Chapter 43
“I don’t like this place,” Randy said as Annie pulled into the parking lot of the Riverside Apartments.
“I don’t either. That’s why I asked you to come along.”
“Your new best gay friend?” Randy smiled.
“Well, you are a man.”
“That I am,” he said and puffed his chest out.
“Rosa seemed to really like you,” Annie said, shutting off the engine. Noting a group of guys at the other side of the parking lot, she and Randy shared a look.
“Ignore them.” She opened her car door. As they disembarked from the car, she noticed Rosa walking across the parking lot. She must have been waiting for them. Odd.
“Hey,” Rosa said. “I didn’t want you guys to get freaked out by the gang.”
“Gang?” Randy said.
She laughed. “Not really. They’re just a bunch of middle-aged losers that hang out in the parking lot because they don’t have anything better to do.”
Rosa was short and built like a spark plug. She gave off a “don’t mess with me” vibe that Annie quite liked.
The parking lot was a mishmash of vehicles. Most of them were well used. There were a couple of motorcycles and many trucks, including one new one that was kitted-out, big and shiny.
Why would anybody need a truck that big? marveled Annie.
Randy seemed to like it. “I love trucks. This is a beaut.”
“Beaut?” Annie teased.
“I’m in Virginia now,” he said and winked at her.
They followed Rosa up two flights of stairs to her apartment.
“Please come in,” she said. “What would you like to drink? A soft drink? Juice? How about coffee?”
“Coffee sounds good,” Annie said and Randy nodded.
After they were settled on the worn, yet comfortable, sofa, Rosa brought in the coffee and a plate of cookies.
“Thank you. So this is where the Martelino sisters lived,” Annie said, looking around.
“Yes,” Rosa said. “We all lived here together.” The place was small, but neat and orderly. There was a jumble of décor, as one would expect to find with several adults living in the same quarters.
“I’ll be interviewing a new roommate later today. She’s passed the Mendez eye,” Rosa said.
“About that Mendez guy . . .” Annie said. “He threatened me.”
“I’m not surprised,” Rosa said. “He feels very protective of us.”
“What? Why?”
“He’s more than a landlord for many of us. He’s a sponsor. He keeps a close eye on us.”
“Is he married?” Randy asked.
“Yes,” replied Rosa. “Has three kids. His wife keeps to herself. He’s very old-school Latino, if you know what I mean. We tried to get her involved in scrapbooking, but no dice. She came to our crop once and he had a fit. He told her it was a waste of time. Of course, we knew that he wants all of her attention. Wants her at home with him to cook and clean.” She rolled her eyes.
“So he doesn’t like scrapbooking?” Annie asked.
“No,” Rosa responded. “None of our men like it. At least none of the ones here. They make fun of us. Think we should be out at the bars trying to get laid, I guess. Or trying to get a husband.”
“That’s interesting,” Annie said, remembering the scrapbooking pages found on the bodies of the sisters, the craft knife sticking up from the neck of Marina, and the ribbon wrapped around Esmeralda. Someone definitely did not like them scrapbooking.
“Some people have strange feelings about scrapbooking. It’s odd to me that someone would care that much about how someone else spends their time,” Rosa said. “But even Marina’s boss . . . What’s her name? . . . Pamela. She doesn’t like scrapbooking.”
“Really?” Annie said. “I had no idea.”
“Interesting,” Randy said.
“Tell me about the sisters,” Annie said after a moment. She glanced over at the statue of Mary in the corner, with dried flowers circled around it. Rosary beads with a cross hung over the statue.
“Aye,” Rosa said with a sigh. “I miss them. And I am so frightened. I had the locks all changed. They were nice women. Clean. Polite. Funny.”
“When you say frightened”—Annie leaned in closer to her—“are you afraid that whoever killed them will come after you?”
“Yes. I don’t know why someone would want to kill them. But they lived here. You know? Maybe whoever killed Marina and Esmeralda will want to kill me, too.” Rosa shrugged and bit her lip.
“Have you seen anybody strange hanging around?” Randy asked.
“No, just the same old crew. The middle-aged guys in the parking lot.”
“I heard there were gangs over here,” Annie said. “It’s hard to believe.”
Rosa swallowed her cookie. “Who told you that?” Her tone was serious.
“The police,” Annie said.
“Well, yes, there was a gang,” Rosa said. “But I don’t think there’s one anymore. I think those old guys out there have taken care of it.”
“What do you mean?” Randy asked.
“They consider themselves the watchers. They are . . . how do you say? . . . vigilantes. They’ve scared away the gangs as far as I know.”
“Interesting,” Annie said and grinned. “Hell hath no fury like a bunch of middle-aged guys?”
“Yes,” Rosa said. “I know I called them losers, but several of them have families and didn’t like the way things were going. So they took matters into their own hands.”
“Sounds dangerous,” Randy said.
Rosa nodded.
“You know, we tried to reach out to the Martelino family,” Annie said, trying to steer the conversation back to them. “The guy from Hathaway said they were orphans. So sad.”
“What? They weren’t orphans,” said Rosa. “He must have them confused with one of his other clients. They have a mother and a father and a brother.”
Annie’s heart started to race. “Where are they?”
“Unfortunately, they are in prison.”
“Prison? All of them?” Annie asked.
Rosa nodded. “I think it’s in Kansas.”
Randy started to cough. Was he choking on his coffee? He patted his chest.
“Are you okay?” Annie asked.
He nodded, calming down, but his face was still red.
Randy may not be the best guy to take on these interviews, thought Annie. She turned back to Rosa. “Kansas?”
“They all came to the United States together. The girls came here. Their parents and their brother went to Kansas. I don’t know what happened, but they ended up in prison.”
“Do the police know this?” Annie asked, fuming.
“Of course,” Rosa said. “I told them everything I know.”
“We’ve been trying to reach the family to send our condolences.”
“I can give you their information,” said Rosa. “Why don’t you come into their room with me? I’ll find the address for you.”
Could it be that easy? After all this? thought Annie.
When Annie walked into the bedroom, she tried to hold back a shiver. It was a happy room, with walls painted a soft yellow and bright decorations. A bookcase stocked with books stood in one corner. Another one held scrapbooks. A vanity table had makeup and a red and purple floral scarf flung across the top of it.
Those young women were alive a few short weeks ago, thought Annie. They hadn’t expected to meet their end, to have their lives stolen at such a young age.
“Annie?” Randy said.
“Oh, let me get you a tissue,” Rosa said, noticing Annie’s tears.
What’s wrong with me, thought Annie. I’m a reporter! How unprofessional to cry like this. But there was no point trying to stop. Only part of her was a reporter. She was a woman, a mother, a wife, a friend, a human. As she stood in the room that once belonged to the two sisters, filled with remnants of their young lives, sadness overwhelmed her.