Five O’Clock Shadow (26 page)

“The child's name is Paco?”

Again, Pauly nodded.

“This Paco was the kid who was in the gondola when your husband died?”

“Yes.”

“Where did you find him?”

“He worked for the carnival. I saw him working with the dogs one night and I returned his teddy bear. That's all.”

Tony was quiet a long time. There was a faint sound from under the desk of material being swished against metal. She guessed Tony's leg was nervously jiggling against his chair.

“Just like that? That's all there is to it?” he said. She thought he was fighting to keep his voice calm. “What about the accusation that you paid one kid to lead you to another? This Paco to be exact.”

“I wanted answers.”

“To?”

“Why he was in the gondola. Who he was.”

“And what did you find out?”

“That he had never met Randy before the balloon ride. He was running away and the pilot put the balloon down long enough to pick him up. In fact, he was scared to death. He thought he had caused the accident.”

“And what else?”

Pauly knew she couldn't tell him more. Not until she had figured out the place Grams had in all this. Anything she said now would implicate the carnival and its owners…and that, she realized, included Steve.

They both turned at the knock on the door. It opened a crack and an officer motioned for Tony to step into the hallway. “I'll be right back.” He shut the door behind him.

Pauly couldn't hear what they were saying other than a couple expletives. She idly wondered if it had something to do with Paco and the motor home. She watched through the glass partition as the officer handed Tony a manila envelope and then showed him something in a crumpled paper grocery sack. They both stared at whatever it was. Tony looked upset and angry when he turned back towards the office. So, she wasn't surprised when he slammed the door.

“I don't think you're being very smart.” He walked to the front of the desk, put the envelope down, perched on the edge and leaned over her. “I think you know a whole hell of a lot more than what you're saying. I guess I thought you would have called me when you found the boy, let us ask him a few questions.”

“I'm sure I should have. But there didn't seem to be a reason. I just didn't find out anything other than how he came to be in the gondola.”

“You're lying. You questioned that kid and decided for whatever reason to keep quiet. Questioned him about things other than just a balloon ride.” His voice rose.

“He spoke Spanish, for God's sake. We didn't communicate very well.” She could yell, too. And the possible language-barrier seemed to stop Tony. He was staring at her.

“What do you make of what was found in the motor home?” New tactic. She'd have to be careful. “Can you think of a reason someone in the carnival would want to harm a child? Torture him?”

Pauly shook her head. What had they found? She had seen the blood and could only guess what else there might be.

“Pauly, talk to me. Something happened. Maybe this kid got in the way of something. Panicked someone by knowing too much, threatening to tell, to run away.” His voice trailed off.

“What? What could he have known?”

His eyes were on her, hands on his thighs, his face a scant foot from hers. This meeting was a far cry from the friendly chat over coffee they'd had a month ago. She had to be careful. Finally, he stood and drained his cup of coffee.

“Someone, most likely a child, was bound with ropes and gagged, kept in the closet of the motor home, and at sometime while he was held captive, beaten. If not killed.”

“But they didn't find a body?”

“Are you saying there is one?”

“No, of course not. Paco was never in the motor home that I know of.”

“Then explain what was found. The teddy bear for example, a bloody tee shirt, a pair of child's sandals. How did these things get into the motor home that you drove to El Paso, lived in for two days and brought back before it could be searched?”

“I have no idea. But the motor home has been parked by the maintenance garage since yesterday evening.”

“Tests will show how old these stains are.”

Was there such a test? Probably. But he could be baiting her. Hoping she would implicate herself…indicate she'd invited the boy in.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” He leaned against the file cabinet.

“No.” She'd said it too quickly. She needed to take another sip of coffee, think before she spoke. She scooted her chair back. “It's just such a tragedy.”

Again silence, just his gaze searching her face, then, “Who are you protecting?”

There it was. He sensed it. She had to go slow.

“No one. What makes you say that?”

“You left the carnival and rushed back to Albuquerque; but we don't know why.”

Where was this leading? “I wanted to spend some time with my grandmother. It was Christmas.”

Tony picked up the envelope he'd tossed on the desk and drew out a letter-sized piece of paper. The copy of the picture. Someone must have gone through the truck. She should have expected that. But now what?

“Looks to me like your husband knew the deceased rather well. Grown man, young boy. What sort of scenario comes to mind?”

She sat mute. She knew what he was getting at. But if she explained the picture, pointed out that it was a fake, she'd end up telling a lot more. And she just wasn't sure anymore that she wanted to do that. Not before she'd had a chance to question her grandmother.

