Five O’Clock Shadow (24 page)

“I need to get back.” He raised his voice above the gush of water. “I'll catch up with you later.”

And then he was gone. She felt it as much as heard him leave. She almost called out, swallowed her pride and invited him to shower with her. He looked like he'd been up all night, same clothes, stubble of beard, blood-shot eyes. She could have asked him to stick around to dry her back. “Damn.” She really had been telling the truth when she'd said she wanted him. Or wanted someone? Was this just healthy hormones kicking in after a dry spell? She stepped out of the shower and turned the water off. Nothing could erase the fact that she'd stood naked in front of a man and he'd left, just walked away. That went right to the old ego and left a bruise. Still, she'd been less than an eager player before. She flashed to the late afternoon in his apartment. He was naked and aroused and she had chickened out.

She pulled a thick towel from a rack above the toilet, rubbed and patted her body dry, then wrapped it around her. She couldn't stop her thoughts from straying to Randy and how she'd thought Christmas would have been for a newlywed. Would they have had a new house by now? They'd planned on it. And there was going to be a tree, big and fat and decorator-perfect. There had been a bracelet, a reminder of what could have been. Of promises that weren't meant to be kept.

But instead, here she was in El Paso, Texas, with a carnival, lusting after a man with tattoos who didn't even make a pass when she stood in front of him naked. And the husband she should have been sitting across from at breakfast on Christmas morning, this morning, had turned into a dead husband who she was trying to prove wasn't a pedophile by paying a twelve-year-old child to interrogate a nine-year-old. Then to protect her source, she'd lied about seeing him spirit a youngster under a fence, hiding him maybe for illicit reasons. What a mess. She hated her life. Hated herself for what was probably grandiose stupidity or just a blindness, simply not seeing what had been right in front of her.

She couldn't stop the tears. She flopped the toilet seat down and sat there and cried, periodically blowing her nose on toilet paper that dissolved and stuck to her cheeks and upper lip. Why did her life have to end up this way?

This time she heard the knock on the outside door. Steve. At least he was back to say he was sorry, really sorry about last night probably, or for passing up his chance this morning. She grabbed a robe, splashed her face with cold water and ran to the door.

“Ed?” She couldn't keep the disappointment out of her voice.

“Sorry to bother you so early. Steve wanted me to bring this by.” He handed her an envelope.

Pauly tore it open but some sixth sense already was warning her that it wasn't good news. She scanned the single sheet. Steve was renting a car and heading back to Albuquerque. Ed would drive the motor home back for her if she wanted. No explanation. No apology. She crumpled the paper.

“Let me know if you need my help.”

“I think I can handle it.” It was obvious that Ed knew what was in the note. Steve must have told him. But she wouldn't need his help. She'd driven the old boxcar around before. It had been awhile but it wouldn't be a problem. Ed had turned to leave and suddenly on impulse, Pauly blurted out, “Who's Grams married to?”

Ed stopped and turned around. She couldn't read his expression. But she was acutely aware of how it sounded to not even know the name of her grandmother's husband. Obviously, there hadn't been a big to-do. Maybe only movie stars celebrated after the first few times. Wore white even when the numbers would have put them in black. She hadn't been invited, but then she'd missed numbers three, four and five, too.

“Your grandmother's a private lady. And I don't think the marriage has worked out.”

Pauly waited. So what was new? This still didn't answer her question. “I didn't catch a name, Ed.”

“I'd rather you asked her.” But the way he looked at the ground, hesitated to leave made Pauly think he wouldn't mind telling. Whoever thought women were the only gossips, didn't know men.

“I'd rather you told me.” she returned.

“Well, I hope you take this right, but I think Lulu overstepped her boundaries with this one. I could see marrying him for status, legitimize her act, so to speak. But Lulu doesn't need to do that. I just don't think she realizes it though.”

“Come on, Ed, the name.”

“I told you, ask Lulu.” He turned and walked away.

He could have struck her across the face. She bristled but thought of calling out to him, trying to soften his obvious anger at her persistence. But she had a right to know. Why wouldn't he share with her? And she should be the one who was angry—marrying for status—there wasn't anything wrong with her grandmother's status. Not now, not anymore.

On impulse, she yelled after him, “Thanks for offering to drive, but tell Steve I'll be heading out early.”

A damn lot early, she thought as Ed didn't even acknowledge her. She wanted to talk to Davy, maybe get in one last discussion with Paco before she left. But there was nothing to keep her in El Paso. Probably lots to encourage her to leave if she thought of the other night.

