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“Well, if you need Ryan’s signature,” Luis said, “just let me know.”
“How do you two know each other?” Matt asked.
“He was a close friend of Ward’s.” Luis dipped his chin and crossed himself, muttering a quick prayer for this late friend, before lifting his face and starting again. “Ryan’s been a lifesaver. He helped me go through the house after and still drops in whenever the band is in town.”
“You and Ward were close too?” Jamie asked.
“We met at a food truck years ago, and by the end of that day, he was my best friend. It was like I’d found the brother I never had. We opened Catch Me together a year later.”
“How many concepts have opened together?” Levi said.
“We’re”—Luis paused, swallowed hard, then corrected himself—“I’m opening the sixth RW Kitchen concept next month.” He ran a shaky hand over his face, then through the tight dark curls on top of his head. “I’m sorry. He’s been gone over a year, and I’m still not used to it.”
“That’s a lot for one person,” Marsh said. “We’re sorry for your loss.”
He dropped his arm, looking sad but resigned. “After what happened, I couldn’t let the RWK dream die. That’s the last thing he would’ve wanted.”
“After his suicide,” Marsh said, skirting the line between question and statement.
Luis’s answer was firmly on the side of doubt. “Right.”
“You don’t seem to believe that,” Levi said, picking up on the same skepticism in Luis’s voice. Matt and Jamie too, judging by the way they leaned forward in their seats.
Luis pushed back from his, standing. “Can I get anyone a drink?”
They all declined but gave Luis the time he seemed to need. He refilled his glass and stared out the windows at the channel. “I was the one who found him the first time he tried. We’d had back-to-back-to-back failures, concepts that never even made it to opening, and we were losing investors. He always put so much pressure on himself, which was dangerous for someone who suffered from anxiety and depression.” He turned away from the water, darkness clouding his expression, his light brown eyes hardening with certainty. “I knew what my best friend looked like, how he acted like during a depressive episode.” He shook his head as he sank back into his chair. “This wasn’t that. Fuck, we’d just opened our fourth place together and were booked solid. We were on top of the world.”
That was consistent with the financials they’d reviewed that morning. Granted, money did not equal happiness, and sometimes success was the worst kind of pressure, but Luis made a convincing case, one that was backed up by years of friendship.
Levi seemed similarly convinced, aiming his questions a different direction. “Had Ward mentioned any issues at his place in Cardiff? Break-ins or anything suspicious?”
“No, nothing. He loved that fucking house, and I’ll admit, the view was incredible. But it was also creepy as fuck.”
“Creepy?” Marsh asked, keying in on the same isolated vibes he’d picked up there.
Luis’s expression darkened once more, but this time the guilt mixed with the pain was unmistakable, from the downturned corners of his mouth to the averted gaze to the blush that hit his brown cheeks. “I once told him that lagoon was the perfect place to hide a body. Still haven’t forgiven myself for that joke.”
Marsh clasped his shoulder in sympathy, recalling similar comments about desert sand worms eating people whole. And then he’d served there and lost colleagues to the other very real dangers hiding in the sand. No doubt that one jest had been eating Luis up inside every day for the past fifteen months. Probably why Lassiter was checking in on him more too.
“Did Ward have any other enemies?” Jamie asked after Luis took another sip of water. “Folks who might’ve wanted to harm him?”
Luis shook his head. “Everyone loved Ward. That’s why he ran the front of house operation and I dealt with the kitchens. He was far more of a natural at it.”
Marsh didn’t doubt that about Ward, but he thought maybe Luis wasn’t giving himself enough credit. He’d been the picture of hospitality with them, even as they’d discussed a difficult, painful topic. He wasn’t holding anything back. Marsh wondered if he’d been as forthcoming with the local authorities. “Did you go over all this with the sheriff’s department at the time?”
Luis nodded, and Levi beat Marsh to the next question. “Did they ever follow up with you?”
“Not once,” he said, voice firmer than Marsh had heard it all conversation, bolstered by indignation on behalf of his friend. “They got his medical records, found the scars on his thighs, and had their answer.”
Local blowing off another case involving the same house? Or looking the other way, intentionally, then and now? Or were they just doing so now to cover their asses from before? As much as their FBI team wanted to stay below the radar with this case, it was becoming more and more clear that they needed to have a conversation with the sheriff’s department. And soon.
But first, they needed to finish with Luis, Matt already leading him down the final line of questioning. “How familiar are you with RWK’s finances?”
“Intimately, now,” he said. “Before, that was Ward’s domain. I’m the chef; he was the money and concept guy. It’s been a crash course, that’s for sure.”
Levi withdrew the folded bank records from his coat pocket and pushed the several highlighted sheets in front of Luis. “These are influxes of cash the company received. Do they look familiar to you?”
“Funding rounds,” Luis answered without hesitation. “After Ward’s death, I had an accountant go over everything and bring me up to speed. I saw those numbers too and was like, woah. I hired someone independent, on Ryan’s recommendation. I wanted to be sure it was all legit. The way we’d bounced back after those losses...” He smiled, small but proud of what he and his friend had achieved. “It was humbling to know folks in the industry believed in us like that. That they still do.” His words got scratchy, thick with emotion, and he cleared his throat before going on. “I’ve got the backup for everything. I can send over whatever documents you need.”
