Scratchgravel Road (Josie Gray Mysteries #2)(40)

He looked shocked at the question and took a moment to answer. “Of course.”

“I assume he was in the country legally?” Josie asked.

“Absolutely.” Diego cut Skip off. “We follow strict protocol. His papers are on file if you wish to see to them.”

Josie put a hand up to wave off the suggestion.

“We actually have quite a few legal immigrants working at the plant,” Diego said.

“Did he socialize with anyone? Ever talk about dating anyone, or going out for a beer with someone from work?”

Skip looked miserable. “I don’t think so. He kept to himself. You can talk to the crew, though. There’s four other guys. I’ll call them all in here if you want.”

“He ever fight with anyone?” Otto asked.

Skip frowned. “No. Not that I know of. He didn’t get close enough to anyone to fight. He’d worked here about three years, and I bet the guys he worked with don’t know much more about him than me.” He paused and looked from Josie to Otto. “I just can’t imagine anyone wanting to kill him.”

*

After the interview with Skip was over, Diego asked him to assemble the other workers from Santiago’s unit in the cafeteria, located back in the staging facility. Josie was glad to walk back outside. Her hands felt like ice from the cold office.

She followed Otto outside while Diego stayed back to talk with Skip. Josie saw Otto looking up into the moving clouds.

“I don’t want to be back here when it starts pouring down rain,” she said.

Otto nodded, his eyes focused on the sky. “Place gives me a bad feeling. Like doomsday.”

“I keep thinking about all those rusted barrels.” She looked behind the fenced-in production area to what appeared to have once been a large parking lot. The space was now covered with tightly packed metal barrels. From a distance they appeared to be corroded, but she hoped it was just peeling paint. “What do you think all this rain does to the chemicals and the rusted drums?”

The wind picked up and blew the fine gray hair around the top of Otto’s head. He tried to smooth the hair back as he climbed into the backseat of the golf cart, leaving the front passenger seat for Josie. “I’d like to know what these guys do on a daily basis.”

“I still don’t think we mention the sores on Santiago’s arms. We need to talk to a few more people. Make sure we know who can be trusted,” she said. “Agreed?”

“Absolutely. Weren’t you going to see Sauly?”

She nodded. “I’ll talk to him this afternoon if I get time.”

Diego walked briskly out of the building toward the golf cart and Josie was struck by how attractive he was. He conveyed assuredness and the ability to get things done. She imagined he was a good fit for what seemed to be an overwhelming task.

He climbed in the cart and they drove off immediately. “I would have appreciated some advance warning.”

He glanced at Josie but she kept her attention focused on the barrels across the lot.

“You hadn’t mentioned anything about him being murdered. I assumed he’d just come up missing,” he said. His tone was sharp.

“Our goal is to find a killer. Sometimes that doesn’t leave room for common courtesies,” she said.

He said nothing in return. She knew her comment had sounded rude, but those were the ground rules.

As they approached the main office again she pointed behind them toward the lot full of metal barrels. “What’s the problem with the rusted barrels? Seems like you’d want to get those out of here before they rust through.”

He took a moment to respond and Josie wondered if he was considering his response, or if he was still angry. “Sometimes it’s more dangerous to move material like that than it is to leave it be. We monitor the containers carefully. It’s not a pretty sight out there, but there’s no leaching.” He glanced over at her. “People don’t realize what a task it is to move dirty material to another site. It’s not like taking your trash to the city dump.”

“By dirty material, you mean material with radiation in it?”

He nodded.

A light rain began to fall as Diego maneuvered the golf cart through the sludge on the ground. When they reached the staging facility, Josie turned before entering the building to scan the lot one last time. She could not imagine going to work every day in that kind of environment: the combination of corroded metal and disassembled buildings, some nothing more than steel skeletons, made for a scene of bleak desolation.

*

In the cafeteria, several women in hairnets and white smocks teased each other good-naturedly as they placed silver pans into a buffet line. Josie glanced at her watch. It was 10:45. The room smelled like canned green beans and boiled potatoes.

The room was set up like a high school cafeteria. It was well lit with poor acoustics and neatly lined rows of tables that would seat groups of ten. The laminate-and-chrome tables looked straight out of a fifties diner. The room looked larger than necessary and Josie wondered if the number of employees was being kept low due to need or cost overruns.

As they reached the tables Josie received a phone call from Lou.

“What’s up?” Josie asked.

“Marta called back. The door to Santiago’s apartment was locked, no one home. No one at Family Value or the other businesses on the block has seen him recently, but they confirmed they knew who he was. They all said he didn’t make much of an impression.”