Hidden Heritage (11 page)

What was wrong with “that woman?” By all accounts, Maria Diaz was a wonderful person.

“Francesca was furious. Just furious. She wanted Victor to marry his own kind of people.”

She caught the look on my face. “Of pure Spanish lineage, not Mexican. That was one of the reasons.”

I sat very still, not wanting to stop this curious flow of information. Spaniards didn't like Mexicans?

“Then Maria shattered Francesca's dream of this family producing a fine lawyer. Her dream that she would achieve justice in her own lifetime. Finally.”

What kind of justice was she waiting for? What was motivating this old woman?
“Francesca did mention that Victor was going to file a lawsuit.”

“Ah, the infamous family lawsuit,” she said bitterly. “Oh, to have the money this family has spent on that lawsuit. Our elusive hidden heritage.”

She pinched a dead blossom off a rose bush. “The family has always lived here. Victor should have been right here with us. Not doing manual labor at a feedyard. He should have had the prestige that comes with being a lawyer. He should not have been working in heat and dust.” Her tears dried by some internal heat. She could not keep the bitterness from her voice.

“We are all supposed to live here. We
must
—to be included in Great-grandmother's inheritance. But, that is not why I stay. I love it here. I love
her
so. But previous generations could not make her understand that if we did not farm this land they could not sustain a decent lifestyle. This should be a place of joy teeming with life and children.

A pretty yellow butterfly landed on one of the zinnias. It had been a long time since I had seen a butterfly in this part of Kansas which teemed with pesticides. They were safe here in this green Heaven.

“When Great-grandmother dies, I will devote my life to God. There is a convent in Atchison.”

Francesca was right. This gentle woman would choose to continue a solitary life.

“Maria would only stay here for one year. She felt imprisoned. She and Great-grandmother didn't get along.” She paused and looked ashamed. A look I knew all too well. The impulse to confide vying with guilt over talking about family matters. “Over the years, some of the family wanted to sell part of the land. We needed the money to keep from going into debt, and so we would be provided for.”

“Did Victor want to sell some of the land?”

“Yes, at first. Enough to make us comfortable. Only a section. But Great-grandmother wouldn't budge. So Maria talked Victor into going back to school and getting a degree in mathematics with a minor in Ag Economics.”

“So he had two degrees?”

“Yes, English and math. But no law degree. And then Maria wanted to buy that pitiful little house just to get away from here. Have you seen it?”

“Yes, I went there after Victor died.”

“Can you imagine anyone wanting to live there instead of here? It broke Great-grandmother's heart.”

I said nothing.

“So whenever Victor visited Great-grandmother, he was alone. Maria had the good sense to stay home.”

I heard a car.

“George is coming home from work. In a couple of hours Teresa and the children will be here.”

I rose. “It's time to call it a day anyway.”

She hesitated. “Perhaps that is best. George is a welder and has a good job, so it's not that he can't stand to be around people. But he will regard you as an intruder. Thank God Great-grandmother has him. He would never ever part with a single acre of our property. But you need to know—he's very protective of Francesca. He won't appreciate your asking questions. In fact, he doesn't like strangers coming here at all.”

I said goodbye and went out to my car. George had already parked and was coming to look me over. He brushed the brim of his hat, keeping things courteous. He was tired. Dirty. He wore grimy gloves. He gave me a hard look. “No need for us to shake hands. I don't think you would enjoy touching me anyway.”

He looked like a man who just wanted to be left alone in his Eden after a hard day's work. Alone to revel in his green, green grass and his flowers. I understood.

“I'm Lottie Albright. I'm visiting Mrs. Diaz. Recording some of her memories.”

“George Perez,” he said, “and I know who you are.”

His eyes were blue. I was expecting black. His hair was brown and curly. I was expecting coal. He was slim and had sideburns and wore a western shirt.

He stepped back, and I left.

There was no doubt in my mind that I had just met the man who had delivered the warning to Josie at the fair.

Chapter Fourteen

Dimon called the next morning and asked Sam and me to make “a quick trip to Topeka,” so he could outline some work he had in mind for us. We were on a conference call and I knew from the silence on Sam's end that he expected me to come up with a civilized refusal.

There is no such thing as “quick trip” across Kansas.

“We can't, Frank. Keith is home working, and either Sam or I have to be on duty here. Sorry.”

“I'm not comfortable discussing the murder of Victor Diaz over the phone.”

Yeah, well, murder never was very comfortable.
I let him break the prolonged silence.

