Ruben reached for the manila folder. “Sit here a minute. I need you to look at some photos, see if you recognize any of these people.”
He could almost see her back go up a notch. “I told you, I never saw anyone over there. I wouldn’t be able to help you.”
His heart sank. She was lying. He could see it written all over her face. Why would she do that?
“Well, I need to show them around the neighborhood. Maybe someone else is more observant. The steaks are marinating, and the potatoes are in the oven. If you want to cut up the tomatoes for the salad, fine. If not, I’ll do it when I get back.”
“Store bought tomatoes? Pfft. I don’t know why you waste your money. They never have any flavor. You have to buy the ones from the Farmers’ Market.”
Ruben gathered the photos and tromped toward the front door. He called over his shoulder, “Why was this door unlocked? You promised me you kept it locked.”
“No, I promised that I locked it at night and when I left the house. I told you I wouldn’t live like a prisoner in my own home.”
His shoulders dropped. “Mamacita, I know you don’t have any respect for my job, but it is my professional opinion that until this case is solved, you need to be more vigilant.”
“You’re wrong, hijo. I have much respect for your job. I just worry about you in it. What has happened to that sweet, loving little altar boy I knew? All that time spent around murderers and thieves has turned you into someone I don’t know. You carry a gun like it’s part of you. You look at dead bodies without any emotion.”
She was wrong about that part. He’d trained himself not to flinch on the outside, but inside, each body tore a piece out of his soul.
“I can’t explain it, Mamacita, but it’s the place I belong. I’ve always known this is what I’m meant to do.”
“Not always. There was a time when you swore you’d become a priest.” Her eyes held his as if she expected him to say it was all a mistake. He’d join the priesthood now.
When had he ever said that? He certainly didn’t remember it. There might have been a time when that seemed romantic, with the solemn music and the candles and robes. But he could never be a priest. Just the thought made him want to laugh. Half the women on the south side would revolt if he took up the cross.
Maybe more than half.
“I’ll turn over each picture slowly, Bobby. If you see one you recognize, point to it.”
Bobby nodded, and Ruben turned over the first photo. Getting him alone had been a fight. His mother wanted to be in the room, but she might influence him. When it was the little girl’s turn, he expected an even bigger fight.
Molly padded in and cocked her head to one side as Bobby studied each picture. The dog didn’t look any the worse for wear. She certainly smelled better.
Two days at the vet’s and she hadn’t given up any new evidence. Someone, not him thankfully, had sifted through her poo until they were certain she hadn’t consumed any of the missing pieces of Yolanda Garza.
He wondered if Mr. Watson had fixed the broken board in their fence. Molly’s roaming days were likely over.
Bobby’s shoulders sagged. “I don’t see the guy. I thought I’d recognize him, but I don’t.”
“That’s okay, son. He might not be in here. I’d much rather you say you don’t see him than identify the wrong man.” He hadn’t expected much, but he’d held on to a ray of hope. Now they’d have to start over.
Bobby squirmed in his chair. “Um, there is one thing, though.”
Ruben’s breath caught. “What’s that?”
Bobby pushed the photos around and pointed to a skinny guy with a missing tooth. “This isn’t the man, but see that tattoo on his neck? I think the driver had one like it.”
His heart slammed against his ribcage. Now they were getting somewhere. “Tell me again what the driver looked like.”
“He was an old guy. His head was completely bald. He smoked constantly and flicked his cigarettes on the street. He hung his arm out the window and he had another tattoo on it. Like a bird or something? Plus a big gold watch with diamonds around it.”
Would this kid know old? Plenty of younger people shaved their heads. They wouldn’t find him through DNA. Rain Saturday morning has washed any cigarette butts down the drain.
Ruben let Mrs. Watson sit in the room while Elissa studied the photos. He didn’t expect her to recognize anyone and he couldn’t afford to waste time arguing with her mother.
