She put the phone back in her inside jacket pocket. “Norma says hi, and she didn’t have anything in the standard fields. She’s checking with the adjoining states. She’ll get back to us.”
“Good. Norma’s cool.” We got out of the warm car and into the sharp twenty-degree air. “So,” I said to Hester, “what do you think? Do we tell her, or do we assume she’s been lying to us?”
“I’d be inclined to trust her,” said Hester. “I think Ramon was lying to Linda. Big time.”
We headed up the stairs. “I hope,” I said, “that she doesn’t take this too hard. The kid’s already had a bad day.”
I needn’t have worried. Terri answered the door and ushered us in. Linda was totally zonked in a recliner, wrapped up in a blanket with a pillow under her head. She was leaning her cheek against the head of a dark brown teddy bear that was cradled in her arm. She snored quietly.
“They gave her ten cc’s of Valium, IM,” said Terry in a low voice, holding a finger to her lips to tell us to be quiet. “She’s out.”
“No shit.” I whispered back.
“Yeah. She’ll be that way for a few hours. Want a cup of coffee?” she asked, as I handed her the manila envelope.
“Sure.” The three of us adjourned to the kitchen.
We talked in hushed voices, but we talked. Terri was in a talking mood.
“She’s not sure of anything right now,” she said. “And not just because she’s out like a light.”
“Sure.”
“He had some strange friends, Houseman. I still don’t have the names, but she’s got some pictures of a wedding they went to in Minneapolis about three weeks ago. Rudy’s friends. Strange people. Want to see ‘em?”
As if I’d decline an offer like that. In a minute, they were spread out on the little kitchen table.
It looked like a big wedding, and an expensive one. Everybody happy, all dressed up and smiling for the camera. There was quite a mixed bag in attendance, about as culturally diverse as Battenberg. The theme was sort of Tex-Mex, judging from the attire of the band, but there were all sorts of people there. The composition of the head table caught my eye. The obvious bride and groom, of course. A nice looking Latino couple in their late twenties or early thirties. There was a thin-faced man at the table, maybe a bit older than the happy couple. Intense-looking, dark complected, and it almost looked like he was the center of attention instead of the bride and groom. Along with him were two blond young women; a reddish-blond young man; a studious-looking young man of about twenty with a good tan and black hair and glasses; and a small, very pale young woman with close-cropped black hair.
I handed the first photo to Hester. “Keep this one in mind.”
She gave it a quick look and then glanced up at me. “Okay, but I must be missing something.”
As we continued to go through the photos, I noticed that in seven of the thirty or so shots, the thin-faced man was depicted with various groups all around what I assumed was the church hall.
“You know who this one is? “I asked Terri, pushing a photo across the table to her and pointing at the thin- faced man.
She nodded. “Yeah, I do. I met him here, once. I was over here to see Linda, and this guy and Rudy came in. Nobody introduced us, so I stuck out my hand and introduced myself.”
“Do you remember his name? “asked Hester.
“He never gave it. Just looked at me like I was some super ditzoid, and said,
‘I greet you. Or, really, more like ‘I greed you.’ That’s an exact quote, by the way.”
“Do you know if he works here in town?” I asked.
“I don’t know another thing about him,” said Terri. “Well, except that he’s pretty highly regarded by Rudy. Was, I mean.” She pushed the photo back over the table to me. “Check out the little Mexican dude in this one. With the ears and the hat. The one that looks lost.”
The one she was pointing out looked to be in his late teens or early twenties. Chunky, almost. It looked like he was dressed in his very best shirt and string tie, with an absolutely outstanding tan Stetson in his hand. He also had an absolutely outstanding pair of ears. Literally. They stuck straight out from the sides of his head. He was standing stiffly, as if he was uncomfortable. He was smiling, but with his large dark eyes he did indeed appear lost. He looked very much like the poor relative you can see at just about any wedding or funeral you go to. “What about him?”
“That’s the one they call Orejas. He’s Rudy’s little shadow, always hanging around. Works at the plant. He’s harmless, but a real pest.”
“How so?”
“Linda says he’s over here all the time. Watching TV. Helping Rudy change the oil in the car. That sort of stuff. They even had him here last Christmas.”
“Orejas his real name?” asked Hester.
“I don’t know, but until she wakes up,” said Terri, indicating Linda’s zonked form, “Orejas will have to do. Do either of you speak Spanish?”
Neither of us, as a matter of fact. “Why?” I asked, knowing the answer.
“Well, I don’t think Orejas speaks any English. He might not do you a lot of good. I mean, if you can’t talk to him.”
“Interpreters,” said Hester, “should be just fine. Standard procedure.”
“Orejas is the butt of lots of jokes about those ears,” said Terri. “The best one is that he looks like he thinks Viagra’s a suppository.” She giggled. “I mean, I feel sorry for the poor guy, but that’s really funny.”
It struck me that way, I had to admit.
There was a loud snoring sound. We all glanced into the living room toward the sleeping Linda. Gone to the world.
“Is there anybody around for her?” asked Hester.
“Her mom and dad are on their way back from Arizona,” said Terri. “We talked to them before she went to sleep. They’ll be here early tomorrow.”
“Good. I hate to say this,” said Hester, “but just how sure are you that when she says there’s no dope involvement here, she’s right?”
Terri shrugged. “I always thought he was into dope. She always said he wasn’t. She ought to know.”
“Can you think of anything else it could be? “I asked.
Terri shook her head.
“Well, I said this back at the office, but she might want to go where there’s some company. Just in case.” I thought about what Hector had said about Rudy’s associates. “Dope or no dope. At least until we know why this happened. Can we keep some of these photographs for a while?”
“Houseman, you want a lot. Ah, what the hell, why not?”
When we got to the car with the photos, I opened the envelope and took out the first one. I handed it to Hester. “This is the head table at the wedding reception. Want to know what I noticed?”
“Please.”
“No parents. Nobody old enough to be the parent of a twenty-year-old, not by a long shot.”
“And?”
“The parents sit at the head table. I can only think of two reasons they aren’t there.”
“Death,” said Hester. “That would account for it.”
“All four, for a couple in their twenties… what are the odds?”
Hester laughed outright. “Houseman, sometimes…look, at least as good as the odds that the young couple met at the orphanage.”
“Okay. Okay, but my second reason is better.”
“And that would be?”
“They’re illegal aliens. They can’t afford to bring their parents to the wedding and couldn’t do it legally anyway. Hah, gotcha with that one, didn’t I? Well, if you don’t have available parents, you just might have the most important person in your circle of friends join you. Mr. Thin-face there. Look at all the pictures with him, and you’ll see that everybody looks just pleased as shit to be in his presence.”
“Well… “she said, after she’d looked the bunch over while I backed the car out and headed toward the