“Can you meet me in Hays? I'll come to our branch office there where we'll have some privacy. I need to talk to both of you in person.”

“Okay. I can do that. Margaret is off today, but I know a board member who won't mind coming in.”

***

The branch office room was bare-bones simple, with a single desk for Frank to sit behind. A barrier between us. Smart man.

He put his legal pad on the table and closed the door. He didn't waste time with any small talk. “We want you to inspect all the employee records of the Carlton County Feedyard for the past three years and give us the names, dates, and social security numbers of everyone hired. Please jot down their native country. We also want copies of their W-4s.”

“That's a bunch of bullshit,” Sam said. “That's a clear violation of privacy laws.”

“There's no need to do this, Frank. I got you the duty roster and you shouldn't need anything beyond that.”

“You're barking up the wrong tree, anyway,” Sam added.

“I saw Francesca Diaz yesterday and she mentioned…”

“I specifically asked you
not
to question that family.” Dimon's ear's reddened. “You
know
that.”

“But…”

“No buts about it. We are not going off on some wild goose chase. The fastest and most efficient way to solve this case is to look for patterns at that feedyard and then deviations from that pattern. We have trained mathematicians who can do this.”

“Looking through employment records isn't legal, Frank. Not without a subpoena for specific records.”

“In these troubled times it's necessary to wink at the means and stay focused on the end.”

Pius as a frontier preacher, he spoke in sound bites that he might have memorized from a government memo.

“Ah, the post-9/11 card. Homeland security and all that.” Sam couldn't quash his hostile tone. Worse, I knew he didn't want to.

“Looking through those records isn't illegal if Dwayne gives you permission to look through them.”

“Not true,” Sam said. “He can only give permission to look through records that don't involve his employees.”

“Sam's right. Plus, Weston's ethics are top notch and he's nobody's fool. Do you honestly believe he would let us scrutinize every last detail about the people who work for him? People who trust him? What reason could we possibly give him?” Did this idiot think I was going to spy on a friend?

“We think he would do it in a heartbeat if it would ward off an OSHA inspection.”

Occupational and Safety Health Administration. An inspection by this agency of the Department of Labor was often triggered by complaints from employees. Even companies with pristine practices quavered at the thought. “Dwayne has nothing to hide.”

“Exactly. But it will worry him anyway. Tell him you can go to OSHA on your own and persuade them there is no need to waste time and personnel looking into allegations from one disgruntled employee.”

“He'll want to know who it was.”

“No he won't. He won't even ask. Trust me, he will come up with the name of a disgruntled employee at once. In fact, his own mind will supply a half dozen.”

“He'll insist on the name.”

“Not if you tell him that going after whistle-blowers is against the law.”

“And you honestly believe these records will lead you to Victor Diaz's murderer?”

He cleared his throat. “Perhaps.”

“Perhaps isn't good enough.”

“We need to approach this in a scientific manner. As to the inspection. I can make it happen, Lottie. I can see to it that OSHA descends on that feedyard like a swarm of locusts. And they will find something. I can make that happen, too.”

I touched my fingers to the hollow of my throat to cover the quick leap of my furious heart.

Then he looked down at his hands splayed on the desk as though he were ashamed and would not make eye contact. Where were his orders coming from? Who was pulling his strings?

It didn't matter why this man was being pressured. I wasn't going to go there with him. “I'll do this one thing, Frank, because I don't want Dwayne dragged through an OSHA inspection.”

He said nothing. Just cleared his throat.

“I won't do it,” Sam said “I'm going out to the car. I want no part of this.”

I waited until I was sure he was outside before I let Dimon have it.

“Let's get something straight. Don't think I'm going to sit still and let you diss Sam. And I'm a historian, remember? I don't need this job. After we find this killer, I'm going to find that ivory tower everyone seems to think historians occupy. And then I'm going to quit law enforcement, including being an undersheriff. I hope to hell I never have to talk to you again.”

I slammed out of the office. The man was making me into a liar, a half-liar, a sneak, a betrayer of friends, and the kind of person I despised. When I told Keith about this he would raise seven kinds of hell. And of course Josie would blow sky-high too. She guarded her patients' records like they were Holy Writ.

***

Keith drove in about an hour after I reached the house. He had spent the day at a farm committee meeting. His two border collies bounded out to meet him and I was close on their heels. He reached down and hugged me close. “No place like home,” he said and I knew he meant it.

