Deadly Intersections (7 page)

Andre coughed. “Ma’am, you mentioned two other children but don’t you have three?”

Color rose in her cheeks and she sat straight up on the couch. “That boy, Franco, I don’t claim him. He’s muerto! Selling drugs, hurting people. I threw him out two years ago, and I haven’t seen him since. He’s not welcomed here.”

“Did Maria still have contact with him?” Molly asked.

She shook her head adamantly. “Not at all. She knows she would be in trouble.” She paused and winced at her choice of words. “She
knew
how I felt about gangs and drugs. She was a great girl. The leader of her class. She was the one who stopped the fights on the playground. She was always organizing the students to do charity things like bring pennies to school to help the homeless. Imagine that! The girl had hardly nothing herself, but she never thought she was poor.”

“That’s because of you,” Molly said. “You gave her love and that’s all she needed.”

Mrs. Perez processed the comment, squared her jaw and faced her. Molly saw the fierce determination in her eyes. They were the eyes Maria had inherited.

“I want you to find her killer. Promise me you’ll do that.”

“We’ll do our best,” Molly assured her.

They returned to the playground and noticed the crime scene tape had been ripped apart. Molly gazed at the bloodstain on the ground and thought she might throw up. She craved a scotch so much that she could taste it in her mouth.

Andre flipped open the file and his notebook. “Well, from what Mom added we know she left home in the late morning.  Her best friend Selena Diaz, who was supposed to meet her here, never left her house, so it’s likely Maria was playing alone. According to the coroner she was killed between eleven and one but I’m guessing it was before noon.”

“Why do you think that?” Molly quizzed, already knowing the answer but well aware that Andre continued to hone his thinking skills. The last big mistake he’d made almost cost them an investigation and Ari’s life.

“Mom wanted her to go home in an hour, and I’m sure she was going to listen to Mama.”

Molly shrugged her shoulders. “That little girl was willful, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she ignored rules. I’m also willing to bet she still had contact with her older brother. They looked very close in that family photo.”

“Possible,” Andre conceded.

Molly glanced at the school, noticing that the sun was quite bright. She said nothing but started toward the building.

“Did you get the key?”

Andre chuckled. “Check this out.” He withdrew an old skeleton key from his pocket.

It took a few tries before they could open the creaky door. A slant of light showered the decrepit hallway. A junkie’s paradise. She pulled a flashlight from her pocket and veered left. The air was thick with dust particles swirling in front of her face as they caught the sunlight. From above they heard a noise—the quick movement of feet. Andre withdrew his gun and flew back down the hallway, passing the entry and flying up the stairs. She stayed on his heels, their loafers pounding the ancient linoleum. 

At the top of the steps they looked left and right but saw no one. Suddenly the clank of metal echoed from the first story. She darted into a classroom and stared out the window. A figure in an Army jacket, jeans and a black baseball cap bolted across the field and through the hole in the fence. 

“Can’t even tell if it’s a man or a woman,” Andre said.

“Nope,” she agreed. “But we know that people spend time here during the day. It’s very possible someone, maybe even that person, saw something.”

“Or
did
something,” he added. “I can’t imagine anyone coming after that little girl intentionally. Who’d want to kill a kid?”

She shook her head and they headed toward the west corner of the building.

“Are we gonna search all of these rooms?” Andre asked, and Molly could already hear the whine in his voice again.

“No,” she said, gesturing to the doors that faced the playground. “Just these. The first floor windows are too low.”

They surveyed the five rooms, automatically eliminating the last two where the floor was rotted out. They were uninhabitable unless someone wanted a quick exit to the first floor. They found nothing in the next two rooms and she began to worry they wouldn’t find a clue.

The end room was the biggest and contained the most trash. She peered through the dirty windows. “This is the best view of the swing set. If anyone saw anything, or if the killer was watching, he was doing it from this window.”

“How do you know it was a man? Aren’t you being a little chauvinistic?”

Molly scowled. “Do you really want me to cite the statistics on female killers to you?”

Andre waved his hand. “Only if you do it after we leave.”

They stepped carefully, avoiding the trash and broken glass that littered the floor. A shabby mattress lay in the corner, the cracks of the hardwood planks littered with hundreds of hypodermic needles. She pulled on a pair of heavy gloves and paced the room, sometimes carefully picking up pieces of debris for examination or pushing them aside with an old yardstick she found in the corner.

Andre remained by the door trying to stay out of the way, clearly hesitant to soil his expensive suit.  “Why do we care what they eat?” he complained when she emptied an old McDonald’s bag.

“It’s not what they eat that matters,” she replied, ignoring his impatience. She’d vowed not to let him get on her nerves, but sometimes it was all she could do not to turn around and bark at him. She knew he hated dirty places because he always wore tailored suits. Ironically he had no problem tackling a suspect in his good clothes even if it meant a rip in his expensive pants, but standing in a dusty room made him nervous.

Eventually she wound up underneath the window where she meticulously sorted the trash, spreading it out, separating all of the wrappers from each other. Amid the mess she found what she was looking for. 

“Check it out,” she said with a smile. “I think we just got really lucky.”

He stared at the white strip of paper in her hand, a receipt from the Jack in the Box down the street. The customer had purchased three plain hamburgers and a chocolate shake. It took him a second to realize why she cared—the date and the time of the purchase.  Someone had purchased the food on Sunday at ten-thirty, not long before Maria Perez arrived at the playground.

“So the killer buys the food and comes here to eat it, probably getting his jollies watching Maria the whole time. Then he goes down and kills her.”

“Hmm. Possibly,” she said hesitantly. “And if he’s not the killer then he’s most likely a witness.”

