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

it?”
    He nodded gravely. “You needed a new car anyway.”
    If I’d expected sympathy for the gaping wound that opened when I saw I’d killed my beloved old Volvo, I’d come to the wrong place entirely. This was the guy who’d complained about my car even when it looked good. Sadness turned to fury, and I would have stalked off if I’d had more than two steps to go. As it was, I gave the door a good slam.
    But of course, the damn thing wouldn’t start. I had to get the traitor and a couple of other neighbors to help me push it to the curb—after Mr. Donahue consented to move his precious RV—and then I had to endure the humiliation of describing the accident to the teenage policeman summoned by Mr. Donahue:
    “But, Miss Schwartz, what were you looking at?”
    “I thought I saw a bug.”
    “A bug?”
    “A bee. I thought there was a bee in the car. I tried to swat it.”
    “But your windows were closed,”
    “Officer, is this really relevant?”
    “It just seems so … unusual.”
    Julio offered to take me home, though he seemed to take it for granted I had to be medicated before I could travel.
    Without asking, he poured me a glass of wine and one for himself. He sat down and apparently felt I should sit next to him.
    “Were you coming to visit, I hope?” he said.
    “You didn’t go for the bee story?”
    “If you weren’t coming to visit, perhaps you were watching my house. Don’t you trust me, Rebecca?”
    He was wearing khaki pants and a black polo shirt, as if dressed for a date. That and the memory of the kiss threw me off for a moment.
    And then I remembered about the murders. I was so horrified, I gasped. “You mean was I hoping to catch you on your way to commit another murder, thereby clearing both my clients?”
    “Well, I heard that joke about the white rats. I haven’t been around that many lawyers, but people say they’ll do anything.”
    That made me mad. “You probably also think Jewish women don’t date outside their faith.”
    His eyes went all twinkly on me. “Esperanza tells me otherwise.”
    “Little big mouth. Where is she anyway?”
    “At Amber’s. Could I ask you something?”
    Would I go out with him? Sure.
    Would I run away with him? Why not?
    Would I marry him? Maybe.
    “Would you tell me what you were up to when you demolished poor Mr. Donahue’s RV?”
    I’d had a glass of wine by now, and nothing to eat. I said, “I was trying to see if the silver car across the street was yours.”
    “I don’t understand.”
    “It’s complicated. Maybe I’d better ask you a question.”
    “Shoot.”
    “Are you seeing Marty?”
    “Seeing her? You mean dating?”
    “Something like that. To be euphemistic about it.”
    His brows knit in confusion. “
Marty
? Of course not. Why on earth would you think that?”
    I thought about whether I had a right to give Marty’s secrets away and decided it wasn’t the lawyer she’d asked to get the calendar, it was the friend. “Because Marty met someone at a motel a while ago whose initial is J.”
    Utter disbelief played over his features. Was he talking to a female filbert?
    I said, “Oh, hell,” and laid the whole thing out for him, from the calendar to Don.
    He was still mixed-up. “But what did you care?” he said. “What does it matter who she was seeing?”
    “You’re making this awfully difficult for me.”
    “Oh. You were checking on me.”
    I nodded, knowing I must be the color of Mr. Donahue’s scalp.
    “Well, that was sweet of you.”
    “You’re handsome, Julio, but I don’t know if you’re worth losing a car over.”
    “It was meant to be. That car was no good for you.”
    “I loved that car.” The wound opened up again. I guess I looked as sad as I felt. Julio must have wanted to give me something. Or maybe he was just antsy around the “l” word.
    He said: “Everyone knows who she’s seeing, by the way. I don’t know who she thinks she’s fooling.”
    “Marty?
You
know who Marty’s seeing?”
    “Jim Lambert, the chairman of the board.”
    “Of the aquarium?”
    He nodded. “Of course. Haven’t you figured that out about Marty? She likes to play the angles.”
    “I think I’m starting to catch on. Is Lambert married, by any chance?”
    “Sure. Why do you think they had to meet in a motel?”
    “I get it. So if she covered for him to the point of going to jail, she might have quite an edge with him.”
    “I happen to know she wants the job Warren thinks he’s