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  ‘Your turn in the van, Bogey,’ Sarah said. ‘Take your time. When you’re done there, come and find me inside – I’ll be talking to the manager.’

  Feeling sweat begin to trickle down her sides, she headed back to the lobby at a moderate pace. The thermometer outside the heavy front door of Fairweather Farms read ninety-one. And it isn’t even noon yet. What’s happened to Fall?

  The building was cool and dim inside. A few couples moved quietly about, mostly elderly people at some stage of debility, being helped by younger, spryer people in Fairweather Farms uniforms. Other clients walked on their own, some quite brisk, others with canes or walkers. They all looked engaged and intent, like a mid-morning crowd anywhere, but slower. Posters and kiosks offered schedules of activities, tennis and swimming, reading and quilting, card games and cooking classes and trips.

  The quiet busyness of life here had already absorbed the noisy interruption of the wrecked van, formed a kind of mental crust around it and gone flowing on like a stream around a boulder. Whatever the problem was, these faces said, somebody else would have to deal with it.

  A helpful stranger pointed the way to Letitia’s office. It was quietly elegant with wood-paneled walls hung with industrial-strength art. Letitia sat behind her big clean desk with her door open, trim and collected as if she had never had hysterics at the sight of her company van turned into an abattoir.

  Clearly, she was a trooper who had earned the manager’s badge she wore so proudly. It seemed to be her policy to encourage chatty visiting, and she was a wizard at remembering the names of all her drop-ins. A woman in tight ginger curls, carrying a toy poodle that matched her hair, was asking about the relative merits of different bridge clubs as Sarah approached. When Letitia had explained the different skill levels of the players, the poodle carrier walked away and a bejeweled woman stepped up to ask an anxious question about this evening’s Trivial Pursuit game. No, Letitia assured her, she would not be too slow and hold everybody up. ‘Listen, Angela, don’t you worry about that! We’re just one big happy family here.’ A warm chuckle, and then, ‘Nobody’s in a hurry, we all take our time and enjoy each other’s company.’

  Letitia was good at this, she made everything seem easy and nice, with her warm voice and kindly, confident tone. Then she turned her head and saw Sarah, and for a few seconds the façade seemed about to crumble. There was a flush of embarrassment and a sharp little intake of breath. But the trooper recovered fast.

  ‘Ah, there you are,’ she said. ‘Come in. Sit down, won’t you?’ Flustered, but going for cordial, her stock in trade. ‘You must think,’ she shook her chic hairdo and delivered an ironic shrug, ‘that I’m some kind of a weenie.’

  ‘Not at all,’ Sarah said. ‘I’m always glad to be reminded that most people don’t have the hard shell we have to grow in homicide.’

  ‘Well, how kind you are. It was just … seeing poor Ricky like that—’ She shuddered. ‘I always say I deal with everything in my job, but I guess … compared to you … I really lead a pretty sheltered life, don’t I?’

  ‘I certainly hope so. Sheltering is what we get paid to do. And we’ll hope to help you get back to that routine soon, but first I have to ask a lot of questions. Are you able to start now?’

  ‘You bet. Let me just close this door.’ She pulled it shut quietly enough, but it seemed to be an agreed-upon signal – the constant flow of visitors stopped, nobody knocked. ‘I don’t know if I can help much, though – I’m just as mystified by this crazy attack as everybody else,’ she said as she sat down again.

  ‘But you can tell us a lot. You know the people here and we don’t.’

  ‘Well, sure – and I think it’s good to talk about it right away while our memories are fresh. Get everything you need to know out in the open so we can all move on.’ Her mind seemed to work that way, entirely in positive terms. Her determined cheeriness seemed a little disingenuous, but it was good to see she wasn’t going directly on the defensive as so many witnesses did.

  Her driver’s name was Enrique Lopez. He was part of the large well-established Hispanic minority in Tucson, and had worked for Fairweather Farms for six months, Letitia said, ‘almost as long as we’ve been open.’

  ‘Is that all? You seem remarkably settled into your routines,’ Sarah said, ‘for only being open half a year.’

