Page 113 of Dead Man's List

“I’ve seen him at a few country club events, but we’ve never really spoken. He’s my dad’s age, so our paths didn’t cross. But we can talk to him.”

“What about the other two?” Marshall asked. “Mr.Maserati and Mr.Ex La Jolla?”

“I say we bring them here for questioning,” Kit said. “I doubt they’ll be receptive to answering our questions in their homes. And if we don’t get anywhere with them, we’ll bring in Juanita Young and Estelle White and question them again. Maybe they’ll be more forthcoming the second time around. For now, let’s focus on the men. Connor and I will take Mr.Maserati and you two bring in Mr.Ex La Jolla.”

“Otherwise known as Simon Daly and Hugh Smith,” Connor said dryly. “I doubt either of them will just come in because we ask.”

Kit shrugged. She didn’t understand rich people, but she knew how to embarrass them into doing what she wanted. “Then we threaten to go to their place of business with a warrant tomorrow and tell their coworkers in avery loud voicethat we’re from Homicide and there to bring them downtown.”

Connor nodded once. “That will work.”

Ashton grinned. “This is going to be fun.”

Kit studied the whiteboard. “We still have so many interviews to do.”

Marshall was checking his notes. “We also still need to find the guard who was on gate duty the night Munro went missing. He was tagged in a social media post by one of his friends aboutsix months ago. We’ve contacted the friend and are waiting for a call back. I’m not holding out a lot of hope on finding him alive. Let’s get these guys in for questioning, and then Alf and I will pay a visit to the friend who made the social media post.”

“Sounds good.” Kit brushed the crumbs from her lunch into the trash can. “We should ask Joe Rooney to come in too, to ask him about Earl O’Hanlon’s money troubles. We should talk to him before Simon Daly and Hugh Smith, in case he has information that might help crack the other two.”

Carmel Valley, San Diego, California

Wednesday, January 11, 3:00 p.m.

Kit rushed into her parents’ house, her heart pounding with fear. “What’s wrong?”

She’d been with Connor, about to load Mr.Maserati, a.k.a. Simon Daly, into the back of their car when her father had called her to come home, a tightness in his voice she’d only heard a few times.

None of those times had been good. So she’d left Connor to bring Simon Daly in for questioning while she took an Uber to her car, which she’d left in the SDPD parking lot.

She honestly couldn’t even remember the drive back. She’d been on autopilot.

Sam was waiting for her in her parents’ foyer. He reached out to grip her shoulders, keeping her from running any farther. “Kit, wait.”

Kit blinked up at him. “Why are you here? What’s wrong? Where’s Pop?”

“He’s upstairs with Rita. She’s physically okay.”

Sam’s calm voice allowed her to take a moment to breathe.

“Okay. What’s wrong with Rita?”

Sam grimaced. “She didn’t take the news of Christopher Drummond’s deal well.”

Kit closed her eyes, wondering how Sam had found out. “I meant to tell you, but we got busy and…”

Sam pulled her in for a hug. “It’s okay, Kit. Just take a second to calm down. You can’t help her if you run upstairs loaded for bear.”

She huffed a laugh against his solid chest, her arms wrapping around his waist. This man was a rock.

He could be your rock.

Someday. Maybe.

“Okay, I’m calm now. Tell me what happened.”

Sam let her go, tipping her chin up so that he could see her eyes. “Harlan picked up Rita from school, like he told you he would. He wanted to tell her about Drummond when they got home, but she was suspicious about being picked up early.”

“Of course she was. She’s smart.”

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