“A national news program interested in a small town murder? Hardly of interest,” she said with a shrug.
“You’re up pretty early, aren’t you?”
Shoving the phone into her pocket, she walked toward his Jeep. “I’m an early riser. What are you doing here? You look like you’ve been up all night.”
“I have been. I’m keeping an eye on the place until the state crime scene folks get here.” With a yawn, he put his coffee into the cup holder and climbed out of the car. He knew he must look like hell but she didn’t look like a highly paid reporter either.
As though guessing his thoughts, she tugged at a wayward strand of hair. “I thought it wasn’t your jurisdiction.”
“I’m helping out BJ, the police chief.”
She looked from him to the peaceful yard. “Why were you here all night?”
“You heard that crazy talk about treasure. I wanted to make certain no one tried to get into the house. Naldo might not have gold but there are valuable objects inside. Not to mention there are probably people dying to find out if he still had stuff they lost to his old pawn shop.”
“He had money?” Her voice carried a note of surprise. “I heard he worked as a janitor.”
“I didn’t say he had money. He had valuables. No telling what everything was worth. He probably didn’t know.”
“Why was he living in that little house and working?”
Maybe the exhaustion was getting to him, but he resented her condescending tone. At second glance, she might appear rumpled, but diamond studs adorned her ears and a designer watch circled her wrist. Her shoes were far from Walmart specials.
“He liked working. Called it his dinero loco. But he didn’t care about fancy clothes or an expensive house.”
She pressed her lips together, obviously catching his note of disapproval. “Gee, Sheriff and to think, Freeda thought you were flirting with me yesterday.”
“Were you hoping I was?” The change in her tone was subtle, but he read the flirtatious nature and his senses buzzed with electricity.
A hint of a smile quirked at the edges of her lips. “Were you?”
A sudden giddiness overwhelmed him. Or maybe the exhaustion had finally claimed his good sense. “I don’t think I’m going to answer. At least not right now when I look like crap.”
Her fingers slid over her T-shirt and back up to her hair. “I don’t look so hot either. I didn’t expect to see anyone. I don’t even have on eye makeup.”
“You look good. Especially for this early.”
“You are flirting.”
Despite an outright laugh, he shook his head. “Just tired.”
“You’re not going to offer to watch over me like you do everyone else?”
“Who do you need protection from? Besides ghosts, of course?”
Her sudden shiver surprised him. “Maybe that man in dark glasses from the Palladium.”
“Diaz? You saw him again?”
“Diaz? That’s his name? He drove by last night when I was walking home.”
Rafe stepped around the side of the vehicle as his sense of duty took control. “He drove by here? Did he stop or talk to anyone?”
“No, I was walking home, at the end of the street.” She pointed down the block.
“Did he know Naldo was dead?”
“He didn’t act like it.” Another shiver ran through her as though she felt a chill.
“Next time you see him, no matter what time, call me. I’ll give you my cell number.” He took out a card and handed it to her. Damn, he kept missing the guy! But at least now he knew Diaz had been in town the previous day.
“Do you think he’s dangerous?”
“What do you think?” He was curious about her take on Diaz. Rafe didn’t trust him, and he could see the man bothered her too.
“I don’t know.” She tucked the card into her pocket. “But I’ll call.”
He hated seeing her looking so concerned. His lips twitched and he lightened his tone. “Maybe you should call even if you don’t see him.”
She bit her lip and smiled up at him. “Even if I have questions about Marco Gonzales?”
Before he could answer, a vehicle came around the corner and they turned to see a white van with the state seal of New Mexico approaching.
****
Cere sat at her mother’s kitchen table, tapping on her laptop when Freeda and Lottie rose. Her mother trudged to the coffee maker on the counter. She touched it before reaching up to the cupboard and taking out a cup.
“Thanks for making coffee, sweetie. You girls are wearing me out. I normally do a morning jog, but the last two days I’ve been too exhausted.”
“Well, I’ve been up for more than an hour. And I did take a run and Roxie for a walk. Now I’m working on a blog.”
“Roxie misses you.” Lottie leaned down and petted the terrier that resembled an unkempt rag doll of a dog. She yapped in appreciation. Roxie had become a fixture in the Medina household after Cere went to college. Sometimes she wondered if Roxie didn’t consider her a rival for her mother’s affection.
“Did I hear you’re doing a blog?” Freeda entered the room with a yawn. “About what? You’re suspen… I mean, supposed to be on vacation.”
Cere’s head jerked up and she shot her cousin a cool look. “I’m writing about my vacation. I don’t want viewers to forget me. It’ll show Alan my dedication and demonstrate I have followers, even when I’m off the air.” The idea had come when she first woke and solidified as she ran. It was why she stopped at the murder scene to take a picture.
“What are you saying?” her mother asked, settling across the table from her.
Cere summoned a bright smile. “It hit me this morning how peaceful it is here, how quiet. No freeway noise. No ambulances.”
Freeda yawned again. “My dad used to say that was what he liked about New Mexico.”
“It’s what I like too.” Lottie tugged at Cere’s hair, loosening the pony tail. She began combing through it with her fingers. “I like these highlights in your hair, hon.”
