Hard Row

further her own aspirations. Having been there himself

in his first marriage, he had felt a stab of sympathy for

King, a sympathy that was now plummeting to the base-

ment faster than the elevator.

If King had fixed his eyes on the prize as early as high

school, maybe it was a match made in heaven after all,

Dwight decided, and a spurt of happiness shot through

him as he thought of his life with Deborah. He could

almost feel sorry for the younger man. Would the sat-

isfaction of reaching even the highest office in the land

equal the pleasure of planting trees with a woman you

loved?

They were almost too late. Three Latinos were there

to bail Rafael Sanaugustin out—two women and a

man—and they were just finishing up the paperwork

when Dwight called over their shoulders that he was

here with Sanaugustin’s attorney to see the prisoner.

“Five minutes and y’all would’ve missed him,” the

officer said and explained why.

King stepped forward and introduced himself in

Spanish that sounded to Dwight every bit as fluent as

he had earlier bragged.

Wearing jeans and wool jackets, the three looked

back at him impassively. The women were bareheaded

and appeared to be in their early thirties; the man wore

a brown Stetson and was at least ten years older. When

219

MARGARET MARON

he spoke, it was to Dwight. “Juan Santos, crew chief at

Harris Farms.”

“Sanaugustin is a member of your crew?” Dwight

asked.

The man nodded.

“You were at the farm yesterday? On the tractor?”

Again he nodded.

“One of these women related to him?”

Santos nodded to the shorter woman. “His wife.”

“Please tell her that I’m sorry, but she’s going to have

to wait a little longer. I need to question him first.”

Both women immediately tugged on Santos’s arms

anxiously, speaking so rapidly that the only words

Dwight caught were los ninos.

He shook off their hands and before Millard King

could translate, said, “They say we cannot wait long.

The children come home at three-thirty.”

Dwight glanced at his watch: 12:56. “We’ll try to be

brief.”

“How long?” said Santos. “We’ll go to the grocery

store and come back.”