Another Sheriff’s Department unit jounced into the parking lot. “Mike, now that Jackie’s here, I’d like another sweep of this area,” Estelle said. “Any little thing. You know the drill. I’m going inside to talk with the desk clerk. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Estelle beckoned to Gastner to accompany her. “Let’s go have a chat,” she said.
Three other vehicles were parked in the side lot beyond the lobby and office, a scattering of travelers too tired to press on, so travel-weary they were willing to spend Christmas Eve in the efficient, sterile motel rooms of the Posadas Inn. An older model van was first in line, and Estelle detoured far enough out into the lot to see that the other two vehicles were a small sports car with a ski rack on the trunk, and a white pickup truck with contractor’s side boxes and headache rack.
As she and Gastner entered the lobby, Estelle saw the night clerk in animated conversation, cell phone affixed to the side of her head, her back turned to the door. Miranda Lopez, the daughter of one of the medical-records clerks at Dr. Guzman’s clinic, was a strikingly pretty girl with angular features accentuated by too much makeup. Estelle knew that Miranda was a high-school student, and no doubt was taking the opportunity to earn extra bucks during the holidays by working the long, odd hours that no one else wanted.
With her tangled black hairdo, curvaceous body poured into tight jeans, and a white, tucked-waist blouse that left three inches of flat belly and a diamond navel stud exposed, it would be difficult to mistake her for a him.
Miranda, turned, saw Estelle and Gastner, and quickly cut off her telephone conversation.
“Miranda, is Mr. Patel here?” Estelle asked.
The girl nodded vigorously. “I called him. He said he’d be right down?” Her voice was clearly teenaged and as feminine as the rest of her. Estelle wondered who had told the sheriff that a man had called dispatch…or if someone had just made an innocent assumption.
“You mean he’s coming from home? Or is he here on the premises?”
“No. He was home, like when…,” and Miranda trailed off doubtfully. “What’s happening? All the ambulances and stuff?”
Estelle smiled sympathetically but ignored the questions. “You’re working by yourself?”
Miranda nodded.
“Did you see Chief Martinez earlier this evening?”
Miranda nodded again and bit her lip. “Is that what…?”
Estelle gave the girl a few seconds, but the nod was apparently going to suffice, the question and thought left unfinished.
“You obviously know him, then. Did you talk to him?”
“He wanted to buy some aspirin?” Miranda said. She leaned over the counter and pointed down the hall beyond the ice maker. “That vending machine right there?” Miranda’s voice was a soft singsong, marked by her tendency to make sentences into questions, the tail end of the phrase rising like a little check mark.
“Did you see him buy aspirin?”
Miranda nodded. “He wasn’t feeling so hot, I don’t think. He asked if he could use the desk phone.”
“He just came in, bought aspirin, used the phone, and that’s it? When did he go back outside?”
“Well, I had to give him change? He was all…I don’t know…all kind of like confused, and stuff? He almost lost his balance, like when he went back out the door?” Miranda glanced outside. “He used the phone to call a doctor, I think. But then he kind of just wandered, you know? Is he okay? I was worried about him. And that girl was so pregnant I thought maybe she was having her baby or something. I thought may be the ambulance was for her.”
“Which girl is that?” Estelle asked. “There was a girl with him?”
“No, no,” Miranda said. “I mean earlier? The van people? They checked in a little while ago.”
“Ah. Okay. Did you happen to see what kind of car Chief Martinez was driving?”
Miranda shook her head. “He just came in? I guess he was parked along the side, there? I didn’t see him until he came inside, though. I mean, I was talking on the phone, and turned around, and he was just like, there?”
“So you couldn’t see his car? You didn’t see where he parked?”
“No. I couldn’t. I think he parked, like down there?” She gestured vaguely toward the north.
“After he used the phone, and then left, did you walk over to the door?”
“No.”
“Do you have any idea what happened after he left?”
“No…and then the police cars came, and the ambulance. I looked out the door then. They were all down at that one car.”
“Did you call 911, Miranda?” Gastner asked.
The girl shook her head, a quick little I didn’t do it expression.
“You’ve been here by yourself all evening?” Estelle asked.
“Sure,” Miranda said. “I called Mr. P, though, ’cause of the people in the van. He said he was coming down a little bit later? And then this happened, and I called him again. So he should be here pretty soon. You want me to call him again?”
“I don’t think so,” Estelle said. “But no one from here called 911? No one that you know of?”
“Well, I didn’t. That’s all I know. I didn’t like know anything was wrong and stuff until all the cops started showing up? I mean, maybe one of the guests saw something out the window. You think?”
“We’ll talk to them,” Estelle said. “Did you happen to see the owners of the little blue Dodge sedan that’s parked over around the side?”
“I don’t think so. Well, maybe…I’m not sure. One guy, he like came to the door? It looked like he was going to come inside? And then he didn’t? He was talking to someone else?”
“What did he look like, Miranda?”
“He was like a big guy, you know?”
“Tell me what you mean by big.”
“Well, he was just big, like huge. He had on this funny little cap. All peaky and stuff?”
“Like a welder’s cap?” Gastner asked gently, but Miranda just looked puzzled.
“He pulled the door open a little? And then it like sounded like someone yelled to him outside. I think he went back down the sidewalk?” she said.
“And you could hear someone else talking?” Estelle asked.
“You said it sounded as if someone called out to him. This big guy in the funny cap?”
“I think so. Oh, and he had this real long ponytail,” Miranda said, a trace of pride creeping into her voice. “When he turned and stuff, I could like see it? It hung right down his back.” She pivoted and reached around to touch her own back with her thumb.
“Anglo?”
Miranda nodded. “I think so.”
“Did you see this man, or anyone else, talking with Chief Martinez? In all this coming and going?”
“No. I think he like came in afterward?”
“The chief did, you mean?”
“Yes.”
“How long afterward?”
Miranda shrugged. “Just a few minutes, I think.”
“Let me make sure I understand you, Miranda. The big guy comes to the door, starts to open it, and then changes his mind when someone yells to him. Just a few minutes later, Chief Martinez comes in, buys some aspirin, uses the phone, and then goes back outside. That’s the way it happened?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Gastner leaned on the counter and regarded Miranda impassively. “When you say ‘a few minutes,’ young lady, what do you mean? Are we talking, say, two minutes? Five minutes? Ten minutes?”
“I…,” Miranda started to say, and stopped.
“Just take your time,” Gastner said gently. “Relax, take your time, and remember what you were doing. Remember what you saw. We have all night.”
Miranda looked down at the computer keyboard, frowning. “Okay,” she said. “Those people in the old van-she’s the pregnant lady-she and her husband had just gone, like to park? That’s when this guy comes to the door? The big guy with the ponytail.”
“Seconds later, you mean?” Gastner prompted.
“Like, just seconds. The van was parked right there by the door, and they started up and like swung around?” Miranda pointed to her left. “I mean like, right away, they’re gone and this ponytail guy is at the door.” The words came in a rush, as if she had finally warmed up to her role as key witness. “Like he would have had to almost step out of the way when the van pulled around. And then, this ponytail guy just like changes his mind and leaves. He walks off that way?” Miranda pointed to her right. “That’s when the chief came in, just after that.”