Arm in arm, we walked into the kitchen and I gave him one of his home brews, then flew around to panfry a steak and microwave a potato. I figured he wouldn't stay awake long, and I needed to get some food down him. He looked exhausted, despite his insistence that he was doing just fine.

He ate in silence, accepted a piece of cherry pie, then asked me to sit down. “I need to talk to you about something.”

“Now? Can't it wait until morning? You don't look like you can stay awake another minute.”

“No, tonight. Let's talk tonight. I've thought about this for the last couple of days and we keep putting it off.”

Alarmed by his serious tone, I pulled out a chair.

“Dimon's right, Lottie. We are both being run ragged. So is Sam.”

Please don't make me think about that problem right now
. I stared at the dregs in my coffee cup, then at the deepening lines in my husband's face. I shuddered. I'm a fixer. Josie says so. Finding Victor's killer wouldn't be the end of it. I wouldn't be able to quit law enforcement until I fixed everything.

“Well, do you think we should deputize more men? Or women? Women, too. We need more women.”

“That's a Band-Aid. Dimon was right. We need a district law enforcement organization and every county needs to cooperate with the funding. Vote a mill levy to build a central jail and bring in new equipment and technology. Hell, right now we have to call in the KBI for practically everything.”

Obviously it wasn't the right time to tell him I intended to resign. Stricken, I knew I would never do it and leave him and Sam in a mess. I would soldier on until I'd fixed everything. Until we found competent people. Then I would turn in my badge.

But a regional center wasn't the answer. “Keith, it won't fly. I can't think of any county that will give up having its own law enforcement.”

“They have to. What we have now isn't working out here.”

My mind raced. I didn't want to argue with him when we were both on edge.

He gave me a quick look, then smiled. “You're going to be the ideal sounding board, honey. You can probably think of every single objection people will raise, and we can work out answers in advance.”

“Well, I can think of one great big huge one right now. Someone is bound to point out that it's our county that is having all the trouble. Their own county isn't going to need some fancy fix and a bunch of foreigners poking around in their business.”

“I've asked Tom to hang around here for a while. Designing systems is his specialty and I want a complete plan all drawn up with every detail worked out in advance before I approach other counties. Which I plan to do one by one.”

“Sam will never go along with this.”

“Yes, he will. He's being worn down, too. How's this job affecting your work at the historical society?”

“It's been disastrous. No point in kidding myself. I can't follow up on everything like I used to. I keep running from one job to the next, and I'm way behind on collecting oral histories. I haven't found the time to call a Bohemian woman who came in with some great artifacts. She's trying to work up nerve to talk to me about something, but I won't have time to listen when she does. No time for in-depth research. Unless it has something to do with my duties as an undersheriff.”

“Did you learn anything useful on your visit to the compound?”

“Nothing about Victor, except that Maria Diaz was right about Francesca Diaz hating her guts because Victor just worked at the feedyard instead of becoming a lawyer. That was very obvious. She's a descendant of a proud old Spanish family and looks down on Mexicans.”

“That won't do our investigation any good. Dimon is looking for information about Mexicans in this region.”

“I know. Victor was born here, just as Maria said. And lived in Roswell County all his life until he went to college, and then got married. That little house here in Carlton County is the first he's ever owned.”

Keith pushed back from the table and stood. “I need to get to bed while I can still manage to climb the stairs.”

“Sit back down. I have something else to tell you.”

I dealt it down and dirty: I would be going through private records.

“And you agreed to this?” Wide-awake now he just stared at me. “Goddamn that man for putting you in this situation.”

“There's not many good choices here. Sam won't. And God knows you won't either. So I have to. I'm choosing the lesser of two evils to prevent a lot of damage to a good friend.” I bit my lip and turned away. “Go to bed. Now. While you still have the energy to crawl under a sheet.”

I quickly scraped the plates and carried them to the dishwasher. When everything was tidy, I turned out the lights and slowly headed upstairs.

Keith had left the bathroom light on. I changed into an airy cotton sleep shirt and started brushing my teeth. He stirred.

“Did I wake you up?”

“I'm not asleep. Lottie, Dimon is right about one thing. I hate to give the son-of-a-bitch credit. But he is. If we don't come up with a system on our own, some crazy politician is going to do it for us. Won't that be a deal now?”

I finished in the bathroom, then climbed into the bed beside him. “Why can't we just get by with part-time deputies and reserve deputies?”

“That's what we're doing now. If things keep happening in this county we'll soon be a permanent feature on CNN.”

I moved closer and snuggled against his broad back.

“You're trying to change the subject,” he growled, turning toward me.

“Yes.”