“Didn’t that worry you about him?” Kim wanted to know.
“Yes, but he has a way of making you feel good when you’re with him. He has you believing that there’s a better place than this one where you won’t be worried all the time or feel like you’re always doing the wrong thing. To get there, though, you’ve got to stop doing the things he tells you to stop doing. While you’re with him, it seems easy, but it’s not.”
“This other person I mentioned, the man who claims he’s seen the Cleaner Man, says his appearance is unusual,” I said. Louie’s face suddenly grew more animated. “Is that true?”
“You mean because he’s all in white? It’s the whitest white you’ve ever seen. His clothes might be like a doctor or a preacher’s, except for the hat.”
“The hat?”
“Yes,” Louie replied to Kim. “It’s a big white cowboy hat. He wears cowboy boots too. I’ve seen a hat like that before, but not the beautiful white carved leather boots. If he wore a gun belt and a star, he’d almost look like an old west sheriff called into town to clean up the streets.”
“What about his features?” Kim asked. Louie opened his mouth as if to speak. Then he went slack jawed, and his eyes went blank.
“I can’t tell you that. Sacramento asked me the same question, and I tried to explain what happens when I think about the Cleaner Man’s face. I can see him in my mind, and he’s glowing like there’s a light around his entire body. He’s looking at me, and his face is glowing too. I can tell he’s smiling at me...” Then Louie covered his face with both hands and shook his head. “I can tell he’s smiling, but I can’t see his face. When I try harder, my head hurts until I stop. All I can see is a bright, shiny space where his face ought to be.”
“How is that possible?” Kim asked.
“I don’t know. How many times do I have to tell you that he does something to you? I don’t remember lots of what went on the night Sacramento died, and it’s not because we were stoned or drunk.” Louie paused. “We were really stoned earlier when we had a fight. We had a good laugh about it later when Sacramento showed up at my campsite. What happened gets hazy after that. That’s why I figure the Cleaner Man must have been there.”
“Did you tell any of this to the police?” Louie looked at me as if a little puzzled.
“Yes. They said I was lying about not remembering—faking it to get away with murder. At first, I argued with them. I told them I would never have killed the best friend I ever had. They kept asking me how I could be sure since I didn’t remember what happened. I never agreed with them that I stabbed him. I did say it’s my fault he’s dead because that’s true.” Louie dropped his head on his arms that were folded in front of him. When he sat up straight again, there was misery in his eyes, and his whole face drooped in a sad, weary way.
“Later that night, I went to a place where I knew the Cleaner Man might be. I felt bad about fighting with Sacramento, and I still hoped the Cleaner Man might help me learn to live right. Sacramento must have followed me or figured that’s where I’d gone. I didn’t stick that knife into Sacramento’s heart, but I might as well have done it. I’m the reason the Cleaner Man killed him.” Louie stopped talking before he spoke again in a rush. “He meant to kill me and killed Sacramento instead. That’s why I deserve to be here, can’t you see that?”
“No, I can’t,” I replied calmly and quietly. “You’re not responsible for what another person has done. Especially a treacherous killer like the Cleaner Man. You’ll have plenty of time for self-condemnation later. Right now, the most important issue is to find and stop this man before more people die.”
“What do you think I can do to help?” Louie asked.
“You can tell us how you knew where the Cleaner Man would be the night Sacramento Lugo was killed.”
“I didn’t know for sure, but I’d met him there before.”
“How did he know where you were going to be?” Kim asked.
“I don’t know that either. The other times he visited me there, he just showed up.”
“Is that where you first met him?” Louie shook his head no in response to Kim’s question.
“No. One day when I came out of a shelter not too far from here, I went around the corner toward the alley behind the shelter, and I ran into him. I apologized, and when I stepped away from him, I felt so strange that I was scared. He told me not to be afraid and said that I looked like I could use a friend. We talked for a little while, and then he asked me to walk with him. When we came to a store, he stopped and sent me inside. He gave me money and told me to come back with good food. I left the store with fruit, a smoothie, and nuts, instead of the pop, chips, and microwave burger I went in there to buy. When I told Sacramento about it, I thought he’d laugh. He didn’t. That was the first time Sacramento warned me it might not be good to trust someone who could do that to me.”
