Nothing to Hide Page 19

  “And the family was on good terms with Steven when he moved to Texas?”

  “As far as I know. Until Abby’s grandfather died, they went to visit often. Abby spent a large part of her summer in California. As the auditor for the trust, I’ve never found the law firm or Abby’s aunt difficult. In fact, just the opposite.”

  “Thank you for your time, Ms. Witherspoon.”

  “If I can help in any way, please let me know. Steven James was a quiet soul, but he left a large footprint and I will always miss his friendship.”

  * * *

  “Another dead end,” Jerry said.

  “I feel we have more insight into Steven James as a person. He’s rather the opposite of Billy Standish on the surface—Steven is quiet, frugal, reserved; Billy was loud, rough, prone to getting in fights when drunk. But both were well liked among their peers. I suspect Julio was the same.”

  “So this killer is targeting nice family men?” He shook his head. “There are a lot of nice family men out there, Lucy.”

  “I’m not saying that’s the reason—in fact, it likely isn’t. It just adds to the confusion as to how the killer is choosing his victims. Three family men who are well liked, even if they had some problems. Julio financial problems. Billy family problems. Steven—well, there don’t seem to be any specific issues in his life. So why them? Why not a man who beats on his kids or is a slacker at work?”

  “Because they’re randomly chosen. Maybe they weren’t stalked. Maybe the killer was on the prowl, saw a lone male, and targeted him,” Jerry said. “It’s the only thing that fits.”

  “If that’s the case, he has to have a partner. Because otherwise, why would the men get out of their car? They did it to help someone—the grease on Billy’s hands attests that he touched the engine of a car that wasn’t his own.”

  “And maybe he was specifically targeted and the others because the killer had a taste for killing.”

  “Which brings us back to Mrs. Standish’s two lovers—known lovers. Carl Franklin doesn’t have it in him to kill anyone, and Johns has an alibi.”

  “Yeah—and we confirmed it this morning. No way he drove from Amarillo to San Antonio on Friday. He worked all day, was off at six—he couldn’t have made it here until well after midnight. And he had breakfast with one of his co-workers at seven thirty Saturday morning—in Amarillo. I checked the airlines just to cross it off—he didn’t fly under his name, at least. Neither guy is all that good … or bad. Just normal folks, with secrets—this secret being they were screwing around with their friend’s wife.”

  * * *

  Marissa was at her sister’s house when Lucy and Jerry arrived at eleven that morning. Sandra was doting on her, and brought out water for everyone, and juice for Marissa.

  “I don’t want Marissa to get upset,” Sandra said firmly. “If she does, you’ll have to leave.”

  “We understand,” Jerry said. “We just want to follow up on a few things.”

  Marissa nodded. “I want to help.”

  Her voice was quiet. She looked tired and completely drained of energy.

  “Mrs. Garcia,” Jerry said kindly, “we think that your husband may have been followed in the days or weeks leading up to his death. Did he say anything to you? Did he show concern that someone was harassing him?”

  Marissa shook her head. “He said nothing. But he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t want me to worry about anything.”

  “Would you mind looking at some photos and telling us if you recognize any of the people?”

  “Is one of them a suspect?”

  “No. They’re people who may have also been victims—or related to the victims—of the person who killed your husband,” Jerry said. “We are working nonstop to find this man, and this could be important.”

  She nodded and looked at her sister, who sat next to her and took her hand.

  Lucy scrolled through each of the photos—she’d already taken Julio’s out of the array. With each one, Marissa and Sandra shook their heads. They didn’t recognize any of the people.

  “Is there someone else he may have confided in?” Lucy asked Marissa.

  “Me.” A short, fit man of about forty walked in. “I’m sorry I’m late. I’m Robert Vallejo—Sandra’s husband. And Julio’s friend.”

  “Did he say something to you?”

  “Sandra, I’m going to take these officers to the back, okay?”

  Sandra nodded.

  Marissa looked worried. “Why? Why can’t you talk in front of me? I need to know what’s going on.”

