Unlock the Truth (23 page)

Zeke crossed the room, planted a kiss on her neck. “They have our reservation ready, are you hungry?”

“Starved. It was nice talking to you,” Dena said to Debbie, and slid off the barstool. “See you around.”

Debbie’s eyes twinkled. She leaned close. “You’re one lucky duck,” she whispered. Then to Zeke she said, “You take good care of Dena here. She’s a special lady.”

“Yes ma’am,” Zeke said. He winked at Dena, slung an arm around her shoulder, and tucked her beneath his arm. He grinned back at Debbie. “You know, you two ladies should come out some time and go riding.”

“Just like we used to when we were in high school,” Debbie said, and clapped her hands together. “It sure would be fun. We’ll give you a call.”

And with that Debbie hurried down the bar, calling out her excitement to Rachel. Dena smiled. The female company would be great, and it was wonderful to see Zeke open up, embrace his community again.

****

Zeke sat back in the restaurant chair, highly amused. Dena hadn’t stopped talking about his mother’s and Manny’s artworks since they’d been seated. He leaned across the table.

“More wine?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you.”

The waiter appeared out of nowhere, lifted the bottle of wine and topped up both glasses. After he left, she waved her hands around for emphasis. “So what do you think? Good plan, huh?”

“Perfect.”

He wondered how she’d had a chance to eat anything, yet there was no food left on her plate. She was filled with an excitable energy. Was she nervous being with him? He poured the last of the wine. Just being around her made him feel more alive than he’d felt in years, so he hoped it wasn’t him making her nervous, unless it was the good kind.

“So, let me see if I’ve got this straight. The chili cook-off is this Saturday, and the art fair is a week after that?” Zeke asked.

“Yes. I might even call Steve and run my ideas by him.”

“He wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all.”

“Do you miss your job?”

“I’ve been so busy I hardly even think of the office. It seems like weeks rather than days since I last walked through those doors.”

“Not sorry you quit?” he asked, and swirled the wine in his glass, watching her. She seemed even more nervous than earlier.

“Not a bit. And by the way, advertising is Steve’s forte.”

“And yours?”

“Talking, of course, but you knew that. You know, Manny is fired up about the chili cook-off.” She grimaced and her eyes turned cloudy. “I’m not too sure that Rocky is.”

“Oh?” Zeke held his glass midway to his lips. So that was it? The nervousness was because of Rocky. He leaned forward. “What did he say to you?”

“We had a minor altercation. He questioned my actions.”

“How bad was it?”

“He was rude. But he’s never liked me, or what I propose doing for Three C’s.”

Zeke straightened. He sensed she was down playing Rocky’s negative comments. “I’ll speak with him.”

“No. Let it slide. He might want you to take sides. He’d bank on longevity with the family—”

“Well, he might bet on the wrong horse,” Zeke said softly. He took another sip of wine. He’d have to keep an eye on his old friend. “I want you to promise me, if he gives you any more trouble you’ll tell me.”

“Fair enough.”

Zeke smiled and relaxed. “It’ll be good for Manny to have this moment in the spotlight.”

“He said he’s going to concentrate on the cook-off first. He’ll go to one of the big supply stores and stock up on ground beef and beans and all the fixings. The men who compete will supply their own secret ingredients. We’ll provide the basics. Of course there will have to be a keg.”

“Undoubtedly,” Zeke said, and raised his eyebrows. “So, we’re doing this out at the lake?”

“Uh huh. Everyone will bring their own pot to cook in, and their utensils. We’ll supply everything else. Manny said he can set up a large portable barbeque and double-burners.”

“Where is the electricity for those?” Zeke frowned.

“The old house, there’s still electricity there.” She smiled. “I rode over this afternoon and checked it out.”

“There is? Why?” Zeke asked, then he frowned. “You rode over by yourself?”

“Why not? I took Nancy. She’s a great horse. Quiet and sweet.” She averted her eyes from his gaze. “Anyway, it’s a good thing about the electricity, we can use the shade from the long verandah for anyone who needs to get out of the sun, and we can set long tables up there for eating.”

“You’re amazing,” Zeke said, and reached for her hand. “But, I’d rather you didn’t ride around on your own. Will you promise me you won’t do that when I’m gone?”

