Page 78 of Christmas Mittens Murder

After cheers all around and a first sip, Rafael set down his glass.

“Where are you ladies from, and why did you abduct me?” He sounded amused rather than suspicious.

I couldn’t help snorting. “We’re both visitors. I live in Pasadena.”

“And I’m out from Massachusetts,” Cam said.

The server brought the appetizer. “Enjoy. Your burger will be up in a couple of minutes, Mr. Torres.”

“Thanks, Pat.” To us Rafael made a rolling motion with his hand. “So you’re out wine tasting and making off with high school teachers?”

I waited for Cam to explain. I’d blow it if I tried.

“I’m not wine tasting as much as visiting farms in the area. Trying to take home new ideas for my organic farm north of Boston. California is often the leader in innovations of all kinds, particularly in the environment and in farming.” Cam took a swig of beer, then folded her hands. “To be honest about why we invited you to join us, Rafael, it has to do with your sister’s homicide.”

His easy, affable expression slid away. His eyes took on a steely look, and he straightened his spine as only a former military person can.

“Yes?”

“I’d like to offer my sympathies,” I said.

“We’re sorry for your loss,” Cam added.

He blinked, as if considering how to respond. “Thank you. Valencia and I weren’t close in recent years.” He laid his palms flat on the table.

Was he thinking of leaving? That wasn’t part of our hastily conceived plan.

“The thing is,” Cam continued, “Cece’s own sister is a person of interest in Val’s homicide, and we’re trying to find the real killer and clear Allie’s name.”

“What makes you think you can do that?” He sounded skeptical. “You’re visitors. You don’t even live here.”

I dipped an artichoke heart in a creamy lemony sauce and savored it.

“I’ve been a consultant to the police back home on several murder cases,” Cam said.

“I see.” Rafael followed my example with an artichoke heart, but he didn’t seem to be enjoying the flavors of the crispy nugget as much as I had. Or maybe he was really hungry. He swallowed. “You know, the Sonoma County sheriff’s deputy has already been to grill me.”

“He talked to me, too,” I said. “But I know my sister didn’t kill Val. Do you know Allie Halstead?”

He did a double take. “Allie Halstead? Yes, I’ve met her more than once. She’s your sister?”

“My twin.”

“We wondered if you had any ideas about who might have murdered Val,” Cam said. “Did she have enemies? People who held grudges against her?”

He lifted his beer, but instead of drinking it he closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall. I exchanged a glance with Cam. She helped herself to an artichoke heart, and I had another.

Rafael opened his eyes, straightening his posture again and squaring his shoulders. “Valencia was a difficult and unhappy person, ladies. She rubbed almost everyone the wrong way. We were quite close as children, despite an eight-year age gap between us. It was only the two of us, and I looked up to her for everything.”

He closed his mouth when his food arrived, delivered by a different employee.

“She changed when she married Otto,” he went on. “I went off to the navy and college. When I came back, Val was even more different.”

“Did she have children?” Cam asked.

“Are your parents still alive?” I asked at the same time. I mouthed “Sorry” to Cam.

“Our parents died in an accident while I was at sea. Valencia and Otto had one child, a son, but he died in Mojave in a military training exercise. It was a terrible tragedy. He wasn’t even killed in combat. Such a waste.”