the new ones. Even Tony could see that the fillings and crown were in the same places. The dentist also pointed out a crooked eyetooth and a hollow in a molar, which he’d noted should be filled to prevent inevitable decay.
“No question this is her,” he said, snapping off the light.
Tony leaned a hip against the counter in the exam room. “I’m not surprised. Do you remember Mrs. Marshall, Dr. Koster?”
“Yes, she was in here often,” he answered readily. Seeing Tony’s raised eyebrows, he said, “She had three children, also all patients. And her husband was, and is, a patient as well.”
“How did she strike you?”
“She was a lovely woman.” He smiled crookedly. “I’m happily married, but not blind. Her youngest looks a lot like her. Petite, blonde, a few freckles across the nose. My impression was that Christine had more force of personality, though.”
“She and her husband seem like an odd fit.”
Dr. Koster assumed a polite facade. “I don’t know him well enough to say. He’s a quiet man.”
Tony thanked him, accepted the X-rays and delivered them to the ME’s office.
Instead of starting his car right away, he rolled his head to loosen tight muscles and thought, Crap. There were reasons not to make this call—but he’d promised.
* * *
BETH’S LEGS GAVE OUT and she dropped onto the sofa, clutching her phone. “Oh, my God.” She shouldn’t be surprised but somehow was anyway. Or maybe the straightforward news had just offered a fresh injection of shock. “All those years...” Her throat clogged.
Over the phone, Detective Navarro’s velvet, deep voice sounded as sympathetic as it had in person. “I’m afraid so.”
“I need to let Matt and Emily know.” Her mind spun. “And Dad...or have you already called him?”
“Please don’t call him,” the detective said, the order thinly disguised. “I’m on my way over there now.”
“I’d like to be there when you talk to him.”
“I need to speak to him alone. I’m sure you understand.”
Of course she did. “Should I call an attorney for him?”
“I can’t advise you on that,” he said stiffly. “Surely he can make that decision for himself.”
It would never cross her father’s mind. Did he understand that he had to be considered a suspect? Beth knew he was incapable of an act of violence, and even more so of having the presence of mind and practicality it would have taken to hide the body.
Battling nausea, she thought, Not the body. Mom.
“I shouldn’t have called you,” Detective Navarro said, an odd note in his voice. “I need to ask you not to contact your brother either.”
“Matt? Why?”
The little silence that followed let her know how naive she sounded.
“He was the oldest, likely to remember the most,” he said finally.
That wasn’t it. What he meant was Your brother was nearly an adult. He lived in the home. I have to look at him.
And to think she’d let herself feel as if she and the sexy detective had formed some kind of bond. That he’d called her the minute he learned anything this morning because he liked her, thought of them as working together to find the truth.
Being nice under these circumstances was manipulative. And don’t forget it.
Matt could take care of himself. He’d ask for an attorney the second he sensed the detective’s real motives. Dad would not only remain clueless, he could easily be pressured into saying things he shouldn’t.
So much for the silly thoughts she’d allowed herself last night about Tony Navarro. Foolish for other reasons, too. She hadn’t seen a wedding ring, but he could be married, or at least involved with a woman. The way he’d looked at her could have been entirely in her imagination.
“Beth?”
How many times had he tried to recall her to the conversation?
“Thank you for calling,” she said and hung up.
She located her telephone directory, a year out of date, but this was Frenchman Lake. Change came slowly. In moments, she scanned the listings for attorneys in the yellow pages. DUI. Personal injury. Tax problems. She flipped the page back, at last seeing a category for criminal law. Her finger paused on William Schaaf, until she saw he was in practice with one of her parents’ friends. Even if Dad had never met this partner...no.
She picked another name at random.
A receptionist said she thought Mr. Ochoa might be available. He was and sounded interested in what she told him. “I’d like to help, but I’m due in court in fifteen minutes,” he said. “Can we put the interview off until one-thirty?”
Hoping for courage, she promised to tell the detective he had to wait until her father’s attorney could make it. Then, panicked, she tore out of the house and exceeded a few speed limits on the way to her father’s.
An unmarked police car was already parked at the curb. Beth ran across the lawn and let herself in, following voices coming from the family room, where she found the two men were already seated.
The flash in Detective Navarro’s dark eyes told her how unwelcome her intrusion was. He rose to his feet. “I thought I made clear that you can’t be here for this interview.”
She lifted her chin. “I don’t plan to be. However, my father’s attorney will be. Mr. Ochoa can’t make it until one-thirty, so you’ll need to come back then.”
Her father was gaping but didn’t intervene. He usually did what she told him to.
The knotted muscles in the detective’s jaw told her how mad he was. He looked at her father. “Mr. Marshall? Are you willing to speak to me without an attorney present?”
Dad looked at her. “Bethie? Do you think I need a lawyer?”
“Yes,” she said firmly. “Talking to an investigator at this point without an attorney present wouldn’t be smart.” She probably hadn’t been smart yesterday. She hesitated. “Did he tell you—”
“I did,” Detective Navarro said.
Tears formed in her father’s brown eyes. “I wondered why we never heard from her, but I never dreamed...” He swallowed. “To think she was here all this time.”
She put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “I know. Let me see the detective out, and then I’ll come back.”
His head bobbed. She stared a challenge at Detective Navarro, who gave a choppy nod and headed for the front door. He opened it but turned, looming over her.
“He only looks guiltier, insisting on an attorney instead of being willing to talk to me.”
Beth huffed. “Does that argument convince many people?”
“I’d think you would want to know who killed your mother.”
“I do.” She couldn’t falter, not now. Not in front of him. “But I know it wasn’t Dad, and I won’t let you bulldoze him.”
“Because that’s how I do my job.” His pissed gaze held hers long enough to sting before he shook his head. “Good day, Ms. Marshall.”
Feeling as if she’d lost something, she had a lump in her throat as she shut the door. Maybe...maybe this was the mistake.
But almost immediately, she shook her head. She’d done what was best for her father. Detective Navarro—she couldn’t think of him as Tony now—had been nice yesterday. He’d really