Grace Cries Uncle by Julie Hyzy

“Why me?”
    â€œIsn’t that the big question?” Flynn said. “Have you ever lived in Los Angeles?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œBut you’ve visited there?”
    â€œSure,” I said. “A couple of times. What does that have to do with anything?”
    Reading from his notes, Rodriguez said, “Emilio Ochoa, age forty-two, multiple arrests for fraud, embezzlement, and international trafficking.” He gave me a sympathetic glance before continuing, “You had no reason to doubt him. Seems like he’s an old hand at these games. Served a couple of stints in his late twenties but then disappeared.”
    â€œUntil now,” Flynn said.
    â€œMeaning he went straight for a while?” Frances asked from the sidelines.
    â€œMeaning he probably got smarter and flew under the radar,” Flynn said with a little snap in his voice. “No sign ofhim in LA, nor anywhere in the state. His last parole officer recorded that Ochoa planned to relocate to Idaho to be closer to family.”
    â€œWhat we need to find out,” Rodriguez said, “is what brought him out in the open and why.”
    Their mention of Los Angeles set me on edge. “My sister was living in San Francisco for a while,” I said, repeating what Aunt Belinda had told me. “She showed up here, today, at Marshfield. Do you think that may be connected?”
    In my peripheral vision I noticed Frances sit up straighter, but Rodriguez had already begun to shake his head. “I don’t understand. What would your sister have to do with our victim?”
    â€œI don’t know,” I said. “That’s what I’m asking you.”
    Flynn’s mouth had curled up at one corner. “San Francisco is not exactly next door to Los Angeles. It’s a big state.”
    â€œI know that, but I also know that my sister gets into trouble.”
    â€œRuns in the family then,” Flynn said.
    I ignored him, directing my words to Rodriguez. “I know it sounds wacky, but she showed up here today, out of the blue. I haven’t talked with her in years but she turned up two days after a stranger—another person from California—was killed in a nearby backyard.”
    â€œIt’s a little thin,” Rodriguez said. “But I’m not willing to dismiss your hunches, either. We know better than that, don’t we, amigo?” He elbowed Flynn. “Is your sister staying with you?”
    I gave a terse nod. Frances snorted.
    â€œAsk her about this guy,” he said. “Give her both names. See if she recognizes either one. If she does, let us know. We’ll come talk with her.”
    â€œYou seem awfully eager to throw your sister under the bus,” Flynn said.
    Not willing to go there, I continued to address Rodriguez. “What else can you tell me about the victim?”
    â€œHe never married. Parents still alive, in Idaho. They swear he turned his life around and went straight. But they lost touch with him again about ten years ago.”
    â€œThis news has to be devastating for them,” I said.
    Flynn piped up, “They also said that Ochoa was a fortune chaser. Took shortcuts. Thought that easy street was right around the corner, and wealth waited for him with the next big deal.”
    This was sounding more like Liza every minute. “I’ll check with my sister,” I said.
    When they left, Frances sat across from me. “You don’t really believe this murder is connected to your sister, do you?”
    â€œI’m not ruling it out.”
    Frances’s fleshy face froze in horror. “You don’t think
she
shot the guy? In cold blood?”
    â€œNo, no. She’s not a nice person, but she’s not a murderer,” I said. “Liza will do almost anything to further her own interests, but she’s never physically harmed me, or anyone I can think of.”
    Frances worked her mouth to one side, as though