Getting out of the Watson’s house was a minefield. Mr. Watson wanted to ask questions and Mrs. Watson wanted to complain. Molly glared at him like it was his fault she’d been grounded. Ruben said his goodbyes and flew across the street.
He had Adam’s number dialed before he hit Mamacita’s front door. Which was locked. And he didn’t have the key on him. Shit. He rang the bell as Adam’s cell started ringing.
“Yes?” echoed in his ear from two directions.
“It’s me,” he answered, figuring that would satisfy both of them.
Mamacita opened the door as he asked Adam, “What did you learn from the autopsy?”
“No,” Mamacita said, blocking the door. “That’s what I’m talking about. I don’t want that evil in my house. You can sit on the porch until you finish discussing such things.” She slammed the door in his face.
“What was that?” Adam asked.
“Mamacita doesn’t want to hear about autopsies. I’m banned from the house until we finish discussing it. That’s okay by me. I’d rather not talk about it in front of her.”
“Yeah. I probably wouldn’t feel comfortable discussing some things in front of my mother, either.”
“Well, talk fast. If the mosquitoes start biting, I’m going in, acceptable conversation or not.” Thoughts of his own apartment with its king-sized bed and flat-screen TV floated through his mind. If she kept her door locked, she’d be safe. Wouldn’t she?
All the emotions he’d run through in the last few hours left him exhausted. Anger at his sister, grief when he thought his mother was dying, shock when she claimed he’d promised to be a priest, excitement at the chance of a break in the case, and now, irritation at being forced to sit on the cement steps to discuss official business. This must be what it was like for a woman going through PMS. If so, they deserved flowers and a foot massage.
“You still there, partner?” Adam’s voice sounded through his cell phone.
“I’m here. Tell me about the autopsy.”
“Some things we knew. She was killed sometime after midnight by a knife cut clear across her throat. A big sucker, almost took her head off. Had to have been two people. Some things we didn’t know. The ear we found on the sofa was taken off while she was alive. She must have squirmed something fierce. It didn’t come off clean. The cut was ragged and part of it tore. Half of it was left on her head.”
Ruben began to agree with Mamacita. This didn’t belong in her house.
“The fingers. They were taken off while she was alive. Some type of cutting instrument. Like a scissors only much, much bigger. Maybe a tree-trimming tool. The index finger was closest to the blade and snipped off clean. The middle finger, the one Molly found, cut through the bone, but not all the skin. The rest of it tore off, probably while she was struggling.”
The cement steps were killing his butt. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t taking this conversation inside.
“Now for the interesting part.”
“What you’ve told me so far wasn’t interesting?” Ruben groaned. The woman had expected a violent death for the last twenty years. Man, how had she lived with that knowledge?
Adam continued as if Ruben hadn’t spoken. “The left ear, the one that’s missing, and the tongue were taken after she died.”
“That doesn’t make sense.” Ruben raked a hand through his hair. “If the object was to make her suffer, or to force her to divulge information, why take parts after she’s dead?”
“I’ve been thinking about this for th
e last hour. I have an idea, but I’d like to see if you come to the same conclusion. Meanwhile, did the photo lineup do us any good?”
“Funny you should ask. None of the men were El Jefe, but one, number OC 127, has a tattoo on his neck similar to the driver’s.”
The sound of papers shuffling came over the phone. “Here he is. He’s one of the overlaps between Gangs and Narcotics.” Adam said. “And I recognize that tattoo. It’s a gang sign, but I’ll have to look up which one. Do you want to come in and work on it tonight?”
Ruben took a breath to answer as Mamacita called through the door, “The potatoes and salad are ready. Are you going to cook the steaks?”
He remembered the look of pleasure on her face when he suggested the mini picnic. “No. We’ll get started first thing in the morning.”
“Good, because I’m bushed. I can’t wait to get home and wash the morgue stink out of my hair. I don’t even get that close, but it seems to sink into my pores.”
Ruben stood, but kept the phone to his ear. “And, Adam, the pieces were taken to prove to someone they had done the job.”
