“Susan, I promise, this is something you’ll laugh about later,” Darby said. “This is a fabulously funny story you’ll tell to your grandchildren one day. We need to take some of these newspapers home with us.”
I looked below the fold, and there were two more pictures with a separate article. The headline was smaller but still screamed, DO THEY CHEAT? One picture was of Dell with a dark-haired beauty. She had one arm around his shoulder, her other hand was on his arm, and she was leaning her head slightly against his chest. It appeared intimate. The other picture sent my heart into a pounding frenzy. My mouth fell open, and I couldn’t speak. Darby leaned over, and all I could do was point. The second picture was of Darby holding me in an embrace and kissing me full on the mouth. It was irritating enough I would have to explain the kiss to Mick, but right behind me was a clear picture of the man with the tattoos. The other man’s face was blocked by me and Darby.
“What?” Darby asked slightly confused. “There isn’t anything there we didn’t already know.”
I pointed between the two men. Slightly out of focus was another face. There hadn’t been two people close behind me, there had been three. And the third man was Dudley!
Darby frowned, and I could see his wheels were spinning, too. We hadn’t figured out at what part Dudley might have in all of this, and this was our first real clue he was involved with Carl and the men who were attempting to, at the very least, abduct me.
Dad was aware something had changed and asked, “What’s wrong, you two?”
Darby covered for us. “This is something you didn’t see,” he said while shoving the paper back over to Dad. “Susan and I were being silly at the arena, and a photographer snapped a picture of me giving her a kiss that wasn’t on her nose. It’s just going to be even harder to explain all of this to Mick.” He grabbed my hand under the table and gave it a squeeze.
Dad didn’t seem to be concerned at all and said, “If Mick’s the great guy you say he is, Susan, he’ll be fine. We’ll all help to explain this mess to him.”
I nodded and gave up on my breakfast for the second day in a row. I started to gather up my things for work.
“I’ll walk you out to the car, Susan,” Darby said.
The driver was waiting, but Darby held me back for a moment and said, “I’ll look around for Dudley today. If I spot him, I’ll try turning the tables and follow him for a while. Call me on your lunch break, and I’ll let you know if I find out anything.”
He would have normally given me a hug and a kiss, but as we were outside in public, we didn’t want to risk any more pictures. I gave him a little wave and slipped into the car.
Safely at Slimmers, I returned to my office and sat down behind the desk. Someone had placed a new box of business cards at the corner, and I saw they had been printed with my new title of Division Manager. There was also a sticky note informing me of a meeting at 11:00 with Paul Diamond to go over my new job duties. Paul was the company’s National Training Director, and he would be helping me to establish training classes in my division.
There was still an hour before the meeting. I pulled a pen and pad of paper from my briefcase and started to map out another idea I had been thinking about. Sometimes, all it took to keep a member motivated and coming in regularly was an encouraging telephone call, but counselors rarely had the time to go through all of the files to see who had come in and who hadn’t. I was working on a new system to show this information quickly without creating any extra work for the employees. I almost had my finger on exactly how it would work, but there were a few more details to be worked out.
I was lost in thought when a male voice said, “So, you and Carlton Waltham, huh?”
What?! I looked up and saw a grinning Gregory standing in the doorway. His hair was still white and blue, and he was wearing the black and red Ektelons, but today he had on black slacks and a black dress shirt. I assumed he would be attending the funeral.
“Gregory!” I said with alarm in my voice. “Why would you say such a thing?”
“I was in the office next door when you and B.A. were talking yesterday,” he said. “I couldn’t help but overhear. Did he really make a pass at you?” He was obviously hoping to hear the gossipy details.
I had to weigh the benefits of confiding some information to Gregory against creating some trouble for myself if he wasn’t able to keep a secret. I decided I needed him on my side. “Yes, he did,” I told him.
“What did you do? Did you slap him?” He laughed as though the thought of me slapping Carl would have been a great thing to see.
