Credos fire, p.11
Credo's Fire, page 11
“Oh my God, did she kill him?” Casey slowed and then stopped for an old woman in a crosswalk. The light for us was green but that didn’t seem to matter to the woman who was taking halting steps behind her walker. Traffic was flying by us in the curb lane, so I pushed my door open. “Hold that thought.”
When I stepped up and gently laid my hand on the lady’s arm, she flashed me a grateful smile. Her voice came out high pitched and shaky. “Thank you so much. I absolutely hate crossing at this light. I start out when the pedestrian light shows green, but I’m only halfway through the intersection when it turns red again.” Her faintly British accent was charming.
“No worries. Here, let’s see if we can safely get you the rest of the way across.” I peeked around our car to see if any traffic was coming. Casey had also gotten out and had moved into the lane behind us. She waited for an opening, then stepped into the curb lane and stopped the next bunch of cars heading our way. “Here we go.” The lady’s elbow was paper mâché thin and I made sure to grasp it very lightly as I moved her the rest of the way across the lane and onto the sidewalk. We stepped up onto the curb and watched as Casey waved her arm in a circular motion to tell the drivers they could move forward again.
She climbed back into our car and drove to the nearest u-turn bay so she could come back to get me. The woman touched my arm to get my attention. “Don’t I know you somehow?”
I took a closer look and now that she mentioned it, she did look a little familiar. “You look kind of familiar. Have you had to call the police for anything in the last few years? Maybe I helped you out with something when I worked down here on patrol.”
Shaking her head slowly, the woman gazed into the sky with amber colored eyes trying to recall where she had met me before. “No, I’ve never had to call the police, at least not since you began your career.” Suddenly her eyebrows rose, and she held a bent finger in front of my face. “I’ve got it! I never forget a face. I was your second-grade school teacher!”
I shook my head and laughed. “No, my teacher went to prison when I was in second grade for killing her husband. She was really cool though…she’d written a book about a bear or something. I can’t remember the name of it, but I still have the autographed copy she gave me before she suddenly disappeared. Well, I say disappeared. She didn’t have much choice, they’d arrested her, so no opportunities for goodbyes there.” Fond memories surfaced as I thought about that school year. “As a kid, I was really sad that she left. She was really cool, and I definitely didn’t understand what had happened. I liked her a lot.”
The cheerful look on her face intensified as she caught and held my gaze. “Dewey and the Little Red Wagon.” She sighed and looked away. “I’m sorry that all happened. It seems like that one second in time when my husband attacked me, and I pulled the trigger sent ripples and waves out into the universe that I may never realize or know about. I wanted nothing more than to gather my little chicks around me and pretend nothing had happened. There was no way they were ever going to let me come back to say goodbye.” She smiled a bit wistfully. “I wanted to though.”
I studied the woman, listening to her speak but not really hearing her words. “I…” Nothing could have floored me more than her knowing the name of my little second grade picture book. “Mrs. Hunbling? Dorothy Hunbling?”
Her eyebrows rose again, and the smile reappeared. Spreading her arms wide she nodded at me. “In the flesh.”
I moved her walker out of the way and carefully enfolded her in my arms. The loss I’d felt as a little girl who’d loved her teacher came tumbling back. Casey had pulled into a nearby parking lot and she looked more than a little perplexed as she made her way over to us. Her expression clearly said she thought a hug was going a little above and beyond the call of duty after I’d helped a little old lady across the street. I stepped back and really tried to see the younger woman I’d known through eight-year-old eyes. I saw what I was looking for when one side of her mouth quirked up in the lopsided grin I remembered so well.
Reaching over to steady herself on her walker, she pointed to the gun and badge on my belt. “My, haven’t you done well for yourself.” She turned to Casey. “This one and another little girl,” She glanced over at me. “Do you remember the name of that little imp you used to play with.”
A big smile creased my face and Casey and I both answered at once. “Megan.”
