“Yeah?”
“He was contacted, and should be back home around noon or so.”
“Excellent.”
“That makes three good things in a row, Houseman. Can you take a fourth one?”
There was no doubt in my mind. “Go for it.”
“There’s a young woman from Battenberg on her way up here to the office. Name is Linda Moynihan. She claims her live-in is missing, and she thinks he’s our victim.” Hester paused, and I could hear paper rustling in the background. “She’s accompanied by… the EMT that was at the scene yesterday… nope, the paramedic… a Terri Biederman.”
“Okay.” That was curious.
“She said that she and this Terri were old high school friends.” “How soon they going to be there?”
“Pretty soon. They were leaving about fifteen minutes ago.”
“Did she give his name? Her boyfriend?”
“Well, of course, Houseman.” Hester sounded really pleased. “Jesus Ramon Cueva. Aka Rudy.”
I was in the office in ten minutes. When Lamar saw me, he glanced at his watch and said, “Right on time.” He does sarcasm really well.
“Hell, Lamar, I’m only an hour early. I’ll just let my tires go another thousand miles before we change ‘em.” I think he liked that idea.
The black-haired, blue-eyed Linda Moynihan looked very small seated at the other side of my desk, and she seemed worried to the point of distraction. She was wearing blue jeans and a faded pink quilted jacket, and looked as if she’d been up all night.
According to her, the deceased was one Jesus Ramon Cueva, a thirty-one-year-old male, whom she’d last seen yesterday morning. Her description of the clothing he’d been wearing when he left the house matched the clothes on the body, with one exception. He’d been wearing a blue quilted nylon vest, with snaps up the front.
“Okay, Linda,” I said, “I can understand your concern, but is there anything specific that makes you think the victim is Ramon? Any reason you have to fear for his safety?”
She shook her head. “Not really, I guess. No. No, but Terri and I were talking, and the more she told me, and the more we talked, and the more it got to look like… “She started to cry. “Him,” she got out, after two tries. “Ramon.”
“Okay,” said Hester. “It’s okay.”
“We waited up all night, hoping that he’d come home,” said Terri. “When he didn’t, we called.”
Terri was standing a few feet behind Linda’s chair and was jerking her head toward the dispatch center.
“Hester,” I said, “could you get something started here while I talk to Terri out at Dispatch?”
While Hester took a written statement, Terri and I went into the short hallway that connected the main office with the dispatch center. It was an area not covered by security cameras, and had very little foot traffic. It was about as private a place as we could muster without slipping the lock on Lamar’s office door, and he really hated it when we did that.
“So,” I said. “What ya got?”
“Hey, look, the more I think about it, the more I’m sure it’s him. Really.”
“Why?”
“Look, just a quick rundown here. Linda’s always been head-over-heels in love with him, but Rudy was a prick. Okay? I mean, he was screwing around on her, he treated her like crap when there was company around, and he never told her anything about what he did.”
“What did he do?” I almost hesitated, because Terri was so damned opinionated I hated to open the door.
“Well, he was working at the packing plant, when he’d decide to go in,” she said. “That was his day job.”
“Humm. How’d he get the nickname Rudy?”
She looked at me, surprised. “Who knows? Just what some of his little buds call him. Is it important?”
I shrugged. “Dunno. I just like to know as much as I can. So, like, what was he into that could get him killed?”
Turned out that Terri wasn’t absolutely sure. I mean, she had thoughts, but no proof. She and Linda were pretty good friends, but they’d started to grow apart when Linda had started living with Rudy.
“He treated her like dirt when his shithead little friends were around. When they were alone, he was just fine. But he just had to turn her into his private little serving woman when they showed up. It made me sick.”
“She didn’t mind?”
Terri rolled her eyes. “Linda was in love. In the worst possible way. Her mom didn’t want her seeing him, always gave her crap about a mixed marriage. Not because Ramon was Mexican, but because he was Catholic and Linda’s Lutheran.”
“Okay. So, who are these little friends?”
“I don’t know names, I really don’t. I just know he’s into dope, Houseman. I just know it.”
“I hate to use the term ‘evidence,’ there, kid, but you wouldn’t happen to have any, would you?”
That produced a rare silence from Terri. Then she said, “No, but I know it’s true.”
I didn’t want to argue with her, especially not now, for two reasons. First, it could very well be true. I had no information either way. Second, she was so damned bull-headed that if I were to push her just a bit, she’d do something foolish, like try to obtain the evidence on her own. No way was I about to allow that.
“All I can say at this point,” I told her, “is that I need evidence.” I held up my hand to forestall any objections. “And, no, I couldn’t tell you if I did.”
She sighed, mostly from frustration, and said, “Yeah.”
“But don’t try to find out on your own. I mean it. We’ll know within a couple of days either way.”
“Oh, sure.”
“No,” I said. “We’ll know. I’m certain of that.”
“Oh, right.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. “You concentrate on helping Linda deal with this. I’d like you to come with us when we have her view the body. She’ll need that, and you’ve already seen him.” I thought that was pure inspiration. If that didn’t get her mind off suspected meth involvement for a day or two, I’d be very surprised.
“You’re kidding? Aren’t you?”
“Nope. She’s going to really need a friend in there.”
“Christ,” she said. “Oh, I suppose. Shit.”
“Have you described the wound to her?”
“No.”
“Okay. Well, she’d better be a little prepared, don’t you think?” I shrugged. “I suppose I can tell her…”
“No, let me.” Terri had gotten sort of grayish in the last few seconds.
“You want to sit down for a minute first?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“Just make sure,” I said, “that there’s no misunderstanding on her part. I know you can’t prepare her for it, but give her a really good idea.”
Having Linda identify her boyfriend’s remains became more critical about fifteen minutes later, when the AFIS officer from Cedar Rapids PD called. The officer’s name was Larry, and I’d known him for several years. He said there was absolutely no record of the fingerprints anywhere.
“Nowhere?”
“Well,” said Larry, “the Pago Pago database is down, and we haven’t got Mars on line yet…”
“Very funny.”
“But really, no record nowhere, Carl. Absolutely nothing.”
“What’s that tell us?”
“Well,” said Larry, “it probably just means he’s never been fingerprinted. Lots of people have never been printed.”
“Okay. Sure. Well, then…”
“Don’t give up. They’re recorded now. If somebody else picks him up, we’ll put a flag on it for them to contact
