by Mary Burton
“What about the trips to Laredo to see her mother?” Kate asked. “Your stepmother was driving down to check in on her mother weekly, correct?”
“Gloria was going to Laredo? That’s weird.”
“What’s weird about it?”
“Gloria was always good about paying for Nina’s nursing home, but she didn’t visit her often.”
“Did they have a falling out?” Kate asked.
“Gloria never talked about it except once about five years ago. She’d had too much to drink and said Nina never approved of her marriage to my father.”
“Why was that?”
“My mom had only been dead about eight months when they got married. And Dad is fifteen years older than Gloria. Gloria said Nina thought it was a cursed match.”
“Nina said cursed?” Kate asked.
“Gloria also said that Nina was old school and believed Dad should have been in mourning for at least a year.”
“Do you remember your mom?” Mazur asked.
“Faint memories. I’ve pictures of us. In fact, Gloria took a bunch of pictures of Mom and me and put them in this beautiful scrapbook. It was really touching.”
“Your father said Gloria had a condo in Laredo so she had a place to stay when she visited,” Kate asked.
“Gloria has had the condo there for years.”
“What was it for?” Mazur asked.
“Her trips into Mexico.”
“Why did she go to Mexico?” Mazur pressed.
“She had clients down there who liked the high-end cars. Some paid top dollar, and when they did she sometimes would personally deliver the cars to them.”
“That’s some service.”
“Some of the cars cost over one hundred grand. She took care of clients like that because she said they’d come back to her when they had more money to spend.” The young woman frowned. “Do you think she was killed for one of the cars?”
“She wasn’t driving an expensive car. It was at least six years old and very nondescript,” Mazur said.
“Gloria usually doesn’t drive old cars,” Isabella said. “Not her style at all.”
“How was your stepmother feeling physically?” Kate asked.
“Fine, I guess. I saw her a month ago when she came to see me in Washington, and she seemed fine. She got a little tired her first night in town, but said it had been a long day. By morning she was fine. Why do you ask?”
“The medical examiner found a mass in your stepmother’s uterus,” Kate said.
Isabella’s head cocked. “What, like cancer?”
“Yes.”
Isabella blinked. “She never said a word to me. Are you sure? She would have told Dad, and he can never keep a secret.”
“The medical examiner is positive,” Kate said.
Isabella shook her head. “Jesus. She looked fine the last time I saw her. She was her usual self. Always on, if you know what I mean.”
“Can you explain?” Kate asked.
“I mean she was wearing makeup and had extra smiles. Although she could be like that when she was stressed.”
“What do you mean?”
“When she was worried, she always tried harder to be perfect. When the tough gets going, she put on more makeup. I guess now that I know about the cancer, that explains why she was upset.”
“When was she upset?” Kate asked.
“Christmas last year. I finished up exams early and arrived home a few days before they expected me. She was up in her room, listening to music and looking at pictures. I asked her what was wrong, and for a second I thought she was going to tell me. Then she smiled and said she was fine. I never saw her like that again.”
The front door opened and closed hard. Hurried footsteps echoed in the foyer and into the living room. Mazur rose and faced Mr. Sanchez.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded as his gaze skimmed to his daughter.
“It’s fine, Dad,” Isabella said as she rose. “They were just talking to me about Gloria.”
Sanchez crossed to his daughter. “I told you not to talk to them unless Bennett was here.”
Kate seemed more interested in the man’s mannerisms than his words. Her gaze focused first on his fisted fingers, then to the tension banding his shoulders.
“Why do I need an attorney?” Isabella asked. “The questions were straightforward. Did you know Gloria was sick?”
“You shouldn’t have told her,” Mr. Sanchez said to Mazur. “No good comes from telling her that.”
“I still don’t understand how your wife could have hidden her illness from you,” Kate said. “Were you two living apart?”
“No, of course not.” Sanchez sighed. “I had a sense she was off. She was quieter. More removed the last seven or eight months, but I didn’t know about the cancer until you told me.”
“You’re sure you didn’t know?”
“What does it matter now what was ailing my wife? It wasn’t the cancer that killed her but a serial killer’s bullet. The rest doesn’t matter.”
“Do you think that she knew the extent of her illness?” Kate asked.
He nodded. “Looking back now I think she did. When she was worried she tried extra hard at work, with friends, parties. She hosted several parties over the last couple of months.”
“If she knew she was sick, why did she go alone to Laredo so late at night?” Mazur asked.
Sanchez twirled his worn wedding ring. “You would have to know Gloria. She never slowed down. And if there was an obstacle in her way, she didn’t go around it. She went through it.”
Gloria Sanchez was a type-A personality who didn’t like limitations. Her husband might not have known about her illness, but Mazur wondered if she’d had a confidant. Since she worked eighty hours a week and was not close to her mother, it made sense she had friends at the office. “Which of your dealerships did she work out of?” Mazur asked.
“The one in central San Antonio,” Sanchez said.
“And you?”
“My shop is twenty miles west of town.”
“Did Gloria run all the offices?”