She dressed quickly, bypassed making coffee, she could always stop on the road. She was eager to find Davy and almost missed him in his Power Ranger costume lounging against the side of his trailer.

“Nice,” she said, indicating his costume.

“Yeah. I'm on a float.”

He didn't seem too eager to talk. Strange. Maybe she should mention money again.

“I'd like to speak with Paco today.”

Davy began to fidget.

“Could you help me again? I think we could make the same money arrangement.”

“No.”

He was standing now and she had the distinct feeling that he was getting ready to run off.

“Why not?”

“He's gone.”

“Gone where?”

“How should I know? He ran away.”

“Ran away?”

“That's what I said. You deaf or something?” Insolent. Pre-teen, but already had the mannerisms of surly sixteen down pat. She ignored it and plowed on.

“Why would he leave?”

“Maybe he got in trouble.”

Trouble? Of course, the kid. The one she had seen crawling under the fence.

“Where did he go?”

Davy shrugged, “Home, probably. They always do.”

Pauly was just about to ask who “they” were when Brenda opened the trailer door and walked down the steps.

“I hope this is our last Mexico trip. I'm sick and tired of having the bribes come out of my paycheck.” She didn't have a cigarette in her mouth but she was smacking a wad of gum.

“What bribes?” Pauly was truly at a loss.

“To pacify the authorities. Keep them off our backs.”

“But why? Did we do something wrong?” She fleetingly thought of Steve and the hasty trip back to Albuquerque.

“Oh, it's something different every time. Last time it was some new tax. Everyone had to chip in twenty bucks and show some fake permit in the window of their trailer. Just so much bullshit. One more handout in a ‘gimme' world…free money while we enjoy the bad water and lack of facilities.”

“So, what is it this time?”

“Oh, this time we're being accused of stealing children. They've turned this place upside down. Supposedly some kid sneaked in to make a few bucks helping us clean up and didn't go home. His mother is accusing us of hiding him.”

“Has this ever happened before?” Pauly was trying to fight back the word procurement, but felt the goosebumps rise on her arms.

“Yeah, the carnival is a kid-magnet. How do you keep them away?”

“What usually happens?”

“The authorities check the trailers, detain us, then accept money to just look the other way. I'm sure the kids show up once we've left.”

“So why is this time different?”

“The kid's mother is convinced of foul play. Says her son is no street kid, he goes to school and has principles.” Brenda laughed, “Guess all moms would say that, right, Davy?”

Davy did not acknowledge his mother's humor. Instead he took off around the side of the trailer.

“Don't go far, you hear? This parade is going to start someday. I don't want to go looking for you.” Brenda popped her gum, then fished the wad out of her mouth, tossed it, and reached in her shirt pocket for a pack of cigarettes. “I guess the kid's mother really fell apart. Had to be hospitalized. She's convinced he's dead. Just a lot of melodrama, but nobody asked me. Someone said the Governor of Chihuahua has gotten involved, turned it into a political issue. With our President due to visit the border next month, this is a perfect time for bad press.” She shrugged and went back inside.

Discussion over, Pauly mused, but could sympathize with Brenda. This was not an easy life. But what if that child was never coming home? What if he hadn't run away, like the mother said. What if he had been kidnapped and used for—Pauly couldn't finish the thought. She was on to something. The pictures that she found addressed to Sosimo were of two other children besides Paco. Wasn't it reasonable to believe that others had been lured to the carnival and taken somewhere to be photographed? But where? And by whom?

Pauly felt numb. The pregnant mother who needed him. She felt tears fill the corners of her eyes. She could remember all too clearly the woman crying, her sense of desperation. Now what would happen to her? How would she cope? Life could be so rotten. Unfair beyond belief.

Suddenly, Pauly had lost all interest in the carnival. She wanted to get back. Maybe Paco was on his way home to Merida or wherever Davy said he was from. For that, she was relieved. If he wasn't, then he'd be discovered sooner or later with his new little friend. And Steve? No wonder he was detained. His first solo trip and now accusations of a kidnapping. He was probably being questioned by local authorities and would have to prove that the carnival had nothing to do with the child's disappearance. There would probably be another search before they were allowed to leave. She didn't envy his position. But she wished he'd told her—shared his problems with her. But had she ever really taken him into her confidence? Trust had to work two ways. And what could she really do? Offer a little moral support, for whatever that was worth.