  ‘Oh, well, we’re part of a chain, you know—’

  ‘No, I didn’t. You have other places in Arizona?’

  ‘Four others right here in Tucson. And half a dozen in Phoenix.’ She handed over a card with names and addresses. ‘So that makes it easier. The operations aren’t identical, but we share a good many features – we’re senior living facilities, we don’t do nursing care. Our purchasing and accounting is done at the corporate level, and it’s not unusual for personnel to move from one installation to another.’

  ‘Did you?

  ‘Yes. I was assistant manager at Hanging Gardens in Phoenix for three years – that’s a bigger place, twice the size of this one – and then I worked as catering manager for almost a year at the Sheffield House across town, so that I could be available to help with questions while this place was being built.’

  ‘So you already had this job lined up while you did that.’

  ‘Exactly. And you see, by having my hand in the mix from the beginning, I pretty much had my systems in place before we opened.’

  ‘Interesting,’ Sarah said. It wasn’t, particularly, but Letitia’s brisk responses seemed to demand that reaction. ‘You don’t use surnames here much?’

  ‘Hardly ever. Clients don’t either – we all use first names.’

  ‘Except Mr Ames?’

  ‘Well, he said he was accustomed to more formality, so of course we accommodated him.’

  ‘I’d like to talk to Mr Ames. Will you set that up for me?’

  ‘Mmm … that’s not going to be easy. Mr Ames is not very outgoing.’

  ‘Oh? Well, if you don’t want to introduce us, I’ll just knock on his door and go in. I’m not shy.’

  ‘Oh, please.’ She made a pleading gesture. ‘I’ll do it. Just don’t be surprised if he’s a little rude.’

  ‘I interview a lot of murderers, Letitia; I think I can handle the disappointment if Mr Ames doesn’t like me.’

  ‘I suppose you can. You find us all a little amusing, don’t you?’

  ‘No. I just want you to understand that I’m a licensed criminal investigator, and the fact that I’m a woman is irrelevant.’

  ‘I hear you. I’ll check his schedule for medical appointments. Aside from those of course he’ll be available – I’ll let you know.’

  ‘Good. He doesn’t allow you to use his first name?’

  ‘Says he’s used to formality so he needs it to be comfortable.’ She shrugged. ‘Go figure. Most people like it that we’re kind of easy-going and homey.’

  ‘But Enrique was too hard to say?’

  ‘What? Oh, you mean the nickname. Yes, some of the staff had a hard time figuring out how to say it, they started calling him Ricky and he didn’t object so I just … went along with it.’

  ‘I see. I’ll need all Enrique’s stats, of course, full name, age, social security, health records, driver’s license …’

  ‘Well … of course. But most of that information is kept in the accounting office in Phoenix, so I’ll need some time.’

  ‘I don’t understand. Wasn’t he hired here?’

  ‘Umm … yes.’

  ‘And you must train and supervise here, right?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘So you must keep some employee records here?’

  ‘No. We have one bookkeeper here, who keeps daily records and submits a daily report – but even that office is closed today because Amanda had to take a personal day. But she’ll be here tomorrow and I’ll have her put in a request for Ricky’s stats first thing.’

  ‘You can’t just pick up the phone and get the information?’

  ‘It
doesn’t quite work that way. It’s a big company and … But Amanda should be able to get all those records by, oh, what’s today? It’s Monday, isn’t it? So I should think … if she puts in a request tomorrow … that we can have everything you need by close of business on Friday.’

  ‘Letitia, you don’t understand – this is homicide, we don’t wait for information.’ She waved the card Letitia had given her. ‘Which one of these numbers is headquarters? I’ll call myself and get what I need.’

  ‘Please don’t do that,’ Letitia said quickly. ‘Just give me a couple of hours. I’ll call and explain the circumstances, and I’m sure if I explain it’s police protocol I can get all the data you need right away.’

  ‘Well …’ Sarah looked at her watch. ‘It’s lunchtime, so … Two hours after lunch is three o’clock – can you get it by then?’

  Letitia looked haggard for a moment but then summoned a cheery smile. ‘Sure. These people are demon record-keepers up there, they’re always after me for faster replies. So now I’ll ask them to show me some moves.’