“She oversaw them. The day-to-day operations were handled by the individual branch managers.”
“Who managed the central branch?” Mazur asked.
“Lena Nelson.”
Mazur scribbled the name in a small notebook.
“Why do you want to talk to Lena? A serial killer murdered my wife.”
“I’m looking at all the angles, Mr. Sanchez,” Mazur said. “Thank you for your time.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
I saw her today. And I smiled when she looked at me. When she was not looking, I stared at her and dreamed of wrapping a cord around her slender neck and strangling her until she died. I am good at that—smiling and planning.
San Antonio, Texas
Tuesday, November 28, 4:15 p.m.
Mazur and Kate arrived at the Sanchez car dealership located in central San Antonio. The glittering glass-and-chrome showroom featured expensive luxury cars. A red Ferrari 488 Spider was parked beside a black Lamborghini Aventador. There were a few more name brands Kate recognized, but the others were unfamiliar.
“Impressive,” Mazur said as he ran his hand over the Lamborghini’s polished hood.
“I’m not really a car person.” Kate looked around the dealership, expecting a salesperson to appear. Their absence suggested news of Gloria’s death had reached the staff.
He moved around to the driver’s side of the car and peered into the window. “I bet you drive something compact and dependable. And I guess it’s white.”
“It’s silver,” she said.
“Were you walking on the wild side when you sprang for that color?”
He was teasing her again, and despite herself she smiled. “I like things plain and simple. Boring can be very refreshing.”
“When you bought the car, was it the demo on the lot or the loaner the dealership gave to people when their car needed servicing?
”
“I negotiated a good deal.”
“I would expect no less. You rent or own the furniture in your apartment?”
“I own it.”
He opened the car door and slid behind the wheel. “Standard, practical furnishings. I’m guessing small compact television, no cable, and lots of books.” Reverently he palmed the gearshift. “Am I right?”
“Not too far from the truth.” It was one thing to profile someone else, quite another to have it done so well back at her. “In my defense, I’m never there. It doesn’t make sense to pay for cable.” She looked past the car to the office.
With a sigh, he got out of the car. “I’ve been a cop long enough to know, I need a home that’s separate and untouched by work. I had that in Chicago. It was a whole world that didn’t revolve around work. Family and friends.”
“And you gave it up for a town you’ve yet to commit yourself to.”
He moved toward the Ferrari. “Ever wondered what it would be like to drive one of these?”
She allowed his deflection to stand. “No. And if we’re playing guess-my-ride, I’d say your personal vehicle is American made. Dark. You keep the car clean and polished, but if you look on the undercarriage there’s some rust from the Chicago winters. I’d also say you don’t have subscription radio or personalized plates.”
He grinned, reminding her of a kid getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Go on.”
“Your suit is older, but it’s a classic style and well maintained. You tie your tie in a Windsor knot because you like to look professional. Even your police-issue car isn’t the newest model, but again, it’s clean and your files organized.”
“I’m low man on the totem pole.”
“Agreed, but the car doesn’t bother you. I’d wager you like to watch classic football games. You wouldn’t leave Chicago for San Antonio if family didn’t matter. I’d also wager the divorce was not your idea.”
“Why do you say that?”
“A few times you’ve touched your ring finger as if you expected the band to be there.”
He laughed. “Pretty good. We could keep playing this game, but I’m afraid of what you’ll say. You must be a hit at parties.” He held up a finger before she could answer and grinned. “But I’m guessing you don’t go to parties. You’d rather spend your time alone reading with your three rental cats.”
She couldn’t resist a smile. “I listen to audiobooks while I run or hike. I don’t like being indoors.”
“Why’s that?”
“Don’t want to waste the sunshine.”
Some of his smile faded. “Because you spend too much time in the dark hunting monsters?”
“They’re real.”
“Yes, they are.”
He reached for the door leading back to the offices and glanced down at her as she passed through first. His gaze lingered, and she sensed he wasn’t trying to figure her out, but admiring her. It felt good to be noticed by him. He was an attractive man. Strong. Smart. Yearning tightened her muscles.
Inside, the showroom’s soft music played. A young man dressed in an expensive charcoal-gray suit approached. He was smiling, but it lacked the warmth reserved for those who looked like they could afford the tab on one of the cars.
“I didn’t hear you come inside,” the man said. “We’re all a little distracted here today.”
Mazur pulled out his badge and introduced them. “We’d like to see Lena Nelson.”
“She’s on the phone.”
“Tell her we want to talk to her about the murder of your boss. Now.”
The man hesitated, then moved back toward an office with glass walls and vertical blinds that had been drawn shut.
“They’ve all got to be wondering if they’re going to keep their jobs,” Kate said.
“After what you told me about their financials, they would have been worried regardless. All this is a house of cards.”
The click of heels had them both looking up to a tall, dark-haired Hispanic woman. She wore a red tailored suit that hugged her full curves, and polished black high heels.
She extended a manicured hand to Mazur. “I’m Lena Nelson.”
“Detective Mazur.”
“Agent Hayden.”
