“You’re being relieved of your duties?”
“No one’s saying that,” he said, sounding faintly bitter. “I’m still the chief investigator, but I’m just to steer clear of anything to do with fires that involve my family members including the one at your house. It’s a conflict of interest.”
“This gets worse by the second.”
“I was told it was to protect me.”
“You believe that?”
“Not for a second, but there it is,” he said flatly. “So, you’ll probably get more questions from the arson squad, as well as from Nadine and now, probably, someone from homicide, probably Detective Paterno.”
“Who’s he?”
“He’s been with the San Francisco PD for years. A homicide inspector who was involved in that Cahill case that was in the papers a few years back.”
“I don’t remember it.”
“Well, it made a splash, a socialite with amnesia. Anyway, it put Paterno in the limelight and he apparently didn’t like it. Moved to Santa Lucia about eighteen months ago. All I know about him is that he’s good at his job. Plays straight. You can trust him.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” she asked, suddenly realizing that Shea was warning her.
“Because the questions might get a little sticky, Shannon. I’ve spent the last hour with Paterno and he’s not only interested in the fire at Robert’s house but also the one at yours, the fact that Travis Settler’s daughter is missing, and he’s even dredging up the old Stealth Torcher thing and Ryan’s death.”
Shea’s worry was contagious; she felt a jolt of concern race through her blood. “The Stealth Torcher? Why?”
“I don’t know. He’s probably just getting himself up to speed. Being thorough.”
But she heard the hesitation in her brother’s voice. “There’s something you’re not telling me,” she charged.
“Look, really, I can’t discuss the investigation with you or anyone else,” he snapped, his frayed nerves finally giving way. “I just wanted to give you a heads-up on what’s going on.”
She wanted to argue but knew it would be useless; Shea wouldn’t be budged. She changed the subject. “Have you seen Robert? How’s he holding up?”
“About as bad as can be expected. He’s eating himself up with guilt. It looks like he was the last one to see Mary Beth alive and, given that their fight outside El Ranchito was witnessed by all of us: Settler, Liam and the manager of the motel…”
“He’s a suspect.” Of course he was—the estranged husband involved with another woman, a man who wanted a divorce from a clinging wife who was fighting him.
“Yeah, but he isn’t alone. Quite a few people didn’t get along with Mary Beth.”
“Not getting along isn’t exactly motive for murder,” Shannon said, wondering where this was leading.
“So when’s the last time you talked to Mary Beth?”
“Me?” Shannon asked, surprised.
“Yeah, you…Paterno will ask, just like he’ll ask all of us.”
“Well, of course I saw her in the parking lot, and then later she called me after I got home.” Shannon remembered the phone call. “She sounded as if she’d been drinking and she wasn’t making much sense. She was still mad at Robert. I gathered he’d dumped her off, then split. Anyway, she was complaining and looking for him again. You know, the usual stuff.”
“She didn’t say anything weird?”
“It was all weird, Shea.”
“But she called you, right?”
“Isn’t that what I said?”
“I just wondered if you called her.”