She took the unfinished painting off the easel and set it aside. She’d work on it another day, when her grieving had eased.
For now, she needed to paint out her anger. She crossed the room and thumbed through a stack of blank canvases, finding one just the right size.
She centered the canvas on her easel, planted her feet wide apart, and began a portrait—of Ruben Marquez.
Adam cradled the phone in one hand and pushed ‘disconnect’ with the other. He sat forward slowly, stretching the muscles in his back and neck. Some ergonomic specialist had warned the squad not to hold the phone against their shoulder, but it left his hands free to take notes. “I’ve been on hold with the lab for ten minutes. I think it would be easier to drive over there.”
“What makes you think you’d get an answer if you were face-to-face?” Ruben kept his eyes on his computer screen, but Adam saw a smile quirk at the corner of his mouth.
“I can be hard to ignore, if I put my mind to it.”
“You’re hard to ignore when you don’t put your mind to it. Like right now, I’m trying to concentrate on gang activity and you’re talking to me.” Ruben finally looked his direction.
“I’m serious. I think I’ll drive over there and see if they have any useful information for us.” Sitting on his ass listening to Muzak was driving him crazy.
“Did you get hold of the morgue? When’s the post scheduled?”
“Tomorrow, two o’clock. Unless something happens to push us back.”
“Then go. Stop at the lab on your way home. There’s nothing more you can do here. I probably have another hour before my eyes start to cross, then I’ll head home.”
“Call me on my cell if you get a hit on El Jefe. If I don’t get any information from the lab tonight, I’ll stop again on my way in tomorrow.”
Adam pushed his chair back and grabbed his suit coat. He left his tie loosened around his neck. He was embarrassed to admit how excited he was about tonight.
He was thirty-five years old and had never experienced Halloween as an adult. His ex-wife had refused to stay home for the holiday. If she couldn’t find a party for them to attend, she insisted he take her out to a nice restaurant.
After she left him, he avoided going home until he was sure all the little ghosts and goblins were tucked in for the night.
Jillian lived in an apartment over the gun store she owned and no little kids came there to trick-or-treat, so she’d also missed out on the adult version.
Tonight would be different. She was closing her store an hour early and would be at his place by six. They had put out decorations over the weekend, and with the extra bag he’d picked up this morning, he had plenty of candy.
A quick stop by the lab and he had a copy of reports that wouldn’t have made it to his desk before tomorrow afternoon. One more stop for a pizza and he headed home.
Jillian pulled into the driveway before he turned his engine off. “Hey, handsome. Pizza and candy. I could get used to this,” she called as he stepped out of the car.
“At your service. Let’s eat it while it’s hot.” He unlocked the door and she scooted in, a paper bag with tomorrow’s work clothes clutched in one hand.
He kissed the back of her neck as she passed him. “If you’d go ahead and move in, you wouldn’t have to carry clothes back and forth.”
“Soon.” She grinned and kissed him back.
It couldn’t be soon enough for him. He had never been lonely before he met her, now an hour without her and he felt the loss. His house echoed with emptiness when she was gone. Even his cat looked in corners for her.
They sat on his back deck and ate the pizza, long strings of cheese stretched from slices so hot they burned the roof of his mouth. He took a sip of his beer and waited while she drank some lemonade. “How was your day? Is the new girl working out?”
“Yeah, she’s a gem. Cara trained her before she left for Florida. I’ll miss Cara and baby Megan, but Linda’s going to be available more often. She’s already asking for more hours.”
“I realize that cuts down on your profits, but I’m selfish. That means more time with me.” He leaned across the Adirondack chair and kissed her. She tasted like pepperoni.
She twisted the shiny new ring on her left hand. “Have you talked to Ruben about our plans?” she asked.
“No. We caught a bad one yesterday, right next door to Mamacita’s house. He’s not going to be in any shape to be happy for us until we get this one solved.”
Jillian gaped. “Why didn’t you tell me? I should call Mamacita and see if she’s okay. Was it a friend of hers?”
“The lady had only been renting the garage apartment for a few weeks. Mamacita claims she didn’t know her.” It hadn’t sounded right when Ruben told him and it didn’t taste right on his tongue now, but he couldn’t doubt his partner.
“Ruben’s up to something. I know it. He’s running a DNA test on the victim’s niece.”
Jillian set her paper plate on the table. “Does he think she was in on it?”
“I don’t know. That’s the problem. He hasn’t said why.”
“Maybe you should call him on it. Ask him flat out what’s up.”
Adam raked a hand across his chin. “No. After all we put him through, I need to cut him as much slack as he needs. He’ll tell me when he’s ready.” But he’d better be ready damn soon.
The doorbell rang and they both jumped up, racing each other to answer the door. At the first sight of a pink clad ballerina holding her orange plastic, pumpkin-shaped container, Adam reached for the bowl of candy. Jillian knelt and placed two candy bars in the little girl’s bucket.
A skeleton and a Jedi warrior ran up the steps as the ballerina curtsied and disappeared. Adam put all thoughts of work out of his mind. He was having too much fun.
El Jefe sat in his car and watched little kids run up and down the neighborhood. How had he forgotten it was Halloween?
