Kelly was up, cuddled into a corner of the small sofa in the room, paging through the little notebook where the two of them had put together notes on their thoughts while the interviews were fresh.
“I thought I smelled coffee,” Sam said as she cast aside the covers.
“Help yourself. That tiny pot actually made two cups.” Kelly set the notebook down and picked up her phone. “I’m going to call Patsy Flores and see if we can set something up to meet with her today.”
“Anytime is fine. I’ll be quick in the shower.” Sam grabbed clean clothes from her bag and headed toward the bathroom.
Five minutes later Kelly poked her head around the door. “Patsy says she’s studying at her apartment until two, then she’s going to Lila’s funeral. We’re free to come by now.”
Sam shut off the shower and reached from behind the curtain to grab a towel. “Excellent. Give me five minutes.”
She caught herself watching the traffic around them as they drove to Patsy’s apartment. Twice, there was a car behind them that might have been following, but it would turn or they would turn. No one stayed with them the whole way.
The cinderblock building seemed more depressing on their second visit. The shrubs hadn’t been pruned in a long time, and drifts of discarded food wrappers had collected around them. An old tire leaned against a wall. The tan paint had a yellowish cast, and there were rust-colored stains where water had run off the roof for years.
Patsy answered the door of unit 218 and stood back for them to enter.
Kelly eyed the stack of books sitting beside an older laptop on a desk in the tiny living room. A two-person dining table was pushed up against the kitchen counter, and they could see the sort of outcast appliances students everywhere seemed to inherit with the cheap rentals that went along with the lifestyle.
“Looks like your classes are keeping you plenty busy,” she said.
Patsy raised her eyes to the ceiling. “I had no idea. But I’m almost at the finish line. Six weeks until finals. Praying that goes well. Then studying for the bar, which should be another real joy.”
“What field of law do you plan to go into?” Sam asked.
“Oh, definitely it’s family law. I’ve interned at a small local firm owned by a woman who’s a strong advocate for the rights of women and children, especially those with abuse in their backgrounds. We advocate for them during a sticky divorce or child custody situation, help them get their legal paperwork in order, such as making a will after they suddenly find themselves on their own. Sometimes we help them get into a safe living space if there’s been abuse in the household. With my degree I’ve got a fairly sure position there.”
“Sounds like really worthy work,” Kelly said with a smile.
“Well, your time is precious,” said Sam, “so we should get to our questions.”
“Please. Can I offer you something to drink? Afraid it’s limited to water or Cokes right now. Even the coffee ran out this morning.”
They declined. “If you can tell us anything that might point us toward Lila’s killer, someone who had a grudge or a recent fight with her?” Sam asked. “I just don’t see Danny for this at all, but we need another direction to go.”
Patsy thought for a moment, shaking her head slightly. “I love my brother, but Lila was such a sweetheart. I can’t imagine what happened to make him take off like that, especially not telling her where he was going. And Lila, well from everything I could see she was a hundred percent true to him. I knew her well enough that I think I would have spotted signs if she was cheating.”
While studying ungodly hours, backing away from her social life, and not particularly paying attention to her new roommate’s activities—Sam doubted Patsy’s observations would have been quite as keen as she was saying.
“I saw messages on Danny’s phone,” she said. “Lila was subtle about it, but she was definitely playing head games with him.”
Patsy shook her head more vigorously. “Are you sure he didn’t just misinterpret? He’s a guy, and sometimes an oblivious one.”
“She told him he’d proposed and given her your grandmother’s ring. Then we learned it wasn’t true at all. Your aunt Pauline has it at their home.”
“I don’t know …”
Sam wasn’t about to get into an argument. She still needed information Patsy could provide. “You said Lila was in the process of moving in here. Could we take a look at her room? Just see if she left anything that might give us some clues?”
“Sure, go for it, the room to the left of the bathroom. I really need to get back to the books—”
“Absolutely.” In fact, it’s better if you’re not watching over our shoulders.
Lila’s room was pretty much what Sam had expected—occupied but not truly lived-in. The bed was made, topped with a white duvet and a couple of knitted afghans tossed on top, and the closet was filled with high-end clothing, designer bags and shoes that were probably knock-offs. But there were no pictures on the walls and no personal mementos on the shelves or dresser. A large purple suitcase and three cardboard boxes had been shoved out of the way against one wall.
“Looks like maybe she wasn’t quite done unpacking,” Kelly said. “So, what are we looking for?”
Sam had thought about this. “Banking information that might show she’s the one who took Danny’s money.” Although that might provide more motive for him than for someone else. “Personal notes or letters, especially if they’re from another man. Photos could be interesting, jewelry.”
“I’ll go through the purses and clothes, if you want to take the drawers or the boxes.” Kelly pulled the bags from the closet shelf and tossed them on the bed, where she plopped down and began opening them, one by one.
Sam pulled open the dresser drawers, which were filled with lacy, skimpy things but not much else. One drawer held sweaters and tops, all neatly folded. No stash of secret letters bound in a scarlet ribbon or photos of an ex-boyfriend.
