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her brother’s name, Mercedes?”

      “El Doctor Freddy.”

      “El Doctor Freddy?”

      “Jes.”

      “Does El Doctor Freddy have a last name—nom de familia?”

      “Same as Missy Lilah.”

      “Freddy Brecht?”

      “I thin’ his name is Señor Frederick.”

      “Frederick Brecht?”

      “I thin’ so.”

      “And he’s a physician? Un doctor de la medicina?”

      “Sí. He work at the spa. But he don’ work there all the time.”

      “He has another office?”

      “I thin’ so.”

      “Do you know where his other office is? Usted sabe donde está su otra oficina?”

      Mercedes shook her head.

      Decker said, “You’re doing great. Muy bien. You didn’t see El Doctor Freddy come inside the house?”

      “No.”

      “Does Doctor Freddy have a key to the house?”

      Mercedes scrunched up her forehead in concentration. “I thin’ … jes.”

      Decker wrote down: No forced entry and Dr. Freddy may have a key. “And Doctor Freddy wasn’t there when you left to go home.”

      “No, he don’ come yet.”

      “But Missy Lilah was home.”

      “Jes, she come home around four from the spa, all wet. She do very much exercise. She very, very skinny, but es okay ’cause she don’t throw up like muchas mujeres at the spa. She tell me all the women throw up to be skinny. I thin’ that’s no good.”

      “I don’t think that’s good either.”

      “But Missy Lilah no throw up to be skinny. But she do muchas exercise. Mucho tiempo corriendo. En la calle, en la montaña, todo el tiempo, ella corrió.”

      Decker wrote: Lilah obsessive runner. “Does she ever run at night?”

      “I don’ know.”

      If she did, it would put a new slant on the incident. After dinner with her brother, Lilah went out for a midnight run. Then someone familiar with her habits waited for her to return exhausted from her jog, and forced his way in. After she opened the safe, he attacked her, then tossed the room. That play-by-play would also be consistent with no forced entry.

      Decker excused himself a moment, stood and walked around the room, wincing as pain pierced his upper body. Even though the gunshot wounds were in the left arm and shoulder, he found that stretching his spine mitigated the throbbing in his extremities. He extracted a couple of extra-strength Tylenols from his shirt pocket and popped them into his mouth, swallowing without water, the movement as reflexive as breathing. Having worked his way off codeine, then Percodan, he’d been alternating with the over-the-counter analgesics—one day Tylenol, the next Advil. Almost eight months to the day, his recovery was good but still incomplete. The OTC tablets helped take the edge off, but he knew there’d come a time when he would have to learn to live without the medicine and with the pain.

      He stretched again, then sat and said, “Mercedes, when you came in this morning, did you notice anything different about the house before you went into Missy Lilah’s bedroom?”

      “No, nothing.”

      “Everything was in order.”

      “Jes.”

      “None of the furniture was moved or the vases put on a different table … anything like that?”

      “No. Jus’ the door to Missy Lilah’s bedroom is open. She like it closed.”

      “But nothing different in the living room, dining room?”

      She shook her head.

      “The front door was locked?”

      “Jes. I use my key to come in.”

      “You have a key?”

      “Jes.”

      “Anyone else in your family know you have a key to her house?”

      Mercedes’s face flushed with fear. “Ninguna persona! I keep it in especial place.”

      “So you’re positive that no one has the key to Missy Lilah’s house.”

      “Ninguna persona en mi familia. Jus’ me.”

      Decker told her he believed her, but kept the question open in his mind. “When you came in this morning, did you go straight to the bedroom? Or did you do something else first? Hang up your coat and purse, start the washing machine?”

      “I hang up my coat and look around. Everythin’ is okay. Entonces, I see the door open—”

      “The bedroom door?”

      “Jes, the bedroom door. I go to close it, I see Missy Lilah—”

      Covering her face, she burst into sudden tears, sobbing for a full minute, Decker waiting until the crying subsided. Mercedes reached inside her purse, found wrinkled tissue and wiped her eyes. “She be okay, Missy Lilah?”

      “I think so.”

      “I pray to Dios—to Jesús—she be okay. I go to church today to pray for Missy Lilah.”

      “It’s good to pray,” Decker said.

      “Jes.”

      “Makes you feel better?”

      Mercedes nodded. “Everyone need ayuda—help.”

      Ain’t that the truth. Decker patted her hand. “Mercedes, do you clean Missy Lilah’s room every day?”

      “Jes.”

      “You clean inside her closet?”

      “Jes, I vacuum every day there. She don’ like the dust.”

      “In the closet, there’s a big safe.”

      “Jes.”

      “You dust the safe?”

      “Jes, every day.”

      “Did you dust the safe yesterday?”

      “Jes, every day.”

      “Do you wear gloves when you dust the safe?”

      “I don’ wear gloves, only when I clean the toilet.”

      “So it’s possible that your hands touched the safe. Es posible que su mano ha tacado la puerta de la caja de seguridad?”

      “Sí, es posible.”

      Benny had pulled some latents from the safe. The maid was going to have to be inked for print comparison. But there was a good side to her compulsive cleaning; the safe had been wiped clean every day. If some of the latents belonged to Lilah, she had to have opened the safe after Mercedes cleaned it yesterday. Had she been forced to open it? Or maybe she put something valuable inside yesterday and someone had known about it.

      Decker scribbled a few notes—questions he’d bring up with Lilah. Hopefully, she’d be completely conscious by late afternoon, in good-enough shape to be interviewed briefly. “We’re just about done, Mercedes. Just a few more questions. I want to talk about the man who works with the horses.”

      “Señor Carl?”

      “Yes. He says he lives in the stables. Is that true?”

      “Jes.”

      “How

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