Free The Honeymoon Cottage (A Pajaro Bay Romance) by Barbara Cool Lee Page B

was a good mechanic, but not the best conversationalist. Too many wipeouts while surfing had made him a little fuzzy, and his heavy marijuana use fell more into the recreational than the medicinal category....
    When Ryan heard only silence on the line, he prompted again: "Hector? What did you find out?"
    "Huh?"
    "The car. Camilla's—Ms. Stewart's—car. What's wrong with it?"
    Somehow, Ryan knew what was coming, but it still hit him in the stomach like a meatball hero and two beers on a hot day.
    "Punctured gas tank."
    He hated being right. Ryan reached in his desk for some antacid.
    "Sheriff dude? You there?"
    "Yeah. I'm still here, Hector."
    "She probably didn't smell the gas 'cause it's a convertible. Glad we caught it. I'll call the lady and tell her."
    "I'll do it, Hector. Thanks. Can you tell how they punctured the tank?"
    "They? You think it's a 'they'?"
    Ryan swallowed the antacid. "I'm just asking. You're the expert."
    "Doesn't have to be a they. Could be an it. A nail on the road. She goes through a construction zone and something pops up and hits the tank. She runs over a curb with that low-slung convertible chassis. Could be a lot of things. Doesn't have to be a 'they.'"
    "Got it. What do you think it was?"
    "It?"
    "The thing that punctured the gas tank, Hector. Stay with me."
    "Oh, yeah. Well, it's a round hole, not too big. Made a real slow leak. Probably a nail."
    "Okay. Can you fix it?"
    "Sure. Easy fix. Not too expensive. Have it done by tomorrow. Not tonight. Going to the fundraiser tonight. Craving for enchiladas. Chips and salsa. Chiles rellenos. You know how it is."
    Ryan was only half-listening now. "Yeah, I'm sure those munchies are something."
    "Yeah, dude. You know it. So, you gonna be there?"
    "I don't usually get the munchies, Hector."
    "But the food, sheriff dude. You gotta eat.” He was the third person to ask him about this stupid fundraiser. Did people think he couldn't feed himself? On the other hand, Camilla needed to eat. And he'd like to find out more about Oliver's life in Sacramento—what was going on between his parents before his mother died. The fundraiser would be a good chance to grill her and Oliver about this whole weird case. A good chance to find out if what he was thinking could actually be true: that Dennis Hutchins/Henning/whatever was not just a thief, but a killer. And that she and Oliver were next on his list.
    "Sheriff Dude?"
    He started at the sound in his ear. "Thanks, Hector. I'll tell Ms. Stewart her car will be ready tomorrow."
    "You tell the lady she's got some good karma."
    "What do you mean?"
    "Puncture like that. Gas leaking all over the undercarriage. One spark, thing blows up like a bottle rocket. No more pretty lady."
    "Yeah.” Ryan looked at the picture of Oliver's mother on the screen in front of him. "No more pretty lady."
     
    ~*~
     
    "Where am I going to find a window like that?"
    Camilla stood in front of the cottage, gazing up (and up) to the tip of the pointy roof, where, just under the eaves, a crooked window with a broken pane stared mournfully back at her. The poor thing looked sad up there with its glass missing and one foot-long section of wooden muntin dangling dangerously, just waiting for the next breeze to knock it down.
    She had ventured up to the third floor inside and counted all the missing panes of glass. The whole third floor, all eight by ten feet of it, was full of pine needles from the trees leaning over the cottage, and the signs of visiting animals were even stronger than in the living room. Fixing that window was a good place to start the reclaiming of the cottage.
    She stared for a bit, trying to think. There was no way she could buy a piece of glass to match. She didn't have the money, for one thing. The cash she'd gotten for the engagement ring had to last them for a while. And the kind of old-fashioned wavy glass she'd need to match the rest of the windows wouldn't be cheap.
    She wished her dad was around to give her advice.