kid. At one point there were six of us sharing a space smaller than your apartment living room. I still remember the smell of grilled onions on the stove and playing football outside, using different trailers as yard markers. They’re some of the best memories of my childhood.”
“You never told me any of this,” Jessie said.
“Well, considering your upbringing, I didn’t think mine was especially hardscrabble.”
“Ryan,” she said reproachfully. “It’s not a competition to see who had the most challenging childhood. I’m just happy to get a peek at the little fella behind that manly facade.”
Ryan’s face was suddenly bright pink and not because of the sun.
“It looks like we’re here,” he said quickly as they arrived at the Fogata home, knocking before she could reply. A moment later the door was answered by a petite woman in her early thirties with her hair pulled back in a bun. She was drenched in sweat.
“Is Carlos here?” Ryan asked. “We’d like to speak with him.”
The woman nodded and called into the home for Carlos. He appeared a few seconds later, wearing blue jeans and a white T-shirt, which was soaked through. He looked slightly older than the woman, maybe mid-thirties. He had the lean body and leathery skin of someone who worked outside all the time. His hair was starting to recede and he had little scratches and scars on his fingers and wrists that Jessie recognized as the telltale defense mechanism of rose bushes. He wore a worried expression.
“Hi, Carlos,” Ryan said. “I’m Detective Ryan Hernandez with the LAPD. This is my colleague, Jessie Hunt. Do you have a moment to answer some questions about an incident that occurred last week in Manhattan Beach?”
Fogata’s concerned look immediately turned to annoyance.
“Let me guess. Is it related to Margaret Jules?”
“It is,” Ryan confirmed. “May we come in?”
Fogata gave them both a once-over.
“With that suit you have on, I think you’d rather we talk outside. We don’t have air-conditioning. You’d be cooking in your own juices in that thing.”
“I appreciate it,” Ryan said. “Maybe you could lead us to the coolest spot?”
“Give me a second,” Fogata said, disappearing from sight.
Ryan didn’t flinch but Jessie did notice him snap the holster cover off his weapon and rest his hand casually in its general vicinity. But when Fogata reappeared, the only thing he’d added was a Dodgers baseball cap.
He hopped down from the trailer and motioned for them to follow him as he walked up a small hill to a picnic table in the middle of the park. There were a couple of preschool-age kids sitting there, drawing pictures on construction paper with worn down crayons. Fogata plopped down next to them and motioned for Ryan and Jessie to take seats across from them.
“These are my twins, Joe and Mariah,” he said, rubbing the boy’s head vigorously. “They’ll be four next week.”
Jessie smiled at the kids, who looked at her with matching expressions of mild curiosity before returning their attention to their art.
“You okay having this conversation with them around?” Ryan asked.
“I’ve got nothing to hide,” he assured them. “And as long as you’re not too graphic, they won’t have a clue what’s going on. Besides, this is the only place in the park that gets a breeze and I don’t want to make them move.”
“Fair enough,” Ryan said. “So you’re obviously aware of the complaint filed by Ms. Jules last week.”
“Obviously,” Fogata confirmed. “That’s why I’m sitting here instead of on the job today. Did you guys really come all the way out here from the beach just to question me over an ‘incident’ she wouldn’t even file a formal police complaint about?”
“You say ‘incident’ like it’s a dirty word,” Jessie said, speaking for the first time.
“No, I say it like it’s a load of crap.”
“You’re saying it didn’t go down that way?’ Ryan asked.
“Not even close, man,” Fogata said. “That lady has been eyeing me for months.”
“What does that mean?” Jessie asked, though she had a clue.
“It means she was constantly giving me the look. She always found a way to end up sunbathing in the yard while I was working. It got so awkward that I requested getting switched off their house. But the company said no, that Mrs. Jules was adamant that I did the best work. After that, I never even stepped on their property without sunglasses and a hat that covered the top half of my face. I tried to avoid eye contact at all costs. I didn’t want