“Bingo. That’s the first half of the puzzle. When I see you in the morning, you can tell me why those particular pieces.”
Ruben put all thought of the case out of his mind while he grilled the steaks. The evening air was cool, almost crisp, and Mamacita had slipped a sweater on over her blouse.
The sun was disappearing by the minute as he set two sizzling plates on the old picnic table. A rosy glow filled the sky and puffy clouds reflected the pink light into the backyard and lit Mamacita’s face as she closed her eyes and inhaled the mouthwatering aroma.
She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “Thank you, son. This is such a treat. Your papa and I used to do this at least once a week. Sometimes we’d sit out here in the mornings to drink our coffee and watch the birds. Don’t know why I never sit out here anymore. It’s such a lovely yard.”
Ruben glanced up at the old twisted oak. “Where’s the birdfeeder? What happened to it?”
“Julio took it down. He saw me climb on a chair to fill it and had a conniption fit.”
Anger at Julio washed over him but faded just as fast. Mamacita had no business climbing on chairs in the back yard or anywhere else. “What if I fix a pulley contraption so you can lower it to ground level to fill it and then pull it back up?”
A smile flashed across her face and was gone. “Let’s wait until spring. See if I still need it by then.”
His heart lurched. What wasn’t she telling him?
“You know you’re the one I depend on. Vincente, he’s too young.”
“He’s almost thirty, Mamacita.”
She rolled her eyes. “He could be fifty and he’d still be too young.”
He thought about his little brother and laughed. She had him pegged.
“And Ramona lives so far away.”
An Air Force pilot, who would have ever guessed? Ferrying men and equipment to foreign lands.
“And Julio and Emma, they’re so busy with their jobs and families.”
Was that a veiled recrimination because he wasn’t married? He held her gaze. No, it was just a fact.
“If you’re still here tomorrow night, we’ll have a long talk. For now, I’m just happy.”
When she pulled back her hand to say a quick blessing and cross herself, he followed suit, although it was a habit he’d let slip over the years.
There were things he needed to talk with her about, too, but he wasn’t willing to spoil the evening. While they finished eating, they discussed sports—she had followed football since he first played—television programming, the weather, and the new priest at her church. He never mentioned her health, his siblings, or the case, and he was happy to see that she ate well. Not exactly cleaning her plate, but close.
After the dishes were washed, they watched TV. She picked one of her paranormal expert, ghost hunter, witch tamer, vampire slayer shows and he pretended to enjoy it. The moment the news was over, she flicked off the TV, kissed him on the cheek and headed for her room.
Ruben sat on the sofa wondering if he’d be able to fall asleep. Feeling safe and secure would help. He wandered the house, checking every door and window, then peeked out through the curtains, looking for unfamiliar cars.
Nothing. No Lincoln Town Cars with baldheaded drivers. No suspicious men carrying tree trimmers lurked in the shadows. He gave up and stretched out on the sofa, punching the pillow in hopes of finding a comfortable position.
What was the question Adam asked? Why those particular pieces?
He definitely hadn’t spent enough time studying the crime scene. He’d been too worried about Mamacita. Now he’d have to pore over the photos. Never as satisfying.
If Adam could figure it out, so could he.
Chapter 9
“She listened to his problem with her ears, pointed to the optimum date with her index finger, and told him when to proceed with her tongue.” Ruben stood in front of Adam’s desk and ticked off the points on his fingers.
Adam smiled. “How’d you figure it out?”
“I walked over to the crime scene and studied it while Mamacita cooked breakfast. The tarot cards were gone, but the big, year-at-a-glance calendar still covered the table.”
And he’d had a weird dream about a beautiful woman with long, dark hair and shiny red fingernails leaning her head back while she ran a hand over a calendar until she stopped and pointed to a date.
“Did you notice anything else interesting while you were looking around?”
