Love, Art, and Murder – Mystery Romance - Page 60

“Those were your rules, not mine. I just decided to listen to them for a while.”

I rubbed my forehead. “Grandma—”

“I let you handle this, but now you need to step aside and let my gods handle it. Two women have died.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“And they’re cut up!”

“I’m aware of that also. Wait a minute. How do you know they’re cut up?”

Her expression faltered for a minute and then she quickly looked away. “How would I not? It’s all over the news, I think, and everybody has been whispering about it. The cook is scared. The maids are jumping around every time someone walks by them. We won’t have anybody here to clean this ridiculous castle by the end of the week.”

“Where did you get the blood, Grandma?”

“Why? Do you think I killed those girls and took their blood?” She wagged her book at the candles. “Did these smelly candles mess with your brain?”

“You’re done with taking blood from anybody else. You do it again and I send you back to Cuba.”

“Send me back to Cuba? I go back when I decide.” She jumped up and slammed the book on my desk. My coffee tipped over. Reece, who’d been standing in the corner, rushed over and cleaned the mess up.

And then a continuous line of fast Spanish fled out of Grandma’s mouth. I spoke Spanish decently, but couldn’t write or read it well, to Grandma’s dismay. My step-dad had hated when we used it in the house, so it didn’t occur. By the time Hex was born, we never spoke it unless my relatives came to visit and my step-dad wasn’t in the house. Hex didn’t know much, but I was pretty good at understanding Spanish when people spoke it around me, except when Grandma was truly pissed. Her thick accent glazed each word and made it almost incomprehensible. However, I understood that; one, she would curse me with something pretty nasty if I ever talked to her like that again; and two, she would never hurt poor little girls who didn’t do anything to anybody.

When she finally finished and calmed down, I knitted my fingers together. “I’ll still need to know where you got the blood from and for you to stop getting it from there.”

“I have a new contact and I won’t stop.”

“Who is your new contact?” I asked through clenched teeth.

“None of your business.”

“Grandma, we agreed that if you’re going to stay with us you’ll let me get you your items. I don’t know who this supplier is or where they are getting the blood. If something came up with this being black market or illegal in any way—”

“I’m a good judge of character.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Detective White stepped in, holding a large manila envelope in his hands. His presence quieted our arguing. It was one thing to have it out in front of Reece, who’d been with me for long enough to be privy to these disputes, but our family didn’t air our business in front of strangers.

“Detective White, this is my grandma, Needa Castillo,” I said. “Come on in, please.”

“I’m leaving.” Grandma inched away from the detective and headed for the door. “You come talk to me when you have more sense and these candles aren’t messing with your head.”

“Grandma, I’m not done talking to you!” I called after her, but her only response was to slam the door after she walked out. Detective White’s attention rested on the closed door as if some clue was in that heated gesture, some final piece left to the puzzle. Reece finished getting up all the coffee, tossed the wet rag in a bag, and left. I sighed and looked up at Detective White. “Please tell me you have some good news.”

“I have news, but I’m not sure if it’s good.” He glanced at the door again. “In fact, you may want to discuss this without your assistant in the room.”

“Okay. Do me a favor and press the button on the door to lock it. She’ll realize that I want privacy and wait until I open it again.”

He did and then sat down in the seat Grandma had been in earlier. “How long has Reece been working for you?”

I wasn’t expecting that question.

“Around ten years. Why? Is she a suspect?”

“I’m afraid she is, and I have even worse news. I believe your grandmother and brother may be suspects, too.”

Defeated, I collapsed back into my chair unable to maintain any semblance of good posture with so much weight being slung onto my shoulders. “I’m going to need you to explain yourself.”

“How far do you want to be privy to this investigation, Mr. Castillo? My supervisor told me to treat this situation delicately and that your family should get the treatment we reserve for. . . let’s say ones with political and/or powerful connections. The further I go with my investigations the trickier it may be.”

Tags: Kenya Wright Mystery
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