Free Spit In The Ocean: A Laid-Back Bay Area Mystery (The Jake Samson & Rosie Vicente Detective Series Book 4) by Shelley Singer Page B

I never really thought about it one way or the other. But you never can tell about people. Maybe she was feeling reckless. Maybe she’d had a fight with her boyfriend or something and was playing out some dramatic scenario.” He stood up, shook himself, and trotted over to the treadmill. He set it at a good jog and took off.
    “Did they fight much?” I asked. “Gracie and Wolf?”
    He shook his head. “We never talked about things like that. Except once she did say, jokingly, that he seemed to be a little jealous of our friendship.”
    “And you’re sure there was nothing to be jealous of? Maybe on her side?”
    He was sweating and breathing hard, finally. “I never noticed anything emotional.”
    “So you called from L.A.,” Rosie said. He nodded, sweat dripping off his chin. “Why did you call her instead of the local police?”
    “I never thought of the police. I just called to ask her about the storm, and she offered to check the house. That seemed okay. When I hadn’t heard from her by this morning, I decided to come up. And Clement told me about her accident.”
    Rosie continued. “Was anyone with you when you called?”
    He shook his head, laughing. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you? I really was in L.A. I’ve got a plane ticket somewhere around from this morning.”
    “Is that the only reason you came up? To check on the house?” Rosie asked.
    He glanced sideways at her. Was he blushing or just turning red from exertion? I would have been turning red from exertion.
    “What do you mean?” he asked.
    “Well,” I eased into it, “there was that theft at the sperm bank. And we saw you there this morning.”
    He turned off the treadmill, hopped off, and trotted over to the cycle. I didn’t push for an answer. He got on the cycle and started pedaling.
    “We’re investigating what happened over there— that’s why we came to Wheeler in the first place. And I guess I was wondering if you had any ideas about why it might have happened. The break-in.”
    He was breathing harder, blowing noisily like jocks do when they’re pushing it.
    “I heard it was religious nuts. Nora said there was a note.”
    “Could be,” I said. “I guess there’ll be a lot of activity around there for a while until they restock.”
    “Yeah.” His dark curly hair was soaked with sweat.
    “I’ve always been kind of curious about why a man would do that. What his motive might be. To have his sperm frozen that way. To be sold to a stranger.”
    “Don’t know. Lots of different reasons for doing it, lots of situations. Ask Nora.”
    Since I already had, I moved on to other things. “Do you know Fredda Carey?”
    “Fredda? Gracie’s cousin? We’ve met.” He was grunting with every breath, but he kept going. Rosie must have gotten tired watching him, because she was lying down on the slant board.
    “Were she and Gracie close? They were having dinner that night.”
    He got off the cycle, went to a shelf in the corner and grabbed a big white towel. He wiped the sweat off his chest, arms, and hands. “They saw each other once in a while, I guess. They seemed like pretty different types, but they got along like relatives do, as far as I could tell.” He asked me to vacate the bench, tossed the towel on the floor, and lay down. I stood, watching him pump iron.
    “How were they different?”
    “Gracie was nicer. I mean, I don’t know Fredda, really, but the couple of times we met it seemed to me she was kind of pissed off at life or something. Always trying to cut a deal. Gracie said it had to do with her kid being born crippled. I don’t know.”
    “Where’s Fredda’s husband?” Rosie wanted to know. She was still lying on the slant board.
    “Never heard there was one.”
    “You going to be around for a few days?” I asked.
    “Yeah.” Grunt. “Got some repairs to see to. I need some time off, anyway.” He swung his feet to the floor and sat there, looking up at me. Rosie got off the slant