“What?”
“There’s some indication that Larry liked his booze, Tony.”
“I…I don’t know anything about that. Larry’s been working for us for Jesus knows how many years. He gets the job done, just like he’s paid to do. Hell, Bill, you’ve known him as long as I have. Where’d all this come from? Did Marilyn say something to you about him drinking, or what?”
“He had the remains of a pretty good party in the cooler in his truck,” I replied.
“You were in his truck?” Why that would have surprised Tony, I didn’t know.
“Sure enough. His daily log doesn’t show many miles, and we need to know what he did yesterday, Tony.”
“Jesus,” Tony muttered. “We got to get into all this?”
“Yes.” If not now, then on the witness stand under a D.A’s grilling, I thought, but spared Tony Pino that worry so early in the game. “He started work at the usual time?”
“Left the yard with the grader right around 8:15,” Tony snapped, his turf thoroughly stepped on. “He was workin’ up on Nineteen the day before, and yesterday he was going to catch up on some work up on Highland. That last frog strangler we got? Did some damage up there. He went out in the morning, and had some damn problem with the exhaust stack, so he brought the grader back before lunch, and he worked on it for an hour or so right here in the yard. And then he went back out and right away blew a hydraulic hose. Louis made up a new one, and got Mike to run it out.”
“What time was that?”
“Maybe Bea could tell you. I was down in María most of the morning. Buddy or Louis might know. They spent most of the morning on that twin-screw that we got in shop.”
“So Larry would have eaten lunch here in the shop?”
“I guess so. Hell, I don’t know. He might have drove down to the Don Juan. Sometimes at the Country Club. Maybe he went home.”
“And then over to Highland after lunch sometime.”
Tony nodded, thinking it through. “What time are you thinkin’ that all this happened?”
“The original call to 911 came at seventeen minutes after three. The grader’s engine was running but in neutral. No sign that Larry ever had a chance to move an inch.”
“Jesus. This is a crazy world. Something like this happening here, for God’s sakes. I mean in the big cities, you know. But here?”
“We have our moments,” I said. “Did Larry have any arguments with anybody here at work? Were you aware of any friction between him and, well, anyone else?”
“Larry minded his own business,” Tony said. “He can drive anything with wheels, and is the best heavy equipment operator we got. He can grade a dirt road so it feels like you was drivin’ on pavement, for Christ’s sake. He don’t give a hard time to any of the kids we got workin’ for us now. Some of the young bucks can do some pretty stupid things, you know. Larry, he just laughs it off and does his best to keep ’em on the straight and narrow.” He held his hands parallel. “I can’t even imagine who’d do a thing like this, Bill.”
“Anything you can tell us is a help,” I prompted. “Anything at all. Did you and Cheri get together with Larry and Marilyn much?”
Tony took a moment before answering. “Not so much, no. They’re always here when we have some special thing, you know. But other than that, we kinda…”
“Keep to yourselves?”
“That’s right.”
“In the past few years, did Larry have any disciplinary actions against him for anything?”
“What sort of things do you mean?”
“Anything at all. Any infraction that you noticed. Any unexplained absence from work. Drinking on the job. Money problems. Anything.”
“That’s all his business, don’t you think?”
I took a long, deep breath. “Tony, Larry was a county employee. He was killed while on the job, in the most cold-blooded way I can imagine. We’re going to find out who did this thing, believe it. And I’ll do whatever that takes, Tony. One of the first things I want to establish is a victim profile. Like anybody, I’m sure Larry Zipoli had his share of secrets.” I paused, then decided to hell with it. “In a homicide investigation, we’ll look for links where ever we can, including all the demons in the closet.”
Now that the word was out, floating around the office while Tony Pino tried to cope with it, I pushed him just a little. “We need to see his personnel records, Tony.”
“Marilyn don’t deserve any of this,” he said quietly.
“No, she doesn’t. And neither did Larry, for that matter. But some son-of-a-bitch doesn’t get to pull the trigger on him, and then just walk away. That isn’t going to happen.”
“Jesus.”
“If you want, we’ll go through the records here in the office, but it would be a whole lot better if we could take them over to our casa for a thorough review.”
“I just don’t think I have the authority to do that.”
“Well, you do, Tony. You’re the boss.”
“If I don’t give you the records, you’ll get a warrant?”
“Yes.”
“Then I guess that’s what should happen, Bill. You know, I hate to play hard-nosed about this, but we should probably follow all the rules.” He shrugged. “Maybe by tomorrow, then?”
I smiled good-naturedly, as if that was all just fine with me. “May I use your phone for just a moment?”
Tony reached out and shoved the multi-buttoned console toward me. “Any line that isn’t lit,” he said, and I nodded my thanks. T.C. Barnes in dispatch answered promptly.
“T.C.,” I said, “ask Sheriff Salcido to give me a call ASAP.” I gave him the Highway Department’s number. “If he’s out in the car, have him either call me, or stop by. If he’s out of reach somehow, have one of the deputies track him down.”
“I think he’s over off Hutton talking with folks,” Barnes said. “I’ll reach him somehow.”
“ASAP,” I reminded Barnes. “Send someone over there if you have to. I’ll be at the Highway Department until I hear from you.” I replaced the receiver gently.
“I hate to be a prick,” Tony said with a regretful shake of the head. “But I’d tell Eduardo the same thing. The personnel records are confidential…”
I held up a placating hand. “Not to worry, Tony. The sheriff is not going to argue with you. Either he or I will go for the warrant, and we’ll get all this moving on down the road.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Well, we do. We need to look at the records, the sooner the better. You’re absolutely correct, Tony. A warrant is the proper way to make sure all the i’s are crossed and the t’s dotted. That lets all of you off the hook.” He didn’t look amused or mollified.
“We can get all that stuff together for you,” he said again. “Whatever you want.” Somehow, Tony Pino didn’t understand that tomorrow wasn’t good enough.
“That’s okay. I’ll wait.” I didn’t bother to explain that I wanted the records untainted by helpful, editing hands. I’m sure he was smart enough to figure that out.
Chapter Twelve
I’d never earn that sunny smile from Bea Summers again. She struck me as one of those fine women who was a jewel until crossed, and then your name was forever engraved on her shit list. The eyes went glacial, the glances toward Estelle Reyes and me were fleeting and cold. Apparently the issue wasn’t so much an urgency to explore every avenue in the life of Larry Zipolil, even if that was what was necessary to find out who killed him. But nobody likes to be strong-armed. The gray filing cabinet that held the personnel records was their turf, not mine. Bea Summers wanted me to know that.
My hand-held radio squawked, and I pulled it off my belt. “I’ll take it outside,” I said to Estelle, and she understood and settled into one of the gray metal chairs just inside the office counter. I didn’t mind her overhearing my conversation, but I also wanted her eyes glued to those filing cabinets during my absence. Not that I didn’t trust Bea or Tony, of course. But turf is turf.