Fierce Pride (21 page)

The chef’s smile widened, and Santos nodded to send him back to the kitchen. Refusing to be jealous, he blamed the lack of sleep for the painful sense of dismay twisting his gut. “Do you want to call the guy who went to New York?”

“Hmm?” She kept chewing and swallowed. “What made you think of him? I never do.”

He shrugged and ate his breakfast. Libby was so damn obvious about how much she enjoyed being with him, and he couldn’t stand the thought of the other men she’d known. He wouldn’t even try to recall more women’s names than he’d given Javier Cazares, but he’d never forget Libby.

Josue Vargas, the arson inspector, arrived soon after they’d eaten breakfast. He was remarkably thin, and a large hatchet-like nose overshadowed his pinched features. He looked down it as he queried Santos. “You have no security system?”

“I do, but it failed last night.”

He shot a quick glance toward Libby. “Did you forget to arm it?”

“I saw him do it before we went upstairs in the elevator,” Libby interjected. “Whoever set the fire must have disarmed it when they broke in.”

“I’ll make a thorough inspection,” the man promised. “You needn’t follow me around. I find it distracting.”

“I understand,” Santos replied. “The elevator repairman should be here soon. Will you clear it for repair?”

“After I’ve taken sufficient photographs. I’m taking the wastebasket and its contents with me. I’ll survey the house and let you know if there’s any evidence of a break-in.”

“Please do.” Santos sank down on the sofa in the living room. “I’m going to stay here. Will you please see if Adolfo is back with the papers?”

She’d taken only two steps toward the door when Adolfo appeared with his arms full. She moved behind the sofa to look over Santos’s shoulder. Several of the tabloids had photos of the fire, but they were taken from the beach side, and she and Santos weren’t in them.

Santos skimmed through the papers. “Here’s one where we’re in front. The consensus is we barely escaped death in the flames.”

“Have there been any other suspicious fires nearby?” she asked.

“There’s no mention of a serial arsonist. I’ll ask Inspector Vargas before he leaves.”

She whispered, “He gives me the creeps. There was a famous case in California where an arson inspector set fires he’d later investigate.”

He turned to look up at her. “A lot of strange things happen in California, don’t they?”

“Some say so, but it’s a large state, so naturally more occurs there.”

He rested his head against the back of the sofa and closed his eyes. She caught herself before she touched his hair and withdrew her hand. He was just so damn appealing. She loved men, but she didn’t hang on them the way some girls did.

She’d never spent the night with a boyfriend either. She’d always bolt before dawn, and not because she worried about how she’d look in the morning. She just didn’t need to remain close after sex and liked waking up alone in her own bed. She hadn’t even thought about leaving Santos’s bed last night. The smoke reached his room before it would have reached hers, so it was a good thing she’d stayed. He might have been overcome with smoke before the first hint of it reached her room. She rubbed her arms, but a chilling shiver remained.

Josue Vargas checked in with them as promised. “There’s no sign of a break-in. Someone knew the security code, or there’s a flaw in the company’s service. You should consider switching companies. I’ll send you a copy of my report for your insurance firm.”

“Have there been other cases of arson near here?”

Vargas pursed his lips thoughtfully. “A couple of ridiculous attempts for insurance money, but nothing close to you. Neither involved disabling the security system. Most fires are due to accidents or carelessness, not arson.”

Santos thanked him, and he left, leaving them at a loss for answers. “You likened Patricia to a sieve. Could she have gotten the code from Maggie and passed it along to someone?”

“To Victoria? Yes, but Maggie is smart enough not to give it to her. Where do you suppose she and Rafael have gone?”

“He wouldn’t tell me his plans, but I asked him to call in, and he hasn’t.”

“Now I’m worried. Call Maggie and see if she answers, but don’t tell them about the fire.”

Maggie answered on the first ring. He could hear Rafael laughing in the background. “I wanted to make certain you two are all right.”

“Of course we are. How are you and Libby?”

“We’re busy. I’m tired of being on crutches, and she’s working to distract me.”

“That’s good. We’ll see you soon.”

“One last thing. I’ll probably change the security code before you come home. Did you give it to anyone in your family?”

“No. What’s missing?”

“Nothing, I’m just trying to do a better job of taking care of things.”

He ended the call. “She didn’t share the code. They’re safe, and if they don’t pick up any of the tabloids, it will look as though we are too.”

She frowned and rubbed her temple. “Could the problem be with the security company?”

“I’ll ask when their man gets here. If someone is leaking codes there, they’ll be out of business soon.”

“They deserve to be.”

The elevator repairman took one look at what was left of the elevator and sent for his supervisor. After a thorough inspection, the supervisor shook his head sadly. “The elevator must be replaced. Parts are no longer available, and I’d not recommend repairing such an old model even if parts could be found. Would you like me to prepare an estimate?”

“Yes, please,” Santos replied. The wood paneling had been as intricately inlaid as a jewel box. Now all that remained were the blackened steel walls.

He hobbled back to his place on the living room sofa. “We’re lucky the fire didn’t damage more of the house.”

“That’s one way to look on the bright side.” Libby curled up on the opposite end of the sofa.

“I don’t dare be otherwise. There’s a dark strain running through the Aragon family, and I won’t be part of it.”

“People don’t have a choice. Depression is a disease.” She recalled his mother’s death as a probable example. “Exercise affects your mood. So does sunshine. Let’s go out on the patio.”

“Bring the papers.” He grabbed the arm of the sofa and rose on his own. Once seated at the round table, he began comparing the photos of the fire with their view. “It just occurred to me our fire bug may have stayed on the beach to take photos he planned to sell.”

“Photos usually have a credit. Is the photographer’s name given?”