“Did he already know who you were talking about?”
“No, but he must have asked questions about him after that because the next time I said I’d seen el hombre limpio, Sacramento got angry. He said the man was bad news and that those around him sometimes disappeared. I thought he had the Cleaner Man mixed up with somebody else. I should have listened to him.”
“Okay, so when was your first encounter with the Cleaner Man?”
“A few months ago. Maybe around the end of March because Easter wasn’t too far off. I remember wondering if the guy was an angel and laughed when I told Sacramento because I’d never heard of an Easter angel before. He didn’t laugh. I didn’t see the Cleaner Man again for a couple of weeks. Then one night, there he was at my campsite which is where I’d rather stay than go to a shelter or sleep on a couch at my mom’s apartment.”
“Did you meet with the Cleaner Man often after that?”
“It depends on what you mean by often. For me, I’d say it was often. Even after it started to get hot, I was still camping in the desert most nights. I didn’t keep count, but two times a week, at least, in April, May, and June.”
“Please don’t take this the wrong way, Louie,” Kim said in a tentative tone, “but if this man is such a striking figure, how were you able to walk down the street at his side without anyone noticing?”
“I can’t tell you that,” Louie responded.
“Did people stare as you passed them?” I asked.
“No, I don’t think so,” Louie responded. “Do you think he did something to make me see him that way?”
“Maybe. When you ‘bumped’ into him, could he have poked you with a needle or given you a drug some other way?”
“I don’t know, Attorney Huntington. You could have convinced me I was hallucinating until he gave me money, and the cashier accepted it.” Louie stopped speaking. “Uh, as soon as I left the shelter, I took something, so I figured the drug had kicked in.”
“What did you take?” Louie looked at me and shrugged.
“Whatever was in my backpack—ecstasy probably—and maybe a benzo or Special K—you know—Ketamine?” I nodded, and he continued speaking. “Later, when I saw him, I wondered if maybe there was LSD in one of the pills I took. I never thought the Cleaner Man would have given me anything. He was talking about clean living—not just eating better but staying away from drugs.”
“After you bought lunch, did you go to your campsite?”
“No. I went to a library and read books for a while. I sort of dozed off in there. After that I walked to a church that gives out supper. I wondered if I’d see the guy there since he’d given me that white Bible.”
“Did he mention the church when he spoke to you?” Kim asked.
“No, but the shelter isn’t too far away from a church, and he talked a lot about God, quoted Bible verses, and prayed over me. I thought I might find him at the church. Anyway, I planned to go to my campsite after that, but Sacramento picked me up after dinner. I’d forgotten that we were going to the casino that night to see a show. Please don’t ask me which one, because I don’t
remember. Since some members of his family are big shots in the tribe, Sacramento could always get us into the shows for free.”
“Then what happened?” I asked. I was trying to figure out how the Cleaner Man had discovered the fact that Louie camped in the desert at the site that had become the scene of Sacramento Lugo’s murder. Before I got my answer, there was a knock on the door.
“Yes?” I asked, and the door opened.
“Just checking that everything’s okay,” a guard said as he poked his head inside. It wasn’t the same man, but Louie didn’t act surprised to see him.
“So far, so good,” I replied. The guard nodded without saying a thing, stepped out, and closed the door.
4 Not the Wrong Man
“Where were we?” I tried to refocus.
“I was going to tell you what happened after we went to the casino. I went home with Sacramento. That was one of the times his parents were away for a few days, so I stayed with him until they came back. Sacramento’s family considered me a bad influence on Sacramento—not rich enough or smart enough to be his friend—and headed for a life like my mother’s. She has a bad reputation because her choice of men hasn’t been good. My mother drinks too much and brings home the men who like to do that too.” Louie shrugged, but it was easy to see that his home life was a problem for him. “When my sisters were younger, I used to stick around to keep them safe. Now, they’re older and living with my father, so I don’t have to do that anymore.”
