"The housekeeper didn't like him. He kept pestering her. She complained to the boss."
"What was he doing?"
"Making excuses to go up to the house, trying to get alone with her-at least that's what she said." Griffin dropped the spoon in the empty bowl.
"He wasn't the only one to show interest in her. Luiza attracted men.
Cute little thing. Real pretty in a shy sort of way."
"Can you describe her?"
"She was about five four, in her mid-twenties. Dark hair, dark skin.
Her left arm was skinnier than her right arm. She said she broke it when she was a kid."
"Do you know her full name?"
"Luiza San Miguel was her Spanish name. But she was mostly Indian."
"You talk about her in the past tense."
"Yeah, she quit and went home to Mexico. She was from somewhere in Chiapas, the southernmost state, on the border with Guatemala."
"You knew her fairly well?"
"Not really. But my old boss at the Box Z gave her a good recommendation when she came to work here." Griffin took his bowl into the kitchen, returned, brushed the dirt off his boots, and pulled them on.
"Did you work with her at the Box Z?"
Griffin shook his head.
"Nope, she didn't start there until after I left."
"When did she quit working here?"
"Soon after I fired Espinoza. Sometime in April last year."
"Did she give a reason for leaving?"
"Not to me. Maybe the boss knows."
"Where is your boss?"
"Santa Fe," Griffin said as he reached for his work jacket.
"Won't be back until late tonight."
"What about tomorrow?"
"She'll be here all day, far as I know," Griffin replied.
"I can't say I liked Rudy much, but I sure didn't wish him dead. You boys are taking some shit about that shooting."
Kerney held out a business card.
"Please give Ms.
Bingham my card. Tell her I'll stop by to speak with her in the morning."
"I'll do that." Griffin took the card and stuck it in his jacket pocket.
Kerney inserted his card key in the electronic lock and walked down the empty corridor past silent offices. The majority of the civilian workers and headquarters staff was gone for the day, but lights were on in the vestibule to the crime lab. He thought about checking in with Melody Jordan-if she was still working-but decided he had no reason to do so, and walked up the stairs to his second-floor office.
Kerney often worked late to compensate for his totally nonexistent social life. Tonight he was even less inclined to go home. The place would only seem more empty than usual with the departure of Sara and the dog.
A message that Andy Baca had called from Florida was taped to the handset of his telephone. He called Andy, who was about to leave for a cocktail party at the convention center, and enlightened him on the events of the week.
He rang off after reassuring Andy that everything was under control, and started in on the paperwork. He was halfway through a proposed plan for a narcotics raid when his telephone rang.
"Good, you're there," Melody Jordan said when he answered.
"I've got something to show you. Chief."
"Come up."
"See you in a minute."
Kerney's attempt to refocus on the plan failed as his gaze kept wandering to the open office door. He thought about asking Melody to join him for a drink.
Since he did not directly supervise Melody, it would not violate policy to do so.
Why not? Kerney thought. He was a free man with no obligations, and the company of a pretty woman might be the right tonic for his blues.
Melody walked in just as he forced his attention back to the text. She wore a black V-neck top under a waist-length lightweight jacket and a short pleated skirt that accentuated her trim figure.
He put the report aside and smiled.
"What have you got?"
"Test results on the bones," Melody replied, "confirming Dr. Lawrence's assessment. The victim suffered from rickets. That strengthens the possibility she was Latin American."
"That's good to know. Are you heading out?"
"You bet." Campbell Lawrence was waiting for Melody. He'd proved to be a very horny man, and she was enjoying every minute of it.
"So am I," Kerney said, standing up.