Statute of Limitations

Chapter Thirty-four

“Let us have a moment,” Essie Martinez said, patting her oldest son’s hand. Ray Martinez looked skeptically at Estelle and Bill Gastner, then shrugged.

“If you need anything…,” he said, and Essie patted his hand again.

Essie watched him leave the kitchen, and Estelle could see the quiet pride in her eyes. In everything but years, Ray was a copy of his late father.

“He’s doing so well now,” Essie said, and Estelle nodded, although she had no reference to what the “now” implied-whether the chief’s eldest son was a late bloomer, or had had his own share of troubles, or had experienced any number of other snarls that can alter the best laid plans. “Please,” the chief’s widow continued. “Sit.” She beckoned them to the kitchen table. “What can I get for you? You see?” She gestured at the laden countertops. “We have enough food for an army.”

“Nothing, thanks,” Estelle said. She glanced at Gastner and saw that the former sheriff was eyeing a particularly dramatic layer cake that had already been sampled, but he grimaced and turned away. “Essie, we need to talk with you again.”

“But I’ve told you all I can remember.”

“Maybe I can help,” Estelle said. “We’d like to hear what you recall about the spring of 1990.”

Essie did a fair job of looking blank. “That’s fifteen years ago,” she said. “Por Dios, how would I remember something like that.” Her eyes flicked toward Bill Gastner, then off into the neutral distance. When Estelle didn’t continue, Essie’s gaze wavered uncertainly. It’s there, Estelle thought.

“You had some interesting neighbors at the time,” she said after a moment. “The Sisneros family lived next door. You didn’t mention that when we spoke earlier this morning.”

Essie drew in a long, deep breath, leaning back in her chair with both hands braced against the table. “Well,” she began, then stopped. She pulled a wadded tissue out of her pocket and dabbed at her left eye. “Just Hank,” she corrected. “He bought that little house a couple of years before, when the Estancias moved out. He was going to fix it up as a rental, I think, but most of the time it just sat empty. When he and Irene divorced, he moved in and stayed there. Just for a few months. Irene, she wouldn’t have anything more to do with him. And then she went to Lordsburg and married that guy.”

“But that was years later,” Estelle prompted.

“I guess so.” Essie waved a hand in dismissal. “Mike, he went in the army a little bit after that, you know. Three or four years.” As if her two visitors hadn’t appreciated the fact, she added, “That was a long time ago. But are you sure when that was? That was 1990?”

“We’re sure,” Estelle said.

“I suppose you are.” Essie’s resignation was tinged with a little bitterness. “So long ago.”

“Essie,” Estelle continued, “At the same time, at the same time in 1990, the Tripps lived across the street. Am I right?”

The older woman pursed her lips and regarded Estelle thoughtfully, long enough that the undersheriff got the impression Essie was not simply trying to remember, but was calculating how much to say.

“You know, that was a real mess,” she said. “And so sad, I think.”

“In what way?”

“Well, I don’t know all the details,” Essie said, and the tone of her voice made it clear that she certainly did know the details. “But Olivia…you knew her? Olivia Tripp?”

Estelle shook her head. Gastner sat silently, his face impassive, like an old bulldog dozing with his eyes open.

“Well, they had their troubles, too. They didn’t live here too long, I know that. They broke up, Brad and Olivia did, and Olivia took the two girls. Brad, he stayed in that house for a while by himself. But then he moved away. For a while there, we had nothing but bachelors around us. A couple of lost men.”

“Do you know where Brad went?”

“No idea whatsoever,” Essie said with finality. “That was kind of funny, too. He packed up, and Eduardo thought that he was putting things in storage. He was really in a mess when Olivia left him.” She almost smiled. “Eduardo said that it was going to take a bulldozer to clean out all the beer cans.”

“Brad Tripp had a drinking problem?”

“Oh, yes.”

“And apparently Hank Sisneros did, too.”

Essie nodded in resignation. “Awful, isn’t it? Eduardo used to say that half the time, he felt like a rehab counselor with those two. Fight, fight, fight. You know,” and she nodded at the memory, “it was a good thing that they lived across the street from each other. If they had lived side by side, no telling what might have happened. Fight, fight. They’d yell at each other…,” she tsked. “When that truck got away from Hank, we were sure World War Three was going to break out.”