“When did you suspect that your husband was a pedophile?”

“He wasn't.” Her voice was raspy, high-pitched.… She swallowed, took a deep breath, then, “This picture is a fake. I can prove it's a fake.” He didn't seem to be paying attention but stepped behind the desk.

“And these? I suppose you're going to tell me that these are fake, too?” Sarcasm dripped from his words. He yanked open the middle drawer and scattered four pictures across the desktop. All were the size of the one in her wallet, but these showed Randy partially clothed, Paco on his lap, Paco on his knees. Black and white, crisper than the one in her wallet. One was frontal, Paco by himself. A duplicate of the photo that had found its way to Sosimo.

“This is disgusting. And these are a lie.” She pushed up out of the chair. She couldn't look at those pictures. They needed to be destroyed before someone, anyone believed they could be true. “Give me those. They're not real. They're lies. As much a fake as this one.” She pointed at the enlarged copy she'd picked up just three hours ago.

She held eye contact, but knew that Tony didn't believe her. She made a swipe to scoop the photos up, but Tony was too fast. He pinned her wrist to the desk and held her as he carefully picked them up, then he fanned them out and feigned studying them.

“Is that why you had this Paco, what shall we say, detained? Make sure he didn't tell anyone about your husband? It was bad enough that he had to take the kid along on your honeymoon, give him a balloon ride instead of you. Did you want friends to know that you'd been duped, married some sick son-of-a-bitch? We know about the vasectomy. The doctor filled us in on how upset you were when you found out. You wanted children, he lied, then you found out that this very man procured innocent children for sexual acts. Did you decide to punish the evidence? Keep this Paco from talking by threatening him? Beating him?”

Pauly fell back into the chair. Her hurt Paco? What was he saying? This wasn't happening. It was insanity.

“Where did you get those pictures?” Her voice was a whisper.

“Where did you get this one?” Tony picked up the copy.

Pauly managed to mumble, “I found it. It was in a box of his things.”

“Let's just say that these were a little gift, that in the interest of justice, someone thought that he or she could help us out. No name but someone who knew about Randy's interests.”

“You don't know what you're talking about.” She sighed. She felt absolutely drained. The hopelessness of the situation was beginning to dawn on her.

“Let me tell you what we do know. Then you be the judge. You were seen in El Paso questioning the kid. We know you used an interpreter and paid them both for information. Then on Christmas Eve you followed him late at night when he helped a young friend slip into the carnival. You confronted this Paco. Threatened to turn him in. The kids got scared. You wanted to keep this Paco quiet so you took him back to the motor home—maybe him and his friend.”

“This is crazy.”

“Oh yeah? What part do you deny? There are witnesses, Pauly. Witnesses that place you with Paco on Christmas Eve, in the afternoon and again at night. Do you deny following him after he let his friend into the carnival?”

Tony's face was flushed, but his eyes never wavered. She wanted to crumble. Instead, she straightened her shoulders.

“I did not take him back to the motor home. I don't know anything about…about any of this.”

“Do you have an alibi? Maybe someone stayed with you overnight, Christmas Eve?”

It wasn't like she hadn't planned on having someone stay the night. Steve. Of course, he could get her out of this. They were together that night. For a good part of it. He could tell them that all this was some mistake. Unless…could Steve be a part of this? Her head hurt. She couldn't think straight anymore.

She needed to try a different tactic. Stay calm. Keep her voice steady. She took a breath, “Let's go back to that picture. It's an enlargement that I had done just today at the Camera Corral. Call them. A kid named Jeff waited on me. He'll confirm my story. Here.” She fumbled in her billfold. “Here's the original. If you have a lab take a look at the pictures you have, they'll find that they're fakes, too.”

Tony took the picture from her and looked at it before he handed it back. He didn't seem that interested. Must not be racy enough for him, Pauly thought as she tucked it away.

“That doesn't explain the things we found in the motor home.”

“All of the pictures are fakes.”

“Do you know that?”

“I'll bet my life on it.”

“It's easy for you to say. Maybe, easy for you to have faked the pictures. But there had to have been some originals. Like this one. Who took this one?” He picked up the photo of a partially clad Randy. She looked away. What could she say? He went on, “Who would have a better reason to keep this Paco from talking than you? And who would have had a better reason to kill Randolph McIntyre than the one who stood to inherit and erase his past?”

What could she say? Pauly was getting tired of all this. She wanted to go home and confront Grams, get explanations of her own. She wasn't going to say anything else until she'd done that.