“No, of course not” I said. I glanced toward the doorway, lowered my voice, and asked, “Can you keep a secret?”
His eyes lit up like I’d just promised to give him all my winnings since coming to Vegas. He knew something juicy was coming. “Yes!” he said excitedly as he looked down the hallway to be sure no one was around.
In a lowered, but dramatic voice, I said, “I told him he was abhorrent to me, and I would never ever want him in a million years. Isn’t that terrible? I had no idea he worked here and would be, to some extent, my boss.”
“Thanks for telling me, Susan,” he said. “Now that I know you’re not a Carlton Waltham fan, I can tell you that I can’t stand the man. He has a way about him that’s kind of psycho. It’s more than a roller coaster ride of nice one minute and out-of-control nutjob the next”
I interrupted and told him, “That’s what I heard at the hotel. Some of the staff think he’s kind of psycho, too.”
“Everyone here tends to walk on eggshells around him. Nobody wants to be on the receiving end of one of his rants.” He paused with a look on his face which made me think Gregory himself may have been on the receiving end at least once. He continued, “I’m pretty sure something’s going on here, and it involves him. I don’t know if it’s business or personal, but I saw Carlton and Gilbert arguing out in the distribution center more than once. I haven’t been able to find out anything on my own, but I’d bet money Gilbert Torres figured out what it was. Do you think Carlton had anything to do with his death?”
I had to force myself to look somewhat shocked at the question and not look guilty as I told the lie, “I don’t have any idea.” I quickly switched the focus of our conversation and said, “Are you going to the funeral this afternoon?’
“Yeah. Do you need a ride?” he asked.
“No, I think I already have one, but if it doesn’t pan out, I’ll let you know.” I glanced down at my notepad as if to signal I wanted to get back to work.
“Ok, see you later,” he said as he left my office.
I mulled over what he had said. It wasn’t much, but it added a little more to what I already knew. He had confirmed the personality of Carl as being unstable, and something was going on here at Slimmers which probably led to Gilbert Torres’ murder.
I dug my phone out of my purse and called Darby.
He answered on the first ring and said, “Hi, Sunshine, is everything ok?”
“So far so good,” I told him. “My morning meeting might run through lunch, so I wanted to call you now. Have you spotted Dudley yet?”
“Nope. Haven’t seen him,” he said.
“Ok,” I said. I wasn’t sure how to ask him about taking me to the funeral, so I eased into it. “I want you to do something for me. Are Mom and Dad staying at the hotel today?”
“I think so. Dad signed up for a poker tournament, and Mom is planning to spend most of her day in the spa. What do you need?” he asked.
“Ask Dad for the car keys and come pick me up at 1:30. I want you to take me to Gilbert Torres’ funeral.”
“Susan, no!” he said firmly, and I could hear the irritation in his voice. “A funeral puts you out in the open, and we’ve already agreed it’s too dangerous.”
“Darby, I’m not going to argue with you,” I said defiantly. “I’m going to the funeral, and if you don’t come and take me, I’m going to ride with Gregory, and he certainly
won’t be watching out for me.”
I could hear him sigh on the other end of the telephone. “Why do you want to go? You didn’t even know the man,” he said.
“I want to pay my respects to his widow. Plus, I want to see who goes. I want to see if anyone cared about the man. Darby Tapley, I mean it. I’m going.”
He simply said, “I’ll be there at 1:30,” and I heard his phone snap shut.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Sometimes I pushed the boundaries of our friendship to the absolute limit, and I could feel the stiffness and tension as Darby kept his arm around me on our trek through the cemetery to the gravesite. To say he was unhappy was an understatement.
Only a few people were in attendance at the church service. I could only surmise there were half a dozen relatives or friends sitting with Mrs. Torres, and there were only four employees from the office, with Gregory and Betsy Ann being two of them. Darby and I sat behind the Slimmers employees.
The service was short, with little being said outside of a few prayers. It was incredibly sad so few people would mourn the loss of the man.
