Chapter Nineteen

Ileft Villines another message, stressing the urgency.

“I’m heading to Flannigan’s, if you want a beer on the house. It’s important that we talk ASAP.”

I relieved Scotty and since the Suns weren’t playing, put a variety of sports on the screens, with Irish music in the background. We only put on sound for sports if it was a local team.

I sent Andy a long message about the events of the day when I couldn’t reach him on the phone, and let him know that Sergio wasn’t going to budge on his statement unless he knew that Sophia was safe. Which, practically, meant proving Javier Escobar was the killer.

Last night I had mapped out the Paradise Valley burglaries that had been identified in the crime blog. I didn’t have addresses, only intersections or a block. Though Nico said seventeen, I had twelve. Looking at it now, my theory held:

Every one of those properties could be accessed from the Phoenix Mountains Preserve.

What I thought and what I could prove were two different things.

My phone rang and it was an unfamiliar number. “Margo Angelhart,” I answered.

“Hello, Margo, this is Evelyn Edgar.”

“Hi. Did you talk to the police?”

“Yes. A detective named Tina Barrios came by. I did not like her, and I did not like the way she talked to Sophia. She’s in her room crying.”

“What happened?”

Evelyn told me that she didn’t think the detective took them seriously and said that Henry could be lying because he doesn’t want his brother to go to prison. Which made no sense to me since Henry told Sophia, not a cop or anyone else in authority.

“I don’t think the detective really listened to us.”

I didn’t know, but I wanted to give Evelyn some hope. My phone vibrated twice, indicating two text messages, but I didn’t look. “Cops aren’t going to tip their hand. You gave her information, she’ll follow up.”

“You think so?”

“She has to make a report of your conversation, and at least investigate your allegation. It might take a couple days.”

“Can you talk to her? Because I don’t feel like we were heard. Sophia is a good girl, Margo. She wants to do the right thing, but the system isn’t working for her and she’s losing hope.”

I believed in the system. My mom worked in it. My brother. Even my dad, as a doctor for the VA.

But I also knew that the system didn’t always work, and justice was not always swift. People slipped through the cracks. Not all crimes were punished. Fighting for justice was sometimes an uphill battle.

“Let me see what I can do,” I said. “But keep Sophia home tomorrow, okay?”

“I will.”

After I ended the call, I checked my messages. They were both from Lulu.

Hey, I did the best I could on the photo. It’s clearer, so maybe if you know him you’ll recognize him. Thanks again for standing up for me at dinner.

The next message was the image. I zoomed in and immediately recognized the person in the reflection.

Javier Escobar.

I put my phone down and stared at the map I’d created. Three teenagers vandalizing businesses and petty theft, culminating in killing Greg Rodriguez at the Cactus Stop. The crimes started after Christmas and nothing since the murder. Eight robberies over three weeks.

Seventeen burglaries over about five months, the last occurring on January 8. I texted Nico.

Hey, those Paradise Valley burglaries. Any after January 8 that match the MO?

He texted me back almost immediately.

No. Why?

I sent him a smiley face and put my phone down.

No burglaries since a week before Rodriguez was killed.

That wasn’t going to last. Javier Escobar was Don Cruz’s new partner. Between my sighting today and Lu’s picture, I didn’t have any doubt. The question in my mind—had he always been involved? He killed Greg, but did they know each other? Or had Don recruited Javier because he had a falling out with Greg?

I wanted to look at the security video again.

Did Javier target the Cactus Stop for the sole purpose of murdering Greg Rodriguez? Had they been partners, or had Javier wanted in on the crimes? Had Don asked—or paid—Javier to kill Greg?

“Penny for your thoughts.”

I jumped, looked around. I was so engrossed in my map and theories that I hadn’t seen Detective Villines come in. I had never met him, but he looked like a cop so I made the assumption.

“Tomas Villines?”

“That’s me.” He sat down at the stool across from me.

“I’ll give my thoughts to you for free. What’s your poison?”

“Guinness.”

I grinned. “Man after my heart.” I poured him a Guinness the proper way—which takes time. He saw my maps, frowned. “Yep,” I said. “I’ve solved your case.”

He shook his head, but I saw he was smiling. “Julia Henderson called me today. She had a meeting tonight at her diner with the other robbery victims and they identified all three kids in the yearbooks. Javier Escobar, Henry Diaz, and Bruno Martin. Multiple identifications.”

“They live in the same foster home, except that Javier is the son of the foster mom.”

“You know, down at headquarters this afternoon, Tina Barrios went off about you. I was lucky enough to overhear. She is not a fan of yours, so I didn’t share that I’d talked to you.”

I shrugged. I certainly didn’t care.

“She knows that you’ve visited Sergio Diaz twice and thinks you’re working for the defense.”

