Charlie seemed to be going through girlfriends like water through a sieve. Romero had received an anonymous note in the mail with five names on it, intimating that Charlie knew them all. A couple of girls with no last names, but well known by their Christian names around the bar scene.
On the list was one Barbie Doll, who turned out to be a Barbara Dunigan. Charlie’s longtime girl friend, Brenda Mason, herself a bit of a player, had introduced them, much to her chagrin.
Janet, no last name on the list, but Romero thought she might be Janet Leyba.
Bernice, a waitress usually called Bernie.
No last name.
Linda Spottsburg, who lived part-time with that crack head Bart Wolfe.
Romero didn’t know what relevance the names had to the case. He sent an email to Detective Martinez to go through the missing person files to see if any of the women had been reported missing. Maybe it would help them start putting some of the pieces of the puzzle together.
Charlie had met Barbara at the bar in Madrid last December. She had just celebrated her twenty-second birthday. Loud, brassy, laughed a lot. Petite, shapely, wore her hair in a ponytail, liked fire-red lipstick. Had dropped about forty pounds and thought she was hot stuff, flirted with everyone. Charlie met her through his girlfriend Brenda, who hadn’t returned after her last departure.
Barbie-Doll had been browsing through the magazines at the book store in the mall when Charlie ran across her a second time. Their eyes locked. They had coffee. He invited her out to party. Drove to the ranch, the place was dark.
“Hey, where’s the party, Charlie?” she had asked.
“You’re the party, Babe.”
Missing since before Christmas.
* * *
Jan-Gran was twenty-two. Pretty, blond, small, tanned, and muscular. Liked to hike in the Ortiz Mountains. Carried on an affair with her married boss at the old hotel in Cerrillos. One afternoon he didn’t show up. She was pissed, about to be caught in a major blizzard, so she hitched a ride to the Mine Shaft Bar. Charlie was all over her, buying her drinks and telling her how pretty she was. Several hours later they ended up at the ranch. Hadn’t been seen since February.
* * *
Bernie-Bernice was twenty-eight but looked like a teenager. Waited tables at a resort in Tesuque, a few miles north of Santa Fe. Always introduced herself and added a caveat about the last customer who stiffed her on the tip. To make ends meet, she dipped in the cash register, according to the manager. He was threatening to let her go. She wasn’t above hitchhiking home after work, if she hadn’t been able to hook up with a customer who’d come in alone. Once, she told everyone she’d thumbed a ride with a guy named Charlie who had a marijuana garden in his basement. She dropped into the bar when she was too sober to face the daily grind. Missing since May 15.
* * *
Charlie met Linda at the bar in Madrid.
A tiny little thing, about twenty-three, wearing tight-fitting jeans. A tattoo of a bird on her right breast showed above her bra line. Linda lived with Wolfe in a trailer park on the outskirts of Santa Fe. Word was she stepped out on him. Dressed in revealing clothes when he wasn’t around. Liked to snuggle up as she danced. She was pretty popular with the male patrons of the bar.
Linda liked to look in the mirror. Her hair was thick and long, held with a silver clip at the neck. She told one of the other girls that she liked to apply green eye shadow and then rub it off with a piece of toilet paper. She liked the robin’s egg blue a little better. It brought out the color of her eyes.
Charlie spirited her away from Bart one night at the bar in Madrid. They made out and in the early morning he woke up to find her gone. Linda had been missing since June.
* * *
No doubt about Charlie being a party animal. Not interested in small talk. Generally picked women up and, after a few shots of Jim Beam whiskey, hustled them out to the ranch for a few more shots from his private stock. Romero figured that Charlie was living every guy’s dream.