“Your grandma? Why do you need her?”
“I don’t, but she needs me.”
Chapter Seventy-Seven
Delores had been delaying her discussion with Inez Quintana, but Stump’s call changed everything. She dressed down to look like her alter ego, Lorraine Martinez, hid her badge and gun in the bottom of her purse and parked in her usual spot, a couple blocks from Cal-Vista. She strode to the complex and eased into the back entrance of building four.
A gentle rap at the door produced a smallish woman about forty. “Hi, are you Inez Quintana?” she asked before looking around and lowering her voice to a whisper. “I’m Detective Sanchez. I believe you’re expecting me,” she said.
Inez let her in. “I made cookies. You want one?”
“That would be nice. Could I bother you for a glass of water too?” Delores followed her hostess to the kitchen and sat at the table. “Are we alone?”
Mrs. Quintana nodded. “I sent Maria to the store.”
“Good. First off, thank you for agreeing to see me like this. I was going to talk to you soon anyway but this makes it a little easier.”
“Stump asked me to. I trust him.”
Delores began. “As you probably know, I’m here to talk about Dixon. I’m particularly interested in his relationship with his past wives. I understand you were married to him?”
Mrs. Quintana was slow to respond. Then she said, “We lived together sixteen years ago.”
“I’ve already spoken with Francisca, Yolanda and Rosalie. They’re all angry with him for the nasty things he did to them. You might not know it, but most of what he did to them was illegal and I want to punish him for it.”
Inez glared as if she were sizing up Delores.
“The problem is,” Delores said, “nearly everybody is scared of Dixon, but they look up to you because you’ve been around here so long. You know the kind of things Dixon did to them, don’t you?”
Inez’s nod was barely perceptible.
“That’s why I need your help. If you’re afraid of being deported, I can assure you that it simply won’t happen. You’ve been in the U.S. for too long.”
There being no indication that Inez was ready to volunteer any information, Delores elected to try something else. “As a Latina, myself, I know exactly how it can be. May I tell you a story?”
Inez offered an emotionless nod.
“When I was a little girl, I had an older sister. Her name was Simone. We lived with my mama and stepfather in El Centro. Do you know where that is?”
Inez nodded, seeming to relax slightly.
Delores continued with a story about her background, until, “After my sister ran away I hated Tio, but I was scared of him. Just like other women are afraid of Dixon. But eventually, I decided I was going to be brave. I asked somebody to help me and I’m feeling much better now. You can start feeling better too.”
Inez smiled for the very first time.
“The one thing I know for certain,” Delores continued, “men like Dixon Browne need to be stopped. You and I can do that.”
Inez rose and got them each another cookie. “What do you want me to do?”
“I need you to testify. Then the other women will do it too. When all of you say the same thing, I can send him away for a long time.”
“But what if he gets out? He can come back.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that. There’s a new law that will make it very, very difficult for him. I can assure you if he does get out, it won’t be for at least 20 years. By that time he’ll be an old man.”
Inez broke a cookie in half. “That’s not enough, but I know what is.” She rose yet again. “I have to get something.”
Delores waited until Inez returned with a paper sack and pulled out a colorful piece of material. Inez carefully wiped at the front, as if to be rid of any dust or imperfections. “It’s a blouse,” she said just before handing the scrunched-up material to Delores.
The blouse had deeply imbedded creases, indicating it had been wadded up for a long time, probably at the bottom of a drawer and covered by other items. Delores carefully unfolded it to find a sealed plastic bag that contained what appeared to be an old, folded-over newspaper article. “May I take the paper out?”
“Be careful.”
Delores slowly opened the bag and eased the clipping out. Slower still, she unfolded the fragile paper to discover a black and white picture of a female body lying on the road and wearing a blouse with a busy pattern. It was dated 1996. She checked the headline. “Woman found at side of road.” She looked at Mrs. Quintana for some sort of clue.