  The phone rang on her desk. She raised her eyebrows, surprised by the interruption. Then she lifted it and answered brightly, ‘Letitia!’ The murmur on the other end sounded apologetic. But Letitia, still smiling, said, ‘Fine!’ and got up and opened the door.

  Bogey stood erect in the doorway with his neutral expression facing into Letitia’s high beams. There was a moment of mutual puzzlement until Letitia trilled, ‘Hello, Officer.’ She evidently had no memory of his time as her left-hand crutch, helping her out of the van.

  Bogey nodded, muttered, ‘Ma’am,’ turned ten degrees toward Sarah and said, ‘there’s something in the van I thought you might want to see.’

  ‘Oh?’ Sarah looked at Letitia, whose smile had begun to urge, Let’s do some questions with this officer.

  ‘Before they tow it away,’ Bogey said. His left eyebrow twitched.

  ‘Right,’ Sarah said, getting up, moving to the door. ‘See you at three, then, Letitia.’

  They didn’t say a word as they padded softly along the quiet hall toward the entrance. Their silence made it easy to hear the woman in tan scrubs on the far side of the lobby – it was Tammy, wasn’t it? – still plaintive, not entirely recovered from getting sick outdoors. She was asking another woman in the same uniform, ‘Patsy, do you know what’s happened to Amanda?’

  ‘Why, isn’t she in her office?’

  ‘No, and it’s strange – I talked to her in there before I took Millicent out for her walk and she said that I should come see her at lunchtime, that she had something funny to tell me. But now the light’s out and her door’s locked.’

  The two officers marched silently on to the exit. But as soon as the front door closed behind them, Sarah turned in the blazing sunshine and told Bogey softly, ‘That’s really quite interesting, what that woman just said.’

  ‘Is it? Can you tell me in the van? Because the tow could get here any minute, and the driver’s side door of this van is also very interesting.’

  THREE

  Monday

  The coroner and his assistant had the body bagged and were bringing it out of the van on a gurney. They said they didn’t need any help, so Sarah and Bogey stood aside as the forensics team maneuvered it down the steps. While they waited, Sarah told Bogey what was interesting about the bookkeeper named Amanda.

  ‘According to Letitia she’s off today, but Tammy just said she was at work this morning. We need to figure out what’s going on with Amanda.’ Bogey listened respectfully, but his eyes kept wandering up the steps.

  As soon as the gurney was out of the way they climbed back inside. The three techs were just finishing up, Lois and Sandy packing samples, Gloria taking a few last pictures of the empty driver’s seat, working fast and, as usual, talking a blue streak.

  ‘This is kind of like one of those old Agatha Christie mysteries, isn’t it?’ she asked, blazing away. ‘Big shoot-out at the old folks’ home – you don’t see that every day, do you?’

  She had evidently decided the new guy was worth a second look, she wanted to get a little chat going with Bogey. Ordinarily Sarah would have helped. She sympathized with Gloria’s often-expressed need to ‘get a little action going in this cowboy town.’ But right now she wanted to hear what Bogey thought was interesting about the driver’s side door of the van, and Delaney had just texted that the tow was on its way. Sarah knew the tow yard got paid by the trip, not the hour, which meant the driver would be hell-bent to hook up and haul away. So she just said, ‘For sure,’ and Gloria’s opening gambit went nowhere.

  Sarah began helping Lois move DNA swabs out to her car, and Bogey asked Sandy, ‘Can I help you?’

  Lois paused in the middle of muscling boxes and said, ‘Sarah, did you hear what the Doc said about the driver’s clothes?’

  ‘What? No,’ Sarah said. ‘Is that what’s in the bag? Let me see.’

  ‘No, wait.’ Lois moved the big paper bag farther out of reach. ‘Just listen a minute. He said he wasn’t going to strip the body here, said he’d send me the clothes to check after the autopsy. So you can check them at the lab later, OK? But this’ – she held up the paper bag, already showing blood stains – ‘is the jacket that was hanging over the back of the driver’s seat. Do you want to check it before I take it to the lab with my stuff?’

