The Watcher (A Miranda and Parker Mystery Book 4) Page 6

  “What?” Parker nudged gently.

  “It was the only time I ever heard him threaten to hurt anyone. He had a young assistant. College age. He used to get into Geninho’s wine bottles and borrow them to party with friends in town. He said he intended to pay Geninho back, but he never did. It was his weakness for the drink that made Geninho say what he did.”

  “What did he say?” Miranda asked, holding her breath.

  “He called him idiota. Filho da mãe.”

  Miranda could guess what those words meant.

  “He warned the young man if he took another bottle, he would kill him. He did not mean it. Geninho would not hurt a fly.”

  Miranda looked at Parker. His face was set with determination.

  “What is the young man’s name?”

  “Nelito. Nelito Alves.”

  “And Geninho’s surname?”

  “Fernandes,” she said stiffly. “Geninho Duarte Fernandes.”

  First and last names. With a middle one thrown in for good measure. What a break. Were they finally getting somewhere? “Can we talk to Nelito?”

  Carlota’s frown grew deeper. “I am sorry, senhora. Nelito, he was a student. Restless. Rash. He did not care for the work here, though he adored Senhora Portia. He had—what do you call it?—a crush on her. He decided he would rather travel the countryside than trim hedges. He quit the morning Geninho was fired.”

  “Thank you, Carlota,” Parker said without emotion. “You’ve been very helpful.

  As the woman rose and shuffled out the door, Miranda felt every muscle in her body tingle. Were they really getting somewhere? And the bigger question.

  Was Nelito Alves the skeleton in the woods?

  Chapter Thirteen

  They escorted Tia back to the office and made sure Didi and another desk worker, this one tall and strong looking, were there to watch her back. Then they headed for the cottage.

  Miranda’s head was buzzing as she stepped through the door and into the bright open space of their new living quarters. “It could be you were right.”

  Parker’s brow rose with indignation. “Oh?”

  She took off her coat and tossed it over a cozy upholstered chair in the living room area. “What if the cases are unrelated? In a drunken fit, this Geninho dude murders the student as he’s wandering through the woods like a vagabond, and then disappears. Who’s to know?”

  Parker’s expression grew somber as she plopped down on the sofa. “Inspector Gaspar thought the bones belonged to a middle aged man.”

  Yeah, that was true. “Okay. Maybe it’s the other way around. The student came across Geninho in the woods. They argue over the wine. Geninho attacks. Student wacks him over the head with a rock, leaves him there to rot.”

  “A possible scenario,” Parker conceded.

  She kept going. “Meanwhile, the soccer dude who’s stringing Didi along gets the idea to threaten her mother to get control of the resort and get rich.”

  “Or so he thinks.”

  She frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “The income from the resort is seasonal. It takes a great deal of hard work to run it. Something our friend Joca doesn’t seem too fond of if my first impression is correct.”

  She had to smirk at that. “Yeah, that was my take, too.”

  Parker climbed the two steps leading into the bedroom area. “It’s the land that’s valuable. Joca would have to sell the resort to get the kind of money he’s scheming for.”

  “That would probably kill Tia in itself.” Kinda sad.

  Parker took off his blazer and hung it in a closet near the huge bed. “We need more real evidence before we can get a clear picture.” He strolled over to the fancy desk where he’d left his laptop running and pressed a few keys.

  He was right, Miranda thought, sinking into a comfy chair to stare out the window at the sun setting behind the mountains in a blaze of color. They needed something more definitive. Something they could use to pressure somebody into a confession would be nice.

  She scratched at her hair thinking of the young student and the old wino. “The inspector could be wrong about the age of the skeleton on the mountain.”

  “Forensics will confirm it.”

  “Yeah.” She groaned out loud with frustration. They were turning up too many flimsy leads. “I wish we could work closer with the police.” Then she laughed. “Never thought those words would come out of my mouth.”