“She’s my sister, Lupe. That monster killed her.”
What the—Delores’s hands bounced to her mouth. “Do you mean Dixon killed your sister?”
Mrs. Quintana’s head bobbed up and down, much more animated than before. “Right after Maria was born. I was the cleaning lady. I saw Dixon drive off with Lupe, but she didn’t like him. So I waited for them to come back. Then very late that night Dixon came home, alone, with a bag in his hand.”
“A bottle of liquor?”
“No. That was when he was first going gambling. I was worried. I ran to him and asked where Lupe was but he was drunk and denied even being with her. The next couple days I worried and waited for my sister to come home but she didn’t. I couldn’t read English but I watched the trash for newspapers that people threw out, and then I saw this article and picture. It was my sister. I could tell by the blouse.” Inez pointed at the blouse Delores was holding. “It was just like this one. We bought them at the same time.”
“Oh, my goodness. I’m so sorry to hear about Lupe.”
“We never had any cameras so this is the only picture I have of Lupe. I knew he killed her, but I had to keep quiet because the government deported people who made trouble. I even saw him have people taken away.”
“That must have been very scary for you.”
“After that, I had to stay close to him until my Maria grew up. But now Maria is a woman and I can tell you what happened.”
Delores shook her head and re-examined the blouse in her hand and compared it to the one in the picture. “I can certainly look into it, but I doubt if this will be enough to get a conviction.”
“That’s not all.” Mrs. Quintana said. She opened a door under one of her lower kitchen cabinets, extracted a large cooking pot and placed it, upside-down, on her counter top. Then she got a broom from the corner and dragged a kitchen chair near the cooking pot. Then, with broom in hand, she stepped on the chair and then the counter. Getting a hint of what was next, Delores leapt to her feet and moved toward Inez in case she slipped. “Be careful.”
Inez took the final step. Balanced on her cooking pot, she raised the broom over her head and scraped the handle across the top of the upper cabinet to pull forward a dusty paper sack with something heavy in it.
“Here, hand it to me,” Delores said, reaching for the sack.
Mrs. Quintana did as requested and stepped all the way down. “A few days after Lupe disappeared, Dixon made me clean his apartment. I saw this on a shelf in the back room. I think it’s what he had in his hand that night when he came home late.”
Delores opened the bag to find a small but heavy gambling trophy.
“I didn’t really know what it was,” Mrs. Quintana continued, “but it had some playing cards on it. I left it alone for a few years and then he won more trophies, bigger ones, and he put them on the shelf too. Then one day I was dusting them and saw a dark spot on this one.” She twisted the trophy to show Delores. “It looked like dried blood, Lupe’s blood. Now all I have of her is this little drop of dried-up blood, and the picture from the newspaper.”
Delores couldn’t believe her ears. After all this time of trying to catch Dixon, she finally had something that would seal the deal.
“I don’t even know what happened to my Lupe,” Mrs. Quintana went on. “But now that Maria is all grown up I might be able
to find out. I don’t care if I have to go to jail.”
Delores shook her head. “You won’t go to jail, honey. About all you did wrong was withhold evidence. Under the circumstances it was completely reasonable. I’m sure I can get the DA to give you full immunity if you’ll help us.”
“What’s immunity?”
“It means you won’t get in trouble because you didn’t do anything wrong.”
Chapter Seventy-Eight
After checking with Sergeant Byrdswain and the DA, Delores met the sergeant outside the police building. “Sorry I’m late,” he said. “Everybody else will meet us at Cal-Vista.”
“Fantastic,” she said, wearing nicer clothes and more make-up than she usually sported around the complex. “I’ll drive. I’m tired of parking down the street.”
A few minutes later they pulled into the lot on their way to arrest Dixon Browne. “You’ve been working hard on this case,” he said. “You deserve your glory. I’m going to stay out of it unless you need me.”
“Thanks, Sergeant. I appreciate that. I’d also like you to hang back out of sight in the beginning if that’s okay.”
