Scratchgravel Road (Josie Gray Mysteries #2)(61)

“I need to talk with Dillon for a few minutes if he’s available.”

Christina winked. “Certainly.” After a momentary quiet conversation into her headset she motioned Josie back to his office.

Dillon stood from his desk as she entered. He raised his arms over his head and leaned back, groaning and stretching. He wore his standard attire: khaki pants, starched button-down blue shirt, and conservative yellow-and-blue-striped tie. His hair had been freshly trimmed and his face was clean shaven.

“I need a masseuse,” he said, and flashed her a smile. He came around the desk and kissed her, then pulled back and asked, “Did you come to buy me lunch?”

“No, but Otto would. He’s at the Hot Tamale waiting on me.”

“Actually, I already ate. Christina brought me in homemade lasagna and fresh-baked bread for lunch today. She’s serving the tiramisu later this afternoon.”

Josie felt the hair on her arms stand on end. “You’re lying to me, aren’t you?”

He smiled. “I ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich I brought from home.”

She smiled. “I could make you some soup for supper tonight.”

“How about you come to my place? I’ll cook this time.”

“Deal.”

“Now, I assume you want something other than dinner,” he said.

She sat down in the chair in front of his desk, he resumed his seat, and she filled him in on the Santiago murder.

“I’m hoping you can dig around and find out some information on Beacon. See what their reputation is, how solvent the company is, that kind of thing.”

“Sure, I can do that.” He narrowed his eyes and considered her for a moment. “Don’t consultants usually get paid for working with police departments?”

She smirked. “What fantasy cop show have you been watching?”

He grinned and nodded his head. “Then we’ll negotiate. I’m cooking dinner, and offering free consulting services. What will you be providing?”

Josie gave her best sleazy grin. “I’ve been staying up late sewing my lingerie apron. If you’re lucky, maybe I’ll model it tonight.”

*

The Hot Tamale was raucous. The returning rain, coupled with the forecast for more, and a flood level that would not peak for several days, had the regulars on a manic high waiting for the next disaster.

West Texans had a complicated relationship with rain. Many a person spent time on their knees praying for rain for months on end, and after a few days of thanksgiving, flipped to prayers for the rain to cease. Josie couldn’t think of anything else that was so desperately needed, worshiped, feared, and loathed as desert rain.

Otto had wangled their favorite table in the front of the diner. By the time Josie stopped to chat with a few patrons along the way and made it to the table, Sarah had left two Cokes and moved on to the next group.

“What’s up?” Josie asked. She felt fairly good from a productive day, coupled with dinner plans that didn’t involve cooking.

“Good news. Sort of. Lou tracked down Santiago’s family. I spoke with his wife. I explained that we suspect her husband was killed. Her English was sketchy, but her daughter was there. I spoke to her as well.”

“How did they take it?”

“They were shocked. They had already begun to think something was wrong because he hadn’t called. His wife sobbed in the background as I talked to his daughter.”

“You get anything new?” she asked.

“Santiago was married with four kids. Lived in Chiapas. Took his wife his paycheck each month to pay off a parcel of land in Central Mexico. A safe place where they could move their family. His wife said Santiago’s dream was to raise the grandkids with no fear.” Otto sipped his Coke and looked at Josie, his expression discouraged.

“Would she talk to you about his medical records?”

“She spoke Spanish and I could only understand about half of what she said,” Otto said. “Her daughter said her father was in great health. She said she was certain he hadn’t been receiving chemo, because he had no health insurance.”

Otto frowned and leaned back as Sarah placed a bologna sandwich in front of him. She reached across the table to set a cold tamale and chips in front of Josie.

“How’s it going, Sarah?” Josie asked.

“It’s okay.”

“You mind if I ask you a question about Juan Santiago?”

She looked surprised. “No, go ahead.”

“I just wonder what your take on him is?”

Sarah shrugged, looking confused by the question.

“All we’ve been able to figure out is that he’s quiet.”

She smiled. “That’s pretty much it.”

“Quiet because he had no social skills? Maybe he was shy?” Josie asked.

Sarah narrowed her eyes and looked skeptical. “I don’t think that was it. Brent drove him to work every day. And he still didn’t talk! We even invited him over to dinner a couple times. He always said no.” She tilted her head. “I hate to say this, but he just wasn’t very friendly.”

“Why did Brent drive him?”

“Juan didn’t have a car. He used to have an old beater, but it basically died. Brent offered to help him out, and Juan never replaced his car! He said he was going to a few times, but he was saving his money. He took a bus home to visit his family each month.”