  Parker smiled over his shoulder as he sat down to study the computer screen. He was quiet for several minutes and then announced, “Now this is interesting.”

  “What?” She jumped up and hurried over to peer over his shoulder.

  She couldn’t resist planting a soft kiss on his cheek. She loved working with him on cases like this, even as distressing and exasperating as they could be. It gave her an adrenaline rush like nothing else did. Well, Parker could do that to her, too. But working alongside him was like no job she’d ever experienced.

  Without breaking concentration, he took her hand and pressed it gently to his lips. “It seems Rico has been a busy boy.”

  She scooted her bottom onto his lap and cocked her head to read the report on the screen.

  Parker let his fingers caress her wild dark hair as she read, loving the feel, the smell of it. Of her. Her resisted the urge to plant his hands on her tempting backside. Balanced on his lap she tensed, her tigress senses alert and aroused as she took in the details he’d routed out. He longed to take her in his arms and make love to her. He loved having her with him on a case. Having someone to talk through theories with. Having someone who was as focused as he was. He adored watching her work, seeing all the experience and training mature and come to full fruition.

  And yet he feared for her. And his mind was set. If at any point this case became life-threatening, he would not hesitate to put her on a plane back to Atlanta. No matter how much she protested.

  Miranda’s gaze devoured the words on the screen.

  Rico Basurto Dominguez was born in Minas Gerais—whatever that was—son of a farm worker. By the time he was nineteen, he’d bought his own sugar cane plantation and had become what you’d call a wheeler dealer. He bought and sold land, increasing his fortune with every deal. At the age of twenty-five, he moved to São Paulo and began buying up energy companies.

  He came back to the plantation when Tia was visiting from college in the US and married her.

  One of his earlier acquisitions was the resort in Campos do Flores. He settled in with his new wife to run it. Meanwhile, he kept a rein on his other enterprises throughout São Paulo and Rio de Janeiro and eventually became a multimillionaire. He used some of his funds to buy up land around the resort. The land and the buildings were estimated at several million Brazilian real.

  Miranda let out a low whistle. “This guy is loaded.” She turned her head to give her husband a smirk. “No offense.” Parker was no slouch when it came to the bucks, either.

  He eyed her with a knowing look. “None taken. Rico is definitely better off now than the situation he was born into. I knew he was wealthy. I didn’t know he had been so ambitious all his life.”

  “Where’s Minas Gerais?”

  “It’s a state of Brazil just north of the state of São Paulo. A large producer of milk and coffee.”

  “And sugar cane.”

  “Yes.” His chest expanded as he took in air. “What the article doesn’t say is that the plantation where his father worked was owned by Tia’s family.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded. “When Rico returned home to ask Tia to marry him, he bought her parent’s land.”

  She stared at him. “Did he force Tia to marry him?”

  “It never seemed that way. Tia always insisted they were in love. She said her parents had grown tired of managing the many acres and welcomed the chance to retire. Rico gave them a generous price.”

  “So they saw it as a good thing.”

  “It appeared so. I always
thought Tia would have confided in Sylvia if things were otherwise.”

  “And when you visited Rico and Tia, they seemed like a happy family?”

  “They always seemed very happy.”

  Hmm. And Parker would have spotted it if something were amiss. Still, buying out the plantation where your father was a lowly farm worker smacked of revenge. And obviously something had gone wrong in years since Parker’s last visit here.

  Mulling that over, she read the rest of the report.

  It spoke of the birth of Rico’s two daughters, his growing restless, his acquisition of a large modeling agency in Rio de Janeiro, which he boldly renamed the Dominguez Agency after himself, and his decision to move his base of operations there. There had been a lot of speculation in the papers about his affairs and everyone wondered when the divorce would be coming. He was quoted as saying he was a traditional man and did not believe in divorce. Traditional, hah.

  Miranda tensed. “He wants to keep control of the resort property.”

  “So it seems.”

