St Kilda Consulting 01 - Always Time to Die

be called a smile. “He drove her—to it. Castillo land. Always. ”
    “Of course,” Carly said gently, trying to soothe the increasingly agitated older woman. “The Senator is dead and the land will go to Sylvia’s son, a Castillo as well as a Quintrell.”
    Winifred’s face darkened as she coughed harshly, uselessly, gasping for air.
    Dr. Sands rushed into the suite. “No more talking, Miss Winifred. I mean it.” He bent over and replaced the oxygen mask she’d pulled off an hour ago. “If I have to, I’ll transport you to a hospital against your will. The governor agreed with me. If necessary, we’ll call a judge and have you declared incompetent.”
    Winifred gave the doctor a burning look and fought to control her breathing.
    Carly started to gather up photos and documents, only to discover that Dan already had. Together they quickly walked out of the room, leaving Winifred and the doctor to their clashing wills.
    “I should have asked her about the old Spanish documents first,” Carly said.
    “Other people read old Spanish. Winifred is the only one left alive who remembers the Quintrell family during the last half of the twentieth century.”
    “What about the governor? He’s alive.”
    “He probably knows less about what his family was like than you do. Josh Quintrell didn’t even come home for Christmases.”
    “So Sylvia tried to kill the Senator,” Carly said. “I wonder what triggered it?”
    “Maybe she found out he was fathering bastards when he damn well knew how to prevent it. We’ll check the birth dates around that time. All of the birth dates, not just the probable ones.”
    The whap whap whap of a helicopter’s rotors announced that the governor might have missed all the holidays with his family, but he would make it to Sylvia’s memorial service.
    Carly wondered why.
    “Why what?” Dan asked.
    “Sorry, I didn’t know I said it aloud.”
    Dan waited.
    “Why does he bother coming here at all?” Carly said. “His parents sent him off to year-round boarding schools when he was seven and never looked back until his older brother died.”
    “Josh is the Senator’s son through and through,” Dan said.
    “What does that mean?”
    “He’s political to his core. The last thing a politician would do is miss his mother’s funeral.”
    “Gee, you have a cheery view of human nature,” Carly said.
    “What does cheer have to do with it?”
    “Nothing.”
    “Bingo,” Dan said, smiling grimly.
    He set down the cartons of supplies and photos before he gestured for her to precede him into the next room, the place where Sylvia had spent so much of her life. Winifred had wanted the memorial service to be here. No one had argued.
    Maybe no one had cared. Certainly the guests hadn’t eaten much of the food that had been put out, despite the attractive presentation of canapés and glass coffee cups and saucers, and crystal wine goblets. There was a striking geometric design made by very small cups with no handles, like Turkish espresso cups, set out on an antique silver tray. Apparently the cups were meant for later in the ceremony, because two red ribbons in the form of a cross were laid protectively over them. The rich satin of the ribbon contrasted with the unglazed, undecorated clay cups and the nearby small, unglazed clay pitcher. The plain clay looked quite at home next to the array of santos glaring down at the table from nearby walls.
    Carly glanced away from the primitive, and somehow primal, carvings of saints. There was something about the obviously hand-carved santos that made her uneasy in the same way that much Mayan art made her uneasy.
    A fire burned cheerfully in the corner hearth, as if to counter the dark oppression of the santos.
    Melissa, Pete, Alma, and Lucia were already sitting in four of the folding chairs that had been set up in the back of the room. Three other chairs were set up near the quietly burning hearth. Carly assumed those seats were for the family, so she headed toward Melissa and the ever-sullen Alma. Lucia nodded and smiled toward Carly. Feeling like a second thumb, Carly smiled back and sat in an empty chair. Dan sat next to her. If he felt out of place it didn’t show in his expression.
    A few moments later, Dr. Sands wheeled Winifred past the folding chairs to the front of the room. He set the brakes of her wheelchair, checked the oxygen flow, and walked briskly to the back of the room. Without a word to anyone, he sat near