“I hope not,” she replied.
“Mauro and Tony are the sort of boys—” he hesitated, searching for just the right thing to say “—who really need to be here. Do you understand what I mean?”
“I believe so.”
He nodded sharply. “Let’s go find ’em.”
The metals shop was at the far end of the school complex, taking up what looked like it had once been a large garage, complete with two huge overhead doors that yawned open. Nine students were clustered in a small classroom off to one side, most of them attentive as Mr. Fernandez explained something on the chalkboard. Estelle remained just outside, and in a moment the principal appeared with Mauro Acosta in tow.
The ninth grader walked as if he were a hunchback, baggy pants sagging under a long-tailed, checkered flannel shirt. His olive drab army belt flapped a foot too long.
“Hello, Mauro,” Estelle said. “I’m Undersheriff Estelle Guzman. I’d like to talk with you for a few minutes.”
“Okay.” He shrugged and glanced at Maestas.
“If you need me for anything, you know where I am,” the principal said. He reached out and patted Mauro on the shoulder. “You too, guy.”
“Let’s take a walk,” Estelle said. As they strolled along the metal building, Mauro shuffled with his hands in his pockets. It appeared to Estelle as if he had to constantly work at keeping his trousers in the perfect position of suspense. Between the gravity-defying trousers and carelessly tied shoes, running wasn’t on the agenda.
Estelle paused at a runty elm tree just inside the chain-link fence. The ground around the tree’s base was littered with cigarette butts.
“I’m sorry that I didn’t have a chance to talk to you before you had to go to Albuquerque,” she said. “The doctors say that your sister is making some progress.”
“Yeah.” He nodded, avoiding eye contact. He managed an assessing glance at Estelle, his gaze running down her figure, and he hunched his shoulders a bit more to make sure he was giving away no secrets.
“I need to know about the hat pins, Mauro.” His eyebrows twitched. “We know that you sharpened the one that your sister had with her. We also know that you sharpened at least one for Deena Hurtado.”
He shook his head slightly and regarded the distant horizon.
“I don’t imagine that Mr. Fernandez knows much about that, does he?” The boy remained silent, and Estelle stepped closer, lowering her voice. Mauro was her height, and she shifted to stand directly in front of him, forcing him to look at her. “None of that is of much interest to me just now, Mauro. You’re a smart young man. You know as well as I do what the consequences are if you’re caught carrying a weapon on school property. Even if it’s just a quickie sharpening job for a friend.” She gave him the chance to reply, but he remained silent. “So now you know,” she said. “Tell me about your neighbors.”
His eyes registered surprise at the sudden change of topic.
“Wha—” he said with a frown, as if the final t took too much energy to pronounce.
“Tell me about Kevin Zeigler,” she said.
His head jerked back a little as if to say, “Why are you asking me?”
“Did you talk with him in the last couple of days?”
“No.”
“How about his roommate, William Page?”
“Why would I talk to him?” Mauro said. “He don’t even live here.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
Mauro shrugged.
“Last weekend, when Mr. Page was visiting…did you go riding with them then? On the bikes?”
“I don’t ride no bikes,” he said, as if the very thought was ridiculous. Estelle managed not to smile at the thought of the baggy Pants and untied laces tangled hopelessly in the bicycle’s chain. But then, Zeigler’s carefully composed photos had shown Mauro capable of a different image than simply that of the school’s thug.
“Did Tony?”
“No. Well, I don’t know.” He shrugged again.
“Mauro, during the past week or so, have you seen anyone next door besides Kevin and Mr. Page? Anyone at all?”
The boy shook his head.
“They don’t have company very often?”
“I don’t see nobody there,” he said. “Just them two.”
“They don’t have other folks over? For dinners? Maybe backyard barbecues? That sort of thing?”
“No.”
“Does it bother you that Kevin and Mr. Page live next door, Mauro?”
His eyes became wary. “Why should it bother me?”
“I just thought that it might.”
Mauro shrugged. “Why, ’cause they’re queer? It don’t matter to me what they do.”
Estelle relaxed backward and rested a hand against the tree. “I understand that you’re a pretty talented mechanic. I saw your car, in the backyard.”
“It’s okay.”
“Maybe you’ll have it running one of these days.”
“I guess.”
“Did you offer to help Kevin change the tire on his truck?”
He looked puzzled. “What tire?”
Estelle nodded. “He had some trouble there. I thought maybe you knew about it.”
“I don’t know about no flat tire,” he replied with a flash of indignation, an instant assumption that some adult, somewhere, thought he was responsible for something he hadn’t done.
“Mauro, this is an important question. I want you to think hard before you answer, all right? Do you know anything—anything at all—about the attack on your sister? Do you know who might have done it?” He shook his head emphatically. “Who did she have an argument with?”
“She didn’t have no argument with nobody,” he said with considerable heat. “Not something like that. Not what happened to her.”
“What about the fight at the volleyball game?”
“That wasn’t nothing, man.”
“No problems with Paul Otero?”
He grimaced with disgust. “He’s a wuss.”
“Mauro, we need to find the person who broke into your house and attacked your sister. We’re going to need your help.”