But she paused. What if Paco had lured the child in and turned him over to someone? Was maybe paid to do so, but then what? Could someone be using the carnival as a base? Could there be a child porn ring operating under Grams' nose? It was time she talked to Steve and Grams.

***

A breeze had sprung up that turned into a gale intent on separating the top soil on the east side of the highway and depositing it on the west. The motor home bucked and swayed and demanded two-hands-on-the-wheel attention. She could have done without shitty weather. It was Christmas, for heaven's sake.

She bypassed Truth or Consequences and stopped for coffee in Socorro. The McDonalds was only open on Christmas Day because it was serving meals to the homeless later that afternoon. A Christmas cheeseburger didn't sound appetizing. She pulled through the drive-up window and got the coffee to go, then nosed the “bus” back onto the interstate. The wind had backed off to a stiff breeze and she could relax a little, at least let her thoughts wander, go over what she'd found out.

The photo of Randy and Paco must have been pieced together. She trusted Paco; she'd seen his expression. She'd drop the photo off at a lab Monday morning and get proof. And if it was a fake? Maybe it wouldn't exonerate Randy of all wrongdoing, but she already knew that there hadn't been an adoption. And it was time to see Tony, show him the photo, tell him what she knew. And tell him what she suspected. To hell with Sosimo.

Chapter Ten

Pauly was glad for Monday morning. If Christmas Eve had been a bummer, Christmas Day was even worse. Grams and Hofer spent the day at a mission in the South Valley, services and dinner for the homeless. Presents were an afterthought, exchanged late in the evening with the ever-present Hofer slouched on the couch. If Pauly had wanted to question her grandmother about husband six, there was no chance. Her grandmother seemed tired, withdrawn. Pauly didn't have the heart to talk about the missing child and what she suspected. Not today.

The fire in the fireplace had been comforting and the Irish coffees, a contribution from Hofer, had almost made it worth having him around. But not quite. Hofer was livid about the police detaining the carnival. He ranted on about law suits and legal entanglements that could shut them down if the child wasn't found. Her grandmother didn't try to calm him. She, too, looked visibly upset, but promised to find the child's mother and make certain her immediate needs would be taken care of.

If Pauly had hoped that Steve might show up, that was another disappointment. He had been held up in El Paso, hadn't been able to come back to Albuquerque after all, and might be there another day or two trying to straighten things out. As of late Christmas Day the child that Paco had brought into the carnival had not been found.

Pauly loved her present of a fringed shearling jacket. Grams shouldn't have; it was far too expensive and made her own gift of pottery, serving pieces she knew her grandmother didn't have, look pale in comparison. Pauly had added a stocking-stuffer of Tea Roses cologne and a set of sequined bandannas. But it was a greatly subdued celebration that ended early. Everyone was in bed by ten.

When Noralee called at seven in the morning, Pauly was surprised. Her interest was even more piqued when she heard transports roar past. Noralee was using a pay phone. What was so “cloak and dagger” secret about meeting with her that she couldn't use her home phone or one at work? And her choice of restaurant, the Cantina in Bernalillo? Five miles north of Albuquerque? The nervous laugh said it all. Noralee didn't want them to be seen.

Pauly had hoped Grams would be up before she left, but at ten-thirty she was still in bed and Pauly was beginning to run late. Hofer was in the kitchen and muttered something about a sinus headache. She wanted to talk with her grandmother but it would have to be later. She'd make a point of being there at dinner.

Pauly dropped the photo at a lab, one specializing in enlargements and duplication. She was assured that it would be no problem to find out if the picture had been tampered with. Enlarged, any faulty alignment would be instantly apparent. The clerk promised an answer by early afternoon.

Pauly spotted Noralee's car when she pulled off the highway and into the sandlot parking area in front of the restaurant.

Not that a metallic blue Corvette would be inconspicuous anywhere, metallic blue and fairly new, Pauly noted.

The Cantina had great food and a fake Southwest atmosphere. Interior adobe walls were plastered blocks of plastic foam, but the vigas were real wood. She'd give them that much. The smell of fat-fried sapodillas filled the air. They were known for making their own. Another plus.

Noralee waved to her from a table by a window facing the patio. Her Angora-cashmere sweater matched the Vette in color and the jeans had been painted on. There had to be ten bangle bracelets on each arm. She must have been there for awhile, the basket of chips and cup of salsa had a serious dent in it.

“I'm glad you could come.”

Nervous. Noralee's hand was ice cold and a little damp.

