by Susan Slater
“To what? This is your call.” Sam held up his tumbler of scotch.
“Truth. Finding answers.” They touched glasses. The lime-fresh taste of the margarita was reviving. But where to start? Sam was watching her, affectionately, being patient and understanding.
“Sam, I don’t know how I can thank you for coming to pick me up. I so appreciate your thoughtfulness.”
“There’s no need for thank-yous. Whatever you have to tell me will be held in strict client confidence. But I want you to know that I’ll do everything in my power to help.”
She smiled. Why was she tongue-tied? Now that she had a chance to unburden herself? Was it because she might sound hysterical? Someone tried to kill her, frame her husband; maybe her grandmother, your client, too, is involved in a porn-ring.… Didn’t it sound a little preposterous? She took a breath.
“After Randy’s death I found out certain things that he’d kept secret. Things that would have torn us apart. Like the vasectomy.”
“I hope I wasn’t the one to tell you?” He leaned forward, concern in his voice.
“No. I found out in the hospital when I tried to have his sperm harvested for future use.”
“I’m so sorry. I had no idea that he hadn’t told you.”
“Why do you think he didn’t?”
“I don’t know. Probably afraid that you wouldn’t marry him if he did. He was infatuated. I’ve never seen him as happy as he was with you.”
“So you don’t think someone paid him to marry me?”
Sam stopped midway to taking a sip of his drink and put the scotch glass back on the table. He was frowning.
“What do you mean?”
“I have it on good authority.…” Did Noralee qualify as a good source? She had made sense at lunch. “That someone might have wanted the two of us to get married badly enough to make it lucrative.”
“Who said such a thing?”
“That’s not important. The issue is why.”
Sam shook his head. “I can only think that someone wants to hurt you, diminish what you had with Randy.”
Noralee qualified for having a reason to do that all right, but Pauly didn’t believe she was vindictive. Not after today.
“But let’s say it could be true, for now, for the sake of argument. The story gets crazier.” Sam took a big swallow of his drink but didn’t interrupt her. “When the balloon crashed after the pilot had been shot, a child tumbled out, scared out of his wits, as you can imagine. I didn’t try to stop him, and he was so freaked that he simply ran away.”
“Did you report this to the police?”
“At first they didn’t believe me.”
“But later?”
“They thought I was telling the truth. They even searched the area and found a teddy bear and Randy’s jean jacket…the one the child had worn.”
“Mind?” Sam had pulled a pipe from his pocket. Pauly shook her head.
“Well, I didn’t know it then, but this child would be the pivotal point to this whole thing.” Pauly reached for her billfold and pulled out the picture of Randy and Paco. “I found a pornographic photo of this child and others in Randy’s desk at work, and this photo and a set of adoption papers in his safe deposit box.”
Sam picked up the picture.
“Where is the child from?”
“Mexico.”
“And Randy never mentioned this child? You found out all this after his death?”
“You said yourself that Randy wanted to adopt a child. Did he adopt this child? Did he mention this child?” She eagerly sat forward.
“I didn’t mean to imply that. Yes, he’d spoken of adoption. Must have known he’d get caught in the lie about the vasectomy. But, frankly, I discouraged him. I suppose he could have taken steps to adopt on his own.” Sam studied the photo.
“I don’t think he did. I think someone was trying to set Randy up as a pedophile, discredit him, smear his name after he was dead.”
“Pauly, why would anyone want to do that?”
“I don’t know why. One set of child-porn pictures I found in his desk was addressed to Congressman Sosimo Garcia. And because of the water project Randy was working on and its importance to Sosimo, I thought there could be a motive in there somewhere.” Pauly took a sip of her drink, then two more. Didn’t Sam believe her? He looked thoughtful, staring into space, sucking on his pipe. “But the important thing is this child.” A vision of Paco’s bruised body floated to the surface; she pushed it back. Had he been tortured in the motor home? “I found the child. He was working for Grams’ carnival.” She lowered her voice. “I have reason to believe that he helped procure other young children to join the carnival, maybe join a child porn ring. I think the carnival was used to attract children, sort of a front.” She sat back. “Anyway, he’s gone. I was being questioned because of what was found in the motor home. The police think he could be dead.” She couldn’t bring herself to say murdered.
