The Last Move
Page 25
“I’m just wondering why she hid her disease from her husband and stopped seeing her doctor.”
“Fear. Vanity. Who knows?” he said.
She frowned. “Did you ever find out the cause of the car accident that killed the first Mrs. Sanchez?”
“Let me check with Palmer.” He dialed her number, and when she picked up, he switched to speakerphone. “Palmer, I have you on speaker with Kate Hayden. Any more information on the first Mrs. Sanchez?”
“She died twenty-one years ago in a car accident on I-35. According to the police report, Selena, aged thirty-nine, was driving late at night when she lost control, ran off the road into a ravine, and hit a tree. The medical examiner reported she didn’t die right away. She suffered major internal injuries. Took her several hours before she expired.”
“Detective Palmer,” Kate said. “Was there a life insurance policy on Selena Sanchez?”
“There was. Fifty thousand dollars.”
“Not a huge sum,” Kate said. “And Martin Sanchez married Gloria eight months later.”
“Correct,” Palmer said.
“What did he do with the insurance money?” Kate asked.
“From what I can tell, he started the dealership with it.”
“Did anyone check out Selena Sanchez’s vehicle to see if it had been tampered with?” Kate asked.
“The police report didn’t indicate a problem. But I doubt they’d have been looking for one. The car was all but destroyed, and she didn’t have the kind of clout to trigger an intense investigation.”
“Okay,” Mazur said. “Thanks, Palmer.”
“Here to serve,” she said.
After he hung up, he angled his head toward Kate. “So what’s the connection?”
“Right now, I don’t see one.” She rubbed her eyes. “I suspect something is off about Gloria’s illness, but I’m just not seeing it.”
“How about a break? I’m starving. I’m getting a burger.”
“Sure.”
“I assume you eat meat.”
“I do.”
“Good. You can eat, too.”
She rubbed the back of her neck. “You’re always trying to feed me.”
“Call it self-interest. You can’t think if you’re exhausted and starving. When was your last meal?”
“Yesterday.”
“The crap from the vending machine?”
“Yes.”
Shaking his head, he pulled into a drive-through and ordered two number-three burgers, fries, and sodas. As he pulled to the next window, he fished out his wallet.
“I’ve got this,” Kate said.
“You get the next one.” He paid, accepted the bag of food, and parked in a nearby spot. He handed her the bag.
When she took a bite, he nodded. “Not sure I would totally trust a vegetarian.”
She pulled off a pickle. “I eat everything but vegetables. Though if they came in vending machines, I might try them.” She took another bite. “Eating hot food is a moment to be celebrated.”
He smiled and took a bite of his burger. After a moment, he asked, “Do you think Martin Sanchez knew about Gloria’s cancer?”
“He looked surprised when you told him.”
“You think he killed her?” Mazur asked.
She pinched a piece from the bun. “If he really didn’t know about the cancer and he thought she had many more years to live, Sanchez could have hired someone to kill his wife.”
“You must be reading my mind.” He nodded toward her half-eaten burger. “Finish up.”
“This is good,” she said. “Thank you.”
“I’m still getting to know the area, and the best burger joints are hidden. Haven’t found a pizza place that rivals what we had in Chicago. You’re from this area, do you know any?”
She picked up a fry. “My restaurant information is outdated.”
“You said your mother lives in town.”
She arched a brow. “Why the curiosity about my family?”
He smiled. “It’s called making conversation, Kate. You must have learned about that in your volumes of profiling books.”
If she noticed he had dropped her formal title, she didn’t seem to mind. “I skipped that lecture.”
He feigned shock. “Oh my, was that a joke?”
“No. It’s a fact.”
He laughed. “I don’t doubt it.”
They ate in silence for several minutes before she said, “We should talk to Martin Sanchez. There’s more behind what we’re seeing.”
He wiped his hands on a paper napkin. “He can wait another ten or fifteen minutes. Eat.”
She bit into the burger. “Right.”
“So what made you choose the FBI, Kate?” he asked.
