Chapter Sixteen

Since I was already downtown, I stopped by the Phoenix Crime Lab and called my brother Nico from the lobby. I had some questions that I hoped he would answer for me.

“You’re here? At the lab?”

“In the flesh. Can I come up?”

“Why do I think you’re up to something?”

“Pretty please?”

He sighed. “Remember, I now know how to disappear a body.”

I laughed.

“Stay there, I have to sign you in.”

I waited. Several minutes later, Nico came through a door. He was dressed in slacks, a blue Phoenix lab polo shirt, and a white lab coat. “Do I get a tour?” I asked.

“I already gave you a tour last summer.”

“Why are you so sour?”

“I’m just busy. And I know you want something.”

“Okay, I want something. Can we talk in your office?”

“What makes you think I have an office? I have a cubicle.”

I exaggerated batting my eyes and got a half smile.

Unlike Jack and my dad who were both over six feet tall, Nico—who’d been sickly as a kid—was five foot eight. It used to bother him, I knew, and sometimes I think it still did. He was twenty-four and looked like a young college student.

We went upstairs to the main lab, and Nico walked me to his semi-private cubicle. He had given me a tour shortly after he started working here and it was interesting, but I don’t think I’d have the patience for the meticulous work required of a lab scientist.

“So... I am interested in your Paradise Valley burglaries.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know a lot. Detective Villines is working with Paradise Valley PD. If you want info, you should talk to him or PVPD.”

“Well, not those specific crimes, just a general question. Do you take prints from all robberies?”

He said, “Just spit it out, Margo.”

“Have you been involved in investigating the spree off Camelback that started right after Christmas and culminated in the shooting at the Cactus Stop?”

“Those aren’t connected.”

“How do you know?”

He looked at me oddly. “Because they aren’t. One is a string of robberies by juveniles, one is a homicide investigation.”

“That doesn’t prove they’re not connected.”

“The police haven’t connected them, and I only worked the Cactus Stop.”

“You printed the store?”

“Our field team did. Do you know how many people come and go? We have no useable prints, not even on the door, which was our best chance. Based on the video, the suspects wore gloves.”

“Why do you think they’re not connected to the other robberies?”

He sighed. “I told you. If you want more, you’ll have to ask Villines,” he said.

“I’m asking you.”

“From what I’ve heard, three kids are responsible for the earlier robberies. No weapons. Ran if confronted. Vandalism and petty theft. Completely different M.O. from the Cactus Stop homicide.”

“What if I told you I think they are the same three people.”

“The police have the killer in custody.”

“No, they don’t.”

“Margo, he confessed.”

“Can you find out if any of those other robberies have been printed?”

He stared at me for a long minute, then turned to his computer and typed. “Yes, there were prints taken from three of the crime scenes that could be from the suspects. None matched any active cases.”

“If I get you prints, can you run them?”

“No. You need to go through Detective Villines. However much I might want to, I can’t do it for you.”

I understood his restrictions, I just didn’t like them.

How could I get Henry, Javier, and Bruno’s prints? Maybe if one of the robbery victims identified them, Villines would have cause.

“Are you working for one of the victims?” Nico asked.

“Sort of,” I said. “One of Millie’s friends was a victim.” I wasn’t working for Julia Henderson, but Nico didn’t have to know that.

“So you’re not making any money. You’re a softie.”

“Bite your tongue, little brother,” I said.

He smiled. “Margo the Marshmallow.”

I laughed. “Anything else interesting?”

“I didn’t know PIs were ambulance chasers.”

“Wow, two insults in a row. Now you’re just being mean.” I got up, needing to work through some ideas. “I’ll reach out to Villines.” Again. “Thanks for the info. It helps.”

Nico walked me to the elevator and punched the first floor. “See you Sunday at dinner,” he said as the doors closed between us.

I drove toward the middle school but realized I wouldn’t be able to check out the yearbooks. I would rather have a physical copy to show Julia, though as a last resort pictures might work.

I took a chance and turned to go to Sophia’s house. Maybe I could sweet-talk Mrs. Edgar into letting me see old yearbooks. I wondered if she would have them going back a few years.

After I knocked, I sensed I was being watched though I didn’t see anyone. Through the door, an adult female asked, “Are you a solicitor?”

