Alex in detail all that she had been doing for Delia, as well as what she had just told her on the phone. By the time they arrived at Delia’s house, several police officers were already there. One officer was trying to get answers from Delia as she sat in a chair at the formal dining table, in full view of her husband’s body that was still lying on the floor.
Emil
y walked in, not stopping to knock, with Alex close on her heels. The officers spun around at the sound of the front door opening. They had already strung yellow crime-scene tape across the opening from the foyer to the living room and between the living room and the dining room. “Emily!” Delia cried out.
“I’m sorry.” A uniformed female officer rushed down the hallway from the kitchen to the foyer, her arms outstretched like she was trying to herd them back to the door. “You can’t be in here. This is a crime scene.”
“I called them,” Delia said. “He’s my lawyer.”
“And what about her?” the female officer asked, staring directly at Emily.
“She works for me,” Delia and Alex both said at the same time, which startled them all.
“What we mean is she used to work for Delia, now she’s working for me,” Alex said sternly, looking the officer in the eye, almost daring her to challenge what he said.
“You can come and talk with your client,” the officer said, “but you’ll need to go through the kitchen. I can’t have you traipsing through the living room.” She motioned down the hall to the kitchen.
Passing through the kitchen with the female officer, Emily noticed the housekeeper sitting at the breakfast table talking to an older, heavy-set officer, who looked up as they walked through.
“What’s going on?” he asked the female officer.
“The wife’s attorney,” she said, pointing at Alex as they all kept moving.
He nodded and went back to interviewing the housekeeper.
“I don’t want you saying another word, Delia,” Alex instructed his new client as he entered the dining room. “My name is Alex Martinez.” He handed a business card to the officer questioning Delia. “And this is Emily Parker, my investigator.” Alex looked over at Emily and winked. Her eyes widened with surprise for a second then she caught herself before she gave her surprise away.
“Officer Donnelly,” said the male policeman standing next to Delia, “and that’s Officer Sanchez.”
“Hey, guys, is there a place I could speak to my client in private?”
“There’s a study just across the foyer,” Delia offered.
“I guess that’d be all right,” Donnelly agreed.
Delia led Alex and Emily back through the kitchen and across the foyer to the study. As they passed the front door, which Emily had left ajar, it swung open and Detective Colin Andrews walked in, almost knocking Emily down as she passed by it.
“Whoa, sorry!” Colin exclaimed in surprise, reaching out to catch her. She shook free of his hands. “What are you doing here?” He flashed Emily a quizzical look, and then he acknowledged Alex.
“Same thing you are, looks like,” she snapped back. That condescending attitude was becoming a habit, she thought.
“What’s going on?” Colin asked the officers who were now standing in the foyer. “I was told there was a murder. Why isn’t this crime scene secured?”
“Secured?” Donnelly asked. “Nobody’s moved the body or been walking close to it.” This was his first murder and likely the only thing he knew about protocol for a murder scene was learned from books years ago.
He explained that another officer was talking to the housekeeper in the kitchen, and he and his partner had been questioning the wife in the dining room until these two showed up, motioning toward Emily and Alex. He went on to tell Detective Andrews that Mr. Martinez was the wife’s attorney, and he had asked to speak with the victim’s wife privately. “He claims the young woman is working for him,” the officer said, eyeing Emily inquisitively.
“I see,” the detective said with a smirk, raising a suspicious eyebrow. She could tell from his expression that he was not pleased with the situation. “I’ll leave you to talk to your client, Alex, while I get the whole scoop from my guys—sorry, my officers.”
As she followed Alex and Delia into the study, Emily looked back over her shoulder at Colin and noticed he was watching her. She wished she could tell what he was thinking. Turning, she peeked out of the door as she pushed it shut. He still had his eyes on her.
* * *
Once Emily closed the door, Colin spoke to the two officers who’d questioned Delia then headed to the kitchen at the back of the house to discover what the housekeeper had to say. He found Marcela and the other officer sitting around the breakfast table. The officer rose and sauntered into the open kitchen area to speak with the young detective, hiking up his trousers by the belt.
“Ernie.”
“Colin.”
“Donnelly says this is the housekeeper. Is that right?”
“Yes, her name is Marcela Montoya,” Ernie replied, looking down at his notes.
Colin looked over at the young woman. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she was wearing a sky-blue jogging suit, or perhaps they were pajamas. He couldn’t be sure these days.
