Dead In The Water (Rebecca Schwartz Mystery #4) (The Rebecca Schwartz Series)

I had no problem figuring out who she meant; Bruce had been in my class at Boalt.
    “He’s separated from his wife, by the way—he made a special point of telling me—and asking about you.”
    “Chris, stop being Southern, would you? I can’t think about that right now.”
    “Of course not. He’s for later, maybe.” She gave me the judge’s number.
    I dialed eagerly, mentally preparing my spiel, and got not so much as an answering machine. I dialed again. Nothing. So I called Bruce for her address. No luck there either. Coming back from the phone, I found I had trouble believing the handsome man in the white pants and light yellow sweatshirt was actually waiting for me. This Julio was something else in the looks department, and the worried frown he wore was the most appealing thing about him. I was truly reverting to form. Rob wasn’t the vulnerable type at all, but the minute he was out of my sight, I was up to my old tricks. I pulled in my energy and tried to think of this as an exercise in information gathering.
    Julio looked oddly sad when he smiled. “They have cappuccino here.”
    “Good. I’d love some.” Maybe it would sharpen my rapidly dulling faculties. “Could I ask you a question?”
    “Sure.”
    “What were you looking for in Sadie’s office?”
    “Oh, that. Something of Esperanza’s—a rock or something she found on the beach.”
    “Why did Sadie have it?”
    He opened his arms in the universal helpless gesture. “They were playing some sort of game—I don’t know. They were close.”
    “Esperanza and Sadie?”
    Remembering what Marty had said, I wondered if Sadie had once been Esperanza’s stand-in stepmother. But Julio said, “When Don started living with her, Libby naturally started spending a lot of time with the two of them. Esperanza went over to spend a weekend and fell in love. It was that simple. Sometimes she’d come over to the aquarium after school, and do you think she’d ask to see me? Not first, anyway. That’s why Sadie’s death hit her so hard.”
    I sipped my cappuccino.
    “I don’t know,” said Julio. “I guess she misses her mother.”
    “Is this the first time she’s been away from her?”
    “For this long, yes. I've had her all summer.”
    “That must have been nice.”
    “Uh-huh. And hard. Really hard. I’d have been lost without Libby and Amber, another kid whose dad works with Marty and me.”
    “Do you miss her mom, too?”
    He thought it over. “I don’t guess I do anymore. She went back to Santa Barbara—we’re both from there. Out of sight, out of mind, I guess.”
    I must have winced, because he said, “I didn’t mean that the way you think. I meant that it seems more final when you don’t see the person every day.”
    “Santa Barbara’s nice.”
    He smiled wryly. “A nice place to be from. All Hispanics are called Mexicans there.”
    “Even second-generation ones?”
    “Even Salvadorans.” His mouth twitched briefly as if he meant to smile when he said it, but couldn’t quite manage. “I wish Esperanza could grow up in a friendlier atmosphere. But Sylvia thinks she’s better off being near her grandparents. I don’t know, maybe she’s right. At least she’ll never have to do domestic service like they did.”
    “What’s her mom do?”
    “Social worker. That’s why she went back. Many good works crying out to be done.”
    “But you prefer fish.”
    “Any day.” His teeth were almost translucent. His lips were so full they looked slightly puckered even in repose. When he smiled, I couldn’t take my eyes off his mouth. “What exactly do you do at the aquarium?”
    “Marine biologist. We all are, those of us in husbandry. We don’t all collect, though; that’s the best part.”
    “Of course. That’s where the adventure is.” We both smiled, and we locked eyes. I looked away quickly. Visual caresses weren’t what I was there for.
    “I want to start teaching Esperanza to snorkel, but she doesn’t seem all that interested.”
    “She’s got a hell of a lot on her mind right now, with her parents breaking up—”
    “Do you have kids?”
    “No, why?”
    “I was hoping you could help me with mine.”
    “That’s an odd request—don’t you have a woman friend you could ask?”
    He shrugged. “Well, that’s my problem. Marty’s in jail and Sadie’s dead.” His voice dropped on the last two words, and I thought it was more than some societal acknowledgment of her death.
    “Did you like her?