''I'm looking for''—I realized I didn't know her first name—''Miss Ortiz,'' I said loudly.
He frowned, like I was some sort of alien invading his world. ''Ortiz!'' he shouted after a second, and I followed his eyes across the room to a young woman in the costume of the day: a pair of jeans and a blue apron. Her hair was pulled up and knotted at the back of her neck, and as she approached, I could see sadness in her eyes.
I held out my hand. ''I'm Annie Seymour. We're working on a story about your brother. You talked to my colleague earlier, Dick Whitfield?''
She nodded, took my hand limply, then dropped it, glancing at her boss with a worried expression.
I looked back at Garrett Poore. ''Can I talk to Miss Ortiz for a few minutes? It won't be long,'' I said quickly.
He narrowed his eyes at me, studying my face. ''Okay,'' he finally said. ''You know, Roberto is a good worker. I don't know what happened to make him do what he did.''
I made a note to give that quote to Dick, in case the Boy Wonder hadn't gotten out here yet.
''I'm sorry, I didn't get your first name,'' I said as I led Roberto's sister out into the hall, out of the noise.
''Rosario.''
''I know Dick talked to you about Roberto, but I just want to follow up.'' I was so full of shit, but she didn't know that. ''Has he been acting strangely lately? Any sort of clue that he would do something like this?''
''He started hanging around Hector too much,'' she said, her voice so low I had to move closer to hear her.
''Who's Hector?'' But as I said it, I remembered. Marisol had said her brother's name was Hector. How many Hectors could there be?
Something crossed her face, but I couldn't tell if it was fear or annoyance that I wouldn't know the answer. ''Hector helped us when we first came here, got us a place to stay. He helps everyone who comes.''
''Comes from where?'' I prompted.
She shrugged. ''Traxcala.''
''Where's that?''
Now she did look annoyed, but I didn't care. I just wanted an answer.
''Mexico.''
The lightbulb went off in my head. I knew that most of the Mexican immigrants were coming from this state in central Mexico, as well as Puebla, a neighboring state. They tended to go places where they had a support system, and obviously this Hector was the Ortizes'.
''You don't look like you like Hector much,'' I said flatly.
Rosario shook her head. ''He asks for too much money.''
''For what?''
''He say expenses, but I know it all goes to Lucille.''
This was getting complicated. ''Who's Lucille?''
Rosario's eyes widened, and I could tell she thought she'd said too much. Which set off my alarm bells.
''She nobody. Don't worry about it.'' Rosario tried to step past me, back into the mailroom, but I put my hand on her upper arm, stopping her.
''I won't tell anyone. Really. I won't put it in the paper. I just want to know how all this works, you know, with you coming here. How did you get here? How did you get out of Mexico?''
But she shook her head violently and threw my hand off, scurrying back into her safety zone. I stared after her a few seconds, wondering about Hector and Lucille and what they were up to. I wondered if it had anything to do with Rodriguez, but couldn't see a clear connection except that Roberto Ortiz had shot at cops on a city street for no apparent reason and now lay in a coma.
Garrett Poore was giving me a dirty look. I shot him one back as I left.
Dick was at his desk when I wandered into the newsroom.
''Where've you been?'' he asked.
Since I hadn't gotten anything from Rosario, I just shook my head. ''Bathroom. I'm allowed to go, right?'' I asked snidely.
Without any warning, he gave me the finger. I stared at him as he quickly pulled his hand back down to his keyboard, a red band of flush crawling up his face. I chuckled. ''Jesus, Dick, if you're going to give someone the finger, you should just do it and not get embarrassed afterward.''
He really needed to get more of a backbone and realize that I wasn't pissed but happy that he was finally standing up for himself. But I shouldn't have to spell it out for him like that. He still had a long fucking way to go.
Chapter 13
I was starving by the time I climbed the stairs to my apartment an hour and a half later, unlocking my door and letting myself inside.
I opened the fridge and stared at its contents: three sticks of butter, half a container of orange juice, some leftover Chinese food—but I couldn't remember just when I'd had the Chinese, so it was probably a science experiment by now. Opening the cardboard top, an unpleasant odor hit my nose, confirming my suspicions.
I had to go get something to eat. I grabbed my bag off the floor where I'd dropped it and made my way back down the stairs, trying to figure out if I wanted to go across town for Indian or just down the block for a pizza. I was so busy running the options through my head that I didn't see him until he stepped out of the shadows just as I reached my car.
I dropped my bag, a notebook skidding across the sidewalk. He leaned over and picked it up, handing it to me. ''Did I startle you?'' he asked, without a trace of a smile.
I took the notebook. ''Shit, Tom, what are you doing here?''
He cocked his head at me. ''Why are you going to Sam O'Neill about Rodriguez? Why didn't you just talk to me?''
I was going to come back with a smartass retort, but his expression made me pause. Something was up here, and I had to find out what it was without alienating him.