“The whole place was torn up. Every book, drawer, cabinet, and shelf was emptied. If they were hunting for something, I don’t think they found it because they never stopped searching.”
“Now we know why, all we have left is who. Got any suggestions?”
Ruben raked a hand across his chin. “The driver and the niece. They’re our only two leads at this point. Do you want to split up or work together?”
“Many hands make light work, as the saying goes. Which one do you want, as if I didn’t know?”
Ruben ignored the sarcasm. “I’ll take the niece.” Adam could make fun of him if he wanted, but there were only so many perks in this job, and talking to someone who looked like Tessa Reyna didn’t come around very often.
“Before you go, the techies sent over a report. They haven’t finished the DNA profile, and unless you’re ready to declare the girl a suspect, probably won’t in my lifetime, but there’s a definite indication they are close relatives. Both the victim and the niece are type AB negative, extremely rare.”
“Do we know what type the sister and her husband were?”
“Thought that might be your next question, I’ve got a call in to San Antonio now.”
“If you hear, call me right away. You got any pull left with Narcotics? Think anyone there will help you identify the guy?”
“I try not to burn bridges when I leave a department. There are a couple of people willing to work with me, if they have time.”
“Call me the minute you hear anything.” Ruben crossed the room in a couple of long strides and was out the door before Adam replied.
The information Adam gave him buzzed around his head as he walked to his car. He was familiar with Rh negative blood. Boy, was he ever. At fifteen Mamacita had made an appointment with the doc. “Now that you’re old enough to . . .” She blushed, then dropped him at the doctor’s office where he spent the most embarrassing half hour of his life.
Mamacita and Papa both had the Rh thing. He wasn’t sure about his sibs, but he had it. The doctor had warned him to be careful. Any pregnancy he caused would be high risk unless the woman had it also. Just another in a long list of reasons never to marry or propagate.
In fact, he’d considered having a vasectomy rather than face the risk. He’d just never gotten around to it. If he did, he could never tell Mamacita. It would kill her.
The day was picture postcard beautiful:
puffy white clouds, blue sky, ideal temperature. The urge to play hooky and go fishing pulled at him. Not until this case was settled.
With morning rush hour passed and few cars to clog the freeway, the drive to Tessa Reyna’s house was too short to allow him to come up with a plan on how to approach her. The neighborhood was modest, but well kept. Evidence of family life was everywhere. Scooters and bicycles leaned against garages and cars with ‘Baby on Board,’ stickers filled the driveways.
Her house was in the middle of the block, positioned near the curb, with the garage toward the back. The same car listed in her name by Motor Vehicles sat in her driveway.
Good, she was home. He didn’t waste the trip.
Flowerbeds flanked both side of the door. Freshly planted yellow mums smiled up at him, but he didn’t notice any aroma. Were they supposed to have any?
He didn’t know. The last time he’d been around a mum was fifteen years ago, at his high school football games.
He pushed the bell. Chimes rang somewhere in the house, but no answering footsteps sounded. He waited and pushed the bell again. Still no response.
The blue Hyundai registered to her sat in the driveway. Where was she?
Did she have more than one car? He started to walk around the house when he noticed lights on in the garage. The lights were easy to spot because windows completely circled the two sides he could see.
His foot had just hit the cement driveway when his cell phone rang. He ducked quickly back around the corner of the house and checked the readout. Adam’s name stared back at him.
“Yeah, what did you find out?” he asked.
“Hello to you, too,” Adam’s voice came over the phone. “San Antonio had both the sister and her husband’s blood type from the investigation into the traffic accident that caused Mr. Reyna’s death and gave Mrs. Reyna a lifelong limp. She’s type O, He’s type A. Here’s where it gets complicated. Stay with me, partner, ‘cause that tech damned near put me to sleep with this explanation. Everyone has two Rh factors: either two positives, two negatives, or one of each. For positive, you can still have one of each, but to be considered negative, a person must have two negatives.”
The Witch On Twisted Oak Page 6