Steven Havill - Statute of Limitations

“Is this a bad time?” Estelle said. She extended a hand, and Essie took it and squeezed hard, in no hurry to let go. Still holding on to Estelle, she reached out and took Gastner by the elbow. With an escort on both sides, she walked toward the county car, biting her lower lip and obviously close to tears. Estelle realized with a start that Essie had been waiting for their arrival, and was making a clean break.

“Caramba,” Essie said when they reached the car. “You came just in time. Such a houseful!”

“Here,” Gastner said, taking the car’s door handle. “You sit in front.”

“No…my goodness. You’ll never fit back there,” she said, then saw all the equipment in the front. “Maybe not here, either. Look at this. How do you squeeze in there?”

“Like a cork,” Gastner said. He held the back door for Essie.

“I think that’s why Eduardo always drove his Buick,” she said as she settled onto the hard bench seat. “Do you two mind this, after all? I suppose we could find a corner somewhere in the house, but I need to get out for a little bit. I really do. Love ’em all, but por Dios, when they’re all hovering…” She reached out and tugged tentatively at the wire screen that separated the front seat from the back. “The smell of the beer was getting to me. I never liked that stuff, you know.”

“Mrs. Martinez,” Estelle said, “would my office be all right with you?”

“Just wherever you want to talk, that’s fine with me,” Essie said. “I don’t know how I can be of any help to you, but we’ll see.” She reached out and again touched the cage behind Estelle’s head. “Eduardo thought highly of you, you know. Both you and that husband of yours.” Estelle glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Mrs. Martinez tuck her hands in her lap. Other than a little redness in her eyes, her expression was serene as she watched the village roll by.

As they turned into the Public Safety Building’s parking lot, Estelle saw Jackie Taber and Linda Real standing on the back step.

“You know, years ago,” Essie said, “it would have been un-think-a-ble,” and she drew out the word, her accent heavy and thoughtful on each syllable, “for a woman to be a police officer. And now look.” She waited until Estelle had parked and Gastner pulled himself out of the car to open her door. “What do you think of that, Bill?” she said.

“I think times change, Essie,” the former sheriff said.

“They sure do,” Essie Martinez said. “That’s what Eduardo always used to say. ‘The times change.’” She shook her head sadly. “And the things that happen these days. I can’t imagine what goes through people’s minds, can you?”

“No, ma’am, I can’t,” Gastner said. “That’s why we need all the help we can get.”

“Even from old widow ladies,” Essie said. She managed a brave smile.

“Eduardo was very… proud of what he did,” Essie Martinez said with great deliberation.

“He had every reason to be,” Estelle said.

“He was chief of police for twenty-seven years,” the older woman said. “Twenty-seven years. That’s something, you know.” She dug a tissue out of her purse, but only clenched it in her hands as if she needed the soft padding. She lifted both hands and then settled them into her lap, composed and expectant. “The way village boards come and go, elections and all that-to stay for twenty-seven years is quite an accomplishment.”

“Essie,” Bill Gastner said gently, “let me lay this out for you.” He rubbed the back of his head. “Somebody whacked me a good one, and someone killed Janet Tripp. We’re thinking there’s some connection somehow, but I gotta tell ya, we’re up against a hard place with this business.” He leaned toward her. “What we were hoping is that you might have some recollection of something that Eduardo might have said to you, or reminisced about, or worried about…any little something. Any time he might have mentioned Janet, or her family. Or even Mike.”

“You mean from this past week, before…”

“Recent stuff, sure. Anything at all. But also anything you can remember from way back when. From the Stone Age.”

“Me oh my,” Essie said, as if to herself. “How would I even know where to start?”

“Janet Tripp and Mike Sisneros were engaged,” Estelle said. “Let’s start there. Mike worked for the chief as a part-timer a few years ago,” Estelle said. “Do you remember Eduardo talking about him?”

“I know that Eduardo liked Michael,” Essie said with emphasis. “And he is such a nice young man. We were happy when Chief Mitchell hired him on full time. Eduardo said that he should, you know. He told Eddie that on several occasions. If there had been an opening before, Eduardo would have done it himself.” Her eyebrows lifted as she pulled in a deep breath, then let it out in a sigh. “That wasn’t always so, you know. There have been some who worked for the village who…who didn’t work out so well,” she said diplomatically.

“Oh, sí, ” Estelle agreed, and Deputy Tom Pasquale’s sturdy face came immediately to mind. “Did you ever meet Janet?”

Essie shook her head so quickly it seemed as if she had been expecting the question. “I know who she is…that’s all I know. If I saw her in the grocery store, I might recognize her.”

“That’s about where we are,” Gastner said. “Did Eduardo ever talk about her?”

“Oh…” She regarded her tissue for a moment, smoothing one small corner against her thigh. “I don’t recall any time, but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t one, you know.” She smiled, her round face lighting. “These old heads, they’re not good for much.” Her smile faded. “Let me ask you something, and if it’s none of my business, well, you just say so. Is Mike in some sort of trouble over this whole mess?”

“No,” Estelle said without hesitation. “Your husband’s estimation of Mike Sisneros was exactly right.”

“I’m working with Mike on the records deal, Essie,” Gastner added. “Combining village and county? He’s a good man. He’s had good training. Eduardo started him out right when he was a part-timer.”

“Yes, he did,” Essie agreed. “I don’t think that young man as always had it so easy.”

“In what way?” Estelle asked.

“His mother was nice. I always liked her, back when they lived in town. She was Acoma, I think. I think. I’m not sure. Maybe Laguna or Zuni. One of those. But she’s moved. Years go. Maybe Arizona or something.”

“Lordsburg,” Gastner prompted.

“Ah. Okay. I didn’t know that. But I liked her. Irene, her name is. So pretty. Now, I know that Eduardo didn’t have much use for Michael’s father.” She frowned at the floor. “They were divorced, you know. The Sisneros, I mean. Hank and Irene.”

Gastner nodded. “Eduardo had dealings with Hank Sisneros sometimes? If that’s the case, he wasn’t alone. I crossed tracks with him a time or two myself. Old Hank liked the bottle, and he liked the back of the hand.” While he waited for Essie to reply, Gastner drew out a small spiral notebook from his left breast pocket, along with a ballpoint pen, and made a brief notation. “I’m sure Eduardo had far more dealings with him than I did.”

“I don’t know,” Essie said. “I just know that Eduardo didn’t care for Hank. You can tell sometimes, you know? And Eduardo…he was a funny one. When there was something bad to say about someone, he talked to himself. So I suppose he had his secrets.”

“There must have been a time,” Estelle said. She watched Essie’s face, wondering if something bubbled beneath the surface of her memory. For Essie to recall clearly that Eduardo didn’t like Hank Sisneros hinted that she would know something about why.