“Whoa. What’s this about a child porn ring?” She had Sam’s full attention, that was for sure. He was frowning in his earnestness to make sure he understood.
“What other explanation is there? This picture is a family portrait compared to the others.”
“And this is the child they think you tortured…that you hid in the motor home?”
Pauly nodded.
“They know that I interviewed him while we were in El Paso, that I followed him, saw him bring a kid into the carnival.”
“That doesn’t seem to give you a reason—”
“Especially not when he proved that he wasn’t involved with Randy. This picture is a fake.” Pauly was excited now. This was the most important information that she had. She picked up the picture. “The detective has three or four others, same size as this snapshot, but the others are suggestive, explicit even.…” She thought of the one of Paco on his knees in front of Randy. Randy bare-chested but in the original picture must have had on shorts or swim trunks, before a little touch-up work made him look naked. She’d spare Sam a description of that one. “But they’re all fakes. I just know it. If this one is a fake, I’ll bet the others are too. I had this one analyzed at a photo lab. It’s good but it’s been pieced together. Look at this shadow, and here.” She pointed with a straw at the shadows between the figures.
Sam took the picture and held it closer to the winking votive candle in the green glass container in the center of the table, then shook his head. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”
“Trust me. The lab will testify that it’s been doctored.”
She picked up her drink, flinching when the straw sucked air. She’d forgotten that she’d finished it. God, she’d almost gulped it down. And she had a slightly dizzying, exhilarated feeling from the tequila—or maybe from the unburdening? She guessed a little of each.
“This is an interesting twist.” Sam was still staring at the photo.
“You know that adoption agency in El Paso? Well, not only did it turn out to be a false address, but someone tried to kill me. And the adoption papers were falsified—”
“Pauly, I had no idea. You’ve been in real danger.” Shock registered on Sam’s face.
“The name on the papers, Jorge Zuniga, wasn’t the child’s real name. I have no idea who this child Jorge is, but Amistad didn’t exist. Probably never had. The office belonged to a U-Haul rental firm that had gone out of business. It was some trumped-up lie that I was supposed to discover, but I don’t know why.”
“I can’t believe that you’ve been doing all this on your own. Analyzing pictures, snooping around boarded-up buildings. You’ve taken unbelievable chances.”
“I had to know, Sam. I had to find out the truth.”
“You’re damned lucky that you weren’t killed in that fire.”
“I just didn’t think at the time. Sam, I need to clear Randy’s name.” She sat forward earnestly. “I believe now that he had nothing to do with those young boys. I bet he’d be in shock right now if he knew
what was going on.”
Sam didn’t say anything, just twirled the ice cubes in his empty glass. “You don’t think he could have been a pedophile?”
Pauly almost gasped. Was Sam holding something back? He’d know, wouldn’t he? He’d known Randy all his life. “Sam, was he? You’ve got to tell me.”
Sam seemed reluctant, seemed to be choosing his words. She felt like screaming. Could she take the truth? Here she was faced with it.
“You can’t deny that Randy was peculiar. Forty-one, never married. Pauly, I have to tell you that I wondered about his sexual abilities. No, no, not preferences, but just his libido in general. It seemed a little under-developed.”
Not a confirmation. But not a denial, either. What was he really trying to say?
“You can’t imagine how happy, no relieved, I was when you came along. I have to say I encouraged him in his decision.”
She sat up straighter. “If he’d been interested in boys, there wouldn’t have been a reason for the vasectomy. There wouldn’t have been a first marriage.” Her voice was no-nonsense crisp, a hint of exasperation. Then she sat back, arms folded across her chest. There. Didn’t that prove something? She found herself mildly irritated. Because Sam hadn’t jumped right in and sworn that Randy was hetero all the way? Maybe. But there was something else he had just said, a minute before. She’d meant to question him at the time, but it escaped her now.