“What has she told you?” Colin asked, keeping his voice down, turning so Ernie’s broad back would face her, trying to shield their conversation.
“She said after Miss Delia, which is what she calls her, had dinner alone, she went upstairs to take a bath and Marcela went to her room to change out of her work clothes and read.” Looking down to recall what he had written, he went on. “She said that sometime after that she heard Mr. Vega’s voice, so she knew he had come home. It sounded like he was arguing with someone in the living room, but it didn’t sound like his wife.”
“So she said he wasn’t arguing with his wife, but there was another woman here?”
“Looks that way. The report continues,” Ernie said, reading what he had written. “So she crept into the kitchen to listen and find out what they were arguing about. It sounded like Mr. Vega was having an affair with this woman, she heard the woman say she was pregnant and she wanted him to tell his wife. Then Marcela heard a slap. Out of curiosity, she poked her head into the dining room to see if she could tell who he was arguing with. She saw a young woman with dark hair, about to her shoulders, wearing a beige coat, but she did not recognize her. Then the argument died down and Marcela went back to her room. A little later—”
“Well,” Colin interrupted, “we’ll have to find out who the mystery woman is.”
“That’s what they hired you for,” Ernie kidded, before returning to his notes. “She said...” he scanned the report with his stubby pointer finger and found where he left off, “Okay, there it is. She was in her room, just over there off the end of the kitchen,” he noted, pointing in the direction of her room with his clipboard. “She told me she heard a scream and came running. She ran through the kitchen, into the dining room, and saw Ms. McCall kneeling on the floor in the living room next to her dead husband with a bloody knife in her hand. Then,” he looked down at his notes again, “Ms. McCall ordered her to call the police, saying that her husband was dead.”
“So, Miss Montoya is the one who called this in?” Colin asked, glancing over at her.
“Looks that way.”
“Miss Montoya,” Colin said, moving to the table where she sat waiting, “can you tell me about Ms. McCall’s relationship with her husband?”
“I do not understand,” she answered, her words were thick with her Hispanic accent.
“How did Miss Delia get along with Ricardo?” Colin asked again.
“Oh, okay. They argue sometime.”
“About what?”
“I don’t want to get Miss Delia in trouble,” Marcela said. “She is very good to me.”
“I need you to tell me the truth, Marcela. Don’t you want to help us find Mr. Vega’s killer?”
“Yes.” She paused, thinking. “They fight sometime about money, about his going out after supper. She cry. I tell her to no worry. I tell her he need to go out for business. He is a man, and she should not try to stop him.”
“Did they have a fight tonight?” Colin asked.
“No, I do not think so.”
“Do you have any idea who the other woman was that came here tonight
?”
“No, I never see her before.”
“All right, we’re finished with you for now, Miss Montoya,” Colin said. “I just need you to read over the written statement and sign it.” He motioned to Ernie to set the statement before her.
Colin told her she could not stay at the house that night because it was a crime scene, so she would need to pack a bag and stay somewhere else for the next few days. He asked her if she had any friends or family she could stay with and she replied yes. Then, he asked her to remain in the area and, seeing on the report she showed a cell phone number, he told her he would be in contact with her if he had any more questions.
“Okay,” she replied, looking back down at the papers. After signing at the bottom, she hurried to her room to pack.
“What do you think, boss?”
“Well, Donnelly told me Ms. McCall said she was upstairs taking a bath and didn’t hear anything out of the ordinary, which lines up with what the housekeeper told us.” Then Colin relayed to Ernie the rest of the report he received from Officer Donnelly, which seemed to correspond somewhat to Marcela’s statement, except Delia did not mention anything about another woman coming to the house. Colin peeked around the corner to see if Delia and her defense entourage had come out yet. “Either she didn’t know or she isn’t saying.”
“Do you believe the wife’s story?” Ernie asked.
“I can’t say yet. It’s a little too early, my friend.” Colin patted Ernie on the shoulder and walked back to the foyer. Ernie was the reason Colin knew the Paradise Valley Police Department was looking to hire a new and experienced detective. Ernie Kaufman had been a friend of his father’s when he’d lived in California, and they had kept in touch since Ernie decided to move to the Pacific Northwest.
Colin was standing in the foyer with the other officers, not far from the door to the study when it opened and Emily walked out first. He caught her gaze and felt a magnetic energy pulse between them. Her soft green eyes drew him in until she looked away and broke her hold on him. He took a step back to compose himself.
The Scent of Lies Page 7