“Megan! That’s it! She and you were always getting into some kind of mischief.”
Casey rolled her eyes. “Color me so surprised.”
I punched her shoulder. “Sarcasm does not become you.”
As Mrs. Hunbling pulled her walker in close, she reached over and took my hand. “I have a meeting I’m going to right now, but I’d love to talk to you some more. Can you write down my phone number?”
I pulled my cellphone out of my pocket and typed in the number she gave me. “Oh, um, Casey, this is my second-grade teacher, Mrs. Dorothy Hunbling. Mrs. Hunbling, this is my partner, Casey Bowman.”
Casey gently took Mrs. Hunbling’s outstretched hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am. I’d love to hear some of your Alex and Megan stories one of these days.”
Mrs. Hunbling lowered her chin and looked at me over the rim of her glasses. “I’m not sure the statute of limitations has expired, but I’d love to sit and reminisce. Please call, Alex. Let’s get together soon, shall we?” Pushing the walker in front of her, Mrs. Hunbling started on her way down the sidewalk toward her meeting. I watched her go for a little while, then Casey and I headed back to our car.
“I can’t believe we stop to help some lady in a crosswalk, and it turns out to be my second-grade teacher.” We got in the car and Casey pulled out into the street. “She was our teacher for most of the second grade, but believe it or not, she was arrested for murdering her husband.”
“Self defense?”
“Heck, I don’t know. I was only eight when it happened. One day she was there, the next day we had a new teacher. I’d love to find out what really happened though. Maybe when we go visit, she’ll open up about it.”
“You know what my momma used to say, ‘Some secrets are better left as secrets.’ I think if she wants to talk about it, she will, but I don’t think you should be the one doing the asking.”
My gum had gotten stale. There’s nothing worse than bubble gum that’s lost its flavor. I rolled down my window and threw it out, then reached into Casey’s paper bag and grabbed another piece. “What did that guy say, by the way? You know, after I went to talk to Angel.”
“Not much. The only thing interesting was his description of one of the men. He said he was missing one of his ears and there was a scar running from where his ear should have been down to the bottom of his jaw.” We both thought about that a second. “That doesn’t sound like any of the people who jumped you, does it?”
“It could have been one of the last two guys in the alley. By the time they showed up I was a little pre-occupied.” Glancing around, I realized we had entered the neighborhood in midtown where Gia lived. “Where are you going? I don’t need to talk to Gia right now.”
As she turned onto Gia’s street, she reached up, took the wad of gum out of her mouth and wrapped it in a napkin she found stuffed between the seats. “I just have a few questions for Ms. Angelino. You can wait in the car if you want.”
I snorted. “Yeah, like that’s gonna happen. Listen, I think the best time for me to talk to Gia is when I’m alone and off duty. I think I’ll learn more that way.”
Casey pulled into Gia’s driveway and shut off the engine. She swiveled in her seat until she was facing me. “I think the best time for you to talk to Gia alone right now is never. Something’s going on in one of our investigations that involves her, in fact, her name or her attorney’s name seems to crop up at every turn. Whatever’s going on, I think this’d be a good time for you to start covering your ass.” She opened the door and got out and I met her up in front of the car.
“Casey, Gia’s not stupid, and everything that’s come up so far is stupid and I intend to find out what’s going on. My way.”
Casey shrugged and walked through the gate in the adobe wall surrounding the home. The usual flowers colored the inner courtyard and a cumquat tree was heavy with the little orange fruit. I walked over, pulled one off and popped it into my mouth, peel and all. Casey stepped up onto the semi-circular gray marble step that led up to the mahogany front door and pushed the doorbell. I’d never noticed before that the same Angelino family crest that decorated Gia’s cigar case had been painstakingly carved into the upper half of the dark wood. I joined her on the stoop, and after a few minutes Gabe opened the door. As usual, he didn’t say much and since this was Casey’s idea, I let her take the lead.
