Bombshell Part 31

Anna shook her head.

Griffin watched his sister's forehead knit, a sure sign she was thinking. She leaned close. "What about Mrs. Carlene?"

Griffin went on alert. "Who's Mrs. Carlene?"

Anna said, "She's Professor Salazar's secretary. She came with him when he arrived at Stanislaus this past September."

Griffin said, "Mrs. Carlene sounds very Southern. How would a musician from Madrid hook up with a Mrs. Carlene?"

Delsey said, "I don't know, never thought about it, really. I overheard her."

Griffin would find out all about Mrs. Carlene. "So what did you overhear?"

"It was last November, and I'd left a theory cla.s.s with Professor Coffman in Brackford Hall, and I heard Gloria Brichoux Stanford-she's a famous violinist, retired-"

"I don't live off the planet, Delsey. I've heard her play. Go on."

"She was speaking with another professor, I don't remember who it was, woodwinds, I think, and he was telling her that Mrs. Carlene guarded Dr. Salazar like a lioness with her only cub. I heard Ms. Stanford say she was so secretive she wouldn't even let anyone hear her speak on the telephone. She said Mrs. Carlene noticed her standing close by and clammed right up, didn't say another word, punched off her cell. I remember the woodwinds professor shook his head like who cares? I didn't hear anything more. But I didn't forget it, it was too weird."

Delsey shook her head. "I can't get over you believing Professor Salazar might be a drug kingpin. I can't fathom it." She paused for a moment. "What I mean is he's got everything, more than everything, he's at the very top, but to sell drugs to teenagers? I know you guys think the same thing.

"So enough. Anna, what do you think of my gorgeous brother?"

Anna c.o.c.ked her head to one side, looked him over. "This baboon? I've got to say I like the guy; it's probably the Jane Goodall in me. Now I've got to get back to work before Maurie comes out here yelling."

Wolf Trap Road

Maestro, Virginia

Late Sunday

Griffin didn't call ahead. He was content to wait for Anna in his car a half block from her cottage. He knew she helped close the diner at ten o'clock, Maurie usually trailing along after her with a happy buzz on if the day's receipts were good.

He watched Anna pull her Kia into her driveway, climb out, and trudge to the cottage's front door. She looked tired, he thought, one job too many between trudging around with food and worrying about her cover.

Before he raised his hand to knock, the door opened and there stood the DEA agent, her Glock pointed at his chest.

"Griffin! I'm glad it's you and not some-well, I don't need this." She slid her Glock back in her purse, still on her shoulder. "Why are you here? Is Delsey all right? I didn't see your car."

"It was parked up the street. Delsey's asleep. I asked Penny to keep watch. I'd like to talk to you some more, make some plans, if we can."

Griffin followed her down the hallway to her kitchen. It was like the Julia Child's Kitchen exhibit at the Smithsonian, with an antique stove that still looked ready to take on a roast, and what looked like an ancient dishwasher, with its door cracked open, ready for business.

He watched her pull down two big mugs from an ugly mud-brown wooden cabinet, and sat down as she made coffee.

"It's decaf," she said over her shoulder. "It won't taste wonderful, but it might fool our brains into stayin' alert a bit longer. Did Delsey tell you anything else useful?"

He watched her shove her hair behind her ear. "You already know about Mrs. Carlene, don't you? Tell me about her."

"She cleared our background check. I've met her, of course. She's originally from Savannah, Georgia, but spent some ten years living in Madrid-her home away from home, I've heard her call it-and that's where she met Salazar. Word is they once had a relationship, remained friends, and never really split up. She's been schedulin' his appearances and appointments for years now. Maybe it's workin' for Salazar for so long that makes her seem like she's more involved with this business than she is. We'll check again."

Anna gave him a small smile as she poured coffee into his mug. "You like plain black?"

"Yes, thank you."

He took a sip, watched her take a couple of bagels from the toaster and put them on a plate along with a fresh tub of cream cheese.

"Same bagels from this morning?"

"Yep. Toast them and you never know how ancient they are. Would you like one?"

He shook his head. He watched her smear cream cheese on the bagel. "If it's not Mrs. Carlene and you don't suspect Hayman, do you have any ideas who Salazar's working with-other than the Maras, of course? He's got to have someone close by. I didn't see any men at his house at all Sat.u.r.day morning, and no one but Delsey has seen any gang members that I know of."

She shook her head, chewed. "I've never seen anyone around him I didn't expect to see, other than his visitors."

"Sounds odd, doesn't it? Who does he work with in Madrid?"

"Their police sent us a compete dossier on him. You can borrow it if you like. When he's in Madrid, he likes to spend most of his time with his mother, Maria Rosa, and her longtime friends, all of them older and male, in her lovely big home on the Paseo del Prado. Mother and son play for each other at a small flamenco club. As you know, she's quite a cla.s.sical pianist. Bottom line, we haven't seen any of his mother's a.s.sociates here, only Salazar."

"Has he visited El Salvador and his Uncle Mercado recently?"

"No. His last visit was when he was in his mid-twenties. Mercado was killed in a firefight with authorities some ten years ago. Another Lozano cousin took his place. How did you meet your boss?"

He smiled at her. "I worked with Savich and Sherlock in San Francisco a couple of weeks ago. Did you read about Judge Dredd getting shot?"

"The whole planet has. You were involved with that? You must have really impressed him to ask you to transfer to Washington to work for him after, what, a week of knowin' you?"

Griffin nodded. "Everything worked out. I'll tell you though, I had to think long and hard about the transfer. I really like San Francisco, enjoyed my life there. But Savich and his unit are usually in the eye of the storm, and, I gotta admit it, I like the rush, the challenge."

"The danger, right?"

"Maybe there's something else-I called lots of people, and all of them told me you can trust Savich; he's always got your back."

He began tapping his fingers on the tabletop. "In the morning I'm going to start talking with everyone who was at the party, including everyone from that catering company. No one will wonder why, since everyone knows we're conducting a murder investigation."

"If you can, talk to Salazar again. I'd like to know your impressions of where his mind is at now. Again, I think he's got to be panicked. All of them must be."

She took the last bite of the bagel, sighed, and sat back in her chair. "I was raised on bagels. My grandma made them for me the first time when I was maybe four years old. 'Succor for the soul,' she'd say when she spread cream cheese on one for me."

"There were bagels in the South when your grandmother was a girl?"

She grinned at him. "I think the first bagel maker arrived in Louisiana with the carpetbaggers after the war. What's your favorite eat?"