“Take me back.”

“Sorry, I can't do that just yet.”

“Am I under arrest?”

“Let's just say that you're being detained.”

“I'm calling my lawyer.”

“There's the phone.” Tony turned the desk unit so that she could use it. “Dial nine.” He leaned back in his chair and worked over a cuticle on his thumb.

“Any chance of getting a refill?” She pointed to her coffee cup.

Tony shrugged and got up from behind the desk.

“Oh yeah. I've been meaning to tell you I got the name of that PI hired by your business partners to keep an eye on you.”

“And?” Pauly pulled a wad of business cards out of her billfold and thumbed through them looking for Sam's.

“His name's Burke. Ex-con. Real sweetheart from what I hear.”

The cards scattered across the floor. She kept her head down and retrieved them. Steve? No. She couldn't believe it,
wouldn't
believe it. But how could she prove differently? And wasn't she being unreasonable? There wasn't one reason why it couldn't be true. He'd admitted to being an ex-con, so why couldn't he also be a private dick? When she'd met with Paco in the park in El Paso, Steve could have seen them. He'd certainly been in a position to know her every move. Had he informed Tony?

She clutched the cards and stuffed them back in her purse. A phone book. She sat up. There was one on the desk. She needed to compose herself while Tony was out of the room. Stop thinking about Steve right now. Sam had offered to be her friend as well as her lawyer. And it looked like she could use a friend. If she could settle this nightmare, she needed to take charge of her life. For now, she flipped open the phonebook and picked up the receiver.

Chapter Eleven

Sam's secretary had reached him on his cell. He was at the station in twenty minutes. Pauly had refused to continue the conversation with Tony and waited in the foyer next to some pretty sad-looking potted plants that obviously didn't want to be standing there any more than she did. Tony was irked, but what could he do? He must know that he didn't have enough to keep her. She had rights and wouldn't be bullied.

Sam's hug was the most caring thing that had happened to her in a long time. She reveled in it, clung to him, and he didn't pull away. Tony watched but didn't say anything.

“My client and I are going to leave now. I know and you know that you don't have any reason to keep her here.” Sam was matter-of-fact, decisive, daring Tony to say otherwise. Tony only nodded. He looked grim-faced.

She couldn't help her spirits rising as she sank onto the navy seat of Sam's Jaguar and breathed in the aroma of leather, a far cry from the unyielding plastic of the squad car an hour ago…and the faint scent of someone's Egg McMuffin lingering in a door's side pocket.

“I think a drink's in order.” Sam was smiling at her. Reassuring, calming as he started the car. “We need to talk. That young man wouldn't be threatening you if he didn't think he had something. You need to tell me what that something is and then we'll go from there.”

Pauly stared out the window and tried to collect herself. To think, to even suggest that she could have hurt Paco was so hideous. But was it a stretch if you were in Tony's shoes? And those pictures. Obviously, there were more of them floating around. Another set of fakes. Of that she was certain. But who would believe her? She stole a glance at her chauffeur and savior. Was he her only chance? She shivered.

“Are you cold?” Sam must have been watching her.

“No. Just upset.” She tried a smile that stopped with the corner of her mouth jerking spasmodically.

“Well, we're almost there and it's going to feel good to just get this whole thing out on the table. I can't imagine you're in danger of being charged with anything. It seemed like the usual bluff tactics to me. But we'll be prepared. I won't let you down, Pauly. I want you to know that. I've been involved more in contract law lately, but I can get the right lawyer for you in a second.” The smile was genuine and warm, then he squeezed her arm.

Sam turned into the parking lot of El Pinto Mexican restaurant on Fourth Street. It had stopped snowing but the afternoon was bleak, heavily overcast and threatening to turn cold and wet. Suddenly a margarita in front of a fire sounded great. Finally, she could sit calmly and tell someone what had been happening. Turn over her evidence to someone who would know the right thing to do. Someone who would believe her. And he'd be able to explain Grams' involvement.

With a stab of anger, she thought of Steve. Had he really been hired to search her background? Work for Archer and Tom? But it went beyond that. If he had followed her when she talked with Paco, could he have followed her to El Paso on Thursday as well? Followed her to the Amistad address and set the fire that killed someone? Certainly Archer would have kept him informed as to her whereabouts. So, just maybe, Steve had tried to kill her. Anything was possible. How could she have kept quiet about the ski mask?