For the first time, Mauro Acosta looked directly at Estelle, his dark brown eyes unblinking and unwavering. “If I knew who did that, I’d tell you,” he said, and for a moment he sounded a decade older than he was.
“Mauro, I want to tell you something,” Estelle said, and she lowered her voice another notch. “This is just between you and me, okay? Do you know why we’re curious about your neighbors?”
“Armand said that Kevin went missing.”
“That’s right, Mauro. And that’s too much of a coincidence, Kevin going missing just when your sister is attacked. Don’t you think so?”
“He didn’t have nothing to do with it,” Mauro said emphatically.
“How do you know that?”
“I just do,” he said simply. “Him and Page might be all queer and stuff like that, but he’s still okay. I mean, he always treats us okay.”
“He’s a good neighbor?”
“Yeah.”
“He’s been over once or twice for picnics, stuff like that?” She smiled at Mauro. “Maybe tried to break up a fight or two?”
The boy looked down at the cigarette butts, close to smiling himself.
“Yeah, maybe.”
“If Kevin saw someone next door attacking your sister, what do you think he’d do?”
Mauro shrugged. “He’d probably call the cops.”
“He’s always got a phone handy, doesn’t he.”
“Yeah. Or that radio of his in the truck.”
“Would he come over himself, do you think? Even before the cops got there? If there was really serious trouble?”
“Sure. He’d jump right in the middle of it. I mean, he’s pretty tough.”
“But he didn’t, this time.”
“That’s ’cause he wasn’t there. If he was, he woulda.”
Estelle drew a ca
rd from her pocket. “Mauro, I know that talking to the cops isn’t your favorite thing to do, but if you remember something—any little thing that you saw or heard—will you call me? Anytime. Even if you wake up in the middle of the night. Give me a call.”
He accepted the card, read it carefully, and tucked it into his back pocket. “Yeah,” he said. “Did you talk with Tony?”
“Not yet.”
He nodded and accepted that as a sufficient answer.
“I’m sorry about your sister, Mauro. We’re doing all we can. And I appreciate your help.” She reached out and squeezed his shoulder. He didn’t pull away.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Tony Acosta looked pleased to leave his Language Arts class, locked down as it was in the middle of a vocabulary test. What Bob Torrez would have described as Tony’s “shit-eating grin” faded when he saw Estelle.
“Tony, this is Undersheriff Guzman,” Maestas said after the classroom door had closed and they’d stepped far enough away that the other kids wouldn’t hear them. “She needs to talk to you for a little bit.” Maestas nodded and stretched out a hand toward Estelle. “Stop back by the office when you’re finished, all right?” Somehow, Maestas made the question sound as if he’d said, “I’m still the principal around here.”
“Thanks, sir,” Estelle said. She motioned toward the exit sign at the end of the hallway. “Let’s go outside,” she said to Tony. The door opened onto a small landing with a railing, a perfect outdoor conference area.
She read the worried look on Tony’s plump face correctly, because he visibly brightened when she said, “Carmen’s going to be all right, Tony. That’s the latest word from your folks.”
“Did they say when they’re coming back?” he asked.
“No…it might be a couple days yet. Look, I know one of the other deputies has talked to you already, but I had just a few questions, all right? A few things to clear up.”
“Sure.” He didn’t look sure. Estelle watched his face and decided that Tony didn’t have as much delinquency baggage as his little brother. The older boy had no trouble making eye contact. He favored simple jeans and a heavy-metal T-shirt that would have gotten him expelled a decade before. While Mauro worked at hiding his lean, trim form under baggy gangbanger clothes, Tony seemed relaxed inside his skin, his pudgy build making him seem the younger of the two brothers.
“When you and Mauro left school on Tuesday after your fifth-period classes—at noon—did you go home, or anywhere near Candelaria?”
“No, ma’am. I went over to a buddy’s apartment. I don’t know where Mauro went.” Tony’s version of the afternoon differed in essentials from Deena Hurtado’s scenario, but the boy might have forgotten his visit to the convenience store…or Deena might have fabricated it.
“So at no time on Tuesday did you happen to see any strangers around your street? Anyone you didn’t know?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Who does Carmen know that might have assaulted her like that? Is there anyone?” He shook his head. “Not Paul Otero?”
“Nah,” Tony said quickly.
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah. Paul’s a lover, not a fighter.” His cherubic face lit up in a broad smile that showed an expanse of braces. “Like me.”
“How well do you know Kevin Zeigler, Tony?”
The boy looked surprised. “Well enough to know he didn’t do it.”
“You sound pretty positive.”
“Well, I am. He just wouldn’t. He’s a friend. He’s our neighbor. Did you guys find out where he went yet?”
“No, not yet. Tell me about him.”
“About Mr. Zeigler? He’s a neat guy.” Tony stopped suddenly, looking as if he wished he could retract what he’d said. “I mean, you know. He’s okay.”
“You’ve gone riding a time or two with him and William Page, I understand.”
“Yeah. They got these really bad bikes, you know. I mean, they’re about as expensive as a car.”
“That’s what you rode when the three of you went up on the mesa a couple of weeks ago?”
Tony nodded.
