“Now, we didn’t find any ID of any sort on him. None. No billfold. Did he carry a billfold?”
“Yes. Always.”
“Do you know if he had it with him yesterday?”
“I didn’t see, you know? I mean, I didn’t watch him put it in his pocket. It’s not around the house, or I would have seen it.” She looked at Terri. “We have to call the funeral people. I know there’s lots of stuff to do.”
“We have to call his mother first,” said Terri. That was certainly true. The mother was the only true next of kin we had. One of the problems with living together. You may be the person in the world who is closest to them, but you have damned little legal standing.
Linda’s attention was going to hell. I sure didn’t blame her. “Just a couple more questions for now, Linda. Did he have any credit cards? A driver’s license? Things like that?”
“Yes. He did.” She was trying.
“We’ll need the numbers from his credit cards,” I said. “Since we can’t rule out a robbery motive, we need to check if there’s any activity on them in the next couple of weeks.”
“Sure.”
“Then…”
“You’ll have to have her permission to do that,” said Terri, interrupting.
“All you have to do, Linda,” I said, “is look over your statements and make sure there aren’t any charges you haven’t put there yourself.” I looked up at Terri. She seemed satisfied. I really didn’t need her getting all overprotective on us. I looked back to Linda. “What state was his driver’s license in? Do you know?”
“Iowa.”
That caught me by surprise. “You sure?” I was assuming he still had a California license, since our record search indicated that all the Cuevas in Iowa who had a DL were female. “When did he get it?”
“After we moved in together. About five months ago.”
“So, he had, like, a California one before that?”
“No,” said Linda. “No, he never had one before, as far as I know.”
Interesting. “Did he drive, though? Before he got his license?”
“Yes.”
“Where did you two meet?” I needed to establish more background on Cueva, if possible.
“The plant. I used to work there.”
“Okay, so, when was that? About how long ago?”
“About six months ago… early August, this year.”
I’m always surprised at just how fast some people dive into a relationship. “So you’ve known him for a good six months, then?”
“Yeah,” she said, and started to cry again.
Linda, who’d started in a bad state for an interview, was losing ground fast. I felt sorry for her, but… well, I really needed her in a frame of mind where she’d be able to focus, so I asked Terri to take her home to Battenberg and I’d be there after lunch.
“I’ll take you to the clinic first,” Terri told her. “You’re going to need something…”
Linda just nodded.
I wasn’t happy about the clinic, but Terri was right. Since Linda wasn’t a suspect, we’d be able to talk again even though she may have had a mild sedative. Interviewing any witness who’s in an induced state is a pretty slippery slope, but I really didn’t see a problem with this one.
Hester and Dr. Steven Peters met me at the office for lunch. They had grabbed some burgers, but I was sticking to my new diet and had put rice and low-fat sausage patties in the microwave in the jail kitchen. To make the stuff palatable, I’d bought a bottle of Uncle Bob’s Hickory Smoke Flavor, which I sprinkled liberally on the “food” in the plastic bowl before I nuked it. It hadn’t tasted too bad the other times I’d had it, but the odor took a bit of getting used to.
“Is there something burning?” asked Hester.
“No, it’s my lunch.”
“You sure? “she asked.
“Yep.”
“It does smell like smoke,” said Dr. Peters. “Really.”
I went to the cupboard and showed them the bottle. “Want some? It tastes better than it smells.”
“Hard to believe,” said Hester dryly. “No thanks. Besides, the smell’s already affecting my taste.”
“Suit yourself,” I said. “So, I hope there was nothing unexpected about the cause of death?”
“The cause of death,” said Dr. Peters, “was remarkably easy to determine, if that’s what you mean. GSW, head. Massive trauma. More the effect of the gas pressure than the shot pellets,” he said. He took a swig of pop from the can. “Toxicology will be back in a day or two, but I don’t expect anything out of the ordinary.” He grinned. “Anything toxic would have to work very, very quickly to beat the gunshot wound in this one.”
“That’s a lot to be thankful for,” I said. “The simpler the better. You knew, didn’t you, that we have a new county attorney?”
“No! Really? What happened?”
Hester laughed, but said nothing. Dr. Peters looked questioningly at her. “Better if he tells it,” she said, nodding toward me.
“The old one developed a skin irritation, or an allergy or something. Really. They said it was the pollen, maybe herbicides, maybe mold spores. So he moved.”
“Really? “Dr. Peters looked quizzically at Hester.
“That’s not the funny part,” she said.
“Nobody wanted the job,” I said. That was quite true. The county considered it a part-time job, so they paid whoever it was about thirty thousand bucks a year. Nation County was lucky to get any lawyer at that rate, and what they ended up with was often an attorney who had to have a full-time regular practice on the side just to make ends meet. When they did that, they’d occasionally find themselves being asked to prosecute their own clients. Not good. Nobody who’d made it through law school wanted those hassles, with one general exception. Newbies.
“So you don’t have one, currently?”
Hester laughed again. “I couldn’t have put it better myself.”
“We have one,” I said. “Named Carson Hilgenberg. He passed the bar last July. This is his first job.”
Hester couldn’t let it drop. “Tell him the rest of it, Houseman.”
I looked at Dr. Peters. Hell, he had to know, if for no other reason than to be able to anticipate what he might have to face with the courts. “He’s the nephew of the chairman of the Board of Supervisors.”
“Does that complicate things?” asked Dr. Peters. “It isn’t really nepotism if he’s elected.”
“Carson didn’t actually run for office. The Board appointed him. That’s not the problem. Even his uncle can’t stand him and was hoping he wouldn’t pass the bar. The problem is, there were no other applicants. That and he literally couldn’t find a job anywhere else.” I cleared my throat. “He’s kind of an idiot.”
“Oh,” said Dr. Peters. “What’s he like in court?”
“Never seen him there,” I said. “He even bargains traffic tickets. Far as I know, he’s never tried a case even in magistrate’s court.”
“I guess we get really specific for him, then,” said Dr. Peters.
“Pictures,” said Hester. “I’d suggest lots and lots of pictures.”
CHAPTER 07
WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 19, 2001 13:27
Hester and I went to Battenberg , stopped at Linda’s apartment, above the local hardware store, and picked up a manila envelope taped to the door. It was addressed to me, and contained two photos of the late Jesus Ramon Cueva, along with what appeared to be copies of a birth certificate and a Social Security card in his name, and a home address for his mother Maria in L. A. Attached was a note saying that Terri and Linda were at the clinic