Seconds later, Dixon checked the peephole and quickly opened his door. “Lorraine! You look fantastic. What gives?”
“Just this,” she said. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him on the lips. Just as he got into it, she pulled back.
He grinned. “I see you’ve made your choice. Which is it? Monday Girl or wife?”
“Neither,” she said while stepping back and shaking her hair before she pulled her badge from her back pocket. “Surprise! My real name is Detective Delores Sanchez and that may be the last kiss you’ll ever get from a woman. I just wanted it to torment you for the rest of your miserable days.”
He scoffed and wiped his lips. “Well that explains a few things, but why all the secrecy? I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“In that case, you wouldn’t mind if I read you your Miranda rights just in case you make some gigantic confession.”
“If you’re trying to turn me on, it’s working.”
Good. The bastard was underestimating her again. She patted her pockets before pulling out a tiny booklet. “Here it is,” she said as if it was the first time she’d ever read it to anybody. “Do you mind?”
He chuckled and nodded.
“It says here you have the right to remain silent. Oh, and anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. Number three says you have the right to an attorney. Here’s another one. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you.” She exhaled and flipped the page. “Knowing and understanding your rights as I have explained them to you, are you willing to answer my questions without an attorney present?” She looked up as if she’d barely gotten through it all.
Dixon smiled. “Sure. I’m enjoying this.”
She faced down the hall and hooked a finger. “Ready for you, Sergeant.”
“Hello, Mr. Browne,” the sergeant said as he reached Dixon’s door. “I said I’d be back. Step inside like a good boy. My partner wants to have a talk with you.”
Dixon jiggled his teeth. “Partner, huh? You guys are wasting your time. I was following that Stump kid when Kraft was murdered.”
“Keep moving.”
Inside, they directed Dixon to his couch. The sergeant folded his arms and stood guard at the door while Delores pulled a chair from the kitchen and sat just a few feet from Dixon. This time she was the one in control. “I have good news and very, very bad news for you. First, the good news. Stump’s an honest kid. He verified your alibi. We know you didn’t kill Mr. Kraft.”
“So why all the theatrics? Do you need the practice?”
“Turns out Stump got me some information I desperately needed to convict you of rape.”
“Me? Rape? You people are out of your minds. I’ve never raped anybody in my life.”
“Quite the contrary. In fact you may become famous for what you did, or should I say infamous? Either way, you get to be the first serial rapist in our little city.”
Dixon turned his head to Sergeant Byrdswain, “Is she insane?”
“Quite honestly, sir, I think she’s got you by the balls.”
“You know that string of wives you put together? None of those women would have had sex with you were it not for your false promise to get them citizenship. Thanks to a new law, each time you screwed them it amounted to rape by deception. How many women did you do that with anyway?”
“Those women wanted what they got.”
“I don’t think so.” Delores said. “So far, I’ve spoken with Yolanda and Francisca and Inez and some others. They’re all willing to testify about your little marriage-go-round. That makes you a serial rapist of each woman and a serial rapist of the group.”
The color went out of Dixon’s face.
“Not only that, we’re talking to your pal Louie, at the Registrar’s office. He’ll sing his heart out to avoid being charged with accessory to serial rape. That is, of course, if he’s not actually your brother, but we’ll figure that out later. The point is, now you’re the one who’s screwed. I have to tell you, I just love the irony.”
Dixon watched her, silent for a change.
“But I’ve got a lot more,” she said. “For instance, there are all those things you admitted to in that notebook of yours.”
“That little turd.”
“I assume you’re referring to Stump, but he’s the least of your worries. Manuel and Juanita are ready to skin you and Mr. Connors, next door, says you waved a gun at him. But my favorite witness is sweet little Inez Quintana. You can’t even imagine what she told me.”
“You can’t believe anything she says. She’s just angry ’cause I never loved her.”