  “He’s got motive for writing those letters, all right.”

  “If he knows what Tia’s about to do. I don’t believe he’s been served yet.”

  She considered that. Spouses usually got upset right after they got the divorce papers. “Are you sure?”

  “We’ll have to confirm it tonight.”

  Tia had invited them to dinner at her big house on the hill.

  “Her lawyer will be there.”

  She let out a smirk. “That ought to be interesting.”

  “Indeed. But we’re not finished here.” He reached around her and flipped to a new page.

  “Ah hah,” Miranda grinned.

  It was a recent cover of a popular Brazilian magazine featuring Rico.

  Miranda took in the photo of the man.

  White shirt open to the waist, lots of gold chains against the tanned skin of his muscular chest. Curly black hair in a sexy messy style falling over his forehead. Big, white-toothed, I’ll-take-you-for-everything-you’ve-got smile plastered across his good-looking face.

  He had one arm over a tall skinny redhead, the other over a tall skinny brunette. Both looked younger than Didi. Both were in slinky mesh outfits that showed a lot of…everything.

  “He must have had fun on this photo shoot,” Miranda muttered.

  “I’m sure but that’s not what I was getting to.” Parker scrolled to the next page, which was lots of text in Portuguese.

  “What’s this?”

  “The article about Rico from the magazine.”

  She cleared her throat. “You’ll have to translate for me.”

  “It’s general hype about his business prowess, his prowess with the ladies, and speculation about his impending divorce. Which he continues to deny.”

  “Okay.”

  “But it’s the details at the end that are interesting. They talk of his models preparing for the last summer fashion week in Paris.”

  “Paris, huh?” Probably gearing up to tear up the sheets in all the hotels along the Seine, but that didn’t seem noteworthy for this guy. Her mind flashed to Becker and Fanuzzi and their upcoming trip…and the text Becker still hadn’t replied to. “What about it?”

  “Rico and his fleet of models are supposed to be the talk of the season. In addition, there are rumors Rico is hatching a deal with one of the dress designers there. It’s expected to be announced soon.”

  “Okay.” She thought for a moment. “Wait a minute. If Rico’s in Paris, how could he be sending letters to Tia here in Campos do Flores?”

  “Exactly.” Once more Parker leaned forward and flipped to new page.

  A smile spread across Miranda’s face and she took it in. Now they were talking. “That’s credit card activity.”

  “Cielo card, actually. It’s a commonly used form of credit card here.”

  Parker was good.

  She scanned the lines as quickly as she could, looking for inconsistencies. And found a boatload. “This can’t be right.”

  “It’s from my usual sources.”

  Which were always accurate. “This has no activity for the first two weeks of last month. Then he made two charges to shops in Campos do Flores. One at a restaurant. The other at a sporting goods shop.” She stared at the page. “He was here, but didn’t stop by the resort? Not even to see his kids?”

  “Not according to Tia.”

  She said he hadn’t been here for over three months.

  “Now look at the bottom.”

  She did and sucked in her breath. A large withdrawal of funds. In the city. “This is from last week. He was back in Rio.”

  “So it seems.”

  She frowned. “Maybe his Cielo card got stolen. Or one of his employees has been using it.”

  “Both possible explanations.”

  But not the one they were thinking of.

  She turned around to him. “Do you think this guy tried to make everyone think he was in Paris to set up an alibi while he kills his soon-to-be ex-wife? Before she becomes his ex-wife and gets custody of the resort?”

  “Another possible explanation.”

  She wished Parker would commit to something. But she knew he couldn’t without more facts. “So what do we do with this information?”

  “I think we let Tia know about it.”

  “At dinner.”

  “Yes.”

  She blew out a long breath. He was right. Only way to get around to it. But what a way to ruin an appetite.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The temperature had dropped to the mid forties and Miranda found herself rubbing her arms as she climbed the winding path up to the huge, brightly lit fortress that was Tia’s home. It was done in the same majestic ivory, with the same tall columns and pretty trim as the other buildings around the resort and gave off the same fairytale air of the rest of the place.

