When she became preoccupied with the boy, he quietly slipped away.
He was waiting for them when they came out and followed as they drove off, careful to keep his distance. Manuel even allowed another car or two to pull in front of him when it seemed that the lady lawyer was onto him.
He was always one step ahead of everyone else. That was his key to survival and getting what he wanted—who he wanted.
The thought of doing her excited Manuel. She presented more of a challenge than the others. She was a classy broad. Smart. Educated. Sexy. Sensual.
Which made it all the more exciting.
He parked down the street as the car pulled into the driveway, watching as they went inside the house. Part of Manuel wanted to go in right now, do what he wanted with her, and make sure there were no witnesses left behind.
But he hadn’t survived this long by taking foolish chances. Something told him that if there was no man there, she probably kept a piece in the house and knew how to use it.
Why tempt fate?
Especially when there was plenty of time to go after the classy bitch later. He would wait until he got to know more about her and her habits. Also, he could take a look inside the house sometime when they weren’t there. That way there would be no surprises sprung on him when he came calling for her.
Manuel laughed and drove off just as casually as he had followed the lawyer and kid.
* * *
He knocked on the door, deciding on the spur of the moment to pay a visit to his kinfolk.
The door opened as if she were expecting someone else. Her aging face crinkled with alarm when she saw him.
“What are you doing here?”
Manuel grinned. “Now is that any way to greet your nephew, Auntie?” He kissed her creased cheek, walking past her.
She regarded him, a mixture of fear and curiosity in her tired eyes. “I want you outta here,” she spat, her voice spat, heavy on the native Cuban accent.
“Just came to see how you was doin’, Auntie,” he said sincerely. “You ain’t looking so good these days.”
Worse than he had imagined she would look. Manuel wondered if it was something in the water or if maybe the rodents that littered the barrio like they owned the place had infected her.
“Don’t call me Auntie!” She dragged her feet his way. “We ain’t related. Not any more—”
Manuel licked his lips. “We’re always gonna be related, Auntie, like it or not!”
He glanced about at surroundings as familiar as they were foreign. It was once home for him. Now it was little more than a decrepit pit stop. Not like the Latina lawyer’s crib.
Favoring the old lady, he grinned. “Not here to cause trouble, Auntie. Wanted to let you know that I’ll be comin’ around more to check on you. Especially since it don’t look like nobody else is gonna do it.”
She curled her lip. “Go to hell, Manuel!”
He grinned again. “Been there, done that. All Latinos have. You taught me as much.”
“I’ll call the police,” she threatened.
“No you won’t!” he dared her. “What can they do that the gringos haven’t already done? They love to split up families. Especially Latino families. But, you know all about that, don’t you, Auntie?”
She was speechless, as if her wrinkled lips were sealed.
He grabbed her by frail shoulders and kissed her hard on the mouth. “See you around, Auntie.”
Manuel smiled at her trembling, flushed face before leaving, satisfied he’d accomplished what he came for.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Doctor Amie Kwan, Assistant County Medical Examiner, performed the postmortem of Penelope Grijalva. Petite and in her late thirties, Amie had short, pitch-black hair that was curled around her ears. Big brown eyes sat behind plum rimmed glasses.
“Ms. Grijalva died of strangulation,” she said tersely to her audience, which included Detectives Palmer and Chang. They weren’t in charge of this particular investigation, but were very interested in the results of the autopsy. “She also had several stab wounds. Most occurred before death, but some after. Before she died, the victim had intercourse. There were small tears in and around the vagina, but it doesn’t appear as though it was forced sex—or at least not against her will.”
“How was she strangled?” Stone asked curiously.
“I’d say someone strangled her with his or her bare hands.” Amie held her small hands out to demonstrate. “It is also possible that some sort of cloth or rope could have been used, but that is unlikely based on the imprints on the victim’s neck and lack of fibers found to substantiate such.”
Stone thought he was listening to the autopsy report on Adrienne Murray all over again—minus the rape and sodomy. But in this case, it was obvious that the victim, a known prostitute, voluntarily engaged in sexual relations before being killed by her client. He wondered if the john was a stranger. Or someone she knew. Perhaps a previous customer.
Stone asked Dr. Kwan, who had also performed Adrienne Murray’s postmortem, “Are we talking about the same killer, Doctor?”
She looked at him and said wryly, “I think that’s for you detectives to determine.”
“How about an educated guess?” Chang pressed.
Amie touched her glasses contemplatively. “Well, my professional opinion is that both women were killed and assaulted by the same man. DNA tests of the semen and pubic hairs taken from the victims will be analyzed and compared. Preliminary results should be available within forty-eight hours—”
* * *
At about the time that the news spread like wildfire among local law enforcement agencies that a serial killer was likely on the loose, DNA preliminary results more or less confirmed it.
For Stone this was no longer the case of a missing person turned up dead, but the murder of two young women that he took personally—particularly the first one. It could have been one of his daughters. His chief suspect was still Chuck Murray, though Stone suspected that if he was involved he probably didn’t act alone. And if that were true, did it mean there were two serial killers out there preying on vulnerable women?
