The In Death Collection Books 26-29 - J.D. Robb [251]
“I can tell you anybody who was top rungs back that time, they’re gone. Dead, in a cage, or in the wind. Some are still around, but they’d’ve been rank and file. Martinez and Chávez were in charge. And Soto. She took it over when they lit out.”
“I appreciate it, Detective.”
“You get anything leads to closing the bombing, we’re square.”
She got to her feet, paused. “One more thing. The families of the victims. Are you in touch?”
“Now and then.”
“If I need to, can I tap you again on this?”
“You know where to find me.”
17
EVE FOLLOWED HER NOSE TO ST. CRISTÓBAL’S. Rosa, her hair bundled over a face prettily flushed, answered the door. She wore an apron over a colorful top and slim black pants.
“Hello. How can I help you?”
“A couple of questions for you, and for Fathers López and Freeman.”
“The fathers aren’t here right at the moment, but . . . Would you mind coming back to the kitchen? I’m making bread, and you caught me right in the middle.”
“Sure. Making it?” Eve added as she and Peabody followed Rosa through the rectory. “Like from flour?”
“Yes.” Rosa tossed a smile over her shoulder. “And other things. Father López is especially fond of my rosemary bread. I was just about to shape the dough, and don’t want it to over-rise.”
In the little kitchen, a work counter held a large bowl, a stone board, a bin of flour.
“My mother bakes bread,” Peabody commented. “And her mother, my sister. My dad gets his hands in sometimes.”
“It’s a nice skill, and a relaxing chore. Do you bake?”
“Not much, and not really in a while.”
“It takes time.” Rosa punched a fist into the bowl of dough, and had Eve frowning. “Therapeutic.” Rosa laughed, then turned the dough onto the board, and began to pat and pull. “Now, how can I help you?”
“You lived in the neighborhood,” Eve said, “in the spring of 2043. There were two bombings.”
“Oh.” Rosa’s eyes clouded. “A terrible time. So much loss, pain, fear. My kids were just little guys. I kept them close, took them out of school for a month because I was afraid of what might happen next.”
“There were never any arrests.”
“No.”
“Did you know Lino Martinez?”
“If you lived in the neighborhood during that time, you knew Lino. He ran the Soldados, him and that gorilla Steve Chávez. To protect the neighborhood, he’d say. To keep what was ours. His poor mother. She worked so hard. She worked for my uncle, at the restaurant.”
“The investigators suspected Lino for the bombing, but were never able to talk to him.”
“I always thought he had his hand in it. The gang was his religion, and he was, at that age, a fanatic. Violence was his answer. But he was gone before it happened—the second bombing, I mean. Most thought he’d planned it, set it in motion, then ran off to avoid arrest.”
She formed three long, narrow rolls of dough, and to Eve’s reluctant fascination, began to braid them like a woman braided hair. “He was supposed to be at that dance, when the first bomb went off,” Rosa continued. “He liked to dance. But he didn’t go. None of his inner circle, except Joe Inez, were there when it happened. Lupe Edwards’s daughter, Ronni, died in that bombing. She was barely sixteen.”
Eve cocked her head. “And neither Lino nor Chávez were there? That would’ve been unusual?”
“Yes. As I said, he liked to dance, and he liked to swagger and show off. I heard they were on their way there when the bomb went off. So, maybe that was true. In any case, Ronni was killed. A lot of kids were hurt, some seriously, and the rumor was Lino was the target. When he left, so soon after, a lot of people said it was because he knew the Skulls would try again. They said, some said, he left to prevent innocent people from being hurt.” Her lips twisted. “Like he was a hero.”
Eve studied Rosa’s face. “That’s not what you said.”
“No. I think he left because he was a coward. I think he ordered the second bombing and made sure he was far away when it happened.”
“There were no arrests on that bombing either.”
“No, but everyone knew it was the Soldados. Who else?”
Eve