Sam asked to be seated in the bar. The tension seemed to flow out of her in the coziness of stained glass and red brick floors. The crackle of the fire in the corner fireplace was comforting. There was an array of chips and salsa, con queso and taquitos on a side table. Suddenly, she was famished.

Sam pulled out a tall stool at a table near the fireplace.

“How about something to eat? We can just have some munchies or order a late lunch. It's your call.”

“Munchies will be fine.”

“Consider it done.” With a smile he walked to the side table and returned with a heaping basket of chips and bowls of salsa and cheese dip.

He ordered their drinks, excused himself to make a phone call that would clear his afternoon and give her time to relax.

By the time he returned, she was eager to tell him everything that had happened. The burden of not having anyone to talk with had weighed heavily. And this was her grandmother's lawyer, the one person who might tell her about her grandmother, if he wasn't afraid he'd breach client confidentiality. Wouldn't he know if somehow her grandmother might be caught up in something…something sinister and dangerous, something that had led to the murder of Pauly's husband?

“To what? This is your call.” Sam held up his tumbler of scotch.

“Truth. Finding answers.” They touched glasses. The lime-fresh taste of the margarita was reviving. But where to start? Sam was watching her, affectionately, being patient and understanding.

“Sam, I don't know how I can thank you for coming to pick me up. I so appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

“There's no need for thank-yous. Whatever you have to tell me will be held in strict client confidence. But I want you to know that I'll do everything in my power to help.”

She smiled. Why was she tongue-tied? Now that she had a chance to unburden herself? Was it because she might sound hysterical? Someone tried to kill her, frame her husband; maybe her grandmother, your client, too, is involved in a porn-ring.… Didn't it sound a little preposterous? She took a breath.

“After Randy's death I found out certain things that he'd kept secret. Things that would have torn us apart. Like the vasectomy.”

“I hope I wasn't the one to tell you?” He leaned forward, concern in his voice.

“No. I found out in the hospital when I tried to have his sperm harvested for future use.”

“I'm so sorry. I had no idea that he hadn't told you.”

“Why do you think he didn't?”

“I don't know. Probably afraid that you wouldn't marry him if he did. He was infatuated. I've never seen him as happy as he was with you.”

“So you don't think someone paid him to marry me?”

Sam stopped midway to taking a sip of his drink and put the scotch glass back on the table. He was frowning.

“What do you mean?”

“I have it on good authority.…” Did Noralee qualify as a good source? She had made sense at lunch. “That someone might have wanted the two of us to get married badly enough to make it lucrative.”

“Who said such a thing?”

“That's not important. The issue is why.”

Sam shook his head. “I can only think that someone wants to hurt you, diminish what you had with Randy.”

Noralee qualified for having a reason to do that all right, but Pauly didn't believe she was vindictive. Not after today.

“But let's say it could be true, for now, for the sake of argument. The story gets crazier.” Sam took a big swallow of his drink but didn't interrupt her. “When the balloon crashed after the pilot had been shot, a child tumbled out, scared out of his wits, as you can imagine. I didn't try to stop him, and he was so freaked that he simply ran away.”

“Did you report this to the police?”

“At first they didn't believe me.”

“But later?”

“They thought I was telling the truth. They even searched the area and found a teddy bear and Randy's jean jacket…the one the child had worn.”

“Mind?” Sam had pulled a pipe from his pocket. Pauly shook her head.

“Well, I didn't know it then, but this child would be the pivotal point to this whole thing.” Pauly reached for her billfold and pulled out the picture of Randy and Paco. “I found a pornographic photo of this child and others in Randy's desk at work, and this photo and a set of adoption papers in his safe deposit box.”

Sam picked up the picture.

“Where is the child from?”

“Mexico.”

“And Randy never mentioned this child? You found out all this after his death?”

“You said yourself that Randy wanted to adopt a child. Did he adopt this child? Did he mention this child?” She eagerly sat forward.

“I didn't mean to imply that. Yes, he'd spoken of adoption. Must have known he'd get caught in the lie about the vasectomy. But, frankly, I discouraged him. I suppose he could have taken steps to adopt on his own.” Sam studied the photo.

“I don't think he did. I think someone was trying to set Randy up as a pedophile, discredit him, smear his name after he was dead.”

“Pauly, why would anyone want to do that?”

