“Not in light of what happened next door,” he said.
It was the first time he had spoken since Page had entered the room, and Estelle caught the accusatory edge in his tone. Page took the statement at face value.
“What can I do?”
“Tell us what you know about Kevin Zeigler’s habits, Mr. Page,” Estelle replied. She scooted her chair closer and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Right now, we’re grasping at straws. If we had some idea who Kevin saw during the course of his day, other than at work, if we had some idea about where he spends his time-again, other than at work…”
“That’s what Kevin does, Ms. Guzman. He works. He’s one of those type A people who has to have things done right now, if you know what I mean.” He ducked his head in a little shrug. “I mean, you must see Kevin around the county offices all the time. You work with him, don’t you? So you must know what I’m talking about.”
“He’s a busy man.”
Page nodded. “That’s one thing that I’ve tried to do, I suppose…to slow him down a little bit. I’m a great believer in leaving the office behind at the end of the day. Kevin is the opposite.”
“How did you two meet?”
“Oh, this and that. He worked for the city of Socorro, I was doing some consulting for them, so we worked together. But mostly it was the biking, I guess. That’s been one of my passions for a long time. I invited Kevin along on a couple of rides that our group organized, and he seemed to enjoy it.”
“I saw the four bikes in the house.”
Page nodded. “Yeah. We just got the new road bikes a couple of months ago. That may have been a mistake. The only place Kevin knows how to ride is out front. He doesn’t understand the concept of second place, or of just riding along to enjoy the weather and watch the birds.”
“Were there any other bikes?”
“Others? No. Four’s enough.” He grinned, revealing a movie star’s set of teeth, and then his face immediately fell sober. Kevin Zeigler hadn’t simply grown weary of county politics and taken one of his expensive bikes for an extended spin…or crashed one of the mountain bikes, leaving him lying somewhere with a busted hip, waiting for rescue.
Estelle turned sideways in her chair so that she more directly faced Zeigler’s roommate. “Mr. Page, did Kevin have any enemies?”
“Enemies?” He blinked.
“Yes, sir. Anyone that you’re aware of with a grudge? Any old scores to settle?”
“God, not that I know of…”
“Who was he hooked up with before he met you?” Torrez’s question came so abruptly that Page appeared startled.
“I don’t follow.”
Torrez regarded him expressionlessly, waiting for Page to figure out for himself what the sheriff had meant.
“Any former acquaintances?” Estelle prompted. “Any bad feelings between Kevin and anyone else?”
“No…I mean, I don’t think so.”
“You’re livin’ with him, right?” Torrez asked.
“I visit when I can.”
“You and him spend weekends together?”
“When we can.”
“For instance, were you planning to come down Thursday or Friday, and stay over until Monday?”
Page glanced at Estelle. “Yes,” he said simply. “Those were my plans.”
“Mr. Page,” Estelle said, “when I asked if there were any bad feelings between Kevin Zeigler and anyone else, you replied that you ‘didn’t think so.’ I’d like to ask you to think more carefully about that.” Estelle spoke slowly. “Did Kevin ever talk to you about problems he might have had in the past with anyone-anyone at all? Employees, relatives, special friends.”
“No,” Page said. “Kevin always thought that way,” he said, and stabbed a finger outward. “He thought about the future…like what he was going to do.”
“He didn’t ruminate much about things?”
Page laughed, a quick, loud, nervous guffaw. “Ruminate. That’s about the last word I’d associate with Kevin.”
Estelle leaned back, and the room fell silent except for the faint, occasional creak of leather as Torrez rocked absently in his chair.
“When the two of you go out socially in Posadas,” Estelle asked, “where do you frequent?”
Frowning, Page looked out through the narrow window at the plastered wall of the county courthouse. “I like to cook, so we don’t ever eat out,” he said. “Unless we go to Cruces or something like that for a show.” He turned away from the window view. “I guess other than when we go riding sometimes around Cat Mesa, sometimes down in the San Cristobals, we don’t go out much. Not here, anyway.”
“Not much to do?”
He shrugged. “I guess you could put it that way.”
“Is there a circle of friends or acquaintances whom you’ve come to know in Posadas?”
“No.” Page’s answer was immediate, and he didn’t amplify the answer.
“Is that because of Kevin’s position with the county?”
“I don’t follow.”
“Mr. Page,” Estelle said, “your relationship with Kevin Zeigler is obviously most discreet.” She watched a faint flush create a small island of white on the arch of each cheekbone.
“My relationship with Kevin Zeigler is no one’s business but our own,” he said evenly.
“Sir, I understand that,” Estelle said. “And our intention is not to invade your privacy. But we’ll dig for any scrap of information that we can. I’m sure you can understand that.”
He sighed deeply. “Of course.”
Estelle leaned forward and lowered her voice. “That’s why I want you to think over every moment you’ve spent in Posadas with Mr. Zeigler. Is there anyone-anyone at all-who Kevin talked about? Any frustrations he brought home from the office and discussed with you? Anything at all.”
“Believe me, Officers, I’ve been sitting out in that lobby now for quite a while, doing nothing but that.” He shook his head, face grimaced. “Of course Kevin and I were discreet, as you suggest. Posadas isn’t exactly the western hemisphere’s cradle of liberal opinion. His job with the county was important to him, if for no other reason than he wanted to do a good job for them, and then move on to something more interesting or challenging.”
“Like what?” Torrez asked.
“He was thinking about applying for an administrative position that one of the state universities has posted.”
“Where?”
“Albuquerque. He thinks he has a good shot at it.”
“He’s done a good job for this county,” Estelle said.
Page smiled at her. “Kevin refers to Posadas County as ‘my problem child,’ Ms. Guzman. He keeps talking about ‘the long, painful trek toward the twenty-first century.’”
Torrez scoffed. “How about the twentieth first,” he said.
“I’m sure that in his work, he’s had plenty of disagreements,” Page said, and Estelle gazed at him speculatively. “The one thing I do know, absolutely for sure, for positive, for one hundred percent, is that Kevin did not go next door to the Acostas’ on some perverted whim and attack that girl.”
“Do the Acostas know you?” Estelle asked.
“What do you mean, do they know me? Of course they do. I’ve been visiting Kevin almost every weekend and on longer holidays for going on two years. We’ve talked with them-the parents, sometimes the kids-a lot, mostly just in passing.”
“Mostly,” Torrez muttered.
Page shot him an impatient look. “Yes, mostly. Once last summer, they invited us over when they were barbecuing a goat. And it was pretty good, too. A couple of times, Tony-he’s the oldest boy-has gone on bike rides with us. He didn’t enjoy it much, I don’t think. He’s got a mountain bike, but it’s one of those really cheap ones. It’s broken half the time. We let him ride one of ours when we all went up on Cat Mesa a few weeks ago. I think the ride was about twenty miles too long for him.”
“Not in shape, eh?” Torrez said.