Diamond Fire (Hidden Legacy #3.5)- Ilona Andrews Page 0,16

with cream in it?”

“That’s cannoli,” Mom said.

“Just google it,” Leon said.

Arabella growled under her breath. “Every time I shrink their order window, it resets, and my phone is dead.”

I passed her mine.

“How is it going?” Mom asked.

“If I eliminate everyone under the age of ten and everyone Rogan has vouched for, it leaves me with 12 primary suspects,” I said.

“An adult could get a kid to do their dirty deed,” Grandma Frida said.

“Yes, but anyone under the age of ten would tell,” I said.

“These kids run around the house in packs, unsupervised,” Arabella said. “They would blab. Also, Bern was right. Canapé is a bread thing.”

I studied my list of suspects. I had them organized room by room in the west wing, going north to south. The Spanish names were terribly confusing and some of them were very long, so for the sake of clarity, I culled them down to one given name and one married name. The main last name in the family was Ramírez. Mrs. Rogan had three siblings housed in the west wing, her two half brothers, Markel and Zorion, and her half sister, Ane.

First, there was Markel, Mrs. Rogan’s oldest half brother, and his second wife, Isabella. Markel didn’t seem to be employed. He lived off the proceeds from the family’s investments. A search of Isabella’s Facebook revealed a lavish house and nice cars. However, Rogan’s files noted that Markel repeatedly complained in private that his stipend wasn’t large enough. None of this stipend seemed to have made it to his son and daughter.

The next room held Mikel Ramírez, Markel’s son, and his wife Maria. Mikel managed Ramírez Capital, a venture capital firm owned by the family, with focus on telecommunications and internet companies. He was a tall, pale, dark-haired man with a prematurely greying beard and sad eyes. His wife was a thin, overly tan woman with bleached blond hair, who liked designer clothes, usually in white, and chunky gold jewelry. I had seen her twice. Both times she had a wineglass in her hand and both times she asked if I had seen her husband. They had four children, three under the age of twelve.

Next were Lucian and June de Baldivia. June was Markel’s daughter, a plump woman with olive skin and a wealth of dark curly hair. Her husband was tall, athletic, and handsome, with dark hair and narrow, startlingly blue eyes. He jogged around the estate every morning. Lucian worked for a computer firm specializing in cyber security, while June was heavily involved in a start-up trying to clean up plastic from the oceans. They had two daughters, who looked exactly like their mom.

Then, there was Zorion and Teresa Rosa del Monte, the parents of bedazzler girl. Zorion, Mrs. Rogan’s youngest half brother, was forty years old, trim, athletic, and handsome. He lived off the family proceeds and seemed to have two interests: soccer and cars. Teresa was a housewife with an edgy pixie cut. She took care of their two children and was trying to write a novel. A search of her online activity showed heavy Twitter usage where she stalked a number of romance writers and literary agents, both in and outside of Spain. They weren’t in great financial distress.

The next room over was occupied by Ane, Mrs. Rogan’s half sister, who had arrived with a boy toy, as Arabella put it. The boy toy was in his late twenties, blond, blue-eyed, pretty, and went by Paul Sarmiento. Ane didn’t work, relying on her portion from the family investments as income. Paul didn’t have a criminal record and Rogan’s people couldn’t find his fingerprints in any of the databases, but it wasn’t clear what he actually did for a living. I put a check mark by his name.

Finally, in the far south, we had Iker and Eva Ramírez. Iker, Ane’s only child, had olive skin and dark blond hair and was an architect. He’d been working at his firm for the last four years. His wife was petite and delicate. She had started her career as an actress, but that went out the window when she married Iker. They had only one child, Xavier.

“One thing I don’t understand,” Leon said, sliding one gun part into another. He did this without looking down, as if his hands were on autopilot. “Why did they steal the Sealight? They’re all rich.”

“Let me see a picture of it again,” Grandma Frida asked.

I pulled up an image of the Sealight and showed it to her.

Grandma