Noralee had offered first, but Pauly thought it was a little stilted to shake hands. What was their relationship? Secretary and boss? Secretary and boss removed. That was more like it.

Former girlfriend. Secretary and bosses removed twice. Noralee didn't have a very good batting average.

“How are you doing?” It didn't seem to require an answer but Pauly offered the perfunctory, “All right. And you?” Small talk was not Pauly's forte but she instinctively knew she needed to let Noralee take her time.

They ordered. Noralee recommended the blue-corn enchiladas, sour cream on the side. Pauly went along and added an ice tea. No beer today. Too many calories in addition to the grease. Noralee chit-chatted about her Christmas, which sounded better than Pauly's, a visit from her daughter who had a four-month-old baby, which made Noralee a grandmother. But who was into name-calling as Noralee referred to her new title? Pauly laughed and passed on dessert, ordering cinnamon-laced coffee.

“I hope I'm doing the right thing.” Noralee tore open the second diminutive container of half and half. Pauly waited. “I guess you knew that Randy and I, uh, we had been together. We had even talked about getting married.”

Now that was news. “Are you saying that I broke the two of you up?” Because if you are, I'll remind you that no one can break up a healthy relationship, Pauly thought. But her intuition said this wasn't a meeting to fling a few vindictive arrows. And wasn't it a little late?

“No, nothing like that. I mean you didn't do it on purpose. And it usually takes two people to make that decision. I was paid to get unengaged, to get lost. No one knew we were planning anything…at least, we didn't think so. But Randy had given me the car—”

“You were paid? By whom?” Pauly ignored the reference to the car.

“I'm not sure I know exactly. I was contacted by phone at the office. A man told me there would be ten thousand in an envelope waiting for me in my mailbox at home that afternoon if I agreed to disappear for awhile. I just needed to make it plain to Randy that our relationship was off. Well, my daughter was expecting in September and she'd been sick and needed me. Needed money. The jerk she was living with took off when he learned about the baby. She lives in Dallas.” Noralee stopped stirring her coffee and took a sip. “Ten thousand was like a prayer answered. I guess I thought that Randy would always be there. That I could take the money and still….” She looked up apologetically.

“So you left in July?” Pauly watched Noralee nod. That was about the time that Randy began dating me, Pauly thought.

“I called to see if I could come back in October. I was really homesick.”

“Who okayed it?”

“Tom. And, I guess Archer, too. But it was Tom I talked with.”

“That must have been just before the wedding.”

“Yeah. Imagine my surprise.” Sarcasm? Pauly couldn't tell, then “I think someone made him marry you.” Noralee blurted it out. “Paid him, maybe.”

“That's absurd.”

“Why? I was with that man off and on over two years. In all truthfulness, he wasn't going to marry me or anyone else. His first marriage was a bummer. There was no way he was going to do that again. I mean, we talked about it. I liked to think the Vette was an engagement present. But, honestly, I know Randy didn't think that way. Then in three and half months, he's married to you.”

Four, Pauly thought, but was a half month important? And married before? Had she heard correctly? She was amazed at how well she was beginning to take these shocks.

“You said he'd been married?”

“Yeah, you know, Michelle, who couldn't be inconvenienced by contraceptives, and certainly wasn't going to ruin her body with pregnancy.”

“So Randy had a vasectomy?”

“Um hmm. For a marriage that lasted sixteen months. Frankly, I don't think Randy ever wanted children. Not the type.”

“No, he probably wasn't.” Pauly paused. “You must have been shocked by our marriage.”

“And remember, I had to get out of the picture first and fast. Someone paid me to disappear so he could do it.”

Pauly thought of the unexplained hundreds of thousands of dollars, close to a million that just showed up in Randy's account—right before the wedding. A payoff of some sort, she'd always thought that, but not a payoff for marrying her. This was a swift kick to the old pride.

“Why are you telling me this now?”

Noralee fidgeted. “Because I think someone wants to kill you.”

Pauly sucked in her breath, then forced herself to exhale slowly. She looked out the window. A pair of dark-hooded Juncos ate from a feeder of black thistle hanging from the edge of the portico. The sun was shining, peeking through a bank of ominous clouds. It was supposed to snow later and it looked like the weatherman hadn't lied. A couple laughed two tables over. She turned back to look at Noralee. But now it was her turn to have cold, clammy hands.

“How do you know?”