“We’ll just overlook the list of rapes for now, including the recent one, and talk about an old gambling trophy of yours. You might have forgotten about it. Mrs. Quintana thinks you used it to kill her sister about sixteen years ago.” Delores smiled coldly. “That’s the one that pisses me off the most. You see I lost a sister too because of a pervert like you.”
Dixon’s eyes shot to Sergeant Byrdswain, “I don’t know what she’s talking about, but I was covering for Inez.”
“Covering?” Delores said. “How so?”
“Inez killed her own sister. I forget her name.”
“Lupe. You’ll probably never forget her name again.”
“Whatever. Anyway I just won some money and Lupe wanted to help me spend it, so I figured why not have a few drinks and bang her while we were at it.”
Delores smirked, “Are you sure you didn’t hit her over the head when you were done with her and then throw her on the ground? ’Cause that’s where she was found—sizzling on a road.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, I ain’t no caveman. I was happy to split a bottle of wine, and snag a goodnight kiss or two before I porked her.” He glared at Delores’s chest. “You’re a pretty good kisser. I bet a bottle of wine has loosened you up a time or two, huh Detective?”
“Nice try, but you ain’t getting under my skin. You said you were covering for Inez—how so? What happened that night?”
“Me and Lupe just got out of the liquor store when Inez walked up behind us and before I knew it that crazy Inez hit her sister over the head with a hammer. Poor woman was out of her mind with jealousy.”
“A hammer? Are you sure, ’cause the investigating officers said it was something with a sharper edge—like a gambling trophy, for instance.”
“They’re mistaken. When she did it, I turned around, shocked. Then Inez dropped the hammer. People like her don’t own guns or other kinds of weapons, you know.”
“Where was this place? They might have some old surveillance videos that would corroborate this tale of yours.”
“They were closed down a few years after that to make room for a new highway ramp.”
“How unfortunate for you. Inez doesn’t drive. How did she
get to the liquor store?”
“How should I know? Maybe she had somebody else take her.”
“Who? Did this mystery chauffer drop her off or wait until she clonked her sister and then take her back home?”
“Whoever it was must have left ’cause she asked me to help her get rid of the hammer and the body. But that’s not murder.”
“No, but it probably won’t surprise you to hear that Inez has a completely different story.”
“Well it’s her word against mine and you know how women are—their emotions overtake their ability to think rationally.”
“But the wound was on top of Lupe’s head.”
“So what?”
“You said you just got out of the liquor store and Inez walked up behind you. Inez was shorter than her sister was. If she hit Lupe while they were both standing up as you said, the wound would be somewhere around the back of the skull, not on the very top of the head.”
“Well, Lupe’s head was bent forward.”
“Nah. Ain’t buying it. You said Inez came from behind but based on where that wound was, the perp was quite a bit taller than Lupe. I’d say you’re a full nine inches taller than either one of those two.” She glanced at Sergeant Byrdswain and then back. “There’s another reason I don’t believe you. We have the real weapon. Your trophy. There’s a dark brown glob in the corner of it. Inez thinks it’s her sister’s blood.”
“Coincidence.”
“I don’t think so. You were the only one who had access to that trophy. In fact I’d bet it never left your hands from the moment they gave it to you. We also have time of death, and I’m betting it came shortly after you were awarded that trophy. You had a MOM too.”
“A mom? My old lady’s been dead for years.”
“Means, Opportunity and Motive; and motive is the only thing we haven’t discussed, but I’ve got that covered too. Lupe liked her wine and had a tendency to talk too much when she was drunk. She also knew that you didn’t want word to get out that Maria was your daughter. Maybe she even threatened to spread the word. But you couldn’t risk it, so you did what you had to do and lied to Inez about what happened. As long as Inez bought your lies, all you had to do was keep her happy so she wouldn’t take Maria away, so you gave Inez some work and kept them both around. Too bad for you, Inez knew exactly what happened and now she’s happy to tell the story.”