A Sprig of Blossomed Thorn (10 page)

M
y first instinct was to defend poor Rosa. “You can't suspect her! If you had seen how upset she was—”

“She's not being accused of anything.”

“Yet,” I said, with rather more edge to my voice than I'd intended.

Tony gave me a look of suppressed impatience. “Look, I don't tell you how to make tea.”

“All right.” I stood up. “Yes, of course you may use the office. I'll bring Rosa up.”

“Thanks.”

Remembering Tony's interview technique, I paused in the doorway. “Would you mind if I stayed with her?”

“Frankly, yes.”

“I won't say anything, I promise. I just want to lend her moral support. She's young, and she just lost her grandmother.”

“Which is why I'm here.”

I gave him my best Miss Manners repressive glare. He looked up at the sloping ceiling and heaved a sigh.

“OK. But you say one word and,” he gestured toward the door with a thumb.

I smiled. “Promise,” I said, and hurried downstairs to collect Rosa.

She was in the pantry dressing trays for the next batch of customers. Julio was gone, and Kris only works half-days on Saturdays, so she had left as well. I ran Iz down in the gift shop and warned her she'd be on her own for a little while.

“No problem, Boss!” she said, then covered her mouth. “I mean, Ellen.”

I gave her a tolerant smile. “We'll be back down as soon as we can.”

Returning to the pantry, I found Rosa with her hands full of a pan of hot scones. I helped her add them to the tea trays, then took her upstairs, pausing on the landing to inform her that Tony was here and wanted to talk to her.

“He's been asked to investigate your grandmother's death,” I said in a low voice.

“Investigate?” She looked alarmed.

“He just wants to ask you a few questions. I'll stay with you, all right?”

I saw her swallow. “OK.”

I led her into the office, where Tony had made himself at home behind my desk. “Rosa, this is Detective Aragón.”

She nodded, looking terrified. Tony smiled.

“Hi, Rosa,” he said. “Have a seat.”

She sat down, and I took the other guest chair. Tony flipped through the pages of his notebook for a moment, then looked up at Rosa.

“Your grandmother lived at Casa de Sónset. How often did you visit her there?”

Rosa blinked. “Once or twice a month, I guess.”

“When was the last time you were there?”

“Um.” She frowned in thought. “I think it was Mother's Day.”

Tony made a note. “Did your father go over there more often?”

“Well, yes.”

Rosa cast a nervous glance at me. I smiled to reassure her.

“How often?”

“He's there a couple of times a week, usually. He brings her groceries, fixes things for her.”

“And they got along OK?”

“Yes.”

“Even though she was technically his employer? Did they ever argue about how he handled the restaurant?”

“Maybe they disagreed a little sometimes. I've never heard them argue.”

Tony wrote something in the notebook, then peered at it for a long while. The silence stretched. Rosa fidgeted in her chair.

“How about your mother? She get along OK with your grandmother?”

“Yes.”

“Everyone else in the family get along with her?”

Rosa was silent. I saw a frown tighten her brow.

“Mostly,” she said finally.

“Mostly?”

Tony stared at her, the flat cop stare that I so dislike. It annoyed me to see him using it on Rosa, but I held my tongue. He glanced at me, then spoke in a gentler tone.

“Who would you say got along with her the least?”

“M-my Aunt Estella. They haven't spoken for years.”

“Why?”

Rosa looked down at her hands, and I noticed they were clenched in her lap. “Aunt Estella got a divorce. Nana never forgave her.”

“Ah.” Tony wrote for a minute, then looked up. “Anyone else?”

“I t-think she was OK with everyone else.”

“You think? But you're not sure?”

I frowned at Tony. He was starting to bully. He didn't look at me, but I knew he knew I disapproved.

“Well, Uncle Matt has an Anglo girlfriend, and Nana didn't like that.” Rosa turned her head to look at me. “Sorry.”

I smiled, letting her know I understood. Mrs. Garcia had been conservative about her family, I gathered. Not that unusual.

In New Mexico, Hispanics and Anglos share a lot of things—political power, economic power, cultural influence—but there are sometimes invisible lines that one crosses at one's own risk. A powerful woman like Mrs. Garcia would be able to draw such lines for those under her influence.

Tony bent to his notepad. “What's the girlfriend's name?”

“Sherry, uh—Anderson, I think.”

“What's she like?”

Rosa shrugged. “I've only met her a couple of times. Uncle Matt doesn't bring her to a lot of family parties. She's nice, I guess.”

“How long have they been dating?”

“Um, maybe five, six years?”

Tony gazed at her thoughtfully. “Are they living together?”

A faint blush came into Rosa's cheeks. She nodded. “For about a year. Nana didn't approve.”

Tony made another note. I kept a concerned eye on Rosa. She was bearing up all right, but she didn't look comfortable. I glanced at my watch, debating whether to put a stop to it by saying we had to get back to work.

“What about you?” Tony asked. “How did you get along with your grandmother?”

Rosa broke into a beaming smile. “She was the best! She was my champion.”

“Your champion?”

Rosa nodded. “When I wanted to come work here, and Papa didn't want me to, she said to let me make my own choices.” Rosa looked at me. “She said if I could succeed in the Anglo world, all the better for me.”