  ‘Yes. Wait, I need gloves.’ She patted her jacket pockets. She’d discarded the ones she’d worn earlier when she went inside to talk to Letitia. ‘Damn. Gotta get some from the car.’

  ‘Here,’ Bogey said. He handed her a pair and gloved up himself. He held the bag open and she pulled out the brown windbreaker. ‘Must belong to the driver.’

  ‘Probably,’ Sarah said. Holding it carefully to avoid a sticky spot on the left breast, she looked on the front pocket. ‘No, I guess not – the name on the pocket is … uh … DeShawn.’ She looked around, saw Henry resetting a cactus nearby, and called across the yard, ‘Henry, is there somebody working here named DeShawn?’

  ‘Sure,’ Henry said. ‘He’s the usual driver.’

  ‘What?’ Puzzled, she looked at Bogey and shook her head. ‘Henry, will you come over here for a minute, please?’

  Henry frowned, sighed, stuck his shovel upright in the loose dirt and walked across the yard to the van. When he stood by the steps looking up at her, she said, ‘What do you mean, the usual driver?’

  ‘Just what I said.’ He shrugged. ‘DeShawn Williams is the maintenance man who usually drives this van.’

  ‘Why didn’t he drive it today?’

  ‘Well, I’d better not say much about it or it’ll turn out to be my fault,’ Henry said, aggrieved about some slight she didn’t understand, ‘but I heard he was in an accident.’

  ‘An accident? Here? Before this one with the van?’

  ‘Not here. Sometime last night, off-duty, in his own old rattletrap. He got T-boned in an intersection down on Broadway. He’s in St. Mary’s Hospital with many broken bones and in a coma, according to my friend who’s an orderly there.’

  ‘Um … Sarah?’ Bogey said, ‘we can talk about this after the van’s gone, but right now …’

  ‘You’re right. That tow is always late except when you want it to be, isn’t it?’ Another shrug; Bogey didn’t know. She dropped the jacket back into the paper bag and told Lois, ‘I think this does belong with your crime scene stuff, but I’ll get it back to you later. I need to ask Letitia about this usual driver named DeShawn.’

  ‘Suits me,’ Lois said, and lugged the last of her boxes out to her car.

  Sarah turned to the gardener and said, ‘Thanks, Henry, that’s all for now.’

  Henry shrugged again and went back to his damaged plants, looking seriously ticked off. Working up a real grudge about something, Sarah thought as she watched him go, but I don’t have time for his snit today.

  ‘OK,’ she said when she and Bogey stood, alone together at last, facing the gore, ‘now will you show me what’s so fascin
ating about the driver’s side door?’

  ‘The driver’s window was open,’ he said, ‘even though it’s a hundred degrees outside and the A/C was turned on high.’

  ‘I know,’ Sarah said, ‘that was number one on my list too. We can’t ask the driver why he opened the window in this weather, but maybe Mr Ames will know something?’

  ‘Mr Ames didn’t sound very helpful.’

  ‘True. But I want to talk to him anyway. I’ve asked Letitia to set it up for me. Anything else?’

  ‘Yes. I took a walk around the outside of the van with O’Neill and his partner while I was talking to them. They look at cars all day; they’re good at spotting things. There are seven bullet holes in this van, that we’ve found so far. Three in the rear – probably lodged in the chassis somewhere. And two above the windshield, see? Which is puzzling, since they’re inside. But I was waiting to ask Banjo—’

  Bogey pointed with gloved fingers at the two holes above the windshield.

  ‘From the way the metal’s bent, I’m sure you’re right, this is an entry hole. The shooters must have managed to get alongside at one point and the bullets must have come in through the open driver’s side window, hit this spot above the windshield and buried themselves in the insulation. When we get back outside I’ll show you that the metal outer layer is undisturbed. You can see that all the shots that hit the van very consistently buried themselves in the vehicle. They had power enough to penetrate one layer of metal, but not enough to go through two.’

  ‘So we’ve still got all the bullets, right here in the vehicle. Now if we could find a casing …’