A Match Made for Murder Iona Whishaw (pride and prejudice read .TXT) 📖

and grabbed his daughter’s wrist, causing her to cry out. “I told you to stop seeing her. She’s trash. Who is this ‘man’ anyway? What grade is he in?”

“Sir,” Ames said, using his calmest voice. He watched Rafaela’s father let go of her wrist and turn away in disgust, fishing for another cigarette in his shirt pocket. “Rafaela, was this a schoolmate that she was seeing?”

The girl shook her head, looking miserable and massaging her wrist. “It wasn’t anyone at school. It was a grown man. She said it was someone from her father’s work. She was proud of that. She said she’d slipped one over on her dad.” She looked nervously toward her father and leaned almost imperceptibly toward her mother.

“Do you know if she was planning to go anywhere with him this last weekend?” Ames asked.

Glancing again at her father, she said, “She told me they were going to run away, that he was getting a divorce and they would get married. He told her not to worry about anything. He’d pick her up in the car and they’d go away.”

“Do you know where he picked her up?” Terrell asked.

She looked up at him and then looked down again. “That’s the problem. He never did pick her up. She waited and waited, only he didn’t come.”

“I wouldn’t like to be that girl right now,” Terrell said as they drove back toward the station. They had stopped to see the second friend. She had expressed concern that Ada hadn’t been at school but did not seem to be in her confidence. Still, Rafaela had given them plenty of food for thought.

“So, Ada is under the impression that Watts is going to whisk her off to a happily ever after somewhere. Only he never picks her up. She calls Rafaela, in tears, and then goes home, telling her parents she’s had a falling out with Rafaela and is staying home after all. The next day she reads the paper and learns, let’s assume, that Watts has been found dead, and she disappears.” Terrell eased into the parking spot in front of the station.

“And that raises two additional problems. She wasn’t the one with Watts when he died, so why does she run away, and to where?”

Chapter Thirteen

Martinez rubbed his hand across his chin, took a deep breath, and looked at Mrs. Renwick. The lawyer sitting next to her, glowering professionally, had already made him angry by balking at the door of the interview room and saying, “Can’t we get an American to interview my client?”

He used the pause to glance at the clock and note the time of the interview. “Mrs. Renwick, you are the wife of the deceased, John Philip Renwick?”

“Yes. He was called Jack.”

“And you were down here on a honeymoon?”

“Yes.”

“When did you arrive in Tucson?”

Mrs. Renwick glanced at Davis, the lawyer. “Six days ago, on the seventh. But you know that. It’s on the hotel registry.”

“And Mr. Edward Renwick? When did he arrive?”

“How should I know? Haven’t your little detectives squirrelled that out? You’re wasting my time. My husband was shot in cold blood. Shouldn’t you be trying to find his killer?”

The lawyer put his hand on her arm briefly to calm her but said nothing.

“You’re right, Mrs. Renwick. Time is being wasted. Let me get to the point. According to the landlady of the rooming house where Mr. Edward Renwick has been staying since November eighth, a woman answering your description has visited him there no fewer than three times. According to her, and she appears to be very observant, the woman stayed longer than two hours on at least two of the occasions and, further, was with him on November eleventh, the day your husband was shot.”

Davis looked at his client with pursed his lips and turned to Martinez. “Detective, I wonder if I might have a moment with my client?”

Martinez glanced at the clock on the wall and made a note of the time, closed his notebook, and stood up. “You can stay right here. I’ll give you twenty minutes.” He resisted saying, “Because you’re going to need it.”

Leaving an officer outside the door of the interview room, Martinez went back to his desk and sat down to wait, wondering what they would cook up that could possibly alter the inevitable conclusion the facts in hand appeared to lead to. He guessed it would tend in the direction of her being a victim, either of her cruel husband or her Svengali-like brother-in-law. More the other way around, he surmised. She looked as tough as nails.

“Martinez!” It was Galloway, standing at the door of his office.

“Sir?” Martinez got up and went to Galloway.

His boss jerked his chin in the direction of the interview room. “Good job. Quick work. You should have this one in the bag by end of day.” He turned to go back into his office and looked back at Martinez. “And don’t lose your notes.”

Turning back to his desk, Martinez struggled to grasp how he felt. He was on the right track, he was sure of it, and Galloway, like any boss, wanted cases solved and put away. There was a moment of gratification in receiving Galloway’s praise, a rare commodity, followed by irritation at his casual jibe.

Back in the interview room, Davis said, “My client wishes to make a statement.”

Martinez nodded and made a note of the time. “Go on.”

“Officer, I did visit my brother-in-law three times. So accurate. I will be cautious with landladies from now on. Ned, Edward Renwick, came here to appeal to me to intercede with my husband about the company. Their father’s will cut Ned out completely. Ned understood that he would never be the head of the company, but he wanted a role. I saw him because I felt sorry for him. He had a bad war. It was my view that he needed to have a role because it would steady him, help him move past his troubles. I tried