“No, ma’am. Margo Angelhart, private investigator. I have a couple questions.”

She opened the door. “I’m Evelyn Edgar. Sophia told me you spoke with her. She is a minor.”

It wasn’t a crime, but I thought if I was snippy she might not talk to me. Evelyn Edgar was middle-aged, thin and graying, dressed in practical slacks and a thin sweater.

“Yes, ma’am. Evelyn? I’m trying to help Sophia’s brother Sergio, and I think Sophia also needs help.”

She was hesitant to let me in, but finally opened the door. She locked and bolted it behind me.

“Did something happen?” I asked as she peered out the window, looking up and down the street, her brow furrowed in concern.

“I kept Sophia out of school today. We called the police yesterday afternoon and gave a report. They said they’d send an officer out but no one has come yet.”

Phoenix PD was seriously understaffed. “What happened? What kind of report?”

“Sophia’s brother Henry pushed her down and broke a plate. I know that sounds unexciting, and I would never have called the police, but Sophia told me some things that have me concerned.”

“What did she say?” I pushed when Evelyn didn’t immediately tell me.

“Henry stated that Javier killed a man. That’s why I called the police. Henry has changed. When Sophia first came here, he was kind, he helped in the yard, he was a sweet boy. But now? He’s angry and I’m scared about what he might do.”

“I believe Henry and Javier were responsible for a series of robberies in the area. Do you have any yearbooks from Sophia’s middle school?”

“I have some old yearbooks from previous girls who left them behind. Some don’t like to remember their time in foster care.”

“What about from the high school?”

“I think Ana has one from last year. I’ll find it. Please wait here.”

I stood in the entry. Sophia came in from the kitchen. She had been crying, her face pale and splotchy. “Henry doesn’t care that Sergio is in jail. He says we abandoned him.”

“Why did you leave the other foster home?”

She didn’t say anything for a minute.

“Javier?”

She nodded.

“Did he hurt you?”

She shook her head. “He—he made me very uncomfortable. He would come into my bedroom and watch me sleep.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“I couldn’t. He’s not in foster care. Ms. Oliver—Javier’s her son. I told her Javier was in my room, but she didn’t care. Said I must have invited him in.”

I remembered the man I saw on the porch. “What about his father?”

She shook her head. “I’ve never met him. Ms. Oliver’s father lives with her. He’s on disability.”

“She could have had her license revoked if her son sexually harassed you.”

Her face reddened. “It would have been very awkward. And he didn’t hurt me, didn’t try to—you know. I told my counselor that I was uncomfortable being the only girl. There were four teenage boys and me. I wanted to go someplace with Henry, thinking it would be just for a while, until Sergio could take us, but there was a bed available here and I was lucky to get it. I really like Mrs. Edgar and the other girls.”

“Did Henry tell you that Javier killed a man?”

She sucked in her breath, tears returning to her eyes. Her statement would be hearsay, but it might prompt a police investigation.

“I don’t want Henry to get in trouble,” she said.

“Sergio took the blame. He pled guilty. He’s in trouble.”

“For Henry.”

“For you.” Maybe part of it was his little brother, but after talking to Sergio today, I was confident it was primarily Sophia he was protecting.

“Have you talked to Sergio?” Sophia asked.

“Yes. He’s worried about your safety. He’s not going to recant unless he knows you’re safe and Javier can’t get to you.”

“Me?” But the look on her face told me she knew something about this.

“Sophia, I want to help your brother, but you need to be honest with me.”

“Henry said that he was protecting me. But I don’t understand why.”

“Javier threatened you,” I said simply.

Evelyn walked back in with a stack of books. “How?” the woman demanded.

I told Evelyn what Sergio said. Her expression showed deep concern, and she looked at Sophia with motherly compassion. “I think Sophia needs to stay home from school indefinitely,” I said.

She agreed. “That’s a good idea. I still want to talk to the police. Why haven’t they come to take my statement? They said they would.”

“Did you tell them that you have knowledge of a homicide?”

“I didn’t say it like that.”

“Call them back and be clear. Tell them that Sophia’s brother admitted to her that he witnessed a murder. They’ll talk to her.” I didn’t know if keeping Sophia home would be good enough for Sergio, but for the short term it might work.