It made sense that the girl would have first unpacked the items she used daily. Older things were probably in the boxes that were still sealed with packing tape. She ripped the clear tape off the first one. It contained a set of dishes.
The second box yielded a few more kitchen utensils—apparently Lila had her own place before coming here. Either that or her mother had put together a collection of the basics for when her daughter set up house.
The third box held the types of things young girls collect in their dresser drawers during high school—a yearbook from Nuevo Laredo High, photos of the sort probably taken by grandparents who still thought prints were the way to go, a few CDs of the Britney Spears ilk, birthday and graduation cards (those could prove informative), and oh—what’s this?—a diary.
Sam flipped quickly through it. The handwriting started out as that of a twelve-year-old, but in the latter pages the writing became more mature. There could be something here. She slipped the diary into her pack and turned to the cards. Most were obviously from Mom, Dad, Grandma, and an assortment of aunts and uncles, and contained congratulatory notes and references to gift money that had been enclosed. A few seemed to be from friends—signed with nicknames, embellished with hearts and flowers drawn in gel pen ink.
On the surface it didn’t seem that any would relate to the current situation but, just in case, Sam snapped quick pictures of the interiors and signatures. Maybe a name they didn’t know now would end up being helpful.
“Well, the purses seem like a bust,” Kelly said, “unless you think lip glosses, used tissues, and ballpoint pens are useful. The girl seems to own a lot of that junk.”
“Do the ballpoint pens have logos on them? Those could provide connections to … something.”
“Most of them are the girly type she probably picked up at a card shop or someplace—lots of glitter and cutesy designs. But I’ll snag the printed ones.”
Sam browsed the yearbook, finding the usual signatures. Lila had been voted prettiest senior and prom queen. I
nteresting that seven years later she was working at The Gap, living in a fairly crummy student apartment, and chasing after a rancher. Not that there was anything wrong with those things … it just showed that popularity was a fleeting thing and high school was little indicator of success in life. Inside the book, she snapped photos of the signatures and all the ‘love you, beautiful girl’ types of messages her fellow students had written. Again, who knew where an important clue would come from?
Kelly re-stashed the purses, systematically went through the shoes, tapping them and turning them upside down to see if any valuable jewelry or wads of money would fall out. All she got was a dead cockroach from a black Manolo Blahnik high heel and a lint ball from one of the Nike running shoes.
She sidestepped those and went on to pat down the pockets of the clothing on hangers. “Any luck, Mom?”
Sam described the few things she’d photographed. “We can take them back to the room and see if we can put together anything useful. What do you think about this stack of photos? Maybe we should take a look. I can always mail them anonymously back to her mother after we’re finished with them.”
“Do it. I have a feeling we’re going to strike out on the banking info. Everyone does that online anymore, most likely from her phone. And since we don’t have that …”
“Yeah, too bad one of us isn’t a whiz with hacking and able to get into the phone databases so we could pull up all her stuff on a big screen monitor.”
“You’re watching too much NCIS, Mom. I think we’ll have to come up with other means.” Kelly turned from the closet, empty handed. “What about that humongous suitcase?”
Sam unzipped it, but it was empty. Most likely it had been the means of bringing in the clothing, and it was now sitting in the corner because there wasn’t a better place to store it.
“I’m starving, Mom. We never had breakfast.” With a final look around the room, they decided it was time to call it a morning.
Chapter 31
A diner around the corner from Patsy’s place provided substantial breakfast fare, cheaply, and both women felt reinvigorated afterward.
“Patsy mentioned Lila’s funeral at two o’clock. What do you think? Should we spy, see if we learn anything new?”
Sam pondered the question. Who would be there? Both of Lila’s parents. She’d probably already learned what she could from them. There would be tension between them, and she might catch a peek at Margaret’s new man, but a funeral wasn’t the time or place to step up and ask questions anyway. Still, it might be interesting to see which of the friends showed up. Someone’s appearance, or lack of appearance, at the event might give weight to the information each had provided. A friend claiming to love the girl, but not showing up for the funeral … that could be very telling.
She glanced at the time. “It’s one-fifteen now and we have no idea where the service is.”
“We’re only two blocks from Patsy’s. We could follow her.”
They paid, left, and found a curbside spot within view of her apartment’s parking lot. The yellow VW stood out and would be easy to track. Twenty minutes later, Patsy emerged, wearing a black dress and heels, her hair pulled away from her face in a half-up with a clip. She didn’t glance in their direction at all, but went straight to her car.
“Either the place is fairly nearby or she’s running late,” Kelly said, starting the rental.
Judging by the way Patsy threw her car in gear and ripped out of the parking lot with barely a glance at the traffic, it was the latter. She got decent speed out of the little Beetle and wove her way knowledgeably through the streets. Kelly kept pace, but trying to do it clandestinely was impossible.
“Don’t worry about staying back,” Sam advised. “She’s not suspicious and she wouldn’t know this car anyway. Just get us to wherever she’s going.”
They zoomed through a couple of the traffic lights at the last possible second, but managed to stick with their quarry. Ten minutes later, Patsy slowed and made a right turn into the parking lot of an elaborate looking Catholic church.