“I don't know why. One set of child-porn pictures I found in his desk was addressed to Congressman Sosimo Garcia. And because of the water project Randy was working on and its importance to Sosimo, I thought there could be a motive in there somewhere.” Pauly took a sip of her drink, then two more. Didn't Sam believe her? He looked thoughtful, staring into space, sucking on his pipe. “But the important thing is this child.” A vision of Paco's bruised body floated to the surface; she pushed it back. Had he been tortured in the motor home? “I found the child. He was working for Grams' carnival.” She lowered her voice. “I have reason to believe that he helped procure other young children to join the carnival, maybe join a child porn ring. I think the carnival was used to attract children, sort of a front.” She sat back. “Anyway, he's gone. I was being questioned because of what was found in the motor home. The police think he could be dead.” She couldn't bring herself to say murdered.

“Whoa. What's this about a child porn ring?” She had Sam's full attention, that was for sure. He was frowning in his earnestness to make sure he understood.

“What other explanation is there? This picture is a family portrait compared to the others.”

“And this is the child they think you tortured…that you hid in the motor home?”

Pauly nodded.

“They know that I interviewed him while we were in El Paso, that I followed him, saw him bring a kid into the carnival.”

“That doesn't seem to give you a reason—”

“Especially not when he proved that he wasn't involved with Randy. This picture is a fake.” Pauly was excited now. This was the most important information that she had. She picked up the picture. “The detective has three or four others, same size as this snapshot, but the others are suggestive, explicit even.…” She thought of the one of Paco on his knees in front of Randy. Randy bare-chested but in the original picture must have had on shorts or swim trunks, before a little touch-up work made him look naked. She'd spare Sam a description of that one. “But they're all fakes. I just know it. If this one is a fake, I'll bet the others are too. I had this one analyzed at a photo lab. It's good but it's been pieced together. Look at this shadow, and here.” She pointed with a straw at the shadows between the figures.

Sam took the picture and held it closer to the winking votive candle in the green glass container in the center of the table, then shook his head. “I'll have to take your word for it.”

“Trust me. The lab will testify that it's been doctored.”

She picked up her drink, flinching when the straw sucked air. She'd forgotten that she'd finished it. God, she'd almost gulped it down. And she had a slightly dizzying, exhilarated feeling from the tequila—or maybe from the unburdening? She guessed a little of each.

“This is an interesting twist.” Sam was still staring at the photo.

“You know that adoption agency in El Paso? Well, not only did it turn out to be a false address, but someone tried to kill me. And the adoption papers were falsified—”

“Pauly, I had no idea. You've been in real danger.” Shock registered on Sam's face.

“The name on the papers, Jorge Zuniga, wasn't the child's real name. I have no idea who this child Jorge is, but Amistad didn't exist. Probably never had. The office belonged to a U-Haul rental firm that had gone out of business. It was some trumped-up lie that I was supposed to discover, but I don't know why.”

“I can't believe that you've been doing all this on your own. Analyzing pictures, snooping around boarded-up buildings. You've taken unbelievable chances.”

“I had to know, Sam. I had to find out the truth.”

“You're damned lucky that you weren't killed in that fire.”

“I just didn't think at the time. Sam, I need to clear Randy's name.” She sat forward earnestly. “I believe now that he had nothing to do with those young boys. I bet he'd be in shock right now if he knew what was going on.”

Sam didn't say anything, just twirled the ice cubes in his empty glass. “You don't think he could have been a pedophile?”

Pauly almost gasped. Was Sam holding something back? He'd know, wouldn't he? He'd known Randy all his life. “Sam, was he? You've got to tell me.”

Sam seemed reluctant, seemed to be choosing his words. She felt like screaming. Could she take the truth? Here she was faced with it.

“You can't deny that Randy was peculiar. Forty-one, never married. Pauly, I have to tell you that I wondered about his sexual abilities. No, no, not preferences, but just his libido in general. It seemed a little under-developed.”

Not a confirmation. But not a denial, either. What was he really trying to say?

“You can't imagine how happy, no relieved, I was when you came along. I have to say I encouraged him in his decision.”

She sat up straighter. “If he'd been interested in boys, there wouldn't have been a reason for the vasectomy. There wouldn't have been a first marriage.” Her voice was no-nonsense crisp, a hint of exasperation. Then she sat back, arms folded across her chest. There. Didn't that prove something? She found herself mildly irritated. Because Sam hadn't jumped right in and sworn that Randy was hetero all the way? Maybe. But there was something else he had just said, a minute before. She'd meant to question him at the time, but it escaped her now.

Sam shrugged. “The marriage was annulled. I don't think it proves anything other than Randy made a bad choice. Let me get you another.” He pointed at her empty drink glass. “I won't accept a no. Let's just say it's medicinal.” He patted her on the shoulder before he walked to the bar.