“I overheard Archer talking to someone. He said ‘the stupid cunt'—”

“There must be more than one of those in the company.” No laugh. Humor was wasted on Noralee.

“He called you by name. Said that you were getting in the way. That you were going to get hurt.”

“When was this?”

“Friday.”

The day of the famous dismissal.

“What made you think he was serious enough to harm me?” Pauly couldn't bring herself to say the word “kill.”

“I don't know. His tone of voice. He was really mad. He kept saying that you needed to be taken care of—those were his exact words. And I don't think he was talking pension plan.” Wan smile.

Pauly laughed. She had to take it back. Noralee did have a sense of humor.

“How did you overhear all this?”

“I had a migraine. No one was using the lab conference room so I stretched out on the floor of the projection booth. I had no way of knowing he'd use the phone in there.”

Pauly believed her. She wasn't sure why, but she did.

“You didn't actually hear him be more exact as to what he thought should be done, or when?”

Noralee shook her head. “I guess mostly it was a feeling I got. You know how it is when you'd bet your life on something but can't prove it?” Pauly thought she knew. Noralee continued, “Maybe this was stupid to meet this way. But I thought I could warn you, encourage you to be aware, just a ‘heads up' as they say in the biz.” Another weak smile. Seeking approval?

Pauly smiled back. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

A waitress filled their cups and Noralee fiddled with more cream and didn't seem to be in a hurry to leave. It might be a good time to get a little background.

“You helped Randy on the Water Conservancy Project?” Pauly asked.

“Yeah. Talk about a project being snake-bit.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, there's no winning. It would benefit the state—
beaucoup
bucks worth if it went one way—but screw over a powerful constituency in the meantime. But if the smaller group won, the state would get the short stick.”

“What was Randy's position?”

“Governor's boy all the way.”

“You mean he was prepared to ‘screw over' the South Valley?”

Noralee nodded.

“Was Sosimo Garcia aware of this?”

Noralee nodded. “They had terrible fights. No love lost there.”

The bracelet. What was it Sosimo had said? “My good friend, no, my
dear
friend asked me to pick this up.…” A lie. She had known that at the time. A beautiful golden bauble that did what? Confuse the issue for one thing. But how could he have made it so convincing? Picked the right color stones? Who would have known that? Besides Randy and…Grams. She hadn't thought of that before, but Grams knew how much she loved yellow stones. Could Grams have given out that information?

“You okay?” Noralee leaned forward.

“I'm fine. It's just that so much has happened.” Understatement, Pauly added to herself. “Noralee, do you think someone had Randy killed? Maybe because of the water project?”

“I guess I've always thought that. It might have been worth it to some people.”

Neither one of them needed to repeat Sosimo's name. But it was there all the same.

“Do you have to get back?” Noralee had glanced at her watch.

“No, I took off today.”

Pauly took a breath. “What do you know about pedophilia?”

“Men who molest young children?” Noralee shrugged. “Not much.”

“Is there any way that Randy could have been a pedophile?”

Noralee was looking at her like she was crazy. “I don't understand what you mean.”

Pauly took another breath. She hadn't planned on this. But why not? What better person to check with?

“There was evidence that Randy was involved with a young boy, a Mexican national. I found a picture, adoption papers…. I even found pictures of nude children, more exactly, of the child he supposedly adopted and might have used for sex.”

“No way.” Noralee stared at her.

“I found an envelope of pictures in Randy's desk addressed to Sosimo.” Pauly ignored Noralee's shaking her head but then she stopped—something had flickered in Noralee's eyes, fleetingly, before she looked down.

“Noralee, what is it?”

“Guess I'm not surprised. I've heard rumors. Randy referred to him one time as a ‘baby fucker.' I didn't take it literally. Thought it was just more of his anger against the man in general.”

“But you think it might be the truth?”

“Who knows? Does that stuff run in families?”

“I have no idea, why?”

“Well, a couple years ago Sosimo's brother was defrocked. He'd been the priest in a little community in northern New Mexico. Apparently he was diddling the acolytes. He was sent away for treatment. It was a terrible scandal.”

If Sosimo wasn't a pedophile, he wasn't a stranger to the affliction, Pauly thought. And did she know for a fact that the man in the pictures was Sosimo? No. She didn't. What if the man in the picture was his brother? She sat up straighter. That could be. There would, no doubt, be a family resemblance. Had Randy been blackmailing Sosimo? Threatening to revisit a family scandal with new information? Pictures that would be far more than just an embarrassment? This was an interesting new twist.