Cinco de Mayhem by Ann Myers

are setting their sights on Linda, she’ll need a lawyer and a whole mess of money.” He reached under his counter and produced a glass jug with a piece of paper taped to it. The paper read, Free Linda . A blurry, ink-jet image showed Linda’s face. She was smiling and standing among a larger group. Someone, presumably Don, had hand-drawn black vertical bars over her face.
    â€œAw . . . that’s nice, Don. Really nice,” Crystal said. She turned to me. “We can make some bumper stickers too, if Linda ends up in real trouble. My nephew runs a screen-printing shop. He can do T-shirts, tank tops, caps, stickers . . .”
    I cringed. Linda behind bars was not the image I wanted spread around on bumpers and tank tops. “Linda’s not under arrest,” I clarified, after reiterating how great their support was. “She only went to the police station this morning to help out and give a witness statement. If there is any trouble, she has Santa Fe’s best defense attorney on her side. And, of course, she’s innocent.”
    â€œExactly! I believe in her fully,” Don said. “That woman is both my friend and the salt of the earth. As innocent as my own abuela . Isn’t that right, Crystal?”
    Crystal twisted her cherry-red lips and said nothing. I doubted she was questioning Don’s grandmother.
    â€œCrystal?” I asked. “You do believe Linda’s innocent, right? She’d never hurt anyone.”
    Crystal concentrated on polishing her already spot-free counter. “Sometimes, people go a little loco. They get mad and then you don’t know what can happen. If that’s what happened with Linda, I don’t blame her one bit. In fact, I want to help her.” She reached over and dropped a dollar in the donation jug.
    â€œLinda wouldn’t hurt anyone,” I reiterated. I offered up anecdotes about Linda feeding the hungry and rescuing wolves.
    Don agreed enthusiastically. “An absolute saint! I tell you, she’s like my very own grandmotheron my mother’s side. My paternal grandmother, well . . .” He shrugged, implying his other granny might be incited to stabbings.
    Crystal frowned. “But, Don, my sister called me when I was driving over here and she said she saw Linda at the Cathedral, weeping and begging the priest to let her into a confessional. And you know what?” Crystal lowered her voice and glanced over her shoulders, gossiper’s code for about to dish up dirt.
    Don leaned in. I gripped my horchata cup so hard the plastic crumpled.
    â€œIt’s not even the regular confessing day,” Crystal whispered. She followed this statement with a knowing bob of her head.
    â€œLinda’s a pious woman,” Don said after a beat. “My abuela went to confession every week and hadn’t a sin in her life. Not a one.”
    Crystal appeared not to hear him. “My sister said, Father Joseph, after he came out, he looked sad too. Upset and sad both, and he’s a priest!” She shivered.
    I could have hugged Don as he held firm about Linda’s innocence. “Linda’s a kind, God-fearing woman,” he assured a skeptical Crystal. “She’s surely sad about any death and wanted to talk to the priest about it. He’d be sad too. Priests are like that. Caring and whatnot.”
    Crystal’s doubtful look remained. If I hoped to sway her—not to mention Manny—I needed another suspect. I switched back to the topic of their alibis.
    â€œThe police want to know everybody’s alibis,” I said, exaggerating with “everybody.” So far,Manny and Bunny seemed most interested in Linda’s alibi. “I hope you two have people to vouch for you. You do, right?”
    â€œMe?” Crystal punctuated her answer with a scoffing sound. “I was home with my husband and kids, working and making juice.” She listed a litany of household chores that made