Decorations had been up for so long he hardly noticed them by now. Pumpkins and orange lights and giant spiders crawling up the wall. Made him want to throw up.
Useless holiday. He’d never been allowed to celebrate it as a kid and he didn’t plan to start now. Why encourage those little punks to think they would get anything for free in life?
But it meant he couldn’t go home. He might be seen with this many people out. And he’d gone to a lot of trouble to keep his face hidden.
He couldn’t sit here in his car all night. Not with the bag of treasures he had hidden in his glove compartment. And they weren’t something he was willing to take to the apartment. That place had to be kept clean.
Going into a restaurant was out of the question. What if someone broke into his car? Even a nice place, with valet parking was dangerous. Those guys searched through the cars they parked for anything valuable. That’s what he did one summer, until he got fired.
That left another fucking drive-thru. All the money he’d made, and what good did it do him? Never anyplace he felt safe. Never anyone he completely trusted.
Some people worried they’d die broke. There were plenty of suckers in the world. He could always get more money. But so far, he hadn’t even been able to buy love.
His greatest fear was dying alone.
He looked again at the kids, running and laughing. It took all his willpower not to run over one of them.
Ruben worked until almost six, then turned off his computer and raced to Mamacita’s. He wanted to get there before dark. And if she had fixed something to eat, well, he wouldn’t complain.
He hadn’t warned her he was planning to spend the night, but he’d never come to her door that her eyes didn’t light up with pleasure when she saw him. Tonight she smiled, but that was all.
“You should have told me you were coming. I would have cooked supper.”
No mouthwatering aromas filled the house.
“I have a dozen tamales in the freezer. Let me warm some for you.” She moved away from the door and headed for
the kitchen.
He followed her through the swinging door and saw a small plate sitting on the counter. One tamale wrapper sat partially open with a few bites missing.
That was all she had eaten for supper; half a tamale? No wonder she seemed so thin.
Her hair was in a braid down her back, and she wore house slippers. When he had stayed with her last spring, she’d never left her room without her hair done and completely dressed. She hadn’t been dressed Sunday morning, but they’d woken her up, this was late afternoon. Had she been like this all day?
“I’ll fix it, Mamacita. You sit and finish your dinner.”
“Oh, I ate an hour ago. I was just getting ready for the little kids. They’ll start ringing the bell any minute now.”
Shit. He’d forgotten about Halloween. How was he going to protect her if she opened the front door every few minutes? Anyone could be hiding behind a mask and go unnoticed.
“Why don’t we forget it for this year? We could turn off the porch light and watch TV instead.”
“Forget Halloween? I couldn’t disappoint the children that way. Besides, I love Halloween. Watching all the little ones in their costumes. Seeing how much they’ve grown since last year. I love it,” she repeated.
He didn’t love it. Made-up holiday just to sell more candy to kids who don’t need it.
The bell rang and Mamacita shuffled toward the door. Ruben rushed behind her, but wasn’t fast enough. Giggles and laughter spilled through the open door when he reached her.
A gaggle of kids in assorted sizes stood on the porch and Mamacita pushed the screen door wide and began filling containers ranging from store-bought to paper sacks to pillow cases.
Pillow cases, really? How much candy would it take to satisfy them?
He plastered on a fake smile and took the candy bowl from Mamacita. “Here, let me do this.”
The kids gaped and pulled back. One pointed at him.
He glanced down and realized the problem. When he’d come in, he’d shed his suit jacket, but left his gun in its holster.
Mamacita slapped him on the arm and pulled the bowl from his hands. “Take that thing off. You’ll scare the kids,” she hissed.
Bad enough she’d thrown the door open without checking to see who was on the other side, now he couldn’t even wear his weapon?
He slid the Glock behind a vase on the hall table. That put it close, but would it be close enough?
The next two hours were hell, as he tried to check out the pirates, hobos, ballerinas, and zombies before Mamacita reached the door. Most were little kids, but a few were obviously too old for this nonsense. What were their mothers thinking?
By eight, Mamacita was dragging. She even let him go to the door by himself a few times.
“That’s it,” he said, flipping off the lights and locking the door. “This is a school night and the little terrors should be home, checking their haul and working on a sugar high.”
Relief showed in her eyes, but she managed a feeble protest. “I usually leave the lights on for another half hour or so, but if you think it’s time, then okay.”
It was way past time. If he had to look at another fake Star Wars Clone or Sponge Bob Yellow Pants he might lose his cool. And if he had to smell any more candy, he might lose something else.
When he settled onto the sofa and grabbed the remote, she looked at him from the corner of her eye. “You’re not planning on spending the night, are you? You don’t need to treat me like an old lady. I can take care of myself, you know.”
How much should he tell her? He didn’t want to frighten her, but then again, maybe she needed to be frightened.
“We don’t know what happened next door, and until we find out, you’re not safe. The newspaper showed a photo of this house and claimed the owner was a witness. The killer could think you saw him or that you have some information he needs. He might even mistake you for her. If we knew more about the victim, we could solve this case faster.” He tried to stare her down, but she plucked at the hem of her dress.
