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indeed she was still here. I didn’t remember where I had heard of that, but it seemed to make sense at the moment.
    I said a silent prayer for poor Mrs. Garcia, and for Julio and Rosa and all their family. A sad day for them.
    For me, the day was still full of obligations. I closed the doors to Lily and went out to meet them.
    First order of business was the call to Rosa’s father. I went up to my office for that, and fortified myself with a cup of tea before calling El Vaquero. I spent a couple of minutes on hold until Mr. Garcia came to the phone.
    â€œThis is Rick.”
    His voice sounded brusque, the voice of a restaurant manager whose hands were full. I wasted no time, getting straight to the point of my call.
    â€œMr. Garcia, it’s Ellen Rosings, from the Wisteria Tearoom. I’m afraid I have bad news for you. Mrs. Garcia took ill during her visit here this morning.”
    â€œMama’s sick?”
    â€œI called emergency, but the paramedics weren’t able to help her. I’m afraid she died. I’m terribly sorry.”
    â€œDied?” He sounded stunned.
    â€œYes. The paramedics said it might have been a stroke. They left a number for you to call.”
    I read it to him and offered to help in any way I could. The silence on the line was heartbreaking. I knew I had ruined his day.
    â€œI sent Rosa home,” I told him. “She can take as much time off as she needs.”
    â€œOh. Thank you.”
    â€œI’m so sorry, Mr. Garcia.”
    â€œThanks. Thanks for calling.”
    His voice sounded broken as he said goodbye and hung up. I put down the phone and finished my tea, wishing I could have offered more comfort, but of course, nothing could change the awfulness of losing a parent, as I knew all too well.
    I went back downstairs, and remained there the rest of the day. With Rosa gone I was shorthanded, and it being a Friday, we were booked solid until closing time at six. Kris stayed late to help, bless her. By the time the last customers left with their take-away boxes in hand, I was exhausted.
    Kris came downstairs, carrying her black shoulder bag and a small shipping box. I looked up from locking the front door.
    â€œIs that the samples from Empire?”
    Kris glanced at the box and shifted it, tucking it more tightly under her arm. “No, it’s something I ordered for myself. You said it was OK to have things sent here.”
    â€œOf course.” I smiled. “Thanks for staying, Kris. You were a huge help today.”
    She smiled back. “No problem. Do you need me tomorrow?”
    â€œYes, if you don't mind. I told Rosa to stay home.”
    As she turned away I started for the gift shop to cash out the day’s receipts from the register. The sound of a heavy tread on the front portal stopped me. Someone tried the front door, then a moment later pounded on it.
    The front door is solid oak, surrounded on the top and sides by the small, single-paned windows called lights that one finds in older houses. I opened it to Tony Aragón, his jacket slung over one shoulder. His black t-shirt had a bosun neckline that showed a nice glimpse of his shoulders.
    He smiled and gave an upward jerk of his head. “Hi. I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I’d just stop by instead of calling.”
    â€œCome in.”
    I opened the door wider and he stepped inside. Kris had wandered back, but now she turned away again.
    â€œWhat’s in the box?” Tony said.
    Kris paused and glanced back at him. “Just something I ordered.”
    â€œCan I see?”
    She turned and faced him square on, holding the box protectively. “Not unless you have a warrant.”

 
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    M y heart gave the little lurch that hits me whenever I’m in hostess mode and disaster threatens. I stepped between Tony and Kris.
    â€œIt’s been a long day. Would you like some coffee, Detective?”
    Tony shifted his gaze to me.