  Sandra took her hand. “Issa, remember what the doctor said. She doesn’t want you to stress.”

  “What do you know, Robert?” Marissa asked. She shifted uncomfortably on the couch.

  “It may be nothing,” Sandra said. “Let him talk to the police and if it’s nothing, we don’t need to worry you. If it leads to something, I promise I will tell you. Okay?”

  Silent tears fell, but Marissa nodded, and Robert led Jerry and Lucy into a home office. It was a family room that had been converted into an office with a separate entrance, two desks, and a small conference table. “It was so much cheaper to set up our real estate company here,” Robert said. “It helps that Sandy is my best friend as well as my wife.”

  He motioned them to sit at the table.

  “I take it that Julio shared something with you that may relate to his murder.”

  “It might. Sandy and I have been talking all week about what to do with this information, and Sandy said I should tell you. She loves Marissa so much, and Marissa made her promise not to say anything. But I didn’t make that promise. But I beg of you—please don’t talk to Marissa about this, not unless it is absolutely necessary. She is thirty-four weeks’ pregnant. The doctor wants to postpone labor if at all possible for at least two more weeks. Marissa has been in pre-labor before—both with Dario and with this baby—and stress is a mitigating factor. Dario was born a month premature, but he was five pounds and had healthy lungs. The doctor says this baby isn’t yet four pounds.”

  “Unless we absolutely have to, this will remain confidential and a part of our investigation,” Jerry said. “We don’t want to trouble Mrs. Garcia any more than necessary.”

  “That’s why she’s here—Julio’s mother is difficult, and she’s grieving. She’s not a bad woman, she’s just—well, let’s just say that no woman would be good enough for her perfect son. And I say this with love, because Julio was damn close to perfect. He was the finest man I know. I remember when Julio came over for their first date—Marissa was still living with us. You know her parents died when she was a teenager, Sandy raised her and Anna. I’m an only child, but Issa and Anna are my sisters in every way but blood.”

  He took a deep breath. “Anyway, Julio and Marissa had met at the hotel where he still works. She was a maid, Julio had started in the kitchen. I liked Julio immediately. He was a good man, a religious man, worked hard. Everyone loved him. He only had eyes for Marissa.” He paused.

  “Robert?” Jerry prompted.

  “This is very difficult to discuss, because I feel like I’m betraying Julio and Marissa.”

  “But you think it is relevant to our investigation.”

  “Yes. Yes I do.” He took a deep breath again, let it out. “Marissa is a good girl. In this day and age so many young people turn to drink or drugs or sex—casually. I’m not disparaging them, it is part of society now and chastity isn’t promoted as a virtue. But to Marissa it was. When we learned that she was pregnant—this with Dario, nearly seven years ago—and she and Julio weren’t yet married—they were engaged, not married. We. Well. We didn’t judge her because we knew they loved each other and things happen. But it wasn’t like that. Marissa was depressed and withdrawn and would talk to no one. Julio’s mother didn’t make it any easier, accusing Marissa of trapping her son. I finally confronted Julio because this was so unlike Marissa, and I needed to know that he was going to continue to do right by her. This sounds old-
fashioned, but Marissa is old-fashioned. I wanted what was best for her, and she was so unhappy.

  “Julio broke down. His best friend—his longest childhood friend—raped her. Full disclosure—he didn’t tell me who until recently. He only said it was someone he trusted, a friend. Marissa didn’t tell anyone until she learned she was pregnant, which was more than two months after the rape. Julio convinced her that he would claim the baby as his, that they would never speak of it again. I told him they should file charges, to punish this man for what he’d done. Julio wanted to—but Marissa refused. I told Sandy—I had to—and Sandy tried to convince Marissa to change her mind. But she—both of them are stubborn. Marissa almost miscarried at four months, and that’s when we had an agreement never to bring it up again. Julio cut this man out of his life, took Dario as his own son. It is his name on the birth certificate.”

  Lucy said, “Why are you telling us this now? Did Julio have a confrontation with Marissa’s rapist? Does this man know Dario is his son?”