She flashed him a smile. “Deal.”

He’d have to speak to Rocky about electricity at the old place. First it was a fire hazard because the wiring had to be ancient. And who needed it? It was just another bill to pay. After Saturday he’d begin with his plans to demolish the building.

“Thank you for everything.” He ran his thumb across the back of Dena’s hand. “I love your energy.”

Her lips parted in surprise. He wished they sat closer so he could kiss her.

“Where will we hold the art fair?” he asked, and tried not to focus on her lips.

“Um…I’m not sure. I’ve made some calls and there are available function rooms. Or, we could always do it around the perimeter of the casita and the pool. It would be a nice setting, but it would also mean you’d have to open your home.”

Zeke raised his wine glass. “Eh. I’m not much for that idea.” He took a long sip. He’d surprised himself by inviting Debbie and Rachel out to Three C’s earlier. That was a first. But he did like the women and they’d be fun for Dena to hang out with.

She smiled. “I figured you wouldn’t be enthused about that plan, but on the plus side there’d be no rental fee for a room.”

He thought it over for a moment, weighed the no fee against his privacy being invaded. “What might be nice,” he said slowly, and allowed the thought to take shape. “As this is a tribute to my mother, we could hold it at the Polo Club in Indio.”

“Oh?”

“Dad was a polo player. We’ve always been members.” Excitement built inside him. He eased back in the chair and thought of events they’d held at the club when he was a kid.

“The club is perfect.” He grinned, glad he could participate in some way. “I’ll take you there for lunch the day after tomorrow. We can eat at the Tack Room restaurant and you can check out the place.”

“Would it be available on such short notice?”

“Easy to find out. There’ll be staff still hanging around out there.” He made a call. After a couple of minutes of discussion he put the BlackBerry back in his jacket pocket. “I guess you heard, I put a temporary hold on it, but it’s all subject to your approval.”

“Thank you.”

Dena flashed him one of her brilliant, beautiful smiles, and he warmed to the core. He loved to please her. Could think of a million ways he might please her, but had to push those thoughts away. There’d be time later.

“We need to do both events in quick succession,” Dena said. “I’ll get the advertising started once we know for sure. I’ll contact the newspaper and the local TV station while you go to L.A., and can fill in the details the minute we confirm the Polo Club. Both Debbie and Rachel said they’ll take fliers for their establishments to help get the word out.”

“You’ve thought this through well. I like how you think. Um…this is probably a huge imposition, but speaking of how your mind works, I’ve scanned the old ledgers of my mother. There are some confusing items and…well, I wonder if you’d take a look.”

“Sure. When should we do that?”

Zeke pushed back in his chair. “Tonight? I’d appreciate a second set of eyes. If you’ll come to my office it shouldn’t take long. I’ll even spring for another bottle of wine.”

“Not if I have to look at numbers,” she said and laughed. He relaxed into the pleasure of the sound. Somehow an evening of boring accounting had taken on a whole new light.

Chapter Fifteen

“I’ll run down to the casita and put on something more comfy,” Dena said, as Zeke pulled the car into the garage at the hacienda. “Be back in five.”

“Sure. I need to speak with Irma before she leaves. She’s working way too late. See you in the office, and thanks again for doing this.”

“Save the thanks until later. I might be of no help at all.”

She sprinted down the path. A pair of sweats would be the ticket. She saw the gleam of eyes in the bushes and shivered, a feral cat, no doubt.

Inside she changed clothes, prepared two bowls, one with cool water, the second with shreds of luncheon meat, put the bowls outside her door, locked it, and walked up the path. She stopped and watched for a moment. A black cat approached the food, its neck lengthened and it sniffed from a distance then it caught sight of her and dashed back into the shrubs.

“It’s okay, kitty,” she called out in a sing-song voice. “It’s time for din-dins.” The whole time she inched away to show the animal, if it was still around to see her, that she was aware of boundaries and would put space between them. By the time she reached the back verandah the cat had not reappeared.

Dena arrived in the office first. She’d hoped this was a ruse on Zeke’s part to spend private time alone with her. No such luck. The place was a mess. There were file boxes on the desk, a pile of large blue books—probably the ledgers—on the small coffee table in front of the couch.

