“We’ll keep her busy with the wedding,” Libby offered, but she had no such easy solution for herself.
Rafael looked down the hall to make certain Maggie and Libby had taken the elevator. “I don’t want to frighten them, but this was no careless accident. Whoever held the mirror focused it directly on you. You’ll be safer at home.”
“Do you always expect the worst?”
Rafael went to the window and glanced down on the street below. “I’ve learned to. They weren’t trying to kill me, and I’ve no great affection for you, but you’re Maggie’s brother, and she doesn’t need more grief.”
“None of us do. I’ll check out without the surgeon’s approval if I have to, but I do want to speak with him first.”
“While we’re waiting for him, why don’t you tell me who has a reason to kill you, and we’ll stop him before he succeeds. The girls don’t need to be in on it.”
Santos studied Libby’s list. “I don’t know, but one of these women might. I’ll call Javier, the detective I know, as soon as I get home.”
Rafael turned toward him. “Call him now.”
Javier Cazares reached the hospital within the hour. He was a small man with a narrow face and gold-rimmed glasses. He wore his graying hair slicked back, and in a suit and tie, he could easily be mistaken for a physician on the hospital’s staff.
Santos introduced him to Rafael. “Someone tried to kill me yesterday. Obviously they failed, and I don’t want to give them a second chance. It could have been one of these women.” He handed Javier the list. He’d added a couple more names after Libby had left.
“The mirror report is true?” the detective asked, his voice a gravelly whisper.
“Yes,” Rafael answered. “I saw it and think it’s more likely someone protesting the bullfights is responsible.”
“May I sit?”
“Of course,” Santos said.
The detective took a visitor’s chair and pulled a small leather-bound notebook from his coat pocket. He copied the women’s names with a silver pen. “Do you have addresses, anything to identify these women from the hundreds with similar names?”
“Yes, at home. I’ll get them to you this afternoon.”
“Good. The protesters have been cited often enough for their leaders’ names to be readily available. I’ll pursue them as well.” He pursed his lips. “I’ve never investigated a murder attempt involving a mirror. It’s a clever weapon but relies upon cooperation from the sun for execution.”
Santos winced. “I wish you hadn’t used that word.”
The detective rose and pocketed his notebook. “Forgive me. I’ll begin with the protesters. Send me the addresses of your lady friends as soon as you’re able.”
“I will.”
“I wish you a swift recovery.” He walked out with a quick, determined step, as though confident he would soon identify the culprit.
Rafael leaned against the foot of the bed. “Just asking questions may frighten off the man or woman who did this, but it’s going to be impossible to prove who used the mirror unless a credible witness comes forward to identify them.”
“I’d thought of that, but I have to do something. I can’t just limp around for several months and hope not to be the target of another murder attempt. Do you suppose the arena security will watch the stands more closely during the next corrida?”
“I’ll see they do.”
Santos nodded. For a Gypsy orphan, Rafael spoke with a commanding authority and would undoubtedly be obeyed. “I appreciate your help, even if it’s for Maggie’s benefit.”
Rafael responded with a sly grin. “We’ll be family, Santos. Someday you may want to help me. Did your detective discover anything interesting about me you didn’t already know?”
Caught, Santos couldn’t deny it. “No, but he may be more useful this time.”
Rafael returned to the window. “There is that hope.” But it was a small one.
Chapter Four
Patricia skipped to catch up with her father. “I can’t wait to meet Maggie’s matador. She was always the serious, sensible one. What could have happened to her?”