Each showed their badges, which she inspected before saying, “Please come into my office.” The trail of expensive perfume wafted around her as she led them to an office bearing the nameplate Gloria Sanchez. She motioned for them to have a seat at a small round table. She sat across from them. “As you can imagine, we’re all in a state of shock. I heard late yesterday when Mr. Sanchez called me. It really hit me this morning when I came into the office and she wasn’t here. She’s always here.”
“You are working in Mrs. Sanchez’s office?” Kate asked.
“I tried to work from my own but spent the morning running up and down the hallway to check her files. Finally, I gave up an hour ago and started working from here. We’ve been inundated with calls from clients, even the media.”
“Media?” Kate asked.
Ms. Nelson glanced down at a pink message slip. “Mr. North. I haven’t spoken to him yet.” She shook her head. “This is so tragic. And it’s happened at such a terrible time.”
North. It hadn’t taken him long to dig into this story. “Why is the timing bad?” Kate asked.
“Well, the timing would never have been great. Gloria was the heart and soul of the business. But she had just negotiated a bank loan and was supposed to sign the papers tomorrow. But the papers aren’t signed so now Martin is going to have to figure out what to do.”
“The dealership needed a loan?” Mazur asked.
They’d been partnered less than a day and a half, but Kate already had a sense of his interview style. He was your good buddy and confidant. He had an easygoing style that masked a laser focus. She could alter her interview style based on the circumstance, but easygoing was not natural. Mazur had it in spades.
“It’s more of a cash-flow issue,” Lena said. “We have to pay out quite a bit to keep the dealership open. We have a steady stream of good clients, but there’s often a lag time between purchase and payment. Sometimes the load is too much to carry until the cash starts flowing, so we need a little help from the bank. Gloria always saw to it that the loans were paid off within a year. She understood debt but didn’t like it.”
“What can you tell me about Gloria’s background?” Kate asked.
“Gloria met Mr. Sanchez when she was twenty and he was thirty-five. He and his first wife ran a small garage and a used-car dealership. The wife did the bookkeeping. But it wasn’t until he married Gloria that the business grew. They were a good match, they worked hard, and”—she held out her hands—“they have a lot to show for it.”
“What was she like to work for?” Kate asked.
“Driven and sometimes difficult to keep up with. She was the first in and the last out. But she was fair, and she rewarded the successful and the loyal. Loyalty was very important to her.”
“And for those who weren’t successful?” Mazur asked.
“She fired them. It wasn’t personal, but she needed her sales people productive. If they didn’t deliver, they were gone.”
“And if they were disloyal?” Kate asked.
“She went out of her way to ruin them.” She shook her head. “I don’t mean to speak poorly of the dead. I was twenty-six and a single mother when she took a chance on me. When I came in for the job interview, I thought I was dressed up, but now when I look back I could cringe. I didn’t have a clue. But she must have seen something, so she gave me a job in the back. I worked my way up to sales.”
“How long have you been here?” Mazur asked.
“Fourteen years.”
“Was there anyone who resented being fired?” Kate asked.
“No one likes it.” Lena fingered a gold hoop earring. “She gave a lot and expected your loyalty in return.”
The credenza behind the large glass desk w
as filled with dozens of silver-framed pictures. Most featured Gloria with some famous politicians, including the governor and a US senator, as well as a couple of very recognizable movie stars. One picture featured Gloria with her ten-year-old stepdaughter, husband, and a Boston terrier on the young girl’s lap. Judging by Isabella’s age, the picture had been taken about eight or nine years ago.
“Cute dog,” Kate said. Most people dropped their guard when she talked about animals.
“Martin loved that dog. Her name was LuLu.”
“I’m guessing LuLu is long gone,” Kate asked.
“She died right after that picture was taken. I’d been here about five years.”
“Old age?” Kate queried.
“Hit by a car. Whoever hit her just left her body in the driveway for Martin to find when he got home.”
“They ever find out who hit LuLu?”
“No.”
“Terrible,” Kate said.
“Broke Martin’s heart.”
“Was there anyone who was unhappy with Gloria after she fired them?” Kate repeated the question, suspecting Ms. Nelson would dodge it if she could.
“There were a couple of men, of course. Lots of machismo in this business. Everyone says they can work for a woman, but not every man can.”
“Such as?”
“Rick Dryer,” she said. “He was fired about two years ago. Came by the dealership several times demanding his job back. The last time he was here he threatened to sue.”
“What happened to him?” Mazur asked.
“Stopped coming around. For whatever reason, he let it drop and moved on.”
“Who else didn’t like Gloria Sanchez?” Kate asked.
“The only other guy that sticks in my mind is Dean Larson. He left about two months ago. Again a guy who knew cars but couldn’t sell them. He and Gloria had a very heated argument before he left for good.”
“Anything to warrant a call to the police?” Mazur asked.
“Gloria was not fond of involving the police. She was a big supporter of them, but didn’t quite trust them.”
“Why?” Kate asked.
“I think it goes back to when she was a kid. She never would say, but I think her brother had several run-ins with the cops.”