“Is Ms. Angelino in?”
Gabe shrugged, then glanced at me. “She’s busy right now.”
Casey stepped to the side to try to see past him. I knew all she’d see was a hallway filled with classical art. “Can you ask her if she’ll talk to us?”
“No.”
When she turned to me for help, I just shrugged and gave her my best “I told you so” look. I knew from experience there was nothing to be done when Gabe decided to deny entrance into the Angelino home. He was an accomplished gatekeeper, someone who would have fit right into Kublai Khan’s retinue of bodyguards during the thirteenth century. I tried to picture him standing in front of huge iron doors, arms crossed, holding a scimitar in one hand and a halberd in the other. I smiled up at him. “Have you ever considered wearing a knee length tunic and baggy trousers?”
Both Gabe and Casey looked at me, clearly perplexed.
“What? You know, with a belt around the tunic and a huge scimitar dangling down to your ankles?” I elbowed Casey. “Don’t you think he’d make a great Mongolian Imperial bodyguard?”
Even though we’d worked together for the better part of a year now, Casey still wasn’t quite sure where I was coming from a lot of the time. Without looking him in the eye, she asked Gabe, “Do you have any idea what she’s talking about?”
Gabe sighed. “Mostly, I don’t try to figure her out. Mostly, I just leave that up to Ms. Angelino.”
The three of us stood by the front door for a while. I was waiting for Casey to realize she wasn’t going to get in, and she was waiting for Gabe to get uncomfortable enough to let us in. I knew full well that wasn’t going to happen. Casey gave it one last stab. “Can you ask Ms. Angelino a question for me? I can wait here, I don’t need to come in.”
Gabe silently shook his head. I grabbed Casey’s elbow. “C’mon. The lady’s busy. Let’s come back another time.”
Casey pulled out a business card and held it out for Gabe to take. Gabe took it, then stepped back into the house. “I’ll tell Ms. Angelino you came by.” With that, he closed the door in our faces.
I pulled a little harder on Casey’s arm. “Well, I wouldn’t dream of saying I told you so. That would be really uncouth of me.” I detoured one more time to the cumquat tree and grabbed a handful of fruit. I caught up to her just as she was going through the gate and I held one out as a kind of peace offering. I knew she’d never eaten one before, so I was curious to know if she’d like it. Without really thinking, she popped it into her mouth, chewed down and promptly spit it out into the street.
“Yuck! They’re nasty, bitter and full of seeds. I can’t believe you like those things.”
I chewed the one I had in my mouth, separating out the seeds from the meat and spitting them into the dirt. “They’re good. The peel is sweet, and the meat is sour. It’s a great combination.”
“And what the heck were you talking about—Mongolian bodyguards?” She beeped the doors open with the key fob and let herself into the car. I finished the cumquats and joined her. “I don’t know, he just reminded me of a huge gatekeeper and then I started picturing him standing there half naked and then my mind went to—”
“Never mind, Alex. I’m sorry I asked. Do you need to go anywhere right away?”
I shook my head. “No, why?”
“I want to rundown to Fernando’s and take a look around.”
She didn’t say anything more and I watched her out of the corner of my eye. “So, why are we looking into Jason’s case? I’m usually the one who goes haring off after ghosts in the wind.”
We drove for a while in silence. It wasn’t like Casey to stick her nose into another detective’s caseload and I wondered if she knew more than she was telling me. We pulled into Fernando’s parking lot, which was relatively empty at this time of day. The few cars there probably belonged to some of his employees or to those early Happy Hour patrons who didn’t work and could come in early enough to take advantage of the lower prices and the watered-down Margaritas. I saw Fernando out back by the garbage bin and as Casey went to the front entrance, I detoured over to talk to him.
“Fernando! How’s life treating you?” Over the years I’d become accustomed to his style of greeting and we embraced and pounded each other on the back like the best of friends.