“Mo-om.”
“Yeah, Tia,” Freeda joked. “Don’t mess her two hundred dollar hairdo.”
Her mother pulled her hands away with a laugh and got to her feet. “Wait until I tell Millie. She hasn’t raised prices in years. I’m taking my coffee outside and going out to clean the rabbit cages. Coming, Freeda?”
“In a minute. I’m going to fix a cup of tea.”
“Cups are in this cabinet,” Lottie said as she disappeared through the back door.
Freeda found a mug, filled it with water and put it in the microwave before walking over to stand behind Cere. “Are you really blogging about this little town? Why?”
“To build interest, of course. I do want to show Alan that viewers miss me. I’m not going to let this suspension stick.”
“Are you ever going to tell your mom what happened?”
She swatted at her cousin behind her. “Yes, today, before you blurt it out, big mouth.”
“I won’t be around. Daphne is driving to Rio de los Muertos and has offered to take me.”
“Do you think your dad is there?”
“I don’t know, but I want to see where we used to live. He always talks about it like it’s such a special place.”
Cere didn’t mind her cousin leaving. It would provide the opportunity to chat with her mother about what had happened at work. “Oh, yeah, New Mexico is special all right.”
Freeda leaned forward and looked at the words on the screen, reading over them. “‘Even a small quiet town isn’t peaceful. It knows murder.’ Wow, you gonna send that?”
“Yes! Last night a guy told me it was the first murder since Marco.”
“Except Marco’s death wasn’t murder,” Freeda said.
“I don’t know. This guy sounded like he knew something.”
“I thought you said no one wanted to talk.”
Cere fished a white slip of paper out of her pock
et. “Take a look at this. I found it on my car windshield this morning. I have a feeling someone changed their mind but didn’t want to tell me last night.”
She unfolded the note and held it out to Freeda. I will tell you about Marco, it read in barely legible pencil. Below the statement was a phone number.
Freeda gasped. “You think they left it last night?”
“I don’t know when it was left. The car has been parked on the street since we got here. Someone knew it was mine. I’m going to call in a few minutes. I wanted to let them wake up.”
“Wow. Could be the answer you’ve been looking for.”
“Yep.” She giggled gleefully. “Between that note and this blog, I might be able to convince Alan I have something going.”
The microwave buzzed and Freeda got to her feet and went over to get the mug. She plopped a tea bag into it and headed for the door. “I’m going out to feed the rabbits.”
Cere put the finishing touches on her blog and sent it off. At least it would let viewers know she was still working. She opened her email account from work, checked for messages, answered a few and put in a notice referring people to the blog page. Hopefully, by the following morning she could tell Alan there was viewer interest in Rio Rojo and mention the note. After that, she just had to introduce Marco Gonzales.
Chapter Thirteen
The first thing you notice in Rio Rojo, New Mexico is the quiet. No sirens in the distance, no hum of the freeway. It is so silent you can hear crickets in the evening. When was the last time you heard crickets in Los Angeles?
Small towns can provide an interesting contrast to city living. No bumper to bumper traffic, no fear of drive-by shootings.
But small towns have their share of trouble. They don’t see violent death often, but it happens.
Like last night. A long time citizen died. Gunned down by an unknown assailant inside his home. Police are investigating and I am not a crime reporter.
I report on people. Like Naldo Sanchez, who lived here all his life. He was once a business owner but for the past few years, what might be considered his retirement years, he has been a janitor. He cleaned City Hall, local schools, and the library. He did odd jobs around town, shoveling driveways and sidewalks and mowing lawns for free for the elderly.
The people in this town don’t rely on TV or the Internet for local news. They get it by walking to the scene and stopping to talk about their old neighbor.
“He used to shovel our walk.” Greta Lawrence said her mother was his next door neighbor for years. “I was away at college and she could barely get around because she’d broken her leg. He would do her chores and check in with her to see if she needed anything at the grocery store.”
And he did it for free. She and others informed me old Naldo never charged for services to needy individuals, though he made only minimum wage at his janitorial duties. If high school kids were looking to earn money, he’d let them help and somehow managed to pay them.
That’s probably the biggest difference between the city and this small town. In the city we move at such a fast pace we never bother to meet neighbors. If someone offers to help, we wonder why and what they want from us.
Here, an old man is remembered for helping neighbors and asking for nothing in return.
Unfortunately the small town can mirror city life, though.
Here, an old man can still die alone.
But he won’t be forgotten, or just another body on the coroner’s table.
Tonight when the crickets come out and sing their rowdy tune, I’ll think about old Naldo and the people he helped.
I’ll keep in touch, viewers. I won’t forget you while I’m on vacation. Let me know your thoughts.
Rafe stared at the computer screen. The depth of Cere’s thoughts and the blog’s content surprised him. He had no idea she could be a decent writer. She had included the cell phone picture taken of the house that morning.
“What do you think?” Willie rounded his metal desk in the center of the newspaper’s editorial office and poked a finger at the screen.
“I’m surprised,” Rafe admitted.
“Lottie told me to check it out, but I figured it was just her being a proud mother.”
