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

past me, out the window. “Here comes Ricky. Maybe Amber’s with him.”
    I remembered that Amber was a young friend of Esperanza’s, and seeing a boy—or young man—getting out of his car, I thought he might be her brother. He was wearing a baseball cap, jeans, and tennies. He was fairly slight and fairly short—maybe a boy and maybe a man. Almost certainly the fleeing figure I’d so impulsively chased.
    Clearly hoping for a juvenile distraction, Julio strode past me and opened the door. “Ricky, boy, come in. Did you bring Amber?”
    “Amber’s grounded. We’re talking about a very, very naughty girl.”
    “What’d she do?”
    “Something so bad I don’t even want to say.” He came in, spotted me, and went, without missing a beat, into a none-too-subtle onceover. He wasn’t Amber’s brother. Either he was another single father or married life didn’t suit him.
    “Ricky Flynn, Rebecca Schwartz,” said Julio.
    I nodded, not offering to shake. Ricky’s staring had put me off.
    Ricky nodded back, gave me a worried look—did he recognize me?—and turned to Julio, all but jerking his head in my direction, spelling out that he wished I weren’t there. A polite person would have left the room. I thought I’d learn more if I stayed.
    Ricky said, “Hey, man, I’ve got to talk to you.”
    “Ricky, it’s not a good time. Esperanza’s really flattened by Sadie’s death.”
    “Oh, God! It’s true.” Ricky looked as if he might cry. “That’s what I came by to ask. I thought it was just some crazy rumor. Marty—”
    Julio looked a warning. “Rebecca’s Marty’s lawyer,” he said quickly.
    “
You’re
Marty’s lawyer?’’
    I nodded, slightly amused that he wanted it repeated. On second look, there was something appealing about Ricky, and it was the thing that had put me off at first—the boyish quality that included staring like a teenager. He took off the baseball hat and ran a hand through light hair that was cut stylishly spiky, but wouldn’t stand up right after its mashing. Some of it sagged and some stuck up in tufts, affording an amusingly zany look that went well with his freckles. I thought he was younger than Julio, but I couldn’t be sure. It was hard to imagine him a father.
    He blurted, “I heard Marty murdered her.”
    “You did? Maybe you better tell me about it.”
    He flushed. “I thought it was just a rumor.” He stuffed his hands in his jeans and stared at his tennis shoes. “It’s really true, huh?”
    “It’s really true someone murdered her. Where were
you
last night between six and eight?”
    “Me?” He seemed deeply shocked by the question. “Having dinner with Amber.”
    “Just kidding.”
    “Oh.” To Julio he said, “This really messes me up, man.”
    “Ricky, could we talk about it later?”
    “Oh, yeah. Sorry—see you later.” He gave me a nervous, surreptitious grin and more or less stumbled out, tripping over his toes. The look reminded me of a little kid who covers his face and thinks he’s invisible. Ricky might be a
puer etemus
, but it’s the sort of thing lots of grown-ups do.
    The funny thing is that it usually works, I’ve noticed. When one person telegraphs he wants to keep something secret, others usually enter into a silent conspiracy to help him do it, even when it’s much to their disadvantage. And so my natural impulse was to respect Ricky’s privacy. I ignored it.
    “I think I made him uncomfortable,” I said. “He gave me a funny look when he left.”
    “You didn’t make him uncomfortable. He thought you were swell.”
    “It seemed as if he really had something on his mind.”
    “Ricky overdramatizes.”
    Oh, well. Discretion is a good quality in a man.
    All this time, there hadn’t been a peep out of Esperanza. We found her lying on her bed staring at the wall.
    Julio said, “
Nena
, I’ve brought Rebecca. You know—the nice lady from Libby’s? I thought you might want to talk to her.”
    No answer.
    The hopelessness of the whole idea swept over me like a bucket of cold water. And I was furious. Esperanza had been afraid of me before, she’d be afraid of me now. I was a stranger. She wasn’t going to talk to me.
    Now I saw exactly why Julio had brought me here. This was no sexual ploy, it was a sexist one. Dealing with difficult children was women’s work and he’d simply never learned how to do it. He’d told me the truth—I was sure he did feel helpless in the face of Esperanza’s withdrawal.