I shrugged. ''Thought I could get something official.''
Tom shook his head. ''Annie, everyone's on edge. You're not going to get shit.''
''Right, tell me something I don't know.'' I couldn't keep the belligerence out of my voice.
He sighed. ''You have to tell me what Lin Rodriguez told you. Sam's all hot and bothered about it.''
''He told me I couldn't talk to you anymore.''
''He doesn't know I'm here.'' Tom's eyes held mine. ''You have to tell me what you know. It could be important.''
''He didn't think so.''
Tom didn't say anything, indicating that he had a different opinion.
I nodded. ''Okay. But it wasn't Lin, it was her sister Mei. She said there had been some phone calls. Sam slipped up and said it was an old girlfriend, but he downplayed it.'' I paused. ''What about you? Do you think this old girlfriend could've had something to do with this?'' My anonymous caller had said he knew more than he was saying. I wanted to see what he would tell me.
''We have to look at everything. I'm not sure—'' He was cut off by my stomach. Dammit. He chuckled. ''Hungry?''
''Shut up.''
''Want to get something to eat?''
''You're not supposed to be talking to me.''
''A pie at Sally's?''
I thought about the best pizza in the city— anywhere, actually. But it was a Saturday and just after six p.m., and there was bound to be a line a mile long waiting to get in.
''We won't get in,'' I argued, but only halfheartedly.
Tom grinned and pulled his jacket back to show off his gold badge. ''Want a bet?''
My stomach growled again. ''What the fuck, sure,'' I said. If anything could get us past the crowd, it was that badge. Flo, the owner, had a soft spot for cops.
We started walking. ''So what's your theory about this? Between you and me,'' I said.
''Off the record?'' He smiled at me, surprised.
I needed something, and I'd try to get whatever he said confirmed by someone else later. ''Yeah,'' I promised. And he knew I wasn't shitting him; I would honor the deal because I'd honored it before and that's why he talked to me, even now.
''Rodriguez's father was Puerto Rican, so his family was legal. The mayor wanted him to crack down on all those illegals in Fair Haven, wants us to start checking the day workers for green cards. He wants to come down hard. You know, it's an election year.''
I nodded.
I'd seen the day workers hanging out in their spot on State Street early in the morning, waiting to get picked up by the contractors and landscapers who hired them for cash for a day. I was torn about the situation; hell, they were illegal, but they were being exploited, too, since the people who hired them didn't have to pay them the going wage, and who would do the shit work for next to nothing if they were gone?
''I got the impression Tony wanted to leave it to the feds, but the mayor wouldn't take no for an answer,'' Tom said.
We'd gotten to Sally's and the line was only about twenty people deep, but Tom pushed his way through the door, ahead of everyone. Flo greeted us with a big grin and led us to a table that had just been vacated. The people at the front of the line scowled as we cut ahead, but they knew better than to make a fuss. Flo would never let them back in again if they did.
We slid into the booth and immediately ordered a large white clam pie and two beers.
''So do you think the mayor's request about the day workers has something to do with Rodriguez's death?'' I asked softly, not wanting anyone to overhear us, but not too worried since the people at the other tables were more concerned with their own conversations and pizzas.
Tom let out a deep breath and leaned back. ''I'm not sure. We're looking at everything. That kid in the hospital? We think he's illegal.'' He paused. ''You know he works at the Herald?''
I nodded, not wanting to tell him my own suspicions about Roberto Ortiz. ''If he was the one who shot Rodriguez, why come back later and try to shoot you?'' I asked instead.
''Good question.'' And the way he stopped talking, I guessed he wasn't going to even attempt to speculate.
We were quiet for a few seconds. I was trying to figure out how I was going to get back to Rodriguez's old girlfriend when Tom surprised me.
''So were you ever going to tell me that you and Vinny broke up?''
I felt myself blush. ''How did you find out?''
''Shit, Annie, I've known since Christmas.''
And from the look on his face, I could tell that he'd been waiting that long.
''Aren't you seeing someone now?'' I asked, although I didn't know if he was.
He shook his head and smiled. ''You're a tough act to follow.''
I wasn't quite sure about that, but before I could answer, the pizza showed up. Even though it was steaming hot, I pulled a slice off the cookie sheet and shoved it in my mouth, immediately regretting it. The roof of my mouth shriveled into a burned mess and I reached for my bottle, chugging the beer like I hadn't done since college. When I finally looked up at Tom through teary eyes, he was laughing.
''Annie, I didn't think I'd have that effect on you.''
How could I tell him that I was still waiting for Vinny? Especially since he was looking so damn good, his blue eyes twinkling, his biceps bulging as he shrugged out of his jacket. He took it off right then because he knew it would get to me. Asshole. But a fine-looking asshole.
It had been four months since I'd had my eggs poached, four long months. I thought about Vinny and our kiss that afternoon. After the drought, it looked like a fucking flood was on the way.
