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DeLucca, sent the bishop an introductory letter a month ago stating that Cooper was being sent to evaluate the priests for service. Cooper is a psychologist, perhaps he was giving them a mental health update, I don’t know.”
    “And?”
    “And that’s it. That’s all he knew.”
    Switching gears, she asked, “Why did the diocese fire the housekeeper?”
    “They didn’t. Cooper did. Ms. Davies is still on the payroll,” Martinez said. “Bishop Carlin told her to take a couple weeks and he’d find her a different position. He seemed angry with Cooper for firing her without consulting him.”
    “Maybe I should talk to the bishop.”
    “Are you questioning my investigative abilities?”
    Skye bristled at the accusation in Martinez’s voice. “No, and you shouldn’t think that I would. But you’re Catholic, you have respect for the office, maybe you didn’t ask the right questions.”
    “I asked the right questions.”
    Skye changed the subject as she turned off the highway. “Do you know why Davies left Salem?”
    “No, but her daughter is a student at UC Santa Barbara.”
    “She’s commuting an hour to college?”
    “We do what we can when we’re broke,” Martinez said with a half grin.
    “Let’s go.”
    The coastal cottage on Seaview Lane had an exquisite view of the ocean, almost identical to Skye’s own property three miles down the shoreline. The cottage rested on a bluff with a sheer drop to the Pacific Ocean beyond.
    Skye surveyed the rental house. Small, neat, functional. The perfect place for a recluse or lovers, separated from nearby homes by nature. Craggy, wind-sculpted cypress trees lined the property, and with the smell of salt water and sound of crashing waves below, the entire setting was picturesque.
    She opened the door of her police-issue Bronco and they walked up the cobblestone path to the porch. The cottage looked well lived in with lots of plants, herbs, and flowers growing in pots resting on every available inch. Skye rapped on the door.
    A moment later a young woman answered. She had long dark hair and large pale brown eyes. To say she was beautiful would be an understatement.
    “May I help you?”
    “Sheriff Skye McPherson and Detective Juan Martinez,” Skye said. “We’d like to speak with Corinne Davies, if she’s home.”
    “My mom is on vacation. Is something wrong?”
    Lisa Davies would hear it from the press, so Skye said, “There’s been a multiple homicide at the mission.”
    The girl’s eyes clouded with tears and her delicate hand went to her mouth. “What happened?”
    “I can’t say, but we’d like to speak to your mother about anything she may have witnessed or heard during her time working there.”
    Lisa shook her head. “Mom was so upset after—I hate to speak ill of the dead, but Mr. Cooper was a vile human being. He hurt my mother cruelly, fired her for no reason. She’s at a health spa, trying to accept what happened and look for another job…’’ Her voice cracked. “She knows I love going to college here and she’s trying to find something local.”
    “Where can we reach your mother?” Skye asked.
    “I don’t want to trouble her. She’ll be heartbroken.”
    “I need you to trouble her. This is important.”
    Lisa relented. “I’ll call her. I’m sure she’ll come home immediately.”
    “Please have her call us as soon as she returns.” Skye handed Lisa Davies her business card. “Did you frequent the mission?”
    “I went up there a few times.”
    “And what was your impression of the men who lived there?”
    “Harmless,” she said. “Nice, I guess. I really didn’t talk much to them.”
    “Did you meet Rafe Cooper?”
    She hesitated, and Skye suspected she was about to lie. “Once.”
    “Did you have an impression?”
    “He seemed mightier-than-thou. I’m sure my feelings are clouded by what happened to my mother. He fired her. For no reason.”
    “Please have your mother contact us as soon as possible,”