Sam shrugged. “The marriage was annulled. I don’t think it proves anything other than Randy made a bad choice. Let me get you another.” He pointed at her empty drink glass. “I won’t accept a no. Let’s just say it’s medicinal.” He patted her on the shoulder before he walked to the bar.
Convenient time to leave the table. Was he dodging the issue? She seemed to have struck a nerve. Maybe, if she tried a different tactic. But what was it he’d said earlier? Something that struck her as odd…something that surprised her. She had no idea why she’d accepted another drink; her thinking was fuzzy as it was. But she thanked Sam for the second margarita and took a sip and waited for him to pull his chair closer to the table.
“Enough about me for a minute.” Maybe if she changed subjects. “Sam, I have to ask, what do you know about my grandmother’s involvement here, using the carnival to lure children into…well, some kind of porn ring?”
Sam’s teeth clattered against the pipe’s stem. She couldn’t read his eyes but she felt his surprise.
“Your grandmother?”
“She seems to be at the center of all this—Grams and probably her sixth husband.”
“There are always a line of those, aren’t there?”
Did he sound irked? Maybe. he’d been one of the suitors.
“I know how it must sound…a granddaughter suspecting her own grandmother.” She touched his arm, left her hand there for a second until he put his hand over hers. “I’ve found you very supportive. Thank you for listening…for understanding.”
“There’s nothing wrong with questioning. Pauly, your grandmother won’t have a sixth husband very long. She’s a very independent woman. It’s difficult for her to have a partner…for her to accept business suggestions.”
Pauly smiled. That was true.
“I’ve drawn up papers for an annulment. Her last marriage just didn’t work out. Both parties will walk away no worse for wear. It’s all fairly amicable.”
But Pauly doubted that. Somehow from the way he said it, she guessed things had not gone all that smoothly.
Pauly leaned forward, “Sam, who is number six?”
“Your grandmother’s my client. The relationship was an embarrassment to say the least. I’m going to have to tell you to ask Lulu.”
Pauly sighed. Did it matter? Probably no…not unless.… “Sam, what do you think about my grandmother being involved in something illegal?”
She felt him go on guard, stiffen ever so slightly before he pulled his hand away.
“Could she know that young children are being lured to the carnival possibly to be used, exploited for child porn?”
“Lulu? Absolutely not. Surely you know your grandmother that well. I can’t believe you even entertained the thought. And you have no proof that that’s really the situation.”
His sharp tone didn’t surprise her. Recrimination, she deserved it. How could she suspect her grandmother? But that didn’t explain the cologne-soaked teddy bear.
“What do you know about Hofer?”
A flicker of something passed across his eyes. Was Hofer her about-to-be annulled husband—despite Ed’s disclaimer? She knew for certain that Hofer was the “uncle”—the man Paco had said got him a job, the “preacher-man.” The one who might have taken the picture of Paco that was pieced together with one of Randy. She’d almost forgotten that. Maybe Hofer took other kinds of pictures, too.
“I guess I don’t know much about him. He can’t put two words together unless he’s behind a pulpit.”
She returned Sam’s smile. It was true, but the idea that Hofer was the deviant made sense.
“Do you trust him?”
“Why do you ask?”
“I’m just trying to figure out who could be behind a child porn ring, someone also involved with the circus.”
“Pauly, listen to me. I’m not sure you have enough evidence, proof, that such a thing exists.” He sounded exasperated.
This was the lawyer talking. And he was probably right. Just because Paco helped a friend under the fence.… Still, someone had to have taken those photos of a nude Paco and the others, suggestive, provocative poses.
“Is there anyone who was with you in El Paso who could vouch for your whereabouts, give you an alibi for the time that this Paco or the other child might have been abducted?”