Darby, of course, didn’t want to be outdoors at the cemetery, and had refused to get out of the car in an effort to make me change my mind. “Fine, stay in the car, but I’m going anyway,” I had snapped at him as I opened the door and stepped out. In all fairness to him, I knew I was pushing it by insisting on seeing the funeral through to the end. All of the Slimmers employees had gone back to the office, and only the minister, Mrs. Torres, and another woman were actually at the gravesite. It seemed like a tremendous invasion of privacy to be walking toward them.
Mrs. Torres wasn’t crying, and the woman beside her seemed angry. There was something unsettling about all of this.
As we stood beside the gravesite, the minister looked to Mrs. Torres for a signal indicating she was ready for him to begin. Instead, she walked around to me and Darby and said, “Thank you for coming. Did you know Gilbert?”
I felt Darby tighten up even more, if that was possible. “Mrs. Torres,” I said, “we’re so sorry for your loss. To be honest, I never met Gilbert. I’m Susan Hunter, and this is my friend, Darby Tapley. I work for Slimmers Weight Loss in Ohio, and I’m here at the corporate offices for the week. When I heard about Mr. Torres, my heart went out to you, and I wanted to meet you in person to pay my respects.”
“That’s nice of you,” she said. “If you met Gilbert, you wouldn’t like him like everyone else, but I appreciate you come for me.” She stepped to her previous position beside the other woman and nodded to the minister. He said a few words and proceeded to read the 23rd Psalm. Darby still had his arm around me, and I felt him pull me even closer to him. I looked into his face and saw he was staring off toward a group of burial vaults. Standing almost out of view between two of the vaults was Dudley! I couldn’t stop a slight audible intake of breath, but I didn’t flinch or move. The pastor concluded the prayer, and Mrs. Torres walked over to us again.
“Would you come back to our home? I prepared for more people, but it looks like it wasn’t needed. Maybe you come and have tea and cookies?” Her words had a bit of a pleading tone, and I thought maybe she didn’t want to be alone right now.
If Darby’s muscles tightened any more, he would surely snap in two, but I said, “We would love to, Mrs. Torres. Thank you.”
She wrote her address and a few quick directions on a piece of paper in case we were separated, but she suggested it would be easiest if we simply followed her. We turned to walk toward the road where our two cars were parked and noticed a third car now parked along the road – a black Lexus.
The muscles in Darby’s neck were bulging, and I was sure I heard a swear word under his breath when a man stepped out of the car, and I whispered, “That’s Carl.” Darby propelled me to the Chevelle as Carl walked toward Mrs. Torres and handed something to her. We jumped into the car and locked the doors.
“Susan Hunter, I can’t believe the position you put yourself in just now. Did you see Dudley? And now Carl is here?” His voice was strained, and I knew he was frustrated with me as well as being frightened.
I didn’t want to be mad at Darby, and I didn’t want to get into a shouting match with him. I looked at him with sadness and said softly, “I feel so sorry for her. No one liked her husband, and he might have even made her life miserable. I can’t explain it, but when I think about losing anyone in my life who I love, it cuts so deeply into my heart. She surely must be in some pain with no one to be here for her.”
He wasn’t happy, but I could tell he was done yelling. “I’ll take you,” he said, “but we’re only staying for a few minutes.”
I nodded, and we saw Mrs. Torres get into the passenger side of the car behind ours. Carl was driving off in the opposite direction, and a quick glance around the cemetery showed no sign of Dudley. Darby seemed to relax a little.
It was only a few minutes before we were pulling up in front of a small, tan, stucco home with white shutters. Mrs. Torres stepped out of the vehicle, and the other woman promptly drove off. It was down to the three of us.
