straight for his office aware that Dena followed him, although uninvited. He turned and stared at her for a moment, and then sank into his office chair. He was bone tired, and yet he still needed answers.
“So, if you aren’t going back to the hotel site, and you’re not my girlfriend, why do you want to stay?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t have a job to go back to on Monday.”
“Brennan fired you?”
“I quit.”
Zeke pulled the chair in under the desk. This was getting worse by the minute. He scrubbed at his face with both open hands. “You want me to call him, explain?”
“No. We talked, it’s all good.”
“This is a mess,” he said, and grimaced. “You lost your job because of me?”
“No, it’s not that at all, silly,” Dena said, and sat in a chair facing the desk. “I wanted to quit soon anyway. I want my own business. But that’s beside the point.”
She frowned when he said nothing, but really he had nothing to add.
“Back to Steve,” she said. “I told him I’d work for you for a while.”
Zeke pulled in a long breath and blew it out. “Fine—”
“I’ll work with you for a few days. Pro bono,” Dena said quickly. “Give you some suggestions on how to create a stronger public image. I have some really super ideas.”
She moistened her lips, and then snagged her bottom lip with her teeth. She was nervous, and he knew that because her speech was rapid. She didn’t have to help him at all. He wondered if her decision was about him, or if she wanted an opportunity to poke around a bit, ask a few more questions. He sighed deeply. He wasn’t doing too well on his own. Maybe they could join forces. Together they might discover the secrets they both suspected Three C’s Estates hid. He’d have to think it over before saying anything more.
“You know,” Dena said quietly. “I’ve wanted to ask you about your competitor here in the valley.”
Zeke frowned. “West Coast Citrus?”
She nodded. “Do they contract their farm hands from the same company?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Could they be blackballing your business?”
Zeke blinked slowly, and then widened his eyes. “I doubt it. But I can’t say I’ve never thought about it.” He tilted his head. Maybe she was on to something? “We have access to each other’s properties. There’s a horse trail around the base of the mountain where there’s no fencing. The old guy and my mother always seemed to get along okay.” He shook his head. “Nah, I don’t think they’d stoop that low.”
Dena’s head had snapped up at the comment on easy accessibility to each other’s farmland. That was a clue of sorts. What it meant to her he wasn’t certain. Good thing she didn’t love horseback riding or she might ride out there, check it out. That would be the last thing he needed.
“Why do you say that?”
“We’re competitors,” Zeke said. “But we both farm enough products, other than citrus, to make us different.”
“How so?”
“They do dates and lettuce. We don’t. We do grapes and mango. They don’t.”
He kept his sentences short, abrupt. He wanted her to know the conversation had wound down.
“Why do you think there is this enmity, or hatred, for Three C’s in the town?”
She wasn’t taking a hint. He shrugged. “People like to talk, to speculate—”
“I think it goes beyond that, Zeke.”
“Look, there’s also superstition, and religion,” he said, and sat straighter. “There’s a strong Latino community here. They’re the basis of the farming industry.”
She nodded. “I know. I grew up in Los Angeles. I have many friends who are Latino, and I’ve had workmates and clients who are also. I understand their culture, and while I agree on the superstition angle, it isn’t enough.”
Exhaustion hit him. He scrubbed at his face again. He couldn’t think clearly.
“But, I know you’re tired,” she said, and stood. “I’m going to my room. Why don’t you get some rest and we can talk later.”
“Sure. Thanks, Dena.” He turned and stared out the window. “If you need anything, ask Irma.”
He faced the window, and his shoulders sagged. He felt old, tired, totally drained. And he had absolutely no idea how he’d get through the weeks ahead, and although he hadn’t relished Dena’s questions, he was more than aware of how much he needed her support.
Chapter Six
Dena pulled her feet down from the windowsill. She closed the thriller she’d brought with her, and her mind buzzed with ideas on how to catch a murderer.
Yeah, right, Dena Roman,