Leaning back on Willie’s worn leather chair, Rafe nodded and rubbed tired eyes. “She’s right, though. The quiet was one of the first things that hit me when I came back.”
Willie perched on the edge of the desk. “Do you think I’d be out of line to ask her if I could reprint it next week?”
The thought jolted Rafe, and he blinked. “This says she’s doing others. Are you planning to reprint those too?”
“Hell, I don’t know. You met her. What do you think? Maybe I should talk to Lottie. Invite her to lunch or something.”
Despite exhaustion, Rafe smiled. “I see. This is a ploy to get Lottie’s attention.”
Willie tapped the side of his short hair. “Ploy? Like she would notice me when she’s being squired around by Mayor Bradley Foster. Hell, even Tony Gennaro won’t take him on.”
Rafe found himself chuckling at his uncle’s petulant voice. “You bunch of old geezers. Mom’s right. You’re all still chasing her, like you’re still in high school.”
Willie shrugged and leaned forward to straighten items on the desk. “Not at all. But Tony is interested in her. She came by the other day to take out an ad about rabbits, and Tony was passing by, saw her and immediately came inside. He walks by every day and never even waves. All of a sudden, he comes inside. I swear the man was drooling. Does he come by the house?”
Rafe shook his head. “I’m not getting mixed up in this. You guys are acting like kids. Before long you’ll be using my place to stake out her house or hanging out in my back yard so you can take off your shirt.”
Willie patted his growing middle section. “Hell, I’m not taking off my shirt.”
“You should have gone after her in high school instead of marrying your gold digging first wife.”
“Very funny. Like her family was going to let her date a poor kid from the other side of the tracks. Her dad was bank president and her brothers were going to fancy colleges. I ran the press at the town newspaper. Not much of a future there.”
Rafe nodded and looked at the computer screen one last time before clearing it. He got to his feet. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”
And unfortunately, he did. Cere, with her expensive tastes and city life style, was not going to look at a small town sheriff. Not much of a future there either.
****
“Yeah, I saw it,” Alan said, sounding harried as usual.
Cere hunched over her phone in the car. Two blocks up the hill from her mother’s house she actually got decent reception. She’d been trying to reach the person who left the message on her car. So far no one had answered so she called Alan.
“Well?” she asked.
“Well, nothing. You can tell everyone you’re on vacation, but you’re not getting paid. One more thing, you need to clear out your voice mail and put on an out-of-town message. Your mail box is full.”
Cere rolled her eyes. She gave her cell number to people she wanted to call her. The office line was for viewers. “Okay, but keep an eye on my blog. It should get viewers ready for my Marco Gonzales story.”
“No more blogs. The Waverly lawyers will see it and claim you’re working.”
“But, Alan—”
“No buts. I’ll let you know when things change. Sorry, gotta go.” He hung up.
Cere waved the phone in frustration. No more blogs? She was counting on them to gain support. But she knew better than to battle Alan. She’d wait a week and call back to see if she could write another. In the meantime she’d gather material. She called her voice mail and sat poised with a pencil to take down any important information as she listened to messages.
Most were viewer comments about her last story. She was hoping for responses to her blog. Alan might have second thoughts about her suspension if viewers
missed her. The final message began in a low, strange and guttural voice. A shiver ran through her at the gravelly sound.
What the hell? Was it that man Diaz? She replayed it to make certain she heard it right.
“Forget Marco or you’ll be sorry.”
Chapter Fourteen
“They don’t like flowers, but they love the greens.” Lottie slid a handful of dandelion greens into the first of three rabbit cages. “Meet Bonnie and Clyde. They’re lop rabbits. See the floppy ears? They’re pretty rambunctious.”
Cere shoved her hands in her pockets, afraid her mother would ask for help. Freeda might enjoy them, but tending the rabbits wasn’t on her agenda. Too bad Freeda disappeared shortly after breakfast with her new friend, Daphne.
“I haven’t named these two yet,” Lottie continued. Two smaller rabbits huddled in a third cage. They ignored the food until Lottie’s gentle coaxing convinced them to hop over and sniff at it. Only then did their noses twitch and they greedily gobbled up the greens. “This is one of the high points of my day.”
“It sounds as if you like it here.”
“Baby, I love it. This is where I belong.”
The comment surprised Cere. She would never have imagined her mother away from shopping malls and museums, but Lottie seemed content in her sprawling backyard. The cages occupied one corner, while neat rows of a vegetable garden took up another. Masses of brightly colored hollyhocks, snap dragons, and pansies bordered the neatly trimmed lawn. A patch of dandelions seemed out of place, except her mother retrieved the greens she fed the rabbits from that thatch. A brick patio near the house held a set of wrought iron furniture which once sat beside the pool in Los Angeles.
Cere’s skin prickled. They were being watched. Diaz? No, a pair of bright black eyes peered through a crack in the back gate.
“Hello?” Cere called, her alarm vanishing.
Lottie’s face jerked up, and she whirled toward the gate. “Oh, Ginny, there you are. I thought you weren’t coming today. I started the feeding, but will you please bring more greens?”
A small girl stepped tentatively into the yard. Uncertain eyes examined Cere, before the girl dashed toward the dandelions.
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