“I think I may have something worth checking out,” Chang said, sticking his head in the door of Stone’s office. Stone watched with interest from his desk. “Looks like Claudia Sosa, the manager of ELNC Systems, Inc., has been shacking up with a man named Manuel Gonzalez.”
Stone leaned forward. He was open to any possible leads, no matter how remote, that could be tied to Adrienne Murray’s place of employment, where she was last seen prior to her death.
“Tell me about Gonzalez.” He looked up at his partner.
“The man has a criminal record a mile long,” Chang informed him. “Mostly drug and alcohol-related and one arrest for forcible rape. There was also an attempted murder charge, which was later dropped due to insufficient evidence.”
Chang handed Stone a copy of Gonzalez’s criminal record. It said that he was thirty-two years old, Hispanic, and had been arrested an incredible thirty-one times. These included arrests for driving under the influence, possession of a controlled substance, loitering, disorderly conduct, and petty theft. The rape charge was later dismissed in court when the victim refused to testify. In spite of the arrests, the man had served less than three years behind bars since the age of eighteen.
“What do you think?” Chang asked, hovering over the desk as if a bear in search of food.
He didn’t exactly fit the profile of a murderer, much less a serial killer.
But then not all killers fit such a profile, but were every bit as deadly.
And since they had no better suspects at the moment, apart from Chuck Murray, it seemed like a good idea to learn more about Manuel Gonzalez and his whereabouts on the night Adrienne Murray disappeared as well as when Penelope Grijalva met her death.
Standing, Stone said, “I think we’d better pay Claudia Sosa another visit and see if she can enlighten us about her boyfriend.”
* * *
The detectives entered the ELNC Systems, Inc. office, identified themselves, and were about to be directed to Claudia Sosa’s office when Stone told the receptionist, “I think we can find the way.”
Halfway there he told Chang, “Why don’t you ask around, see what the other ladies know about Manuel Gonzalez. That way we can compare notes.”
“Good idea,” Chang muttered and went in the opposite direction.
When Stone reached the office, Claudia was already standing near her desk to greet him.
She moved toward him. “Detective Palmer, right?” she asked, as if there was a prize for the correct answer.
Stone nodded. “Ms. Sosa.”
They shook hands. He found her grip to be as strong as any man’s and wondered if those hands had worked out by strangling two women.
“Did you find out anything about Adrienne’s death?” Claudia’s voice was calm, yet inquisitive.
“We’re still looking into it,” Stone said colorlessly. “I was hoping you might be able to answer some more questions that might lead us in the right direction?”
“Sure,” she said without fear. “Do you want to sit down?”
Stone thought about it for an instant, but decided it might give the wrong impression that this was more or less a social call. “I’ll stand, thanks.”
“Okay.” She fluttered her false lashes, continuing to stand as well. “What do you want to know?”
He planted the weight of his eyes on her. “You can start by telling me about your boyfriend, Manuel Gonzalez.”
Claudia colored. “Manuel... What about him?”
“We know he has an extensive criminal record,” Stone told her forthrightly. “What we don’t know is whether or not he had anything to do with Adrienne Murray’s murder—” Or Penelope Grijalva’s, for that matter.
Stone watched her carefully. From his experience, the wife or girlfriend was usually the last to know when a man had gone bad. But he suspected she had known right away that Gonzalez was no angel. The question was did she know just how much of a devil he might be?
“Are you saying that Manuel killed Adrienne?” Claudia’s knees buckled.
“I’m not saying anything at the moment,” Stone lied. “You tell me.”
“Manuel’s not a murderer!” she said with certainty. “He didn’t even know Adrienne.”
“They never met?”
Claudia became pensive. “If they did, it was only to say hello.”
“So Manuel has been to this office?” Stone peered at her. “Or has Adrienne been to your house?”
Claudia’s lower lip quivered. “Manuel has been here a few times,” she admitted. “But he always came right to my office.”
“But it is conceivable that at some point words could have been exchanged between him and Adrienne Murray?” Stone pushed. “Something more than a simple hello or goodbye.”
“Yes, it’s possible,” Claudia granted under pressure. “But that doesn’t mean he killed her.”
Stone agreed. But it did tell him that Gonzalez had access to Adrienne. And probably knew her, if only in passing. This, combined with his long and sometimes violent criminal history, meant he had to be considered a serious suspect in her murder.
“Do you know if your boyfriend was here on the day that Adrienne disappeared?” Stone asked. When she paused, he added, “Another detective is here questioning your other employees about the same thing.”
She became flustered. “I honestly can’t remember. Maybe you should talk to him, not me—”
“Oh I will,” he told her in a not so friendly tone of voice. “You can be sure of that.”
“Why would Manuel want to hurt Adrienne?” Claudia almost asked herself in a low, disbelieving voice.
“Maybe it was because of his habit,” Stone suggested, mainly for her reaction. “Is he still a crack addict?”
“No!” Her voice rattled the thin walls. “Manuel’s been off the stuff for the last six months.”
By the look in her eyes, Stone could see that she was trying to convince herself of that perhaps as much as him.