“Why don’t you stay with your father?”
“I was angry when he left and didn’t take me with him. Until a couple years ago, I blamed him for my mother’s troubles. When he took my sisters to his house—even though they aren’t even his daughters, I changed my mind about him. It’s too late for me to live in a house like a kid. His house is already crowded, and he doesn’t have much money. Sometimes I go by to see how things are going. I can wash my clothes, take a shower, and my father’s new wife feeds me.”
“How did you get by without a place to stay?” Kim asked. Having spent part of her teen years in a similar circumstance, she spoke with compassion. Curiosity, too, I imagine.
“At first, I had no trouble getting jobs. At Mickey D’s, I always had food to eat even if I didn’t make much money. I used my mother’s address, but when I quit staying there, it wasn’t easy to show up for work clean and on time, so I got fired. When I got so skinny, it became harder to find another job. That’s one reason Sacramento wanted me to quit drinking the tea. He wanted me to work at the new casino near Twentynine Palms as soon as it opened, which was right around the time I turned eighteen a few weeks ago. He’d already worked it out with the manager even though his parents had told him not to do it.”
“That was kind of him,” I said. “He sounds like a good friend, and he must have been very fond of you.”
“What does that mean?”
“Just what I said,” I was puzzled by Louie’s reaction to a comment that I’d anticipated would get a quick nod of agreement. “I’m sorry. Did I make you feel guilty again?”
“No. A little. Sacramento was the brother I never had. I loved him. I told the Cleaner Man that once and he said it was wrong to love another man more than I loved God. I told him I didn’t know God as well as I knew Sacramento, or that when he’d done as much for me as my friend had done, I might love him more. For the first time, the Cleaner Man got angry with me. I was scared and decided Sacramento was right that I should stay away from him. Then he changed and spoke calmly with a smile that hurt my eyes. He said God had sent him to be a better friend to me than anyone had ever been. After that, he suggested we read and pray together. He began reading, my mind drifted away, and that’s all I remember.”
“Did the Cleaner Man ever meet Sacramento?” I asked Louie.
“I didn’t introduce them if that’s what you mean. We hung out all the time, so he could have seen us together. Sacramento asked me how the Cleaner Man knew where to find me since I never called him. It’s not like we set up meeting times like you did with me, so I don’t know how the Cleaner Man showed up like he did. Once Sacramento looked out his window and asked me if a man walking along the golf path behind his house was the Cleaner Man. There wasn’t anything about him that was like the Cleaner Man. We joked that we both had stalkers because that wasn’t the first time Sacramento had seen the man watching him.”
“What made Sacramento ask you if he was the Cleaner Man? By then, you’d given him a pretty good idea of what the Cleaner Man looked like.” Kim had a puzzled expression on her face again when she asked that question.
“Sacramento wondered if the Cleaner Man looked different to other people than he did to me. He was joking, but he said most stalkers don’t like to be noticed, and there was no way a guy dressed like the Cleaner Man wouldn’t get noticed. I guess that’s sort of the same question you asked me about walking down the street with him, isn’t it?”
“Yes—it’s the same idea,” Kim responded.
“So, if the man Sacramento asked you about wasn’t the Cleaner Man, who was he?” I asked, trying not to reveal the excitement I felt. If someone else had been keeping an eye on Sacramento, he might be easier to track down than the Cleaner Man. His interest in Sacramento might also have something to do with a motive for murder.
“I knew right away he wasn’t the Cleaner Man. Not just because he wasn’t dressed in white, but also because the guy watching Sacramento was big and bulky. Not that he was taller than Sacramento or me—so average—but he was built more like a wrestler or a bodybuilder. I mentioned that to Sacramento and asked if he could be a bouncer at one of the clubs or casinos.”
