Wrecked (Josie Gray Mysteries #3)(58)
The secretary, Otto thought, always the first line of defense. A lump rose in his throat. Maybe in big cities a cop could grow a thick skin, could talk about the “victim.” But Christina Handley had been part of his small community. He hoped he could remember her life. He hoped he could learn not to associate her only with her death.
Dave smiled when Otto entered.
“Good to see you, Otto! What brings you by for a visit?” He stood and leaned over his desk to shake Otto’s hand.
As principal, Dave worked closely with the local police to handle truancy cases, severe discipline problems, and parental neglect issues. Otto had been disturbed to find such problems had been affecting younger and younger children.
Dave was in his late thirties. He wore rimless glasses, khaki pants, and a trim-fitting navy polo shirt with the words ARTEMIS ELEMENTARY SCHOOL embroidered over the breast pocket. He looked like a department store advertisement for casual work wear. Otto wished he could feel comfortable in something other than uniform pants, a button-down, and a shoulder holster.
“I have a few questions. You mind?” Otto gestured to the door behind him and Dave nodded.
Otto shut the door and sat down at a small round table, where Dave joined him.
“The information relates to Christina Handley’s murder.”
Dave looked dumbfounded. “How can something like this happen in Artemis?”
“I don’t know, Dave. It’s a terrible tragedy. And the investigation isn’t moving fast enough. We’re checking every possible lead we have.”
Dave nodded, obviously confused about what any of this had to do with the elementary school.
“We found a necklace at the murder scene with a pendant of Santa Muerte. I was told that you or someone in your family is a follower.”
Dave sighed and shut his eyes for a moment. “It’s not me. I have nothing to do with it. And I have no idea where my parents’ interest in Santa Muerte came from. It’s something I choose not to discuss with them.” He paused briefly, his eyebrows pulling together in worry. “You aren’t suggesting—”
Otto raised a hand in response. “Don’t misinterpret. I’m not here because I suspect your family is involved. I’m just trying to understand who might have been wearing the pendant, and where we might find them. It’s a stretch, but sometimes it’s the smallest detail that breaks the case.”
Dave stared at Otto, silent.
Otto gave Dave an uncomfortable look. “I’m sorry to drag you into this.”
“Look, I’ve never denied my family. It is what it is. I even use it with some of the kids I work with as an example. You don’t have to deny your family, but you also don’t have to live their life. I didn’t.” He stood from his desk. “Come on. I’ll drive you out there. They aren’t fond of the police. If I take you out, they should at least talk to you.”
They walked out of the office and Dave stopped at his secretary’s desk. “I’m going to make a quick home visit. I’ll be back by dismissal. Any problems, call me on my cell. Okay?”
She glanced at Otto, then back at Dave. “Sure. We’ll be fine.” She lowered her voice. “Is everything okay?”
“It’s all good. I’m going to help Officer Podowski with something.”
As they walked to the parking lot Dave said, “That woman is the glue that holds the school together.” He pointed to a small navy blue pickup truck. “Are you okay with me driving?”
“Absolutely.”
*
Dave’s family—his parents and several of his siblings and their significant others—lived on a dusty road in an area of the county with very few homes. The land was hardpan, like concrete, with very little vegetation. Bare desert punctuated by boulders and rock and not much else. Solitary confinement is what came to mind when Otto drove through this section of Arroyo County.
The house was a sprawling adobe in a U shape with a large courtyard in the middle. The courtyard could have been a serene place to congregate as a family, but instead it was a dumping ground for items that were either being collected for one reason or another, or had been removed from the house but not yet made it to the landfill. In one corner, an old couch and mattress were propped up against a leafless oak tree that looked to have been dead for years.
A flagstone pathway led to sliding glass doors located on the opposite side of the courtyard. When they reached the door Dave rang the bell, turned and raised his eyebrows to Otto as if preparing him for what was to come, and walked on inside.
Dave led him into a living room that once must have been nicely decorated, but was now covered in a layer of debris that would take a pickup truck to haul away. Toys were strewn amid piles of papers and magazines, soft drink cans, ashtrays, and used paper plates. The stale smell of old food and cigarette smoke was nauseating. A scowling young woman sat curled up into a corner of the couch with an afghan pulled up around her chin, struggling to open her eyes after being awakened by the doorbell.
She recognized Dave and lifted her head. “You need to tell your dad to turn that stupid air conditioner off. It’s March and he has the freaking air-conditioning on,” she said.
“Good to see you, Brittany.”
Otto stepped around a trail of toys and followed Dave to the kitchen. The girl laid her head back down on the arm of the couch, but her eyes followed Otto as he walked by.