She set the burger down and wiped her hands on a napkin. “I was working on my PhD when law enforcement approached my linguistics professor with a letter from a stalker. They asked him to read it. He brought me in to consult, and based on the observations we made, the cops were able to catch the guy. The FBI was recruiting so I applied. I’m now a part of a team, and we’re sent out to investigate complicated cases.”
“You like it?”
“You know how it goes. There are times when you are witness to man’s inhumanity to man. Other times when the rush is so exciting, you’re on a high for days.”
“I hear ya.”
“Why’d you become a cop?”
“Couldn’t imagine myself in a nine to five. And I wanted to make a difference.” He studied her. “Did you choose the FBI because of your father’s murder?”
She stilled, and for a moment he wasn’t sure if she’d answer. “That was certainly part of the equation. His death devastated our family.”
He heard the tremor in her voice. “I’m sorry.”
For an instant, she closed her eyes. She then balled the remainder of her burger up in the wrapper. “I blame myself.”
“Why?”
“I went to high school with the shooter, William Bauldry. We were in chess club together and got to be good friends.”
“What was Bauldry like?”
“He was smart, funny, and very charismatic. I wouldn’t call him a popular kid, but all the popular kids liked him.”
“And you dated him?”
“As you may have noticed, I’m a geek. This trait is an asset now but wasn’t so much in high school. He befriended me, which I found very flattering. When he asked me out on a date, I couldn’t resist. I thought I was the luckiest girl in San Antonio.”
Mazur was silent. “Why did you break up with him?”
“That niceness he projected to the world changed when we were alone. He became too controlling. He wanted constant affirmations from me, and I couldn’t keep doing it.”
“So you broke up.”
“Yes. He was furious. At first my parents didn’t understand why I broke it off. William was so very charming, but when I insisted this was the right move for me, they backed me up. When he called, my parents ran interference. When calling didn’t work, he wrote me dozens of letters. The letters all seemed benign at the time, but if I were reading them now, I could point to all the warning signs. I wish to hell I had seen them then.”
“You were a kid, how could you?”
“Fear. Vanity. Who knows?” he said.
She frowned. “Did you ever find out the cause of the car accident that killed the first Mrs. Sanchez?”
“Let me check with Palmer.” He dialed her number, and when she picked up, he switched to speakerphone. “Palmer, I have you on speaker with Kate Hayden. Any more information on the first Mrs. Sanchez?”
“She died twenty-one years ago in a car accident on I-35. According to the police report, Selena, aged thirty-nine, was driving late at night when she lost control, ran off the road into a ravine, and hit a tree. The medical examiner reported she didn’t die right away. She suffered major internal injuries. Took her several hours before she expired.”
“Detective Palmer,” Kate said. “Was there a life insurance policy on Selena Sanchez?”
“There was. Fifty thousand dollars.”
“Not a huge sum,” Kate said. “And Martin Sanchez married Gloria eight months later.”
“Correct,” Palmer said.
“What did he do with the insurance money?” Kate asked.
“From what I can tell, he started the dealership with it.”
“Did anyone check out Selena Sanchez’s vehicle to see if it had been tampered with?” Kate asked.
“The police report didn’t indicate a problem. But I doubt they’d have been looking for one. The car was all but destroyed, and she didn’t have the kind of clout to trigger an intense investigation.”
“Okay,” Mazur said. “Thanks, Palmer.”
“Here to serve,” she said.
After he hung up, he angled his head toward Kate. “So what’s the connection?”
“Right now, I don’t see one.” She rubbed her eyes. “I suspect something is off about Gloria’s illness, but I’m just not seeing it.”
“How about a break? I’m starving. I’m getting a burger.”
“Sure.”
“I assume you eat meat.”
“I do.”
“Good. You can eat, too.”
She rubbed the back of her neck. “You’re always trying to feed me.”
“Call it self-interest. You can’t think if you’re exhausted and starving. When was your last meal?”
“Yesterday.”
“The crap from the vending machine?”
“Yes.”
