I huffed and puffed my way to the maintenance barn. That’s where all the equipment like tractors, hay bailers, trucks, and more were stored and worked on when malfunctioning. Most of the farm vehicles were over forty years old, but kept in tiptop shape by one master mechanic and assistants. The ancient equipment was superior to those newly-made machines available on the market, and Lady Elsmere’s people could fix anything that had wheels. Besides working on Lady Elsmere’s equipment, they also worked on neighbors’ machinery. They were allowed to use Lady Elsmere’s maintenance barn and equipment. The only conditions were that they pay for anything broken or lost tools, oil, and gas. Worked well for everyone involved.
I poked my head inside one of the bays, which smelled of human sweat, grease and spilled petrol. “Hey, is Renata around?”
“She’s around back taking a break, Mrs. Reynolds.”
“Thank you, Jose.”
Jose waved his wrench and went back to changing the oil on a neighbor’s car.
I drove the golf cart to the back of the building and spotted Renata sitting at a picnic table gobbling a pupusa de pollo. I got out and sat opposite her.
Renata looked surprised and put down her food. She was petite with brown hair and dark, expressive eyes that didn’t miss much. “Mrs. Reynolds, what are you doing here? I thought no visitors were allowed for the time being.”
“Do you know why?”
Renata shook her head, causing her long ponytail to sway. “Things have been pretty tense around here for the past several days. I assume it has to do with Last Chance, but why the sudden lockdown since yesterday I couldn’t fathom.” She gave me a cheeky grin. “Want to enlighten me? I know you know.”
This young woman and I go back a few years. She was an upstart twenty-year-old who boasted she could restore my antiquated Volkswagen bus. I let her have at it, thinking she would fail, but to my surprise Renata succeeded in bringing that old, rusty bus back to life. She painted it turquoise and restored the upholstery to its original color. I must say my bus purrs like a kitten, and now I don’t let anyone touch it but Renata.
I replied, “I was hoping you could enlighten me.”
“What about?”
“Juan Gomez. Did you know him?”
“Well enough to say hello and chat for a few minutes. I never socialized with him.”
“Never had a beer with him? Nothing like that?”
“Yeah, he would come by and shoot the bull with the boys before his shift. Maybe have a beer or two.”
“I thought Lady Elsmere didn’t allow drinking on the job.”
Renata gave me another grin. “What Lady Elsmere doesn’t know won’t hurt her. We keep a cooler in the shop. Sometimes a person needs a cold beer on a hot summer’s afternoon during their break. Nobody gets drunk. Doesn’t affect our work. You’re not gonna tell on us, are you?”
“Not if I get a cold beer every now and then.”
“I knew you were a good egg.”
“Let’s get back to Juan. What do you know about him?”
“He was planning on retiring soon. Juan had arthritis, and it was getting harder and harder for him to work.”
“Any other medical problems?”
“Not that I’m aware of?”
“Besides arthritis, what was going on in Juan’s life?”
“He was having problems with his wife, Valeria. They were estranged.”
“Why?”
“I think Juan liked to gamble—play the ponies. From what I understand, it caused the couple financial distress, so she left him—or she kicked him out. I don’t know which.”
“Juan was in his sixties. Was this gambling recent or a lifelong issue?”
“I don’t know. He would talk to the guys in the shop, and I would listen as I worked. He was a loud talker. I would hear snatches of the conversations from the bull pen.” Renata gave me a sly smile.
I hid my amusement that Renata was a snoop like I was. It’s amazing what one can learn by carefully eavesdropping. I asked, “Was he especially close to anyone who worked on the farm?”
“Not really. Juan was closer to us because we are Hispanic like he was.”
“Was Juan American born in the States or an immigrant?”
“I think he came over the border as a small child. He said he was originally from Mexico, but doesn’t remember the village.”
“What about family besides his wife?”
“I think he had grandchildren.”
“Is there anyone working today I can ask?”
“Please don’t, Mrs. Reynolds. The Hispanics who work here will either not speak with you about Juan or make something up. We take care of our own.”
“Why are you speaking with me then?”
“I didn’t care for Juan.” Renata took a swig of her soft drink.
That statement caught me by surprise. “Oh, why?”
“Juan was a typical man from his generation. He kept telling me that a real woman needs to be married, have children—that kind of thing. He would do this right in front of my male co-workers. The sermonizing got old. Juan made things rougher for me working here with the men because of his attitude. He stirred them up against me.”
“What do you think happened the night he died?”
“I think Juan opened the gates for the intruders.”
“Tell me your version of events, Renata.”
“It’s very simple. I suspect Juan must have needed money and made some sort of deal with the kidnappers, opened the gate for them, and then got shot for his troubles. Listen, remember the dead guy you found in the corn maze last year at Lady Elsmere’s Halloween party?”
“How could I forget?”
“Since that incident, this farm has been locked up tighter than Fort Knox. There is no way those kidnappers got in without help from the inside.”
“What about other employees who work the night shift?”
“They don’t matter. It was Juan’s car discovered next to the nursery barn. He had to be in on it as he was sitting in his car having a candy bar. That tells me his guard was down. He figured they would take the horse and leave as quickly as possible. There’s also the fact that his gun was still in its holster. If he was trying to prevent the theft, he would have gotten out of his car with the gun drawn. He was in on it all right.”
“Anything else?”
Renata paused. “I don’t think so. If I think of anything else, I’ll let you know.”
“Renata, will you get chastised for speaking with me?”
“I’ll tell the boys that you want the VW bus looked at. They’ll believe me.”
“Okay. Tell me one more thing. Do you know where Valeria Gomez lives?”
“Cardinal Valley subdivision on the west side of town. Little Mexico.”
“Thanks, Renata.”
“Take care, Mrs. Reynolds. If Juan wasn’t in on the scam, then someone else who works here was. Someone had to open the gates. Be careful. I know how you like to poke around.”
“I’ll be careful. Promise.” I got into the golf cart and headed back home, wondering if I could visit Valeria Gomez before Asa woke up.
I decided to wait. I didn’t trust Asa to stay at the Butterfly if I left her alone for an extended period of time. I just couldn’t take the chance of Asa absconding if given the opportunity. She could end up anywhere on the globe in a matter of hours.
This made me feel sad. It’s certainly not the mother-daughter relationship I craved.
I loved Asa, but I can’t say I liked her—at the moment.