Evelyn handed me five yearbooks. “What are you looking for?”

“Pictures of Henry, Javier, and Bruno.”

Sophia gasped. “Not Henry. I don’t want to get him in trouble.”

“He’s already in trouble. But he’s young, so if he cooperates, he may get probation. If he cooperates, I will help him.” Or, rather, convince my mom to help. She was the lawyer after all. “But it’s his choice.”

“She’s right, sweetheart,” Evelyn said. “He’s on the wrong path.”

I took the yearbooks. “Do you know Bruno’s last name?”

“Martin,” Sophia said.

I quickly looked up the names. I found Henry Diaz in seventh grade last year. Bruno was two pages after. Javier was in none of the middle school books. I turned to the older high school yearbooks and found Javier as a freshman two years ago. Mrs. Edgar didn’t have a more recent book.

“May I take these?” I asked. “I’ll return them.”

She nodded. “Let me give you my number. If you learn anything please let me know.”

I typed her number into my phone and said, “If any of these boys come here, call 9-1-1. I’m working on finding a safe place for Sophia for the duration, but in the meantime, keep her home.”

While I drove to Lyle’s Diner, I called Detective Villines. He didn’t answer. I left a message.

I was surprised to find Millie at the diner talking to Julia, but I shouldn’t have been. Millie was that kind of friend. I left the yearbooks with Julia. I had marked the pages, but not the names of the suspects. There were thirty-six photos on each page, that should be sufficient for a fair ID. She promised to show the photos to the other victims and call Detective Villines if anyone recognized one of the thieves.

Then I drove back to the Cactus Stop. Some of the videos Don posted had been bothering me, especially the one up on the Piestewa Trail. But the primary thing that irritated me was that he’d said he hadn’t known Greg before Greg started working with him. That was a lie. They’d known each other since high school and they hung out together over the years. Why would he lie about that?

Of course, he didn’t have to tell me the truth about anything. He could exaggerate or obfuscate or make up complete bullshit. But I’ve found that if someone knows a murder victim or celebrity, they tend to exaggerate the friendship.

Oh, we were best friends since high school! I can’t believe he’s dead.

Instead, Don had downplayed his friendship with Greg.

I barely knew him.

I walked into the Cactus Stop not knowing what I wanted to say or do, and decided to wing it.

Don Cruz was there, working behind the counter. He saw me, grinned. “Hey, you again.”

“Me again,” I said with a smile. I went over to the beer cooler and picked up another six pack of Coors Light. I was going to have a fully stocked refrigerator and my brother didn’t even drink that much. I put it on the counter, paid.

“My brother and I are going hiking this afternoon, up the Piestewa Peak Trail. Ever done that?”

“Totally. I’m up there all the time. Great views.”

“Do you have a favorite trail?”

He shrugged. “Hmm, not really, we like to take our dirt bikes up there.”

Bikes weren’t allowed, but clearly he didn’t care about the rules.

“Sounds fun.”

I paid, held out my hand for the change which he counted out, then said, “Do you have a bag for the beer?”

“Anything for you, sugar,” he said with a sly grin. “I get off at eight most days, if you want to get a drink or something.”

I poured the change into the bag, glanced over at the cigarettes, sighed.

“I quit, but sometimes I just need one, you know? Can you toss in a pack of Virginia Slims?”

“Sure.”

I counted out exact change and slid it on the counter. He put the cigarettes in the bag on top of the beer.

“Thanks,” I said and left.

It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, but I had an idea and would love to get his prints. I didn’t know if the cans would retain them with the moisture on the outside, but the coins and the cigarette box just might.

It was the mountain that tipped me off. Those trails on the east led to all the mountain-side homes in Paradise Valley. According to the article I read, the police believed that the robbers parked outside of the neighborhood and walked in, then escaped through backyards. What better way to disappear from a crime scene than through the maze of trails. They were closed at night and not regularly patrolled.

I may have solved Nico’s big case. Detective Villines should give me a medal.

I was about to drive away when I saw someone familiar walk up to the door and enter the Cactus Stop. He stopped and looked right at me.

Javier Escobar.