If Bobby didn’t take the stand, then it was up to Bryn and Runyon to do what they could to verify the scope and nature of the boy’s injuries. Whalen’s history of violent behavior would have to be established as well. Runyon named Gwen Whalen, Kevin Dinowski, and Charlene Kepler as witnesses who could be subpoenaed to testify. Tricky business, Dragovich said, if that was the way they had to proceed. How much those individuals would be willing to admit to under oath and how much of their testimony would be ruled admissible was problematic.
“Odds for acquittal at fifty-fifty, then,” Runyon said.
“Slightly better than that, I’d say. Based on the facts we have now and contingent on witness cooperation.”
Based on the facts they had now. All the facts? One way or another, he had to find out.
17
ALEX CHAVEZ
He liked dogs. Elena liked dogs. His kids and his in-laws liked dogs. Even Elmo, the wirehaired terrier, liked other dogs.
But Chavez didn’t like Thor, not one little bit.
Neither did Elmo.
As soon as the terrier spotted the big Rottweiler, the wiry hair on Elmo’s back rippled up and he whined and scooted around behind Chavez, wrapping the leash around his legs, and stood there quivering. Thor didn’t move, didn’t make a sound. But those yellow eyes of his… Dios, it was like looking into the eyes of a demon.
The woman-Jane Carson, from the boss’s description-didn’t seem any happier to see him and Elmo than the Rotweiller did. He was already halfway up the driveway when she came out of the house carrying a cardboard box; the gate stood open, an invitation to walk right in. The hatch on the Ford Explorer parked there was raised and she quickly slid the box inside as he approached. No welcoming smile, no expression at all in her bright blue eyes. She was wearing dark-colored sweats, a headband around her short blond hair.
He said through a wary smile, “You ought to put that pooch of yours on a chain. He looks pretty mean.”
“He’s not. He’s friendly and well trained.”
“Elmo doesn’t think so.”
“Elmo?”
“My terrier here. See the way he’s shaking? Scared to death.”
“If you want to board him-”
“That’s one reason I’m here,” Chavez said. “The other is, I’m looking for a place to live and the bartender down at The Dog Hole says you have a room to rent.”
“Well, he’s wrong; we don’t.”
“Already rented?”
“Yes, already rented.”
“You wouldn’t have another available, would you? I mean, I’m kind of desperate for a place and this neighborhood is real convenient to my job-”
“One is all we have.” She flicked a glance at Elmo. “And we’re not taking any new dogs right now.”
“No? How come?”
She was making an effort to hang on to her cool. Irritation leaked through anyway. She said as she wiped a thin beading of sweat off her forehead, “We’re full up.”
Chavez moved a little forward and to one side, dragging Elmo with him and keeping a watchful eye on the Rottweiler, so he could get a better look at the Explorer’s interior through the open hatch. Full of boxes, piles of clothing on hangers, odds and ends.
“Looks like you’re moving,” he said.
“What?” Sharp look. “No. Donations for Goodwill.”
He showed her the smile Elena had labeled Butter Wouldn’t Melt in Your Mouth. His wife had a name for all his smiles and grins; the one he liked best and used on her three or four times a week was his Watch Out Tonight, Querida leer. “Spring housecleaning, huh?” he said.
“Yes, that’s right. Now if you’ll excuse me-”
“When do you think you’ll be ready again?”
“… Ready for what?”
“To take in more dogs.”
“Come back the first of next month.”
“Be okay if I have a look around now?”
Bought him a narrow-eyed stare. “What?”
“At the kennels. Make sure it’s the right place for Elmo.”
“No, it wouldn’t be okay. Can’t you see I’m busy?” She turned abruptly, started back toward the house.
Chavez took the opportunity for a squint down the driveway. Couldn’t see much except part of a wire-fenced dog run and an outbuilding behind it that had to be the kennels. He said quickly, “How about I leave my name and phone number? In case the room opens up.”
She stopped and turned, no longer even trying to hide her annoyance. “There’s no point in that. The tenant we have now plans on an indefinite stay. Now will you please go away?” That last was neither a request nor a dismissal-she said it like a threat.
He’d pushed it as far as he could. Anything further and she’d make a real issue of it. Might even be suspicious as it was. He put on his Piqued and Pouty smile and said, with just the right amount of edge, “Sure, lady, whatever you say. I don’t think I’d have liked living here anyway.”
Nothing from her.
Chavez took the terrier back down the drive. Elmo was relieved; by the time they reached the street, he’d quit shivering and his stubby tail was wagging again. The woman, Carson, had disappeared back into the house.
His dependable old Dodge was parked on 20th Street, one house down. He ran Elmo into the backseat, slid himself into the front. Drove off, circled half a dozen blocks, and then rolled back along Minnesota to where he had a pretty clear view of the McManus house and the SUV from that direction. Carson was still inside, the driveway empty-but she’d been back out at least once, because now the front gate was closed against further visitors. Chavez eased over to the curb, shut off the engine. Then he slouched down low on the seat, shifted his behind until he was comfortable, and reported in to Tamara.
She wasn’t disappointed that he hadn’t been able to get into the house. Matter of fact, there was an undertone of excitement in her voice when she said, “So they’re moving out?”
“Sure looks that way. They’re still loading up the SUV, both of them now-the other one just showed.”
“Leaving as soon as they’re done, you think?”
“Could be. Carson seemed pretty anxious to get rid of me. Want me to run a tail?”
“Oh yeah. Even if only one of them leaves. Did Carson get a good look at your car?”
“Doubt it. She didn’t see me coming and she was already in the house when I drove away.”
“Good. Keep me posted.”
Chavez said he would and clicked off.
“Elmo,” he said then, “I shouldn’t have dragged you into this. Seemed like a good idea when I left the agency, but now you’re stuck with me. Might be a while before either of us gets home again.”
Elmo didn’t seem to mind. He stretched up and licked the back of Chavez’s neck.
Most investigators hated stakeouts, the waiting, the downtime, but Alex Chavez wasn’t one of them. Elena claimed it was because he was basically lazy and would rather sit on his fat culo than do anything else. But she was only teasing him. She knew he had more energy than most men his age, knew it better than anybody because of how often he demonstrated it to her in bed. Besides, his culo wasn’t fat.
The reason stakeouts didn’t bother him was because he liked to listen to the radio. The Dodge had a brand-new battery, so he didn’t have to worry about running down the juice by playing the radio with the engine off. It wasn’t music he listened to, not that he didn’t like music. Elena was a big fan of traditional Latin ballads, the kids were into salsa and hip-hop and Hannah Montana; his preference was Garth Brooks. A shame to his heritage, Elena said-more of her teasing. But even a steady diet of Brooks made Chavez yawn and put him to sleep.
No, what he listened to was right-wing hate radio.