“Don’t keep me in suspense.”
“We’ve been checking the financials of the magician’s assistants. Someone deposited ten thousand dollars in Maria Rodriguez’s checking account the day before Chesterfield was murdered.”
“What does she say about that?”
“We were just going to ask.”
When Ragland stood up, he had a big smile on his face.
Maria Rodriguez worked at a sports bar a few blocks from the courthouse. She looked annoyed when the detectives and the deputy DA told her that they needed to talk.
“I’m in the middle of my shift. I’ve got orders to bring out. Can’t this wait?”
“I’m afraid not,” Ragland said. “Why don’t you ask the manager to have someone take over your tables.”
“Who’s going to cover my tips?” she asked angrily.
“That’s the least of your worries, Miss Rodriguez. We can talk here and you can get back to work when you finish answering our questions, or we can interview you at police headquarters. Your choice.”
Rodriguez glared at Ragland. “Let me tell my manager,” she said before stomping off.
“What’s this about?” Rodriguez demanded when they were sitting in a booth by the kitchen.
“How are you doing financially?” Ragland asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Have you hit the lottery or gotten an inheritance recently? Had a good run at one of the casinos?”
“Okay, what’s going on?”
“We’re curious about the ten thousand dollars that was deposited in your checking account the day before Robert Chesterfield was murdered.”
Rodriguez’s jaw dropped and she stared at the DA. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Anders pushed a bank statement across the table.
Rodriguez stared at it.
“Where did the ten thousand come from, Maria?” Ragland asked.
“This isn’t mine. There’s some mistake.”
“There’s no mistake. Look at the account number and your name.”
“There must be another Maria Rodriguez. The bank must have made an error and put this money in the wrong account.”
“Or David Turner might have deposited it in your account to thank you for hiding Nancy Porter’s inhaler and helping him murder Robert Chesterfield.”
“You’re crazy. I had nothing to do with Bobby’s murder. I don’t know Turner and I didn’t hide that inhaler.”
“He was at the Chamber of Death rehearsal at the coast. And so were you,” Ragland said.
“Yeah, but I never talked to him.”
“How do you explain the money?” Ragland asked.
Rodriguez looked panicky. “I can’t. I don’t know a thing about it.”