“Someone knew the password,” Brett said. “All we can do is theorize right now. Someone had the code—somehow. I don’t know. We’ll check into the alarm company, make sure they don’t have someone on the Barillo payroll. Someone could conceivably have come over the gate in the rear, lipped around through the foliage to the front door and then keyed in the entry code.”
“I don’t know how they got by me,” Bill told him.
“We’re canvassing the neighborhood,” Brett told him. “We’ll see if we can find anyone who saw anything unusual.”
Diego, he saw, was down the street, speaking with an elderly man who was walking a small mixed-breed dog. Diego motioned to him and he excused himself to Bill to join his partner.
Diego looked at Brett with a grim smile. “This is Mr. Claude Derby,” he said.
Brett nodded. “Special Agent Brett Cody, Mr. Derby. Thank you for speaking with us.”
“Of course,” the elderly man said.
Diego cleared his throat. “Mr. Derby says that he saw Miguel Gomez.”
Derby strenuously nodded. “It was right around dusk last night. I was out walking Rocko here. I saw him and said, ‘Miguel! Thank God—we all thought you were dead.’”
“Are you sure it was Miguel?” Brett asked.
“Of course I’m sure!” Derby said indignantly. “I’m old, but I’m not senile, at least not yet! And my eyesight is probably as good as yours, especially when I was standing as close to him as I am to you.”
“I’m sorry,” Brett said. “What did he say?”
“Well, he didn’t,” Derby told him. “I’ve never seen anyone act so strangely in my life. He just stood there, as if he was completely unaware of me. Like...like a zombie.”
“Like a zombie,” Diego repeated.
“Did he shuffle when he walked? Was his flesh rotting off?” Brett asked.
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Derby said indignantly. “I’m not a fool, and you’ve seen too many movies. He just wasn’t right. It was as if he didn’t even know I was there, that I was talking to him. I’d say he totally ignored me, but I don’t think he really even saw me. It was weird. I figured maybe he was heading home, except he didn’t head for the front door. I thought maybe he was going around to the side door, that he wasn’t dead and the papers had had it all wrong. I figured he could be on some kind of medication that was making him spacey. Anyway, I figured he’d get home and his wife could deal with him. Rocko and I, we just kept walking.”
“Thank you, Mr. Derby, thank you very much,” Brett said, but some of his skepticism must have been evident.
Derby wagged a finger at him. “Listen, Mr. Whatever Special Agent, I’m telling you God’s truth. I’m as sane as you are, and I’m not in the habit of seeing zombies around every corner. I saw Miguel Gomez, and he was not himself, not to mention the fact that someone who was supposedly burned to ashes would have a hard time coming back as a zombie.”
“I agree with you completely, sir,” Brett assured him. “And I thank you for your help. I would like to ask you, though, not to speak with the media.”
“Not a problem,” Derby said. “Well, not for me, but I did tell my wife when she was headed to bingo, so I’m not sure who else knows that I saw Miguel by now. If you have any more questions, I live catty-corner across the street.”
Brett thanked him again and looked at Diego.
“Miguel Gomez is alive after all,” Diego said.
“And he killed his wife?” Brett said, puzzled. “I just can’t believe that Miguel Gomez would have killed the woman he loved so much.”
“Zombies kill anyone,” Diego said lightly.
Brett looked at his partner.
“Sorry,” Diego said. “But you know it’s going to hit the news. By now everyone at bingo knows that one way or another, Miguel came back from the dead, and if they don’t know by now that his wife’s been killed, they will soon. I’ll go try a few more houses, find out if anyone else saw Miguel.”
*
Being in the water with Cocoa was an incredible high. Lara couldn’t remember when she’d felt quite so exhilarated. She’d done “flipper shakes,” dancing, dorsal pulls, splashing and more. Now they were playing with toys.
First she threw balls and rings. Then Rick told her that Cocoa was great at diving and finding things by sight, so they often sent her down to find anything someone had accidentally dropped.
“Guests use their phones and iPads as cameras on the docks and sometimes even on the platforms,” he told her. “But whatever they drop, Cocoa will find it. Not that your average cell phone still works after a dip in the lagoon, but Cocoa will bring them back up. Here, I’ll show you how good she is.”
“You going to sacrifice your cell phone?” she asked skeptically.
“No,” he assured her. “I have some little boxes that sink, same general size as a phone or a small camera. Cocoa has picked up lots of cameras, and a purse or two, as well. Here, I’ll show you. Take the box. Drop it, and then twirl your hand like this—” he demonstrated “—and say, ‘Cocoa, will you get that for me, please?’”
Lara did as Rick instructed. Cocoa was great, chattering her pleasure each time she made a retrieval.