Tony caught my eye and looked smug. I chose to ignore it. He leaned back in my chair and looked down at his notes.

“You know of anyone who might've been mad at your grandmother?”

Rosa gazed at him, looking bewildered, then shook her head. “No. She's strict, but everyone loves her. Even Aunt Estella.”

“What about someone outside the family?”

Rosa shrugged. “The other restaurant managers, maybe. I don't know. I haven't heard anything.”

“OK. Thanks.”

Tony sat frowning at his notes for a long moment. Rosa shifted in her chair.

“Is that it? Can I go?”

Tony glanced up at her. “Yeah, you can go.”

Rosa stood up at once, looking relieved. I followed her to the door, but paused there and waited until she had gone downstairs, then looked back at Tony.

“I hope you got what you needed.”

Tony glanced at me. “Oh, yeah. Big help. Hadn't heard about the Anglo girlfriend. Course I haven't talked to Matt yet, but it's interesting that Ricardo didn't mention it.”

“Families protect their secrets.”

“And matriarchs rule with a rod of iron.” Tony stood up and came to the door, stuffing his notebook in a pocket. “Maybe Uncle Matt and his girlfriend will have an easier time of it now.”

“You're not suggesting—”

“Nope. Not suggesting anything. Just cogitating. Hell, I don't even know if we have a crime here. She could have picked it up accidentally. Botulism exists pretty commonly in plain old dirt, the M.E. told me.”

“She was a gardener,” I said, thinking of our brief conversation about roses.

“Yeah? So maybe she got a cut dirty. Could just be bad luck.”

“In that case, why are you interviewing her family?”

“Hey, it's job security. I'm told to investigate, I investigate. Speaking of which, I need to talk to the grandson.” He consulted his notebook. “Julio Delgado.”

“He's gone home for the day. He comes in early.”

“OK, I'll catch him later.” He stepped past me into the upper hall. “Thanks for the use of your office.”

“You're welcome.”

“See you in a couple of hours.”

His eyelids drooped a little as he said that, very sexy. My pulse increased a bit.

“What should I wear?”

He shrugged. “You always look great.”

“I was thinking along the lines of motorcycle or not.”

“Oh. Not.” He grinned. “See you.”

He took the stairs at a run, though he didn't make too much noise. I, being in Proprietress mode, made a more dignified descent, arriving at the ground floor just in time to see Tony holding the front door for three elderly women. I smiled and went to greet them as Tony headed out.

“Good afternoon. Do you have a reservation?”

The tallest, who looked smart in a pink linen suit and matching hat, said, “Timothy. Joan.”

I stepped to the podium and checked the reservation list. “Ah, yes. You're in Jonquil. Right this way.”

The ladies made admiring noises as I led them through the parlor to their seating area. A breeze was disturbing the lace curtains in Jonquil and I lowered the window, leaving it open just a crack.

“This is lovely,” said Ms. Timothy. She waved a hand, taking in the whole parlor. “Tell me, do you ever open up this room for larger functions?”

“We can, yes. We also have a dining parlor that seats up to twelve.”

She exchanged a glance with one of the other ladies, who shrugged. One of them, whose dress was a floral print with a white, lace-edged collar, said, “That would work for a board meeting, but not for the whole group.”

“Are you planning an event?” I asked.

Ms. Timothy smiled. “We have an annual dinner, and we thought we'd do something a little different this year. Perhaps a tea.”

“Everyone expects a dinner,” said the third woman, who wore a simple dress of green cotton and looked a trifle grumpy.

“And I do think this place is a little small,” said the woman in the floral dress in a worried tone. She glanced at me. “No offense, but it's fifty people or so, usually, at the dinner.”

I nodded. “I understand, though we had close to seventy at our grand opening. That was more of a reception, with a full afternoon tea. We used this room and had overflow into the smaller parlor and the dining parlor. Now that the weather's warmer we could also overflow out onto the
portal
.”

“Hmm. That might work.” Ms. Timothy looked out the window at the wisteria-shaded
portal
. “The setting is certainly perfect. You have beautiful roses. Do you do your own gardening?”

“Yes, I do. Thank you.”

“You should consider joining the Rose Guild,” said the worried woman, smiling at me as if to make up for her doubts about having an event here.

“You're the second person this week to suggest that to me,” I said.

“Really?” said Ms. Timothy. “Who was the first?”

Too late, I realized the awkwardness of bringing up Mrs. Garcia. I held onto my smile, reflecting that I didn't have to mention the circumstances of her advising me to join the Rose Guild. I caught sight of Iz by the flower urn, waiting to bring in a tray with a cozy-covered teapot.

“It was Maria Garcia,” I said pleasantly, and was about to step out of Iz's way, but I stopped when I saw their reactions.

Ms. Timothy looked aghast. Ms. Grumpy looked smug, and Ms. Worried looked viciously angry.

 

 

11

“O
h, poor dear Maria!” said Ms. Timothy. “We just heard about her unfortunate demise. That's one of the things we're going to talk about today, what to do for her memorial.”

She glanced at the other ladies. Ms. Worried had controlled her features, but still looked annoyed.

“I don't see the need to do anything at all,” she said.

“Lucy!”

“You know all she did was cause trouble!”

Ms. Grumpy joined the fray. “That's not entirely true.”