“Detective Wolfe, it’s been too long since you’ve come to see me. I miss you and your smiling face when you no here.” Even though he’d been in the United States for over twenty years, he still had a thick Mexican accent and tended to pronounce his y’s like J’s.
“Fernando, when are you ever going to just call me Alex instead of Detective Wolfe? I feel like I should be calling you Mr. Cabrera or something.”
“No, no, no. Respect for the law is something my mother taught me from the time I was a small boy. It’s just the way I am, and you wouldn’t want me to go against my mother’s wishes, now would you? She’s one hundred and two years old and still makes her own tortillas. Can you believe that?”
“No, I find that pretty hard to believe. Does she live here with you?”
“Oh, there’s a story all by itself. I have twelve brothers and sisters. Can you believe that? Twelve! Every one of us owns a house, some in Mexico, some in the states. Do you think she will live in any of our homes? No! She has her house by the little river that flows through our village and she refuses to live anywhere else.” He smiled proudly. “She is one hundred and two years old! Can you believe it?”
“I wish I could meet her. She sounds like quite an imposing woman.”
He picked up the trashcan he’d brought out, lifted it above his head and upended it into the garbage bin. He grimaced as he set it back on the ground. “Ugh, I twisted my back the other day trying to catch my daughter’s horse that had gotten out of its corral. He came running by me and when I tried to stop him, he swung me around and I felt something ping right here.” With great care, he stiffly pivoted on one foot and pointed to his lower back, using his knuckles to dig into the muscles closest to his spine.
Now I felt bad for the traditional pounding we’d exchanged. “Ouch. Aren’t you a little old to be catching horses that come racing by you?” Fernando wasn’t a tall man, but he was lean and well proportioned. He wore his gray hair pulled back in a ponytail. Having his hair pulled up off of his face emphasized the high cheekbones he’d inherited from his Tarahumara ancestors.
He shrugged, continuing to rub his lower back with his fist. “My people believe to slow down is to die, so, I’d rather die than slow down.”
I had to admit that philosophy had seemed to work wonders for his mother. Picking up the can once again, he winced and started for the back door of his bar. “So, what brings you here my friend? I know you didn’t come to talk about my tiny little mother.”
I fell into step beside him and reached ahead to pull open the screen door. “Well, even though I’ve missed coming in for the shredded pork gorditas you serve for happy hour, there is something I wanted to ask you about.”
“Did you know the recipe for those gorditas came from mi abuela…” He hesitated, “…my grandmother, who lived down in the canyons? And she learned it from her grandmother, too? Can you believe that?” Fernando had often told Megan and me stories of his family who’d lived in the Copper Canyons of Chihuahua, Mexico for hundreds of years. When I smiled and nodded, he continued proudly. “We are the Tarahumara.” He returned my smile and clapped me on the shoulder. “There are no greater runners on the face of this earth.”
Ever since I’d started listening to Fernando’s stories, I’d read quite a lot about the Tarahumara Indians, or “those who run fast” as they call themselves. They absolutely fascinate me, but today, I needed to talk to him about Jason. “Nando,” I used the nickname he’d asked me to use shortly after we’d met. “I was wondering if you had any more information on that woman who was raped in the bathroom the other day. You know, anything you might not have told the investigating officer.”
He stopped in front of the door without going inside. I watched him look into the gloomy interior of the kitchen before reaching out and gently pulling the door out of my hands. He deliberately pushed the screen shut, taking his time to gather his thoughts. A lot of people misjudged this genial, easy going bar owner, but I’d known him long enough to have recognized the shrewd mind behind the friendly mask.
Many of his employees were from Mexico but he had assured me on several occasions that each and every one of them had a valid green card. He was very proud of that fact and of his people, but he’d told me once that while they were his fellow countrymen, he didn’t completely trust any of them, no matter how honorable or honest they seemed. “But then again I don’t trust your countryman either.” He’d affably told me one rainy day when Megan and I were sampling various flavors of his signature Margaritas.
