Bad Penny by Sharon Sala Page A

markings on his face.”
     
    Luis’s eyes widened. Could it be possible that he was going to get his first lead from his own family?
     
    “This Paloma Garcia…can I talk to her?”
     
    His aunt nodded quickly. “She lives two houses down. Would you like me to go get her?”
     
    Luis shook his head. “No, I will go to her, but why don’t you come with me to make an introduction? I don’t want this woman to be uneasy around me. You know how our people are when it comes to talking to the authorities.”
     
    Maria nodded and got up from her loom. Together, they walked the short distance to a small casa sitting a bit back from the street.
     
    The air was much cooler now, and Luis glanced up as they walked.
     
    “You know, I forget how beautiful the night sky is when the view is not marred by streetlights and noise.”
     
    Maria nodded. “Sì. We have been here so long now, I would not want to live anywhere else.”
     
    “That I understand,” Luis said, and then moments later they were at the door.
     
    Maria knocked. “Paloma. It’s me, Maria.”
     
    There was a brief moment of silence, then the sound of a chair scooting back on a wooden floor.
     
    “She’s coming,” Maria said, and smiled at her nephew, happy to be a part of his investigation, even if hers was a small, unimportant role.
     
    Then the door opened, and Luis was face-to-face with a small woman of indeterminate age, wearing a red dress with multicolored embroidery around the neckline and matching embroidery a few inches above the hem. She had sandals on her feet and a red paper flower in her hair. Luis guessed that in her younger days, she’d been quite pretty.
     
    At that point, Maria made the needed introductions.
     
    “Paloma, this is my nephew Luis Montoya. He is a detective from Chihuahua. There is a question he would ask of you. Is it all right if he comes in?”
     
    Paloma’s smile had gone from welcoming to stiff so fast that Luis almost thought he’d imagined it. But the sparkle that had been in her eyes was gone, and she wouldn’t look directly at him anymore. Instead of a verbal answer, she shrugged as she stepped aside for him to enter.
     
    Maria frowned. She could tell her friend was uneasy, but Luis’s smile reassured her that he knew how to deal with the chilly reception. She sighed, then hurried back up the street, anxious to get in out of the chill of a desert night.
     
    Paloma waved toward a chair beside a small chiminea holding a brightly burning fire.
     
    “Sit there,” she said, and took a chair on the opposite side.
     
    Luis had the photo of Tutuola with him, and he laid it facedown on his lap as he sat.
     
    “Thank you for taking time to speak to me,” he said. Paloma nodded, but looked away.
     
    Luis waited for her to relax. This behavior was typical of his people, and he knew why. They didn’t have much reason to trust the police. Then he looked around at the inside of her small home and was taken aback. The amenities were surprising.
     
    Besides the little fireplace, there was a new wood floor, and windows with real glass and curtains instead of outside shutters. There was a hand loom in the corner, not unlike the one his aunt used, but the colorful pile of hand-pulled yarns was huge. The walls smelled of fresh whitewash, and there was a lit oil lamp on a small table. He couldn’t help but wonder where she’d come by the money to do all this.
     
    “Your home is very comfortable,” he said. Paloma nodded.
     
    “Your floor looks new.”
     
    She nodded again but still didn’t meet his eyes.
     
    Luis sighed. The conversation was going to be one-sided unless he shocked her into talking. He took the picture from his lap, then leaned forward and placed it in hers.
     
    Paloma had no choice but to look, and when she did, she was unable to stifle a gasp.
     
    “You know this man?” Luis asked.
     
    Paloma shuddered, then took the picture and handed it back. “Sì, I know him.”
     
    “What