Free 9 Hell on Wheels by Sue Ann Jaffarian Page B

for sure.
    “Yes, he could have,” was all I said.
    “Odelia, you go straight home, take a long hot bath in that fancy tub of yours, and go to bed early. That’s an order.”
    I loved it when Zee got all ninja-mom on me. Well, most of the time I loved it. Tonight was one of those times.
    “That’s the plan, Stan.”
    She laughed. “I mean it. Shut off your phone and take care of yourself tonight.”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    The next call came from Greg. “You almost home?” he asked.
    “Just about. Traffic is horrible tonight.”
    “You want leftover Chinese? I can fix you a plate and have it hot when you walk through the door.”
    “That sounds great, honey, but I think I’d rather just have some tomato soup, if you don’t mind.”
    “Want a grilled cheese with that?”
    I smiled. Greg not only loved grilled cheese sandwiches but made creative ones. “Sure, but nothing fancy tonight. I think my stomach is a bit on the fritz.”
    “You got it, sweetheart.”
    “Zee just called. She saw the news about Rocky and Miranda. She ordered me to take a long hot bath and go to bed early, and I think that’s exactly what I’m going to do. How about you?”
    “I just got off the phone with Dev. I sent him a text thanking him for letting us know last night about Rocky, and he called me a few minutes ago.”
    I stopped at another red light but this time paid attention to the traffic, which I’m sure the car in front of me appreciated. “Did he tell you anything we don’t already know?”
    “Just that they think she died sometime Sunday afternoon from a gunshot to her temple, and probably not too long after she left the gym. The cops think Miranda probably killed herself because of whatever Peter told Rocky—that she poisoned Tanaka but whatever he disclosed to Rocky would have shined a spotlight on her as a suspect, so she took the easy way out.”
    The easy way out . I hated that phrase. Yes, suicide did seem simpler than staying and facing whatever problems came your way, but there’s never anything easy about the permanency of death, especially for those left behind.
    When the light turned green, the car in front of me started moving, and I followed it through the intersection. “If it wasn’t a suicide, who killed Miranda? And were they involved in Peter’s murder too?”
    “Dev said the San Diego police will go over every inch of the van, but that it will take time. By the way, I told Dev that Mike’s story is that he was in a car accident, just in case he got asked about it.”
    “And what did Dev say to that?”
    “He laughed, then said okay.”
    A small giggle escaped my lips, then I said what was on my mind. “Greg, do you really think Miranda killed Peter?”
    “Hard to say.”
    “But when would she have had time to slip something into his water?”
    “It was actually a sports drink.”
    “A what?”
    “The poison was mixed with a sports drink—you know, something like Gatorade—probably to mask the taste.”
    “Have you talked anymore with Rocky?”
    “It was actually Lance who called me today,” answered Greg. “He said Rocky is absolutely torn up over Miranda.”
    “No surprise there.”
    “Rocky is staying with Lance for a few days. Besides, without his van, he can’t get around very well. Lance said Rocky’s not going into his shop for a few days.” Like Greg, Rocky was a small business owner. He operated a machine shop in Santa Ana.
    “We should go see him,” I suggested. “Just to pay our respects. Any details yet about Miranda’s funeral?”
    “None, and it probably won’t be for a while. Dev said it might take a bit of time for them to process Miranda’s body. Tomorrow I’ll check and see if Rocky’s up to having company.”
    I was getting very close to home. With each block, a warm, fuzzy feeling crept through my body like hot chocolate on a cold day. “Honey,” I said into the phone as I made a right-hand turn, “I’ll be home in about ten minutes. Fire up