We were ushered into a small, dark living room. Mrs. Torres quickly moved around the room, opening the blinds to allow the afternoon sunlight to flow in through the western facing windows. She motioned for us to take a seat on the sofa, and she quickly went to the kitchen. We could hear the running water as she filled a kettle for tea. I looked around the room and was surprised to see the furnishings in the room were expensive. It was crowded, but there was a plasma television, a high-end entertainment system, and the furniture we were sitting on was definitely expensive. But the room felt cold as there were no personal touches - no knickknacks from vacations and no personal pictures. It lacked a homey feel.
I stood up, walked to the kitchen, and stuck my head through the doorway. “May I help you, Mrs. Torres?” I asked.
“Thank you, Susan,” she said. “Take the cookies into the living room.” She pointed to two trays of gourmet-style cookies on the counter.
I noticed the kitchen was a state-of-the art kitchen with all stainless appliances and marble countertops. The flooring looked to be an expensive travertine. It was obvious a tremendous amount of money had been spent in furnishing and remodeling the interior of the home.
After bringing out the cookies and placing them on the coffee table, Mrs. Torres followed with the tea, and we sat down.
“Thank you for inviting us, Mrs. Torres,” I said to her with sincerity. I felt better sitting here with her. I couldn’t imagine being alone at a time like this.
“Call me Anna,” she said to both of us with a smile.
I returned her smile and placed two of the cookies on my plate. She didn’t appear to be grieving at the moment. She was smiling and obviously enjoying the small tea party. I presumed her to be in her mid-50s. She was slightly plump, nicely dressed in black slacks and a dark, patterned blouse. Her thick, black hair was long with prominent gray streaks running throughout, and she had it pulled back at the nape of her neck.
“I appreciate you come and spend time with me,” she said. “No one cared Gilbert died. I ask God for forgiveness because I’m relieved, and the house is quiet a few days.”
I felt Darby stiffen beside me again. It did seem like such a harsh thing to say.
Anna Torres proceeded to tell us her story with little emotion. “Gilbert and I are legal immigrants. Our families come here from Mexico over 30 years ago. Our marriage was arranged, but we don’t fuss. We know each other for a long time, and we were friends. We were poor, but we were happy, and the first few years of marriage were good. I thought we would start a family, but Gilbert started to get into trouble with bad people in the city. He started drugs and drinking alcohol and even did some time in jail for stealing. When Slimmers opened the offices, he was hired as a janitor and did better. He quit the drugs and don’t drink as much. But he was meaner, angry, and making enemies. He beat me for a while, but when I told him I would leave, he stopped. He never hi
t me again, but his words were still ugly. He started gambling. He worked afternoons and stopped coming home at midnight. He say he went to the casinos instead. He would come home with cash. I was too afraid to ask about it, but for the last two years he won every day. He fixed up the house and started buying things. We have nice things, but never enjoy them. And I find out there is no money in the bank. None. He give me money for groceries and pay bills, but he was secret about the rest of the money. He spent it all. There is no life insurance, and he left nothing.”
“I’m so sorry, Anna,” I told her. I really didn’t know what to say.
“Don’t feel sorry for me,” she said. “I have sadness for before, but I feel no sadness today for being free of him.” She paused for a moment to sip her tea, then said, “I’m sorry I don’t introduce you to my sister, Trella, but she is angry. She wants me to go back to Mexico with her, but I tell her no. I can sell the house and the expensive things Gilbert bought, and I can rent a small apartment and start over. I am a good baker, and I think I can get work in one of the hotels.”
“Anna, what did the police say they think happened to Gilbert?” I asked her.
“His skull was crushed from a hard object,” she said. “He was put on the railroad tracks to hide evidence. They still looking into it, but have no leads. So many people don’t like him, and they think they never find who did this. They say it could be a gang. The police were here, but don’t find anything. Even the computers are empty.”
She stood up and went to a small cabinet. She pulled an object out of a stone crock. “I find this after the police go. I don’t know what it means, and I’m afraid to go myself. I was afraid to call the police, and I don’t know why I’m showing you.” She handed a motel key to us. Starburst Motel. The key was for room 236. “I don’t know if he had a mistress, or if he go there after work to sleep and not come home.”
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