As I pondered this, my cell phone interrupted. I pulled it out of my bag, more than aware of Tom's eyes on me as he continued to devour the pizza. Me, well, it wasn't pizza I was hungry for now.
''Hello?'' I asked as I flipped the phone open.
''Annie? Where the hell are you?''
It was Marty. ''I'm at Sally's having a pie.'' I stared at the portrait of Frank Sinatra on the wall, reminding me of Vinny and throwing me back into turmoil.
But I didn't have much time to think, since Marty's next words shook everything out of place.
''Get a to-go box. They just took Lin Rodriguez to the hospital.''
Chapter 14
I followed Tom to Yale–New Haven Hospital, but we agreed that we'd make it look like we hadn't seen each other just a few minutes before, that Tom hadn't kissed me in front of my brownstone as I got into my car, and that he hadn't said he was sorry our evening had to end this way.
He didn't see me glance reflexively over at Vinny's building afterward, hoping he hadn't seen it. But the Explorer was nowhere to be seen.
Not wanting to deal with trying to find parking near the hospital—it was even worse over here than on the other side of the 34 connector—I parked in the Air Rights Garage and walked through the pedestrian tunnel that looks remarkably like a hamster tube. I was going to walk around to the emergency room entrance, but something stopped me.
Dick Whitfield hovered on the sidewalk at Cedar Street, like he was waiting for me. He frowned when he saw me. ''Where did you come from?''
''Marty called me. He knew I'd been over to see her earlier. What happened?''
Dick put his finger to his lips conspiratorially. ''My source says she took an overdose.''
I took a deep breath. ''Fuck.''
Dick nodded. ''Yeah.''
''Her sister find her?'' I asked.
Dick looked surprised.
''Dick, I'm not completely in the dark, you know,'' I said harshly. ''I met her sister this afternoon.''
But he wasn't paying attention. His eyes moved behind me, and I turned to see Cindy Purcell about twenty feet away, a cameraman setting up his shot next to her. She was wearing a bright blue business suit with just a peek of lacy camisole above her breasts. Jesus, Dick was practically drooling.
''Earth to Dick,'' I said sternly, shaking him out of his stupor. ''You have to stay focused.''
It was a lost cause, especially since Cindy had spotted us. She ignored the camera guy and came over to us.
She licked her lips as she smiled at Dick. ''Hi there,'' she drawled.
I was going to vomit if I stood here much longer, and the camera guy was shaking his head in disgust. I grabbed Dick's sleeve and started pulling him away.
''Gee, Cindy, nice to see you, but Dick and I have some work to do,'' I said.
Dick shook off my hand but followed me anyway.
''I hope you're not telling her shit,'' I hissed when we were out of earshot.
He pouted. ''Of course not, Annie. What sort of journalist do you think I am?''
Well, that was the million-dollar question now, wasn't it? Since I didn't quite know how to answer it, I ignored it. ''Let's just say that she knows what she's got and she's not afraid to use it. She could get you in, say, a compromising position and you wouldn't have a fucking clue what you were saying.''
I still wasn't sure what Cindy Purcell saw in Dick Whitfield, but maybe he was good in bed. Oh, Christ, I really was going to vomit now.
He laughed. ''Okay, I get it, don't get pissed. I haven't told her anything.''
Not yet, maybe. I'd seen the look in her eyes, and no doubt she knew about his hospital source.
''Let's see what we can get and go back to the paper and wrap this up,'' I said. ''It's been a long day.''
I wasn't really that callous about Lin Rodriguez's suicide attempt, but fatigue had hit me and it was all I could do to keep my eyes open. Dick and I split up—he purportedly to find his source for an update, while I went to the emergency room and talked to the cops.
Half an hour later, it was no dice. Dick had come around to the ER only to find that neither of us had anything except that she'd OD'd. Didn't even know on what.
We went outside into the crisp night air.
''I'm in the garage,'' I said. ''Where are you?''
Dick pointed down the street. ''Over there. Listen, Annie, why don't you go home and get some sleep? You look beat. I can write this up.''
I didn't want him to do it. But I was exhausted. I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Marty.
''Hey, Marty, I'm over at the hospital.''
''Whatchagot?'' he asked.
''Not much. Could probably just top off the story I did earlier.'' I quickly told him everything we had, and I could hear him typing as I dictated a new lead paragraph: ''Lin Rodriguez, widow of Police Chief Tony Rodriguez, was hospit
alized Saturday night after an apparent overdose, police sources said.''
''Then you can go into my interview with her,'' I instructed Marty.
''This is good. Thanks. Dick still there?''
I glanced at the Boy Wonder. ''Yeah.''
''Tell him to go home. You go home, too. If you want, you can make some calls tomorrow, but unless you get anything new, don't bother coming in. You've put in too many hours this week.'' Marty paused. ''Dick, too. Tell him the same thing. And I'll see you Monday.''
Dead of the Day (2007) Page 10