  Hard to believe such a stable, family-friendly place had been built by a playboy like Rico. Maybe his current lifestyle was a midlife crisis.

  Parker escorted her up the steps of the expansive front porch and a light breeze kicked up making it chillier as it rustled the surrounding trees, filling the air with the clean smell of pine. It must have been the wind that made the hair on the back of Miranda’s neck stand up.

  She turned around and peered into the forest.

  “What is it?” Parker asked, tension in his voice.

  She stared hard but couldn’t see anything. There were too many unanswered questions buzzing around in her head, she decided. She was just on edge.

  “Nothing. Let’s go eat.”

  They rang the bell and Tia answered. “Wade, Miranda. I am so glad you are here.”

  She shook their hands warmly as if this were just a social visit, but Miranda could see the tension around her exotic eyes. She wanted this letter business over and done with and Miranda didn’t blame her one bit.

  “Come in. Come in.”

  She wore a shimmering red silk pants suit with a flowing top and lots of jewels. Her dark hair was fashioned into a smooth, elegant knot at the back of her neck. Miranda felt a little out of place in her dark business suit, even though that was dressing up for her.

  Tia kissed them both on the cheek and Miranda had to resist the urge to pull back. She’d never get used to that custom. But she held her tongue as their hostess led them through several bright, cheery rooms accented with throw pillows and the scent of candles, then at last into a white dining room with a long oak table, a crystal chandelier overhead and a row of tall arched windows overlooking the grounds.

  A man and a young woman who looked like a younger version of Didi sat at the table. The man rose as they entered.

  “Wade, Miranda,” Tia said in her Brazilian hostess voice. “This is Pipia, my younger daughter.”

  Miranda shook hands with her. “Glad to meet you.”

  “Wade is an old friend of the family.”

  Pipia was a slightly smaller version of Didi. Same color
ing, though a bit lighter, similar hair style. And as she shook with Parker, the young woman regarded Miranda cautiously with the same set of intense eyes as her sister.

  “I remember you came here when I was very little,” she said to Parker. “You gave me a doll.”

  “Yes. My wife Sylvia picked it out for you. We spent the holidays here that year.”

  There was an awkward pause as Pipia glanced at Miranda with a you’re-not-her expression.

  Parker gave the young woman a gracious smile. “My first wife passed away. Miranda and I were married almost a year ago.”

  “I see,” she said and they all stared at one another.

  Tia broke the silence by gesturing to the gentleman who’d been silently standing at his place, taking in the interchange. “This is my friend and my legal counsel, Valdinho Cardozo. Valdinho, this is Wade and Miranda.”

  He extended a long-fingered hand. “So very pleased to meet you.” His voice was low and had the exotic accent Miranda was now getting used to hearing.

  “Likewise,” Miranda said. So this was the guy handling Tia’s divorce.

  Seemed to be in his mid to late forties, with gray streaks through straight black hair worn long around his ears and neck. In a brown tweed coat and tan T-shirt, he was very tall and lanky, smiling down at her through a pair of thick horn-rimmed glasses on his long nose. A nose that went with the long features of his face.

  He smiled with a casual air, but he seemed like an intellectual with the glasses. The professor type.

  As he and Parker shook hands, Didi swept into the room, bird-like.

  She had on a gray pants suit with an elegant top in a bold black and gray design. At her neck a multi-strand necklace of chain and jet black stones set off the outfit and her mood.

  She eyed Miranda. “I didn’t know we were having so many guests, mother.”

  Tia laughed off the remark. “Didi. You know we often have guests. Come sit down and eat with us.”

  Didi took a place beside her sister and Miranda couldn’t decide which one of them looked more uncomfortable. They knew the real reason she and Parker were here and neither of them liked it.