After ten minutes of debating whether or not they should comb the side streets of the Roosevelt neighborhood in search of the figure in the Army jacket, Molly and Andre decided to spend their time pursuing more tangible leads. They stopped by the Jack in the Box but were told the teenager who took the order had the day off. She scribbled the employee’s home address in her notebook, unwilling to wait for any leads to break on the case. A quick drive to the boy’s house proved fruitless since he wasn’t home. Andre agreed to come back later.

Maria’s school seemed the next logical stop. It was quiet as they pulled up to Phoenix Elementary Number One. The name was self-explanatory. They were sitting in front of the oldest grade school in the city. Although it had undergone at least a dozen restorations and remodeling jobs during its 160 years of existence, the framework of the original structure remained intact, with tall stone pillars rising from the foundation, sentinels for the modernized steel double doors that served as the school’s front entrance. The chiseled name emblazoned across the stone front left no doubt about the importance of the edifice to the community, a symbol of the stature of education at a different time in history.

All of the children were in classes and the central corridor was empty. They found the office, which was bustling with late students and irate parents waiting to speak with an administrator. Once they flashed their badges they were quickly escorted to the conference room. The appearance of police officers superseded other business and the school principal appeared.

“Hello, I’m Cynthia Preston,” she said, holding out her hand for what Molly imagined was the customary greeting that she bestowed on a multitude of people each day. 

Molly met the firm handshake and was immediately impressed by Principal Preston, whose face was earnest. “I’m Detective Nelson and this is Detective Williams. We need to speak with you about Maria Perez.”

Ms. Preston shook her head. She motioned for them to sit and took the chair at the head of the table. “Such a horrible tragedy. You have no idea how much this has affected our school today. The TV trucks left right before you came. All those media mongers trying to interview our parents, watching the children crying. It was ridiculous.” She started to say something else and closed her mouth. She folded her hands on the table, a gesture of restraint.

Molly guessed the principal to be in her late fifties, a handsome African-American woman with a fine figure. Her makeup was meticulous yet her eyes betrayed her fatigue—and it wasn’t even noon.

“Tell us about Maria,” Molly said.

Ms. Preston laughed slightly as a tear rolled down her cheek. “She was one of those students who teachers loved, but it wasn’t always easy. Maria challenged everyone, and she expected good answers to her questions. You earned respect from her, but once you had it, well, that child would do anything for you then.” She reached for a tissue and dabbed at her eyes. 

“So she was very strong willed,” Andre concluded.

She nodded in agreement then added, “Not in a bad way. Maria expected fairness and justice. Although she was only a fifth-grader, she understood that a decision could be just even if she didn’t agree with it.”

“Did anyone at the school have a problem with her?” Molly asked.

“Well, it seems she and her friend Selena observed one of our toughest fifth-grade boys attempting to extort lunch money from a second grader.”

“What did she do about it?” Molly probed, already fearing the answer.

“Just what you would expect. She confronted the boy and got in his face. A teacher saw them arguing and came over to intervene. We have these kinds of problems all the time, but the reason I mention it is because the bully was Raul Cervantes, brother of Hector Cervantes. And I’m assuming you know that Maria was Franco Perez’s younger sister.”

Molly scribbled several notes furiously. “So you’re concerned because you think it’s possible that Hector may have killed her because she tattled?”

“Detective, you need to understand something about Hector Cervantes and Franco Perez. Everything you read in the news about these young men is true. They epitomize what all the songs and movies exploit about gang members. They have killed people over nothing, and they will look for any opportunity to express their hatred. Would it surprise me if this whole incident is about the problem between Maria and Raul? Not at all. And Hector Cervantes is an extremely stubborn man. His mother is dead, and his father abandoned him and his brother when they were young. Hector
is
Raul’s father and there’s no way he would ever let anyone disrespect Raul. He was suspended over the incident and Hector knows that he’s very close to being expelled from the school district. I don’t know if that’s enough reason for Hector to kill Maria, but I can assure you that there was certainly some type of retaliation that occurred. There always is.”

“We need to interview Maria’s friend Selena Diaz as well as Raul Cervantes,” Molly said.

Ms. Preston nodded. Her secretary stuck her head into the room and she excused herself.

“So, what do you make of this?” Andre asked. “Do you really think a gang-banger would take out a little girl over a suspension?”

Molly rubbed her chin and stared at her notes. She guessed that Maria loved to stir up trouble. She seemed fearless, a necessary South Phoenix survival trait but one that could have been her undoing. She pictured her standing up to Raul Cervantes, those brown eyes blazing, ignoring the consequences. Could it have earned her a bullet in the chest? A wave of admiration and fear simultaneously touched her heart. 

The conference room door squeaked open again and the principal’s secretary returned. “I’m sorry. Ms. Preston needs to meet with the superintendent. I’m Mrs. Jones and I’ve called Raul down, but Selena isn’t in school today. I’ve left a message with Hector. I’m sure he’ll be here quickly. If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to a quieter area.”

They followed Mrs. Jones through the busy hallways filled with students changing classes. As they passed the rows of lockers, a huge banner hanging from the staircase caught Molly’s attention. The large red letters advertised a city-wide science fair and congratulated Mrs. Stimson’s fifth-grade class for placing first in the competition.

Molly gazed skyward and Mrs. Jones pointed at the banner. “That was Maria’s class. They’re an awesome group and totally devastated by her death. It’s such a shame. They just won last week, and we were going to honor them tomorrow. Now I don’t think anyone wants to celebrate.”

Mrs. Jones ushered them into the library and retrieved Raul. Molly was surprised when a scrawny, short boy with a buzz cut stepped into the room. Wearing a simple white T-shirt that drooped well below his saggy shorts, she concluded that he couldn’t carry the gangster image he was trying to convey.