There was only one threat he could think of that might move her. “I plan to stay here until we have somebody locked away.”
She smoothed the apron she always wore. “It’s been a long day. I’m going to turn in for the night. You know the way to your room, and clean sheets are on your bed. Goodnight, mi hijo querido.”
He flipped through the TV channels several times with the volume turned so low he had to lean forward to catch a single word. Nothing of interest. He switched the TV off and headed up the stairs.
An hour later, he had twisted and turned so that his sheets were in a knot and so was his back. He grabbed a pillow and blanket and slipped down to lay on the sofa. Anyone who tried to get in the house would have to go past him.
He’d get back upstairs before Mamacita woke up. He didn’t want her to think he was treating her “like an old lady.” He smiled. How old was she, anyway?
Her age had always been a deep, dark secret she never revealed, not even to her children. Math may not have been his favorite subject, but he did go to college. He could figure it out.
She married when she was sixteen, he knew that. Then Emily, Julio, and Ramona, bam, bam, bam. Several years went by—four, five?—before he was born, and he was thirty-four. Several more years before Vincente.
Wait a minute, there was an easier way. The family Bible was in this room somewhere. She wouldn’t dare lie in the Bible, would she?
He cut his eyes toward her room. The door was closed. He switched on a lamp and glanced around. Where would she put it? Papa’s old desk, that’s where all the papers were kept.
He slipped across the room on sock feet. There was a time when he knew every squeaking board, but he’d forgotten all that.
The big Bible rested in the second drawer he opened. White leather with a gold cross embossed on the front. It would have been hard to miss even if it hadn’t said, ‘Family Bible,’ on the cover.
It fell open to the page titled ‘Family Tree’. The first page was devoted to his father’s parents and his aunts and uncles. Not much about his mother, but her birth was recorded, along with the date. He did a quick calculation and came up with an age of sixty-one. Not that old for someone who enjoyed good health. Plenty of people were still working at that age. So why was she suddenly acting like someone ten years older?
He needed to call Emily and talk to her about this. Emily. She also always refused to tell her age. Ha. He flipped the page over and saw his parents wedding and offspring listed. There was Emily, exactly eighteen years younger than his mother. He almost rubbed his hands in glee.
Next month she’d receive a card with Happy Birthday to my Favorite Forty-three-year-old on the front. Should he sign it? He’d have to think about that.
His eye traveled down the page and stopped. His heart did a quick lurch. Between Ramona’s name and his was another entry; Baby Boy Marques. The same date listed under both born and died.
He could have gone his whole life without knowing that. How that must have hurt his parents.
Damn, he hated Halloween. Next year he was going to just get drunk.
Chapter 6
A small hand gripped Ruben’s shoulder. “Wake up, hijo, your breakfast is ready.
How had that happened? He could have sworn he’d stayed awake all night. He shot a quick glance at Mamacita’s retreating back and then at Papa’s desk. Everything was back in place. No sign of his midnight rummaging remained.
The aroma of breakfast tacos and coffee enveloped him as he pushed through the kitchen door.
Mamacita started in as he raised the first bite to his mouth. “So, what were you doing on my sofa, your own bed isn’t good enough for you anymore? And with that big gun on the floor beside you. What’s next, a sleeping bag in front of the door?”
If that’s what it took to convince him she was safe.
“I tell you this. You are welcome in my house at any time, to visit. You yourself installed my locks and
assured me they were the best made. I keep my doors and windows locked at night and when I’m not here, but I won’t live like a prisoner in my own home. I don’t need protection or looking after. I am not a feeble old lady.”
She sure looked like one to him, even if she was still the best cook in three counties.
Ruben finished one taco and lifted the next. “A woman was murdered, only feet from your bedroom window and the paper listed you as a witness for all the world to see. We know almost nothing about her. Until we find out more, you do need protection.” Maybe that would get her talking.
“Ptttt.” Mamacita made as if to spit on the floor. “She was a bruja. An evil woman.”
“No, Mamacita. She may have been a psychic, una psicologia, but that didn’t mean she was a witch.” It wasn’t like Mamacita to speak ill of the dead.
“Whatever you call her, she meddled in people’s lives. I don’t mean she deserved it, but that’s what happens when you try to change destiny. Let Adam solve this case. You stay away from anything to do with her.”
His head was spinning. “You think it’s dangerous so Adam should do the work? And I do what? Sit home and clip my nails?” All of this was against everything Mamacita had ever taught him.
The last taco lay uneaten on his plate. He’d lost his appetite. “I thought you didn’t know her, so why do you say she was a witch? A psychic and a witch aren’t the same thing. Except that both are made up descriptions. There’s no such thing as either one, no matter what some may claim.”
“I didn’t know her.” Mamacita turned and set a plate in the sink, avoiding his gaze. “I just heard things about her, that’s all.”
“What things did you hear?” Finally, something specific.
“Only that she took money to tell people’s fortune and gave advice that might change their lives. That’s against nature. An evil thing.”
“So you don’t know of any specific thing that she did?” Damn, back to square one.
The Witch On Twisted Oak Page 4