  “Dario was a month premature, the man had left San Antonio for work, and because Julio had cut him out of his life, there’s no reason that he would have thought the baby was his. If he heard about Dario, he would have assumed the child was Julio’s.”

  “Except?” Lucy prompted.

  “This man was gone for years. Julio saw him in his restaurant, at the hotel, a month ago. They had a confrontation. Julio regretted it. He hit the man, had to tell Marissa that he’d seen him. He has never lied to her, he couldn’t start now. Marissa is terrified that her rapist will find out Dario is his son and take him from her. She thinks no one will believe her.”

  “No one is going to take Dario from Marissa,” Lucy said firmly. “You need to tell us who he is.”

  “I will. But you must promise not to tell him anything about Dario’s paternity.”

  “It won’t come from us, but could he suspect that Dario is his son?” It could be a motive for murder. At least one of the murders.

  “I honestly do not know. But Julio was very concerned about the altercation, and while he didn’t lie to Marissa, he downplayed it.” He took a deep breath. “His name is Christopher Smith, the grandson of the owner of Sun Tower, where Julio worked. Chris left San Antonio to start up another hotel, then returned and Julio was concerned because he didn’t want Marissa to run into him—that’s why Julio told her he was in town. It’s the only thing that has happened in their lives that could—possibly—lead to … to this. This senseless murder. I hope it isn’t so, but you need all the information.”

  “Did Smith threaten Julio?” Jerry asked.

  “I don’t know. Julio didn’t say anything to me about threats, just that he’d seen him at the hotel and they fought. Julio wanted him to leave. I don’t know what he planned on doing, I told him to just ignore Chris. But Julio—he’s a man of honor, and Chris hurt the woman he loves.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Thursday Early Afternoon

  “You’re quiet,” Jerry said as they drove to the Sun Tower Suites. “We’ve done nearly a dozen of these interviews this week, and you’ve always had an opinion. You think he’s lying?”

  “No,” Lucy said.

  Melancholy, she supposed, would be the right word. They didn’t say anything to Marissa after talking to her brother-in-law—Lucy wanted to talk to her about the rape, but the woman was eight months’ pregnant. The stress of discussing it wouldn’t be good for her or the baby. But at some point—if Chris Smith had anything to do with Julio’s murder—she would have to give a statement.

  “We’re going to have to talk to Smith.”

  “Not yet,” she said.

  “Why not? He has motive—if we believe Vallejo, then Dario is his kid. Something like that could set something off. And remember—Julio was killed with a blow to the back of his head. Everything else was just window dressing.”

  “There may be a motive to kill Julio, and there may be a motive to kill Standish, but it’s not the same motive. And if we take what we know as gospel, they are the moral victims. Standish’s wife cheated on him with at least three men. Julio’s best friend raped his fiancé. We know that the same killer killed these three men. Even if we discount the consistent MO, they were shot with the same gun.”

  “I agree, but that doesn’t mean don’t question Smith. His name came up, there was a confrontation, and Julio is dead.”

  “Vallejo said that Julio saw Smith in the hotel. If they did have an altercation, someone there must know about it. Let’s find that person—or persons—and that gives us another reason to talk to Smith.”

  Jerry didn’t say anything for a moment, then nodded. “I see what you’re getting at, but we already have a reason. If this guy is guilty, I don’t want him to get off.”

  “Guilty of killing Standish and James? Because why? He may have a motive for killing Julio—Julio lied about the paternity of Dario—but what would be the motive for the others? We would have to find a connection between Smith and the other two victims before we go there.”

  “There could be a connection.”

  “Yes, but the best case right now is to pursue his altercation with Julio, and if we bring up the reason, then it’ll tip him off.”

  “To what?”

  “What if he doesn’t know that Dario is his son? I don’t want him to learn it from us. He could make Marissa’s life hell.”

  “He raped her.”