Shaking his head, he pulled into a drive-through and ordered two number-three burgers, fries, and sodas. As he pulled to the next window, he fished out his wallet.
“I’ve got this,” Kate said.
“You get the next one.” He paid, accepted the bag of food, and parked in a nearby spot. He handed her the bag.
When she took a bite, he nodded. “Not sure I would totally trust a vegetarian.”
She pulled off a pickle. “I eat everything but vegetables. Though if they came in vending machines, I might try them.” She took another bite. “Eating hot food is a moment to be celebrated.”
He smiled and took a bite of his burger. After a moment, he asked, “Do you think Martin Sanchez knew about Gloria’s cancer?”
“He looked surprised when you told him.”
“You think he killed her?” Mazur asked.
She pinched a piece from the bun. “If he really didn’t know about the cancer and he thought she had many more years to live, Sanchez could have hired someone to kill his wife.”
“You must be reading my mind.” He nodded toward her half-eaten burger. “Finish up.”
“This is good,” she said. “Thank you.”
“I’m still getting to know the area, and the best burger joints are hidden. Haven’t found a pizza place that rivals what we had in Chicago. You’re from this area, do you know any?”
She picked up a fry. “My restaurant information is outdated.”
“You said your mother lives in town.”
She arched a brow. “Why the curiosity about my family?”
He smiled. “It’s called making conversation, Kate. You must have learned about that in your volumes of profiling books.”
If she noticed he had dropped her formal title, she didn’t seem to mind. “I skipped that lecture.”
He feigned shock. “Oh my, was that a joke?”
“No. It’s a fact.”
He laughed. “I don’t doubt it.”
They ate in silence for several minutes before she said, “We should talk to Martin Sanchez. There’s more behind what we’re seeing.”
He wiped his hands on a paper napkin. “He can wait another ten or fifteen minutes. Eat.”
She bit into the burger. “Right.”
“So what made you choose the FBI, Kate?” he asked.
She set the burger down and wiped her hands on a napkin. “I was working on my PhD when law enforcement approached my linguistics professor with a letter from a stalker. They asked him to read it. He brought me in to consult, and based on the observations we made, the cops were able to catch the guy. The FBI was recruiting so I applied. I’m now a part of a team, and we’re sent out to investigate complicated cases.”
“You like it?”
“You know how it goes. There are times when you are witness to man’s inhumanity to man. Other times when the rush is so exciting, you’re on a high for days.”
“I hear ya.”
“Why’d you become a cop?”
“Couldn’t imagine myself in a nine to five. And I wanted to make a difference.” He studied her. “Did you choose the FBI because of your father’s murder?”
She stilled, and for a moment he wasn’t sure if she’d answer. “That was certainly part of the equation. His death devastated our family.”
He heard the tremor in her voice. “I’m sorry.”
For an instant, she closed her eyes. She then balled the remainder of her burger up in the wrapper. “I blame myself.”
“Why?”
“I went to high school with the shooter, William Bauldry. We were in chess club together and got to be good friends.”
“What was Bauldry like?”
“He was smart, funny, and very charismatic. I wouldn’t call him a popular kid, but all the popular kids liked him.”
“And you dated him?”
“As you may have noticed, I’m a geek. This trait is an asset now but wasn’t so much in high school. He befriended me, which I found very flattering. When he asked me out on a date, I couldn’t resist. I thought I was the luckiest girl in San Antonio.”
Mazur was silent. “Why did you break up with him?”
“That niceness he projected to the world changed when we were alone. He became too controlling. He wanted constant affirmations from me, and I couldn’t keep doing it.”
“So you broke up.”
“Yes. He was furious. At first my parents didn’t understand why I broke it off. William was so very charming, but when I insisted this was the right move for me, they backed me up. When he called, my parents ran interference. When calling didn’t work, he wrote me dozens of letters. The letters all seemed benign at the time, but if I were reading them now, I could point to all the warning signs. I wish to hell I had seen them then.”
“You were a kid, how could you?”