“Just a second, Louie. Are you saying the Cleaner Man is short and thin?”
“It’s weird that I said that. In his hat and boots, he seems big—not bulky—but tall—almost like a giant. That can’t be because of what I just said.”
“Did Sacramento try to figure out if the man was a bouncer at the casino?” Kim asked.
“I don’t know. That was a couple weeks before… before he died. He didn’t bring it up again.”
“Was he having trouble with anyone who’d have a reason to come after him?” Kim asked.
“What kind of trouble?”
“Trouble with women or money, for example. Did he say anything about getting into an argument with someone over a woman or that he owed money to anyone for drugs or gambling?”
“His parents introduced him to women all the time, but he didn’t want to get involved with anyone until he’d finished college. He couldn’t understand why they were pushing him so hard since he just graduated from high school.”
“Okay, so no girl troubles,” I said, although I found it hard to believe that an eighteen-year-old didn’t have more of an interest in girls even if he wasn’t interested in a serious relationship. “What about money problems?”
“Do you mean the kind of money problem that a bill collector built like a bodybuilder would try to get back from him?”
“Yes,” Kim replied.
“Sacramento thought gambling was for suckers. I only saw him gamble once or twice to be social when his parents were doing a promotion at a casino. I don’t see how he could have had money problems. Sacramento’s parents gave him so much money that he couldn’t spend it all, and he had a drawer full of it in his room. Sacramento tried to give it to me, and I said no. I didn’t want him to believe he was my friend because he gave me money. He never pushed me to take it, even when I didn’t have a place to stay, but he took me places and bought me things like a few clothes, a pair of shoes, and food.” Louie paused. “Did I answer your question?”
“Yes, you did. Did he seem upset when he told you about the man watching him?”
“A little, but he was more upset about the trouble going on in his family. His parents weren’t getting along, and he kept saying it was his fault because his mother took his side against his father. From what Sacramento had told me, they argued about him, but Tessa L
ugo would never have divorced her husband just because he bullied Sacramento. That wasn’t anything new.”
“Divorce?” I was so stunned I couldn’t come up with more than that one word. Tessa and John Lugo had been at each other’s side during the ordeal surrounding their son’s death. Had the grim, icy expressions on their faces been more than stoicism, and the determination to see that justice was meted out to their son’s killer?
“Yes. I told Sacramento his mother wanted a divorce because his father was having a fling with a woman who works at the casino. Sacramento told me that wasn’t anything new, either.” Louie shrugged.
“Still, I can’t see why Sacramento would blame himself.” I knew better than to say that since I’d indulged in plenty of self-blame when my parents’ marriage dissolved. “I’m sorry. I don’t have to tell you how easy it is to feel you’re to blame for what others do, do I?”
“No. When Sacramento turned eighteen, he thought he ought to be able to decide what he wanted to do with his life. His parents were always on his case to decide what he was going to do next since he’d finished high school in June. Sacramento wanted to go to college, which was fine with his parents, except that he wanted to study the environment. He was getting lots of pressure from his dad to become a businessman or lawyer so he could help the tribe. When Sacramento wouldn’t agree to do it, his mom said fine but not his dad. Sacramento was worried that the stress he put on his dad made him angry at his mom, and that’s why he cheated on her.”
“I’ll have another talk with Auntie Agnes, but I also need to speak to Sacramento’s parents.” I’d tried not to roll my eyes hearing poor Sacramento take the blame for his father’s infidelity. If this wasn’t his father’s first “indiscretion,” it clearly had little to do with Sacramento.
“Auntie Agnes is a kind woman and was always nice to me. Sacramento loved her, but his father didn’t want her advice even though she’s a wise woman.” Louie’s voice cracked when he said that. “When I first went to jail, Auntie Agnes said the same things to me that you’re saying today. She told me I owed it to Sacramento to help find out who killed him.”
A Dead Nephew Page 4
