Janice Kay - The Closer He Gets

Zach lifted his own hand to see that, yeah, his own fingertips were bloody, too.

At the sound of an approaching siren, he said gently, “There’s nothing you can do. The medics will be here any minute.”

She looked down then back up. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Why?” she whispered.

“I have no idea.” An ambulance rocketed to a stop in the driveway only a few feet away. Zach stood, circled to her side of the body and held out his hand. “Let’s back off and let them do their job.”

An unmarked police SUV blocked Zach’s car in. Having cut off the siren, the undersheriff himself, a whipcord-thin guy with buzz-cut gray hair, stepped out and started across the lawn. Paul Stokes. He’d been in on the interview when Zach was hired.

“Hayes? What the hell is this?”

The woman still hadn’t moved.

“Please,” Zach said quietly. “I need to talk to people. They’ll want to hear what you saw, too.”

After a moment her head bobbed. She let him pull her to her feet and backed away as medics crouched to conduct an assessment. It wasn’t long before one glanced up and gave his head the faintest of shakes. Zach nodded and walked toward the undersheriff and Andrew Hayes.

Seemingly unaware that his hands were battered and bloody, Hayes was doing all the talking. Zach, eyes narrowed, listened but kept his mouth shut. He’d have his turn. And unless the woman wimped out, there was a second witness.

Unable to help himself, he turned his head. She stood right where he’d left her, shoulders hunched, hugging herself, her stricken gaze fixed on the dead man.

But suddenly, as if she felt a pull, her head turned, too, and her eyes met Zach’s. Once again they stared, neither blinking, nothing hidden.

“Deputy Carter,” Stokes said sharply.

Zach shook himself, bent his head in acknowledgment to the woman—of what?—and faced his commanding officer.

* * *

TESS GRANATH LEANED against the fender of one of the police cars. She had declined the offer to sit in the backseat—behind the wire grille.

“Ms. Granath...or is it ‘missus’?” the officer asked.

Not officer, she reminded herself, or even deputy. He had identified himself as a detective. She groped to remember his name. Delancy or Delaney or something like that. He was in his forties, at a guess, and had too many muscles, which meant off the job he lived at the gym.

“Ms. is fine.”

“Are you married?”

Tess raised her eyebrows. “How is this relevant to what I saw?”

“Just trying to get some background, ma’am.” He paused. “Spouses, what we do for a living, influences our perceptions.”

The “ma’am” irritated her, after all that crap about whether she was a Ms. or a Mrs. The use of the word “perceptions” irritated her even more. The event she’d witnessed was straightforward. It had happened too fast for any filters to kick in.

“I’m not married.”

“All right then, Mi-izz Granath.” He dragged it out, his tone laden with condescension. “You live here close by?”

Since he held her driver’s license in his hand, he knew exactly where she lived. She said, “No.”

“May I ask your purpose for being here?”

“I was checking on a friend next door who recently had surgery.”

“And this friend’s name?”

“Lupe Estrada.”

“I’m surprised this friend hasn’t come out. Given all the commotion and all.”

“As I said, she had surgery. Abdominal. She is barely able to get up long enough to go to the bathroom. I stopped by to see if she needed anything because her husband had to work today.”

The detective wanted to know if she and Lupe had been friends for long. Since high school. So that meant Tess might have met some of the neighbors, too. Yes, she had.

“What about the fellow who was involved in this fracas?”

“If by that you mean the man who was just beaten to death? Yes. I knew him to nod at. I wouldn’t call him a friend.”

“But you know his name.”

“Yes. Antonio. Antonio Alvarez, I think.”

“So you saw him as a nice guy.”

“He seemed pleasant. I understand he lived here with his uncle and a couple of cousins. Antonio is a friend of Lupe’s husband, Rey. As I said, I don’t—” the word caught in her throat “—didn’t know him well.”

“All right,” he said. “When did you first see him today?”

“I’d left my sweater and handbag in the living room. On my way out, I was reaching for them when I glanced out the window and was surprised to see a police car parked in front of Antonio’s house. I could just see him and the deputy, speaking.”

“And where were they standing?”

“Antonio had stepped down from the porch. I could see that the conversation was...heated.”

“Could you hear what was being said?”

“Not at that point. Only enough to know they were yelling. The deputy’s face was flushed, as if he was angry.”

“Now that’s quite an assumption, given you don’t know him.” The detective affected a look of surprise. “Or do you?”

“I do not.” And wouldn’t want to, she thought grimly.

“Then you have no basis for comparison.”

“No, I don’t. However—” She lifted her hand when he started to interrupt. “In my experience, a combination of a raised voice and flushed cheeks generally suggests anger in any individual.”

It went on that way. He tried hard to persuade her to admit she hadn’t seen what had preceded the first blow. But she had. By that time she’d been on the Estradas’ front porch with a clear sight line to the two men arguing.

“I was concerned because the police officer was considerably larger than Antonio. His voice and body language were belligerent.”

“But your friend Antonio was angry, too.”

“As I’ve said repeatedly, I wouldn’t describe him as a friend. It was clear they were arguing about a woman. Just before the first blow was struck, Antonio accused the police officer of hurting her. The deputy told him to stay away from her, pulled his nightstick from his belt, lifted it and swung. That first blow knocked Antonio back a step. The deputy pursued.”

Delancy kept circling back to what she’d seen when. “Now, you must have looked away at some point.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think I so much as blinked. I may have missed something as I bounded down the porch steps, but your deputy was well into the beating by then. The second police car had pulled up and I saw that officer racing toward them even as I ran across the yard.” She swallowed. “We were both too late.”

“You approached from the left of the two men engaged in the argument.”

Since she’d described, ad infinitum, exactly where she was at all times, she said nothing.

“Deputy Hayes wears his service weapon on his right hip. Chances are good you couldn’t see it.”

She considered and finally agreed that, no, she probably hadn’t been able to.

He looked satisfied, thinking he’d made an important point. It wasn’t hard to figure out what that was.

Tess continued. “However, if you’re suggesting Antonio reached for the weapon, I can tell you that he did not. From where I stood, I was able to see his hands. He did not raise them or reach toward the deputy until he tried to cover his face after the beating commenced.”

God. She sounded like an attorney in court. Had she ever used the word “commenced” before? She kind of doubted it. But she’d never been interviewed by a police detective before, either. Or, in fact, anybody at all who so blatantly disbelieved every word out of her mouth. She’d had angry customers before, but none of them had tried so hard to twist what she said.