The two chairs which faced the desk were stacked high with files. On the credenza were more papers. Each stack had a slip of white paper with the year written on it that showed Zeke had gone back almost ten years.

“Let’s sit on the couch,” Zeke said, from the doorway.

She turned and shook her head. Numbers were not her thing, ever. And with the nice little wine buzz she had going, definitely not tonight. “This is unbelievable,” she said, and found a path around the file boxes.

“Yeah,” Zeke said. “I should have done it a year ago.”

“At least you’re doing it now. Did you find anything good?”

“I wouldn’t necessarily say good, but interesting. Here, take a look at these entries.” He opened several ledgers where he’d marked pages. “What do you make of these?”

Dena sat and pulled a ledger toward her. “St. Matthews?” She scanned each of the entries in the book, turned to the second one. “This is a ton of money.”

“You’re telling me,” Zeke said, and sat close by her side. “Mom contributed over a hundred thousand dollars in the two years before she died. But here’s the kicker, I’ve gone through the tax records, you know the contributions, there’s nothing in there about St. Matthews, or any church for that matter.”

St. Matthews again
, Dena straightened,
what was the connection
? Should she tell him everything she knew and had begun to piece together? It was still so flimsy.

“So, didn’t your mother have an accountant?” Dena asked.

Zeke shook his head. “She’d always handled the business side of things herself.”

“Even the filing of the taxes?”

“Far as I know.”

“Are there copies of the checks?” Dena asked. “I mean the entries say St. Matthews in the ledgers, but who was the check made out to, and who endorsed it?”

Zeke’s eyes widened. “I think we’re on the same page here. Your instinct says blackmail, doesn’t it?”

Dena grimaced, raised her eyebrows then slowly nodded.

“I’ll go to the bank tomorrow. They’ll have micro-fiche records.”

“Good idea.” Dena eyed the mess of paperwork. “How about we put all of this away? I know you trust your staff—but you never know—prying eyes and all that.”

His body tensed, and she knew he’d turned to look at her. She kept her head down. He was way too trusting. “If anyone here is guilty, it might be a good idea not to raise alarms.”

A few seconds passed before he sat back and shoved a hand through his hair, his expression worried. “You’re right.”

Dena’s heart pained for him. She knew he suspected someone in his house and yet, he cared for each one of them. Still, she had to maintain her focus and question him while she had the opportunity.

“Zeke, this is off the subject,” she said gently. “But who did you tell to cancel the phone in the casita when you locked it up?”

He frowned. “I’m not sure. I might have done it myself.”

“Well, see, that’s the thing. It wasn’t disconnected.”

Zeke scratched at the side of his neck and frowned even deeper. “What do you mean?”

“The ringer was turned off, but the jack still works.”

“Huh,” Zeke said. “So, Bob came out for nothing?”

“Yes. Um…another thing…the phone number is the same as the main house.”

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

“Not for me. I’m wondering about eavesdropping, your privacy.”

“I trust my employees,” he said, and visibly stiffened. “And I think they trust me.”

He scratched his eyebrow then stood and went to the telephone. “There’s one number and a recording for when a person calls in. It says something like for Three C’s business press one. If you wish to speak to a member of the Cabrera family press two, for the staff press three—”

“And the fourth extension…was it the casita?”

“Yeah, it used to be mine when I lived here. Zeke’s line,” he said and smiled. “When I moved out, Mom used line four for the casita, but she never listed it on the recording.”

“Like a private line.”

“Exactly. Only those who knew pressed line four.”

“So why did you think of getting rid of that extension?”

“I didn’t intend to re-open the casita. I figured just shut it off in case people called it not knowing Mom had passed away.” Zeke grimaced. “Why the sudden interest in the phone line?”

“Well, this is just an idea…a thought really, but I think it’s a clue. Both of the victims had your telephone number on their person, or in their purse, as was Carli’s case.”

“Yes,” he said softly.

“Well, Susie already knew your number, so I always thought that was odd. What if someone used the casita for trysts? What if they gave that number out as their own private number and said when you hear the recording press line four and—”