“No, but I’ll have Cazares look into it. I thought I’d have heard from him by now.”

She sat forward in her chair. “Could something have happened to him?”

He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and called him. Relief washed over his face as Javier answered. Their conversation was brief. “He’s just finished printing the photos he took yesterday, and he’ll be here within the hour.”

“Good.” She shaded her eyes with her hand and searched for a familiar face on the beach. “I don’t see Victoria.”

“Maybe she was on vacation and went home.”

“I don’t think so. There was something so, well, theatrical about her. Patricia makes friends easily, but Victoria might have targeted her to begin with.”

“I didn’t like her,” he stressed.

“I didn’t either.”

“No, you don’t understand. She was a beautiful woman, but not my type.”

“I wasn’t jealous,” she countered, disappointed she’d apparently fallen into his favorite category of women through no effort on her own.

“No, of course not.”

His rakish grin made her laugh. “I’m here for the summer, Santos. Like whomever you please. I’ll be gone soon.” That was the way she was going to keep it, even if she did have to remind both of them often.

Javier Cazares arrived with a manila folder. “I photographed the protesters while the excitement of people entering the arena would cover it. Later, I pretended to be sympathetic to the cause. I didn’t want to be accused of interrogating them, but those I spoke to appeared sincere.” He laid the photos on the glass-topped table. “Do any of these people look familiar to you?”

Santos picked up the first photo and passed it over to Libby. “I’ve ignored them, so I can’t say if this is the same crowd that usually hugs that corner.” He stopped on the fourth photo. “Is this Victoria?”

Libby leaned close. Her pose and long, black hair were impossible to mistake. “Yes, but she’s standing back, not yelling or waving a placard. She could have just been passing by. Did you speak to her?”

Cazares pointed to the man beside her. “I made a brief attempt, but he blocked my way. When I asked him if he thought the group was making progress, he sneered at me, and I moved on. I’ve no desire to confront a man who’s half my age and lifts weights before breakfast.”

“I don’t blame you.” Santos sorted through the other photos. “May I keep these? If I see someone from this crowd somewhere else, I want to recognize them.”

“Of course. The group meets tomorrow night. I’ll go and see what I can discover about the woman. Her name may or may not be Victoria.”

“She moves like a dancer,” Libby remarked. “That would be a way to find her, wouldn’t it?”

Cazares responded with a rare smile. “Yes, a beautiful dancer would want to be found. I’ll do my best. Is there anything else?”

Santos glanced toward Libby and shrugged. “Well, yes, we did have a little trouble last night.”

Cazares listened with increasing horror. “You must change the locks immediately. I’ll call a locksmith who carries a brand that’s nearly impossible to pick. He’ll also upgrade the dead bolts. As for security, I’ll check the main panel. People are very clever with electronics, but there would be evidence left behind.”

After he left them, Libby continued studying the photos. “The outfit she’s wearing looks familiar. I wonder if she could have bought it at the boutique where Maggie shopped. Do you mind if I take the photo and go and ask? I’ll make it sound as though I’m interested in the dress, not Victoria.”

“Go ahead, but first will you please bring my Stephen King book from my room?”

She got up and kissed him on her way into the house and when she came back. “I won’t be gone long. I’ll take my purse so it will look as though I’m really shopping.”

She moved across the sand with a determined grace. He couldn’t see her without wanting her. He meant to open his book, but his gaze remained on her until she had vanished in the distance.

Libby entered the boutique expecting to find the friendly clerk who’d helped them last week, but a petite redhead stood at the counter. “Hi, is Carmela here?”

The clerk leaned close to whisper, “She found a better job. I’m Abigail. May I find something for you?”

Libby had counted on Carmela remembering her. It would have made things so much easier. “Hi, Abigail. A friend of mine took photos at the bullfights yesterday, and this woman was wearing a dress I thought I’d seen here. I wondered if you had it in my size?”

Abigail took the photo and squinted slightly, then pulled her glasses from her pocket. “I need to get contacts. We might have one on the sale rack, but I don’t believe it’s in your size. Let’s look. Maybe you’ll see something else you like.”

Libby reached for the photo. “It’s just that it’s so cute on this girl.”

“Everything looks cute on Victoria. She’d be a model if she were taller.” She looked up at Libby. “You’re a model, aren’t you?”

“No, but I’m considering it. Does Victoria come in often?”

“She used to work here and comes in once in a while. She had a tremendous crush on Miguel Aragon, the matador, and heard he lived near here. He had a heart attack and died a month or so ago, and she wept as though he’d been part of her family. His son Santos is nearly as hot, butis sHisHiHis son is nearly
 
I like to know that when my man goes to work, he’ll be coming home for dinner.”

“So do I,” Libby agreed. “Victoria looks familiar. Maybe we’ve met. Do you know her last name?”

“Rubio, but I don’t know where she’s working now.”

There was an extra-large size of the dress in question on the rack. Libby wouldn’t have to try it on and make up an excuse not to buy it. That was a relief. “I don’t really have time to shop now, but I’ll come in again soon.”

“Please do. I work on commission.”

Libby walked down the beach until she’d passed the tourist shops, then pulled off her sandals and jogged along the damp sand at the shore to the Aragon house. She dropped into her seat and startled Santos so badly he lost his place in his book.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to surprise you.” She set the photo on the table. “Her name is Victoria Rubio, and she used to work at the boutique. Apparently she had a crush on your father, so it seems odd she’d join an anti-bullfighting demonstration. Has Mr. Cazares left?”

“No, he’s still here, but you did miss the insurance adjuster. Cazares didn’t find anything wrong with the security panel, and now he’s checking all the windows and doors. I’ll ask him to find out all he can about Victoria. She was so friendly the day Rafael and I met her. Apparently it was an act.”