Blood Rubies by Jane K. Cleland

endear him to me, yet I had no reason to think it bothered her, at least not enough to break up with him, let alone kill him. My dad once told me that if I married a man for his money, I’d earn every penny. I wondered if Heather was named in Jason’s will, thinking maybe she’d taken a shortcut.
    â€œNo one knows the truth behind other people’s relationships. They seemed happy together.”
    â€œThere’s a ‘but’ there.”
    â€œYou’re right. From what I saw, he was into business and she was into him. Still, there’s no reason to think they weren’t truly in love. It only makes sense, though, to check out his will.”
    â€œIn the works. Did you meet anyone else here for the wedding?”
    â€œAna’s dad, Stefan. The families are friends.”
    â€œWhat did you think of him?”
    â€œHe seemed kind, concerned about Ana, willing to step up to protect Peter.” My throat tightened at a memory of my father, his devotion and love. I turned toward the ocean. A sailboat was skimming north, running parallel to the shore, its sails billowing. About a week after my mom’s funeral, I’d come down with a miserable case of the flu, and Dad, who couldn’t work a can opener before her death, had used her cookbook—the one she’d handwritten and illustrated for me as she lay dying—to make her scratch chicken soup. Love equals effort exerted. Stefan loved Peter, of that I was certain. I turned back to face Wes. “He reminded me a little of my dad. A good guy.” I felt my brow furrow as a new thought came to me.
    Wes, as observant as ever, asked, “What?”
    â€œAna mentioned a breach between them—between her and her dad—but I didn’t see anything like that.” I held up a hand. “Keep in mind, I saw him for a total of about two minutes, which includes about no more than thirty seconds with Ana, so what do I know? Maybe they were faking getting along.”
    â€œHow can I check?”
    A man far down the beach tossed a stick for his dog, a little mutt. The dog ran like his life depended on retrieving it. Once he did, he half carried, half dragged it back and was rewarded with a big, ruffling pat. He darted a few steps away, then scurried back, challenging his owner to do it again, do it again, do it again. The man did, and again the little fellow took off like a bullet.
    I turned toward Wes. “How about talking to Heather’s family? Maybe the breach occurred when Ana was younger. That wouldn’t be unusual, would it? To have a fight with your dad when you’re a teenager? If so, someone in Heather’s family might be aware of it. The two families have been friends for years.”
    â€œYou rock, Josie!” Wes made a note.
    The little dog barked, and Wes and I both looked up. The dog was playing tug-of-war, unwilling to relinquish his stick. His tail was wagging wildly. His owner was laughing, having a blast.
    â€œWho else?” he asked.
    â€œJason’s best friend, Chuck, and his wife, Sara. I saw them for even less time than everyone else. You know, Wes, it’s possible that Jason’s murderer is someone we know nothing about. A disgruntled investor, for instance, who followed Jason here, hot for revenge. Jason enters an isolated cottage. The killer follows. They argue. They tussle. Jason ends up dead.” I paused, thinking. “Jason wasn’t a money manager or financial adviser. He gave advice, but while he marketed his information to individual investors, he was not pro-consumer—that’s a potentially deadly mix. Plus, who knows how much he inflated his success? Maybe he was all hot air and no money. Can you check out his net worth?”
    Wes scribbled in his notebook. “Sure. The police are following up on one more lead—the Blue Dolphin pastry chef. A guy named Maurice who has it in for Ana.”
    â€œAre you serious?”
    â€œWhy