"Do you have records of those mailbox assignments?"
"Not unless they are still active. Once a party drops out or makes a connection, the mailbox is reassigned."
"What kind of information do you collect from your customers?"
"Age, address, and phone number. Whatever else a person is looking for romantically is usually spelled out in their recorded message and weekly personal ad."
"I'd like the telephone numbers and names of the women who attended the events from February through April of last year."
"That information is strictly confidential."
"One of those women may be able to help me solve a murder."
"Our policy is very dear. We do not release that information."
"What you're telling me is that some guy can sign up for this dating service you run, rape and murder one of your female customers, and you can't help me because a policy forbids it." Gabe got to his feet and played a bluff card.
"Tell your boss I'll get a court order."
Viola looked startled.
"Who was murdered?"
"I can't release that information."
Voila raised herself from her chair.
"Let me speak to the city editor."
"I'll be happy to wait," Gabe replied.
In five minutes, Viola Fisher returned looking a bit chagrined.
"We'll be glad to assist you. Sergeant Gonzales All we need is your assurance that the information will be used with discretion. We don't want to create any unnecessary anxiety among our customers."
"I'll handle the matter delicately."
"Good," Viola said as she started pulling files.
Gabe left the newspaper building with the names and phone numbers of sixty-eight women. At home, he called the phone company, read off the names and numbers, and asked to have them cross-checked with Santistevan's home phone, the business phone at Buena Vista Lumber and Supply, and the telephone number of Joaquin's uncle, Isaac Medina.
"Is that all?" the phone company supervisor asked sarcastically.
"If you get any hits, I'd like a record of the calls placed by the women, starting in February of last year."
"This is going to take a while, Gabe," the supervisor said.
"Mid-afternoon?" Gabe asked hopefully.
"I'll see what I can do."
Richard Bingham weighed in at no more than 150 pounds on a six-two frame. He had long, curly hair that fell over his forehead, and he was trying hard to grow a mustache.
He sat on a chair with a day pack positioned between his knees, busily filling it with textbooks and papers.
He laughed when Kerney questioned him about Luiza.
"Didn't Emmet tell you I'm gay?" he said as he zipped the pack shut.
Kerney didn't respond.
"It's no secret," Richard said. He walked to the Murphy bed, folded it against the wall, and closed the doors that hid it from view.
Bingham lived in a studio condominium of no more than 800 square feet, yet given its location in downtown Santa Fe, Kerney figured it was worth a pretty penny.
"I gotta go," Richard said.
"I've got a class."
"Give me a few more minutes," Kerney replied, gesturing at the chair Richard had vacated.
Reluctantly, the boy sat.
"Did anything happen to upset Luiza the day she disappeared?"
"Well, Nancy kind of freaked her out."
"How so?"
"She wanted to get it on with Luiza."
"Nancy's gay?"
"Yeah, and she can be very butch at times."
"What happened?"
"She kept grabbing at Luiza and talking sexy to her."
"Anything else?"
"Luiza slapped her in the kitchen after Nancy grabbed her ass. That chilled Nancy out. Then Luiza split and went to her room."
"When did this happen?"
"About three o'clock in the afternoon."