Sam was trying to bring her back to where this discussion started. And this was the immediate priority, wasn’t it? Keeping her out of jail? She thought of Steve. He knew where she was, and she had been with him when the child’s mother had been interviewed.
“A man by the name of Steve Burke.”
“Your grandmother’s newest partner?” Sam looked surprised.
“Yes. But that’s not all he is.” Pauly quickly told him what Tony had said.
“Are you mixed up with this Burke fellow?” He scrutinized her features as he tapped tobacco firmly in the pipe’s bowl.
What was “mixed up”? Some euphemism for “have you slept with him”? It had been a narrow escape, but no cigar. She was thankful for that. Was she bitter? Yes. And angry, boiling over angry at herself…at how she’d let Steve get to her. How she’d trusted him. So would he be a good alibi? Somehow she thought not.
“No, not mixed up with him,” she smiled.
“I tried to talk Lulu out of adding him to the team. One of our many disagreements.” He smiled ruefully and sucked on the stem of the pipe. “Where is this Steve now?”
“Still in El Paso, supposedly.”
“Think carefully. Could he vouch for your whereabouts on Christmas Eve?”
“For some of the time, up until about midnight.”
“But not after that?”
Pauly shook her head and didn’t elaborate about falling asleep waiting on him, standing in front of him stark naked the next morning before getting into the shower…. She was still smarting, but hey, she just decided she had been lucky. Fortunate that there hadn’t been an affair? And wasn’t there a ski mask and evidence that he’d given false information to the police—that should make her doubly lucky that she’d be able to just walk away.
She stretched her legs. She was beginning to feel numb. One fishbowl-sized margarita had gone straight to her head. She’d take it slow with the second, not compound the slight buzz she already felt. Because there were still questions that needed answers.
“Why do you think Randy was killed?” She’d always wondered about Sam’s opinion.
“I’m not sure anyone’s proved that the pilot wasn’t the primary target. He was the one shot.”
“Tr
ue, but the police seem to think it was Randy.”
“Why do you think?” Sam asked. The question was punctuated with a couple of quick puffs of pipe smoke.
“Uh uh. No fair. I asked first.” Was she sounding a little slurred? She scooted the margarita out of reach.
“If your suspicions of pedophilia are true, that would give someone a reason.” More puffs from the pipe as he watched her.
She could cut the silence between them. This wasn’t what she expected him to say.
He continued, “I honestly don’t have an explanation for the pictures. I believe that we have to take into consideration the possibility of Randy’s being a pedophile, however distasteful that might be. But nothing’s been proved. I want to caution you not to let your imagination run wild. And if the detective gets back in touch, don’t meet with him without me there. That’s very important. I want you to promise me. Do you understand?”
She nodded. Suddenly, it felt like she was getting a lecture. Did Sam believe anything she had told him? She had proof, for God’s sake…the pictures were fake. Randy was not a pedophile.
“The same goes for this Burke fellow. If the company hired him to spy on you, you don’t want to give them anything to use against you. Your grandmother said that she thought they were trying to squeeze you out.”
Pauly was smart enough to know that; she didn’t need him to tell her. She felt peevish. Uneasy. But she couldn’t quite get her margarita-laden brain to work. But there was something just beneath the surface she needed to address, something that was important, if she could just think clearly.
“I should be getting back now.” She shook her hair away from her face and tucked errant strands behind her ears. Whatever it was that was so important, it eluded her. She was just tired.
“Of course.” Sam left a wad of four or five ones on the table and helped her on with her jacket.
It took an extra firm shove to open the restaurant’s heavy wooden front door. The gust of wind was teeth-chattering cold, and the sting of sleet surprised her. Within the last hour the promised winter storm had descended on the city. Fourth Street was already glazed over. And it was dark now. Dark, but the street lights reflected brightly on patches of black ice. Thank God she wasn’t driving. She hated this kind of weather. It didn’t happen often in Albuquerque, but when it did, it was chaos; everything came to a halt.
