Ran by the Ortiz house every morning, she remembered. Was there a purpose there?
Otherwise, a less intimate connection. Family friend, neighbor, longtime customer, employee.
Turning it over in her mind, she stepped into her bullpen and saw Baxter flirting with Graciela Ortiz. No question about it, she mused, the body language, the eye gleams all said testing sexual interest. Then again, to her way of thinking, Baxter would flirt with a hologram of a woman.
“Officer Ortiz.”
“Lieutenant. I stopped by, but the detective told me both you and your partner were out.”
“Now I’m in. My office is right through there. Go on in.”
“Detective,” Graciela said and gave Baxter one last blast with green, liquid eyes.
“Officer.” His grin widened, unabashed when he turned it on Eve. And pounded a hand like a happy heartbeat on his chest. “You’ve got to love a woman in uniform,” he said to Dallas.
“No, I really don’t. If you’ve got time to hit on subordinates, Baxter, maybe I need to review your caseload.”
“Dallas, sometimes a man’s just got to make time.”
“Not on my clock. But since you’ve made all this time, you can use it to do a search on all John Does, deceased, in Nevada, New Mexico, and Arizona, six to seven years ago.”
“All? Jesus, you’re a hard woman.”
“I am. Be grateful I’m adding age between twenty-five and forty.”
She turned as he muttered, “Oh, in that case,” and walked into her office. “Officer.”
“I wanted to speak to you in person regarding the interviews with family members and friends. There was nothing I didn’t expect-shock, sorrow, even outrage. Father Flores was, as I told you, very popular. Well, when we believed he was Father Flores.”
“And now?”
“More shock, sorrow, outrage. In fact, as he married, buried, baptized many of the family over the past five years, you can add a lot of concern. Some of my family is very traditional, very orthodox. There are questions as to whether the marriages are sanctioned in the eyes of God and the Church. Which Father López assures us would be the case. Though he and Father Freeman have offered to renew all the sacraments, for those who wish it. Frankly, Lieutenant, it’s a big freaking mess.”
She shook her head. “I like to think I’m a progressive sort of person. Practical. But I confessed to that man, and received Communion from him. And I feel… violated, and angry. So I understand what many of my family are feeling now.”
“His death stopped the violation.”
“Well, yes. But it also revealed it. If we’d never known…” She shrugged. “We do know, so I guess it’s just what we all decide to do about it. My mother thinks we should look on the positive side. Have a mass renewal of vows, of baptisms. And a big party. Maybe she’s right.”
“There were a lot of people at the funeral who weren’t family members.”
“Yes. I’ve spoken to some of them, the ones we’re close to, or Poppy was close to. It runs along the same lines. I don’t know how helpful any of it is to your investigation.”
“You saved me some steps.” She considered a moment. “You have several relatives, I imagine, who are about the same age as the victim. Round about thirty-five.”
“Sure. We’re legion.”
“Plenty of them were living in the area when they were kids, teenagers. And plenty of them members of the church.”
“Yes.”
“Any of them former members of the Soldados?”
Graciela opened her mouth, closed it again. Then blew out a breath. “A few, I suppose.”
“I need names. I’m not looking to cause them trouble, not looking to dig at them for what they did in the past. But it may connect.”
“I’ll talk to my father. He wasn’t part of that, but… he’ll know.”
“Would you rather I spoke to him directly?”
“No, he’ll be easier speaking to me. I know his cousin was a member and died badly when they were boys. He doesn’t have any love for gangs.”
“What was the cousin’s name?”
“Julio. He was only fifteen when he was killed. My father was eight, and looked up to him. He never forgot it, and often used him as an example, a warning, especially to my brothers and cousins. This is what happens when you go outside family, the law, the church-when you use violence instead of hard work and education to get what you want.”
“Your father sounds like a smart man.” And the quick math she did in her head told her Julio’s death was too early to apply to Lino.
“He is, and a tough one. I’ll talk to him tonight.”
“Appreciate it. One other thing. I’m told the vic ran regularly in the morning, and the route took him by your grandfather’s house.”
“Yes, that’s true. Poppy mentioned it sometimes. How he joked with the fathers to throw a blessing at the house as they passed. And he might see them when he was out for his morning walk.”
“So no friction there?”
“Between Poppy and the priests, or this one who wasn’t? No. None. Very much the opposite. The victim often ate in Poppy’s restaurant, or even-especially when my grandmother was alive-his home. He came to family parties. He was, we thought, one of us.”
“Okay.”
Alone, Eve moved back to her board. Rearranged photos, evidence shots. Walked around it, arranged again. Connections. Whose life touched whose, when and how.
She stepped back to her desk, tagged McNab. “Give me something,” she demanded.
“Ran down two of the Linos,” he told her. “One’s living in Mexico, living in a kind of commune deal. Changed his name, which is why he slipped through some cracks. Goes by Lupa Vincenta, all legal and shit. It’s a kind of Free-Ager offshoot. Guy’s shaved his head and wears this brown robe deal. Raises goats. And is alive and well, if you count wearing an ugly brown robe well, which if you ask me-”
“I didn’t.”
“Okay. The other’s been skimming under the radar, avoiding a couple of ex-wives, who he was married to at the same time. He’s in Chile-or was when I tracked him-and the last track was less than three months ago. He weighs in at about two-fifty. Probably skipped by now, as both women have suits pending against him. Apparently, he’s got about six legal offspring, and he’s dodging the child support thing.”
“Prince of a guy. Pass on the info to the proper authorities.”
“Already done. You get kids, you take care of them. Working on another one now.”
She’d figured as much, as McNab was bopping on the screen. She’d never known an e-geek who could keep still when he worked.
Except Roarke, she corrected.
“I keep losing him,” McNab added. “He bounced a lot, switched names, then switched back. What I get is he’d get a little twisted up with some deal under an aka, take off, show up under his real, play it straight, then move on, take another alias.”
“What’s his real?”
“Lino Salvadore Martinez.”
Eve brought it up on her machine. “Right age, right location at birth. Keep looking.” Eve clicked off, then refreshed her memory of Martinez’s data. Both parents on record, she noted, but whereabouts of the father unknown-and unknown since Martinez hit five years of age. Mother, Teresa, applied and received professional mother status and payments after the birth. Previous employment… Eve extended the search, then sat back. “Hector Ortiz-Abuelo’s. Interesting. Yeah, that’s pretty interesting. Returned to outside work when her son reached the age of fifteen-as a waitress for Ortiz again. Where she worked for six years before remarrying and relocating to Brooklyn. Okay, Teresa.”