“Not your own bike?”
“I ain’t got a bike right now. The frame broke.”
“So you rode Kevin’s mountain bike?”
“Yeah. He let me take it.”
“What did he ride?”
“He took one of the racing bikes. William had the other mountain bike.”
“You had fun?”
Tony hesitated. “Well, it was okay.” A slow rueful smile crept across his face. “Those guys don’t just go out to play around. I mean, they’re fast. ”
“Tough workout, huh?”
“Yes, ma’am. Very tough. I thought I was going to die.”
“All the time you were with them, or any other time, they never talked about trouble with anybody?”
“Trouble?”
“Sure. Arguments they might have had with someone…disagreements, that sort of thing.”
“No, not that I heard. They’re kind of cool.”
“Kind of cool.”
“Yeah. I mean, I know about ’em, you know. I think they’re kinda funny, sometimes. Like a couple of old ladies.” He limp-wristed a small wave. “But they’re okay. They don’t give me a hard time.”
“Why would they?”
“Well,” Tony said, and hesitated. “That’s what people think, you know.”
“Do you know a lot of people who talk about them?”
“No. Not a lot. But it’s not like it’s any big secret or anything.” He shook his head in wonder. “For a long time, my dad didn’t know they were gay. When he found out, he didn’t know what to do.”
“What’s there to do?”
“Well, that’s what my ma told him.”
“Tell me about the last ride you guys did.”
“We just went up on the mesa.”
“Just?” She smiled at Tony. “That’s quite a climb.”
“Yeah. I felt kinda dumb. I had to get off and walk, and here these two old guys are, just cruisin’ right up. Ridin’ circles around me.”
“You didn’t see anybody on that ride? Or when you came back?”
“No. Well, the guys at the dump. We saw them. Kevin said something kinda mad, but I didn’t hear what it was. He said something to William.”
“By ‘the guys at the dump,’ do you mean the landfill manager? Or the young man who works for him?”
“Both. They were both right there at the little house. You know where the scales are? They saw us, and one of ’em lets out this real loud whistle. You know, like you hear on the street.”
“A wolf whistle, you mean?”
“That’s it. One of ’em did that, and Kevin just waved a little, kinda like this”—and he rotated his wrist. “Like he was sayin’ ‘asshole.’ I was a ways behind ’em, and I didn’t hear what he said. Just something to William, you know, like you say to someone when you don’t want someone else to hear.”
“And then you went on up the hill? Up the mesa?”
“All the way to the rim.” He shook his head wearily. “By then I was about half dead.”
“It must have been fun coming down, though.”
“Not really. The road’s rough, and it’s just about as much work as goin’ up.” He flashed braces again. By the time he grew into himself, Estelle decided, Tony Acosta was going to be a lady-killer in his own right. “Maybe a little better on the paved part.”
“That’s the way you came back into town? On County Forty-three?” Tony nodded. “What did you guys talk about, mostly?”
Tony stared at the steps, thinking hard. “Mr. Page talked a lot about his business. What he does with computer imaging and stuff. It sounds neat. He invited me to stop by his place in Socorro if I got up that way. By his business.”
“But neither one of them ever talked about anybody they’ve had troubles with?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Tony, let me ask you some
thing. If Kevin had seen someone—let’s say a stranger—assaulting your sister, what do you think he would have done?”
“He would have climbed right in the middle of it,” Tony said without hesitation. He ducked his head in embarrassment. “Me and my brother were goin’ at it once. My folks weren’t home. He was out back and heard us, and came over. I thought Mauro was going to throw a punch at him when he grabbed him by the arm, but Kevin just climbed into his face, you know? Kinda that wild, ‘go ahead, punk, I dare you’ look? So yeah—he woulda done something. Is that what you think happened?”
“I don’t know, Tony. We’re not sure what happened. We’re hoping that before much longer, your sister can tell us.”
He shook his head slowly in disbelief. “I just can’t see someone doin’ that.”
“Did you know that your sister carried a hat pin in her jeans?”
“That dork,” Tony said. “You know what I told her last week? In fact”—and he suddenly looked very mature and sure of himself—“it was just before that volleyball game where she and Deena had their fight?”
“What did you tell her?”
“I told her that if she kept wearin’ that stupid thing, someone was going to rip it out of her hand and shove it right up her ass.” He blushed. “Really. That’s what I told her.”
“I’m sorry that you were right, in a manner of speaking,” Estelle said.
“Yeah. Me, too. Too bad it wasn’t her ass.” He held his shoulders up and made a face. “They don’t think it went into her brain though. That’s really gross.”
Estelle handed Tony one of her cards, and he regarded it thoughtfully. “This is just in case you remember something else that you think I should know, Tony.”
“We’re going to miss having them around,” he said. “I mean Kevin and William.”
“We’ll do our best, Tony.”
“Yeah, but how often when someone goes missing like this do you ever find ’em alive? I mean, Kevin didn’t just go to the pizza place and forget to come back.”
“I wish we had an answer for that.” Estelle thumbed the latch on the outside door. “You’d better get back to class.”
“Hey, no rush,” he said with a smile. “It was just a test. I already finished.”
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