Betrayed (Rosato & DiNunzio, #2)(20)

Judy got another idea. “Did she have a locker or anything we could look through? Maybe it would contain something that would help us.”

“No,” Scott answered. “Like I say, there’s so many changes in the workforce, we don’t give them lockers. Only management has lockers. The employees keep their things in their cars or their fanny packs. They’re big on fanny packs.”

Judy made a mental note. “Scott, do you know who her doctor might have been?”

“No. I assumed she used the LCD. Most of them do.”

Judy remembered that Aunt Barb had said the same thing. “Did she ever say she didn’t feel well at work?”

“No, never. She never missed a day and she took all the extra shifts I could give her. She was a workhorse. They all are. They never complain. They’re the best workers you’d ever want, the Mexicans.”

Judy didn’t know whether to be offended, because his tone was so favorable.

Scott smiled crookedly. “You’re looking at me funny. You must not be from around here.”

“No,” Judy said, feeling her face flush. “I’m trying to wrap my head around the use of these undocumented workers. It’s an open secret.”

Scott nodded. “Oh, absolutely, but I don’t think we’re that different from a lot of other places in the country. I’d love to hire Americans, but they don’t want to pick mushrooms. It’s filthy, smelly work. We advertise on craigslist, Monster, everywhere, but nobody applies. We pay minimum wage, too, so it’s not like we’re exploiting anybody.” Scott opened his palms, in uneasy appeal. “Listen, you have to be realistic. We need the labor, and the Mexicans are happy to have the work.”

“Let me ask you one last question.” Judy was still trying to understand. “We were at the scene tonight, where Iris was found, and the police said they’ll follow up with you about her. Will you confirm that she worked here, or will you try to keep it quiet, like you did with us?”

“No, we cooperate with the East Grove police. They get it.”

“Don’t they report you for hiring undocumented workers? Do you ever get raided?”

“We don’t get raided because nobody files a complaint, and the local police tend not to give us too much trouble.” Scott glanced over at a clock on the wall. “Well, I better get back to the floor. Can I show you ladies out?”

“Yes, thanks.” Judy put an arm around her aunt, who looked suddenly thoughtful.

“Come with me.” Scott motioned toward a brown metal door near the office area. “And please, accept my condolences. Iris was a very special lady, and we’ll say a prayer for her tonight.”

“Yes, thanks,” Aunt Barb said quietly. “Good night.”

“After you, Aunt Barb.” Judy opened the door to let her aunt out, and they walked together toward the car.

“I think we need to text your mother again. We’ll tell her we decided to go out for an ice-cream sundae.”

“What? Aren’t you tired yet?” Judy chuckled, in surprise.

“Hell, no.” Her aunt pulled down her knit cap and shoved her hands deep into her pockets. “I’m just getting started.”





Chapter Ten

Judy pulled up, cut the ignition, and looked around. The apartment complex where Iris lived was too run-down to be well-lighted, and the only light came from a street lamp, which dimly illuminated a large, square parking lot that seemed to be the focal point of the apartments, a connected series of two-story buildings wrapped in a U shape around the lot. Old cars filled the parking spaces, some with missing hubcaps and others with dented doors, and the lights from the apartments showed people leaning on the cars and sitting on their front steps or on plastic beach chairs, visible only in silhouette, laughing, talking, or smoking, the red tips of their cigarettes glowing in the dark.

“Judy, you ready to go?”

Judy looked over. “Sure, but what are we trying to accomplish, again?”

“I told you, you’re not going to talk me out of this. I have one day of freedom left. Even if the police follow up, there’s things they might miss. They didn’t know Iris the way I know her. And I’m sure the roommates will be much happier talking to me than the local constabulary.”

“On it.” Judy pulled the key out of the ignition, and they both got out of the car and walked to the driveway of the apartment complex, where she took her aunt’s arm.

“I can walk, you know.” Aunt Barb’s gaze slid slyly to Judy under her knit cap. “My legs are fine, it’s my breasts that are the problem.”

“Yes, but if I hold your breasts, people will talk.”

Aunt Barb laughed. “Look around you, they already are.”

Judy looked at stoops and beach chairs, where heads were turning. The residents had grown quiet as the two women made their way down the center of the square parking area, and a short man nearest them flicked his cigarette into the air, where it arced like a falling star.

“It’s because we’re gringas,” Aunt Barb said, lowering her voice. “By the way, like my accent?”

“Nice. How good is your Spanish?”

“Let’s put it this way, your mom is the linguist, not me. But I understand it better than I can speak it.”