  “Oh, come on,” Lucy said. “We both know rape is going to be almost impossible to prove after seven years. He could sue for a paternity test, then sue for custody. I’m not going to give him that option. He doesn’t need to know any of this, which is why we find an actual witness to the fight between Smith and Julio. With Vallejo it’s hearsay with no one to corroborate because Julio is dead. We find a witness, we have reason to talk to Smith and ask for his explanation, his alibi, maybe learn something if we play this right.”

  This time, Jerry was silent.

  “What?” Lucy finally said.

  “I’m not arguing with you. We do it your way. It’s just—I don’t know. There’s something different in your approach with this.”

  “I have investigated dozens of sex crimes.” She hesitated, wondering how much she should share with her temporary partner. She really didn’t want to talk about her past now. It wasn’t professional, or appropriate. Maybe later, if it would help, but right now she wanted to think about how to nail Chris Smith. A seven-year-old rape—even with the ten-year statute of limitations on most sexual assaults in Texas—would be difficult to investigate. Especially if Smith was aware that they were looking into it. But if he didn’t know … if they could get something they could follow, a conflicting statement, someone else who might know the truth, then she could pass it on to SAPD Detective Tia Mancini. Tia was one of the best cops in the division, she specialized in sex crimes, and she knew how to build a case to satisfy the DA.

  And how and when to talk to Marissa Garcia.

  But that was later. If Smith was guilty of multiple homicides, rape was the least of his worries. If he was innocent of murder, then Lucy would follow through. There was no way she could let him get away with it, not as long as she had a badge to investigate.

  “Lucy? I see you thinking, but you’re not talking.”

  “I want to bump this over to Tia Mancini with SAPD.”

  “A sex crimes detective.”

  “If we learn Smith didn’t kill Julio, I want to pass on what we know.”

  “Marissa Garcia hasn’t filed charges.”

  “And maybe she won’t. Maybe she wants to forget. But she’ll never forget, it will stay with her forever, made worse now that the man she sees as her soul mate and her protector is gone. Who else has Smith assaulted? Sexual predators don’t usually stop with one victim. Tia will find his other victims. Someone will have evidence. There is strength in numbers.”

  “Slow it down,” Jerry said. “One case at a time. Let’s find out if Smith is a possible suspe
ct for murder, and then go from there.”

  “Of course. Murder has a much longer sentence, and Texas has the death penalty.”

  It didn’t ultimately matter what Jerry wanted to do. If Smith wasn’t guilty of murder, Lucy would bring everything to Tia. She didn’t need his approval or his permission.

  But she did want his blessing, so she shelved the topic until they had more information.

  Sun Tower Suites was a convention hotel on the Riverwalk, smaller than some of the larger chains, but nicer in many ways with large rooms, a pair of five-star restaurants—one with a view of the city—and one of the nicest gardens that was the backdrop of many weddings, receptions, and special events. It was pricey, but never seemed to be lacking for guests.

  They spoke to the head of security first, a large beefy former cop named Vince Paine. Jerry knew him from the job, and they chatted a few minutes, then Jerry said, “We talked on Saturday, you confirmed Garcia’s time here, no disciplinary actions, well liked.”

  “He was. Very much, especially among his staff.”

  “In the last couple of weeks, were there any problems? With a guest or staff? Even if it was minor—nothing that would go on his record—was there any verbal or physical altercation?”

  “That doesn’t sound like Julio. He was a peacemaker. Never raised his voice, as far as I know. And any physical altercation would almost certainly result in termination, except under extraordinary circumstances. Why? Did someone say he was in a fight?”

  “We’re talking to everyone who knew him. His brother-in-law thought he’d had a disagreement with someone, didn’t say specifically that it was work-related. We’re trying to run it down.”

  “I didn’t know Julio well, but I knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t instigate a fight. You can talk to anyone on the catering staff—they know him best—or even the folks in the main kitchen. He was well respected.”

  “We’ll be talking to everyone, if you can direct us?”

  “Start with his assistant, Mitchell Duncan. He worked closely with Julio. If there was anything wrong, he would know.”