“I’m not,” I said.

I couldn’t tell if he believed me.

“I have a theory.” I put the perfectly built Guinness in front of him.

He sipped, smiled, said, “Give it to me.”

I told him about how Sophia said Henry had Sergio’s hoodie for nearly a week—including the night that Rodriguez was killed. From the videos, a taller, skinnier kid was wearing it—not Henry.

“I thought initially that Sergio confessed to protect his brother, but after talking to him and Sophia, I think he confessed to protect his sister. Maybe both of them. According to Sergio, Javier threatened Sophia and if Sergio didn’t remain silent about the robbery, Javier said that she’d get hurt.”

“Remaining silent about a crime and confessing to murder are two different things.”

“The confession was knee-jerk. He knew how deep his brother was in Javier’s crimes. That, coupled with Javier’s threats against his sister, had Sergio doing what he thought he needed to do to protect her.” I shrugged. “You and I both know that young men often make split-second decisions without thinking things through. But now, Sergio feels stuck. If he recants, Javier isn’t going to be arrested without evidence. Which puts a target on Sophia’s back.”

“They don’t trust us.”

Tomas took that personally.

“Maybe not,” I admitted, “but these are young people who have seen the worst of the system. They’re in foster care. The system has kept Sergio from gaining custody—at least in their eyes. Henry is angry and latched onto an older teen in his house, a surrogate for his brother. He is the key. We need to convince Henry to tell us everything he knows. He may even have physical evidence of the crimes. He was there,” I emphasized.

Tomas raised an eyebrow. “We?”

“He’s not going to talk to you,” I said. “He might talk to me—or his sister. Arizona is a one-party consent state. She can record the conversation.”

“They’re minors.”

“It doesn’t matter.” True, I didn’t know the exact law, but having Henry state what he knew might be the best way, at a minimum, to get Henry out of Javier’s house. “If we can get Henry and Sophia to another house, a safe place, Sergio will talk.”

Tomas didn’t say anything.

“Sergio is not a killer,” I said.

“You can’t know that.”

“I’m a good judge of character.”

He stared at me, sipped his Guinness, then leaned back on his stool. I was wearing him down, which made me happy.

I put the bag with the Coors Light, cigarettes, and change on the counter. “I don’t know if you can get prints off these, but if Greg Rodriguez’s prints don’t match the Paradise Valley burglaries, I think the man who handed me these will.”

I told him my theory about Don Cruz and Greg Rodriguez—friends in high school who reconnected last summer when Greg started working at the Cactus Shop. “Maybe Don got him the job, maybe not. If you go through their social media accounts—both of which are public—you’ll see there are several points where they match up, but for the most part they led separate lives until they started working together. This wouldn’t have made me suspicious, except that Don lied to me for no reason.”

“Maybe because you’re a PI?”

“He didn’t know that. I was a customer, I bought a six pack of Coors Light, he flirted with me. Told me that he barely knew Greg, except that they worked at the same place.”

I told him about the videos that showed Don was very familiar with the Phoenix Mountains Preserve and Piestewa Park specifically. I showed him the maps I’d created and how easy it would be to disappear into the mountains. “The burglaries are at night, between eight and midnight,” I said. “I’ll bet if you review the shift schedules for Don and Greg, they’ll both be off those nights.”

“It’s not enough.” He gestured to the bag. “I can’t run these prints.”

“Why? I can make a statement that they’re Don Cruz’s prints.”

“I need cause. I didn’t witness him touching these items. I can’t just take the word of a civilian that he might be a thief.”

“Well, shit,” I said. “What about Greg Rodriguez? Can you check his prints, since the morgue took them? They might match to the burglaries.”

“You think that Don and Greg were connected to these other robberies at the businesses?”

He sounded skeptical.

“No. I think Javier and his gang of brats are solely responsible for the petty thefts and Don and Greg are responsible for the Paradise Valley burglaries. But Javier knows Don. Today I saw him going into the Cactus Stop when I was leaving. And then, in one of Don’s social media posts, Javier’s reflection was in the door.”

“A reflection,” he said flatly.

“Their relationship should be investigated. How do they know each other? How long? Was Javier involved in the burglaries? All? Some? How? Javier is still in high school, but they could have another connection.”

Tomas was thinking. That’s all I needed him to do. Finally he said, “Well, shit. This is a mess, isn’t it?”

“Only until we clean it up.”

He stared at me. “I’ll clean it up. You be a good PI and write up a straightforward report for me that I can use with my boss with all the facts. I can’t run these prints—” he gestured to the bag “—but I’ll see if I can find cause and get them myself.” He looked at the maps I’d created, grinned. “And include your pretty pictures. My boss likes visuals.”