Kelly slowed down enough to watch the little yellow car pull into a parking slot then she turned left, bringing their car to a stop in front of a pawn shop across from the church. The little strip center held a Laundromat, the pawn shop, a butcher shop, and a tiny café whose big claim to fame—on Day-Glo yellow window signs—was menudo.
“This isn’t ideal,” Kelly said. “Shall I move the car somewhere else?”
“That’s okay,” Sam said, unbuckling her seatbelt and turning around. “I can see the front door, and we have a pretty clear view of who’s coming and going.”
“At least we’re unobtrusive.”
Patsy walked in, pausing a moment at the top of the steps to say hello to a priest in a black cassock. Several men in suits stood around, a couple of them smoking, apparently not wanting to be cooped up inside until they absolutely had to.
“They seem older than Lila and her friends,” Kelly said. “Maybe friends of the parents?”
Sam nodded. Josh and Devon Miller arrived. From their body language, Sam guessed that Devon had somewhat forced her brother to come. He wore sneakers with his jeans and a black jacket; she had on a knee-length navy blue skirt and a navy T-top.
The men with cigarettes stubbed them out in a large planter near the door, straightened their jackets, and walked inside. They were no sooner through the doorway than the priest turned and closed the heavy carved doors.
“How long do you suppose this will go on?” Sam asked.
“I’ve never been to a Catholic funeral before, but if it’s anything like a Catholic wedding … a long time.”
“Maybe it won’t be a religious service, just a short memorial.” Sam knew her voice sounded hopeful.
“We could go in and find out,” Kelly said, giving a glance at their clothing. “Yeah, no. Dusty jeans and sandals probably don’t cut it in church.”
“Especially since our whole point is to be unnoticed.”
“One of those men, just now …” Kelly said. “I may be imagining things, but the guy who wasn’t smoking … he seemed familiar, the same size and build as the man who confronted us last night and told us to back off.”
“I wish I’d taken a better look.”
“I know—I should have pointed him out, but it just kind of came to me now.”
“So, what do you think? Can you be sure?”
Kelly sighed. “Not really. It was too dark to see his face much last night, and all I could tell was that he was husky and had dark hair. A hundred guys who just happen to work out at the gym could fit that description.”
Sam turned to face forward in her seat again. “True. Not much we could do, even with proof. Nothing actually happened.”
In their mirrors they stared at the closed church doors for another ten minutes.
“I’m not sure how Beau and his guys ever did surveillance—it’s the most boring thing ever,” Kelly said.
“We could make the most of our time by going through the things I swiped from Lila’s boxes at the apartment.” Sam reached for her jacket, which she’d tossed into the back seat of the car.
She pulled out the diary and the packet of photos, which Kelly picked up. Keeping an eye toward the church, she began flipping through them.
“Looks like the same group of kids, pretty much. They must have been on some kind of an outing together. The buildings in the background look like old places. There are some ruins in this one.”
Sam glanced at them but didn’t recognize the setting.
“Here are the guys—Josh, Chad, Sergio, Matt, Danny. And this one has the girls. There’s Devon, Lila, Emily, Taylor. I don’t see Abby, but I’ve kind of wondered how much she’s a part of their crowd. A few of them as a whole group …” At the back of the packet were some older shots. “Hm. Looks like this could be back in Nuevo Laredo. There’s one with Lila and both of her parents. And here’s a guy I don’t recognize.”
She held up
the photo for Sam. Lila and the young man were embracing, her arms around his waist, his over her shoulder, both facing the camera. Lila’s hair was a bit shorter then, falling to her shoulders. “I don’t know him either,” Sam said. “He isn’t one of the current group we’ve met. He’s got great posture, almost a military look about him, don’t you think?”
Kelly took another look and nodded.
“We could ask her mother about him. They look like more than school chums or drinking buddies.”
Movement at the church caught Kelly’s attention and she nudged Sam. But the open door only discharged one person before it closed again, one of the smokers from earlier.
“Thirty minutes. He’s got it bad,” Kelly observed.
Sam, meanwhile, had paged through the diary from the back, coming to Lila’s most recent entries. The girl apparently hadn’t thought to date the entries, so it was anyone’s guess how long ago she’d written them. Sam began reading, looking for any references to Taos.
There were none, but one entry caught her eye.
Maybe if I tell D he gave me that ring from his grandmother, he’ll think he actually proposed. He was pretty wasted Saturday night.
It went along with Danny’s version of things, but what was Lila going to do when he said okay, we’re engaged, start wearing the ring. She’d obviously seen it somewhere but she didn’t actually have it. Pauline had confirmed that much.
The diary entry went on: I can always get a guy to do what I want, just like R.
“Which of the friends has the initial R?” Sam asked.
Kelly ticked them off on her fingers silently as she pondered the list. “I can’t think of any. Is it a first name or last?”
“I’m assuming first name by the way she wrote this. But she could be referring to a last name or a nickname, for that matter.”
“Or to that unknown guy in the photo?”
“Maybe … this is one of her last diary entries and she’s mostly talking about Danny at this point.”
“So she was stringing along two men at once?”
Deadly Sweet Dreams Page 14