“Two things,” he said. “No usable prints on the lug wrench. Mears says that it’s either been wiped or someone used gloves. And it’s sure enough wallboard plaster on the nose, along with some traces of blood and hair. The blood is type AB, same as Carmen’s. We’re going to have to wait on the lab for DNA, but there’s no doubt in my mind.”
“Nothing new on her yet?”
“She’s holding her own. Believe it or not, it’s the rap to the back of her skull that’s going to be the hurdle.”
“We need to talk with the boys, Bobby.” She recounted her conversation with Deena Hurtado earlier that morning.
“Mauro the little tool smith,” Torrez said. “The little sack of shit isn’t about to admit diddly. He’s probably scared shitless.”
“And he wasn’t in school yesterday afternoon. Neither was his brother.”
Torrez made a face. “I see those two around all the time. School just ain’t real high on their list of favorite places. But they didn’t have nothin’ to do with the attack on Carmen.”
“I don’t think they did either, Bobby, but we need to talk with them. There’s that two-hour black hole between the time when their father left home and then returned to discover Carmen in her bedroom. The boys weren’t in school during that time. I’d like to know what they were doing.”
“That’s the other thing,” Torrez said, nodding. “The stain on the bedroom wall? You’ll be interested to know what that is.”
“Yes, I would.”
“How about heavy grease.”
“Grease?”
“Yup. ‘Contaminated’ petroleum grease, the lab calls it. In other words, dirty.”
“You’re talking like automotive oil?”
“Grease. Old, used grease.”
Estelle frowned. “That’s bizarre.”
“Tell me about it.”
“There’s no grease on the wrench handle?”
Torrez shook his head. “And see, that’s the other thing about the boys. If Mauro was out back workin’ on his car-and that sure as shit is full of contaminated grease-I can’t see him puttin’ on gloves just at the one moment he loses his temper and lets fly with the wrench.”
“So if the grease came from Carmen’s attacker, it wasn’t on his hands. That’s interesting.”
“Meaning what?”
“Well, there’s no grease on the wrench. That means the grease wasn’t on his gloves…and if he had greasy hands, it’s a bit much to expect that he would chase Carmen through the house, peeling off his gloves as he went. And I’m thinking about where the grease was on the wall.”
“Fifty-seven inches off the floor,” Torrez said.
“Right. Maybe Carmen caught him off balance somehow. If the attacker fell against the wall, he might try to catch himself by throwing out a hand. But not this time, apparently. It might have been on his clothes.” She reached out and touched Torrez on the shoulder of his light jacket. “A shoulder against the wall. I can see that happening.
“One small catch,” Torrez said. “Nobody’s established yet that the grease, or whatever the hell it was, is fresh to the wall. It might have been there all along. Maybe from one of the boys a month ago, swingin’ around a dirty rag. We don’t know.”
“No, we don’t. I’m just going from the general condition of the room. It’s clean, Bobby. That smear is so out of place. Freddy or Juanita will know.”
“Maybe.”
She looked down, idly drawing small circles in the dust on the fender. “Did the lab have results for the blood on the lamp shade?” The sheriff shook his head and glanced at his watch.
“It’s early yet.”
“We have to know that,” Estelle said, more to herself than to the sheriff. “Penny Barnes said that one of the errands Zeigler mentioned was stopping by the county barns. She didn’t know what for.” She looked at Torrez. “The flat tire,” she said. “If he’d just changed a tire, it might be possible to come away with some grease. Maybe on his clothes.”
Torrez shook his head. “You don’t believe that.”
“I don’t?”
The sheriff offered one of his rare smiles. “No, you don’t. You don’t think that Zeigler had anything to do with what happened to Carmen. So why look for grease on his clothes? And besides that, where’s the grease with a flat tire? Maybe if he pulled the old tire off, and leaned against the wheel bearing? Nah, I don’t think so. Road dirt, more than likely. Grease, no. Not unless he fell against the truck during the process.”
“Well, that’s possible.”
He laughed. “Almost anything is possible, Estelle.” He pushed himself away from the vehicle. “The obvious thing is the simplest. Zeigler’s truck shows up at his house, but he doesn’t. So…what’d he do, drive home, and then was grabbed by somebody? Are we going to be seein’ a ransom note before long?”
“If that means that Zeigler is still alive, I’ll settle for that,” Estelle said.
Torrez scoffed. “Well, don’t hold your breath.” He looked hard at Estelle. “His lifestyle is what needs lookin’ at.” When Estelle didn’t respond, he added, “Mama Acosta is stayin’ in Albuquerque. Freddy and the two boys are comin’ back later today. At least that’s the plan. I’ll have a talk with Freddy about the grease. He’s apt to be curious about why we hacked a chunk out of his wall, anyway. I’ll let you know when they’re back in town, if you want to sit down with Mauro.”
“I need to do that.” She shook her head in frustration.
The sheriff nodded back toward the mesa. “Is that your first chat with the old weirdo there?”
“Yes.”
“Ain’t too many like old Milton Crowley, that’s for sure. I guess maybe that’s a good thing.”
“I’d like to look at that tape.”
“It probably wouldn’t tell you a thing you don’t already know,” Torrez said. “But there’s no point in jerkin’ Milt’s chain. Even if you could talk Judge Hobart into giving you a court order, Milt’s still going to refuse to hand over the tape, and if the judge throws his ass in jail for contempt of court, old Milt will just use that as front-page news in his little newspaper.” Torrez wiggled his fingers in the air. “The evil government tramples his rights one more time. He’s a freaky one. Leave him alone, and he’s harmless, though.”
“I’m not so sure.”
“Yeah, he is. He talks a good talk.” Torrez grinned. “I like that sign of his. I’ve always wanted one of those in my driveway.” He shrugged. “I’d kinda like to stay on his good side, just the same. There’s nobody who knows that mesa country the way he does, and he’s been a help to us on a search or two. Sometime when you got nothin’ better to do, ask Wild Bill about the incident with Crowley’s ‘garden.’ He’ll tell you some interesting stories.” The sheriff dusted off his hands. “You’re on your way to the county barns now?”
“That, and I wanted to talk with Doris Marens again. She told the deputy that she didn’t hear or see anything, but if we don’t count Freddy, Mrs. Marens was the only one at home on that block about that time. Maybe there’s some little thing…”
“Did Mr. Flamingo give you anything yet?”
“He has nothing to give, Bobby. William Page is in the dark as much as we are.”
“How long is he staying in town?”
“Until we know about Kevin.”
Torrez grimaced. “That could be a long, long time.”
“I know, Bobby. But I don’t know what other direction to take.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “Lemme know what grease you get into at the county barns.” He wagged his eyebrows, but didn’t smile. “I gave the go-ahead for Taber to go through Zeigler’s house again, one speck of dust at a time.”
“I don’t think the answer’s there, Bobby.”
“We’ll see. It’s something to do. That’s about where we’re at. Jackie asked if she and Linda could do it.” He shrugged. “I said what the hell. If there’s anything there, they’ll see it.” He glanced at his watch again. “I’m meetin’ Eddie at Zeigler’s office at ten o’clock. We’ll tear that place apart, one piece of paper at a time. And I don’t think we’ll find anything there, either.” He lifted a hand in salute. “Keep in touch,” he said, and Estelle watched him climb back into the Expedition and drive off toward Posadas.