“Does your boyfriend solicit prostitutes?” he asked impulsively.
Claudia looked at him wide-eyed. “No,” she stated without consideration. “What does prostit—?”
Stone interrupted her by asking, “Do you know a Penelope Grijalva?”
“No,” she replied wearily. “Who is she? A prostitute?”
“Right now she’s at the morgue,” Stone said flatly. “Someone murdered her—strangled her to death, just like Adrienne...”
Claudia swallowed with shock. Once she recovered, she said timidly, “You think Manuel had something to do with that, too?”
“That’s what we’re trying to determine, Ms. Sosa,” he answered, pulling no punches. “Where can I find Gonzalez?”
“He’s usually at home,” she said in a gruff voice. “He hasn’t been able to find a job since he lost his last one.”
“And when was that?”
“About four months ago.”
“Where was he employed?” Stone asked.
Claudia hesitated and then said, “He worked for a janitorial service.”
Stone seemed to recall that there was one right in this building. “That wouldn’t happen to be the one located on the second floor, would it?”
By the quiver of her lips and body language, he had his answer.
It was only when Claudia scratched her face, pulling back the sleeve of her quilted silk jacket that Stone noted the watch she was wearing. It was two-toned in white and gold. Just like the one Adrienne was wearing the day she was reported missing. Something told him that it was a Seiko.
“Nice watch,” he said. “Mind if I have a look at it?”
Claudia cocked a brow awkwardly. “I guess so.” She lifted her arm towards his face.
“That a Seiko?” Stone asked innocently.
“Yeah, I think so,” she muttered.
“Where did you get it?”
“Manuel gave it to me.”
“When?” he asked, eyes narrowed.
“I don’t know,” she uttered hastily. “Recently. Why?”
Stone gazed at her. “Does that watch look familiar to you?”
“Should it?” Claudia touched her mouth nervously.
“Adrienne Murray wore an identical one the day she vanished,” he pointed out. “But not when her body was found.”
Claudia wrung her hands. “I didn’t have anything to do with her death,” she stammered.
“No one’s suggesting you did, Ms. Sosa. But, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to borrow your watch to check the DNA on it and the serial number to see if it belonged to Adrienne.”
Claudia removed the watch from her wrist with quivering fingers. “Am I going to need a lawyer?”
Stone met her eyes. While ignorance was no excuse, it wasn’t necessarily a crime either. “Not if you cooperate and have nothing to hide,” he told her, holding a plastic bag for her to drop the watch in. “But I have to tell you, I think your boyfriend’s in big trouble. Now where can we find him—?”
Claudia wrinkled her nose worriedly. “When I spoke to Manuel twenty minutes ago, he was having a drink at the Sunset Tavern on Brentdale Road.”
* * *
“All the girls said Manuel was a regular visitor,” Chang reported in the car. “They all thought he was cute and a natural flirt. Even Adrienne was said to have a crush on him.”
“But did she let it go any further than that?” Stone thought about Erica Flanagan’s insistence that Adrienne was too frightened of Chuck to even think about cheating on him. Had she gained some courage along the way, only to let things go too far? “And if she didn’t, did Gonzalez decide to take what Adrienne wouldn’t give him? Along with her life...and her jewelry?”
“Guess we’ll find out soon enough,” Chang said from behind the wheel. “My money’s on Gonzalez as the person who killed Adrienne and Penelope.”
Taking Manuel Gonzalez into custody for questioning for at least one and probably two murders was their current order of business to that effect.
* * *
Stone and Chang went into the Sunset Tavern. Detective Joshua Arellano, who was investigating the murder of Penelope Grijalva, met them at the door. Stone saw no reason to muscle in on his territory without at least giving him a head’s up.
“This had better be good,” Arellano grumbled. The thirty-seven-year-old detective was six-six, lanky, and had short dark hair.
“We’re hoping for the same,” Stone said tightly. “Have you come across a Manuel Gonzalez in your investigation into Grijalva’s death?”
Arellano cast dark brown eyes at him. “Yeah, he’s on a short list of men who spent some time at the tavern the night Penelope Grijalva was murdered. I hadn’t gotten around to interviewing him yet.”
“Maybe you’ll get the chance right now,” hinted Chang. “Right after we question the man about the murder of Adrienne Murray. He and the victim crossed paths and we think he may have stolen her jewelry after sexually assaulting and killing her. We have it on good authority that he’s putting liquor in his mouth inside even as we speak.”
Stone gazed at Arellano. “The way I see it, if we can nail one asshole for two murders, we can all go home and sleep lighter this night.”
“So what are we waiting for?” Arellano asked anxiously. “Let’s go after the son of a bitch...”
The detectives fanned out inside the tavern, in search of the suspect. When they converged it was apparent that Manuel Gonzalez was nowhere to be found.
“You think we’ve been had?” Stone questioned the others, hoping Claudia Sosa hadn’t bought Gonzalez some time by leading them on a wild chase.
“You tell me,” muttered Arellano. “Thought you had this on ‘good authority’?”
“We did,” Chang said. “Or so we believed.”
State's Evidence: A Beverly Mendoza Legal Thriller Page 16