Mary Trujillo, on the other hand, was a plump, bustling ray of sunshine who managed to avoid Victor’s personal cloud of gloom and grump.
“So, what are you all about this lovely morning?” she asked, and snapped off her rubber gloves. She fetched a coffee mug and held it toward Estelle. “Sure?”
“Really, no thanks. I’m looking for a little information, Mary. I was wondering if you worked last Thursday?”
“Thursday?” The woman regarded the ceiling for just a moment. “Sure I worked Thursday.”
“Both you and Macie?”
“You get one, you get the other,” Mary quipped. She pulled a hand towel off the rack beside the sink and wiped her face and neck, patting at the various rings of fat under her chin. “I hate that cleaning fluid,” she said, nodding at the bucket. “Victor says it’s the best, but the fumes are positively hell on my skin.”
She snapped the towel out, folded it neatly, and hung it up. “So…”
“Do you remember somebody on an ATV riding in the area?”
The woman closed her eyes and drew in a breath through open mouth. She held that thoughtful pose for a moment, and then said, “Oh, him. ” She didn’t open her eyes. “You know, was that the youngster that they say ran into the canyon? What, later on Thursday?” She opened her eyes and stared at Estelle, her hands entwining in her apron. “One of the guys said that’s who it was.”
“You saw him?”
“I did. Heard first. That thing he was on was loud, you know. Don’t they make mufflers for those things?”
Estelle smiled. “It’s supposed to sound powerful and aggressive, Mary.”
“Well, it did that. Junior and I were standing by the back door, taking a smoke break. Down the road comes this kid, and when he cut across the parking lot, I was sure that he was going to slide right into the side of the building.”
“He saw you?”
“Oh, I’m sure he did. He looked right at us. And that’s who that was? The Romero boy?”
“We think so.”
“Well, I’m sorry it happened, but I’m not the least bit surprised. He was riding like a maniac. But that’s what those kids do when they’re on those things, isn’t it.” She sipped her coffee while the other hand groped in her apron for a pack of cigarettes. “Right out here,” she said. Estelle followed her back outside.
“What a view, you know?” She gazed off across the prairie toward the east, the hand that held the cigarette shielding her eyes from the sun. “Anyway, we were right here. He cut down off the highway, and right through here.” The sweep of her arm included the parking lot and then the country to the north. “In fact, you can still see his tracks, over there where the dirt’s kind of soft.”
“Victor Junior was with you?”
“Yep.”
“Is he here today?”
“He will be. He took the truck and went to town for a bit. But he was right here with me. That’s the truth.”
“And anyone else?”
“Just him and me, sheriff. That’s all. I mean, it’s no big thing, right? The kid rode by, and off he went.” She drew deeply on the cigarette and then ground it out as she exhaled. “Shame what happened. These boys…they think they’re indestructible, don’t they.”
“Mary, can you tell me who else was in the saloon at the time? Who else might have seen the youngster ride by? From the front door, from even-I don’t know-the bathroom window? Someone who had just arrived and was still outside?”
Mary patted her apron as if to double check the cigarette pack, but she resisted the temptation. “We weren’t terribly busy. That’s all I remember. Just some of the guys…I think. Now, Macie was inside, so she might remember. But you know, you can’t see the parking lot from the bar. These guys like the deep dark cave thing, you know.”
Estelle laughed, and Mary looked at her quizzically. “But so what, I mean. I saw him, Victor saw him. I mean, everybody knows he went by here.”
“Just a question of loose ends,” Estelle said. “Do you think Macie has a minute?”
“Oh, I’m sure,” Mary said. “She was going to go with Junior, but I said no. I mean, I don’t have any intention of running the place all by myself while those two are off mooning together.” Apparently romance could conquer even the cloying aroma of onions, green chile, and perspiration, Estelle thought. Mary pushed the door to the barroom open. “Macie! The sheriff wants to talk with you.”
Macie Trujillo, dressed in a fluffy white blouse with Mexican lace and a flowing scarlet skirt that would have been perfect for a twirling dancer, was frowning at glassware behind the bar. Short and stocky like her mother, Macie wore enough jewelry that it clinked and winked from her wrists, fingers, and ears as she worked. An enormous necklace of turquoise and silver-worth a fortune if the stones and metal were real, and expensive even if they weren’t-rested on the broad, voluptuous curves of her chest above the deep dish of her blouse.
“Thanks, Mary.” Estelle let the door swing shut behind her.
Macie favored the undersheriff with a radiant smile, generous mouth armored with straight, large teeth whose brilliant white was set off by wide swaths of crimson lipstick. “Hi!” she greeted, and there was nothing reserved or cautious in her manner.
“Good morning, Macie.” Estelle slid onto one of the tall stools, elbows on the polished wood of the bar, and she held up a hand as Macie started the bartender’s coordinated shuffle sideways, looking at Estelle with raised eyebrow while her left hand reached for the coffee pot. “No thanks. I just wanted to ask you a couple things about last week.”
“Oh,” Macie said, and both hands dropped to the bar’s surface. Ten fingers, eight rings. Only the middle finger of each hand was unadorned. “I heard. ” Her face wrinkled up in sympathy. “That boy who got killed, right?”
“Yes.” Estelle waited to see what Macie might add without prompts.
“Mom probably told you that he rode right by here that day? When was it, Wednesday or Thursday? I could hear him from in here.”
“You didn’t see him?”
“No, but at least one of the guys did.”
“One of the guys?”
“You know, the patrons.”
“Would you tell me exactly what happened that day?”
“Well, nothing happened in here, you know.” Macie reached in her apron pocket and found a piece of peppermint candy. She unwrapped it thoughtfully, and then popped it in her mouth. “We heard his four-wheeler come roaring through the parking lot…crazy kids, you know. I remember that Miles Waddell came out of the restroom, this big grin on his face, shaking his head.”
“Mr. Waddell was here, then.”
“Oh, yeah. He said he glanced out the window and thought that the kid was going to crash right into the side of the building.”
“Kids ride around here a lot, I imagine?”
“Well, not a lot.” She sucked on the peppermint and crunched a small piece. “There aren’t so many kids around these days, you know? Herb Torrance’s boys are all grown. But I felt real bad. Freddy had stopped in a time or two.” She smiled, but the smile faded to regret. “He was kinda cute, you know? He was goin’ with Casey Prescott. You know her, I bet?”
“Sure.”
“I guess that might be why he was way down here, huh.”
“That could be, Macie. You’d seen them together before?”
The girl frowned. “No, but my sis…she’s a senior this year…she told me about it all.” She finished with a shrug. “Freddy was a wild one.” A note of admiration crept into her tone.
“Do you remember who else was here at the time?”
“Oh, God…” Macie frowned and looked toward the door as if the ghosts of customers past might be parading through. “No, wait…there was that big family that stopped in. From Mexico? They were sitting at those two tables over there, by the window. They were afraid something was going wrong with their Excursion.”