“Tell me about the truck.”

“Oh, that,” Essie said dismissively. “That old thing shouldn’t even have been on the road. That’s what Eduardo said. The brake failed, or some such silly thing.”

Estelle opened the folder containing Hank Sisneros’s history and scanned the report again. “Nothing much came of it all?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your husband said there was an altercation.”

“That’s for sure.” She smiled, and her eyes grew sad. “Eduardo broke it up.”

“What did Tripp say when the truck crashed into his yard, do you remember?”

“I just don’t remember,” she said. “A good thing that no one was hurt.”

“It wasn’t long after that incident when Eduardo arrested Hank Sisneros for driving while intoxicated. Do you remember that?”

Essie heaved another sigh. “I suppose so.” Her eyes drifted down to the report that Estelle held. “May I look at that?”

“Sure.”

She took her time, occasionally bringing the report closer to scrutinize her husband’s tiny handwriting. “You said this was the last time?”

Silence enveloped the office for a moment. “No. I didn’t say that,” Estelle said.

“Well, I think it was. You know,” and she reached across and handed the folder to Estelle, “Eduardo and I used to talk about these things. We were so fortunate, I guess.”

“Fortunate?”

“Our children were such a joy to us. It was hard to imagine it any other way. You know what I mean with those two dear little ones of yours. And you,” she said to Gastner. “You have four grown ones, with grandchildren.” She smiled when Gastner didn’t respond. “You know, Eduardo and I didn’t disagree very often.” Estelle found it hard to imagine the two gentle souls raising their voices about anything. “But we argued that night.”

“About what?”

“Eduardo came home that night and I could tell that something had happened. You know, I didn’t like to intrude, but we sat in the kitchen for a long time. I remember that. We sat and talked. Eduardo wasn’t sure that he had done the right thing.”

“And what thing was that? You mean when he arrested Hank?”

“That was only part of it,” Essie said, and then fell silent for a moment. She looked up at Gastner. “This is like scratching open an old cut,” she said, and hesitated. “You didn’t know about this?” Gastner shook his head. “Eduardo never talked to you? He said that he would….”

“Not about any of this,” Gastner said. “It’s not like he’s going to come to us about every DWI in the village. And for every one that makes it into the file,” and he nodded at the report folder, “there’s probably a thousand drunk drivers that make it home without incident. That’s why they always figure that they can, Essie.”

“This wasn’t about a drunk driver, Bill,” she said, and added with finality, “Eduardo wouldn’t lose any sleep over a drunk driver.” She reached out and tapped the folder sharply with an index finger. “This was about a deal.”

“A deal?”

“Yes, a deal. And I told Eduardo that he shouldn’t have anything to do with it. But you know, he liked to keep things…” She made a smoothing motion with her hands.

“Tell us what happened, Essie,” Estelle said, but the expression on Essie Martinez’s face said that the telling wasn’t so simple.

A long moment of silence followed, and Estelle could see the moisture forming at the corners of the older woman’s eyes. “When Eduardo stopped him, Hank Sisneros had the Tripp girl in the car with him,” Essie said, and her hands settled in her lap as if in relief. “Janet…the older one.” She took a deep breath as if to say, There, I said it.

“Janet Tripp.”

“Yes.”

“She would have been what, about fourteen then?” Gastner asked.

“I think so.”

“What did Eduardo do, Essie?” Estelle asked.

“He thought that they had only been drinking together,” she said. “At least that’s what he hoped. That’s what I think. He hoped. But he knew better. I know he did. Anyway, Hank Sisneros offered to move away if Eduardo wouldn’t press charges against him. If he wouldn’t tell Brad Tripp. Or Olivia-except that she wasn’t living with Brad at the time. Maybe Janet had come over to see her dad. Maybe something like that.” She looked up at the ceiling. “Oh, can you just imagine what that old drunk Mr. Tripp would have done if he found out that his neighbor across the way had his little girl….”

“And Eduardo agreed to that?”

Essie nodded slowly. “He agreed. And he never should have. If you ask me, that Hank should have ended up in jail. But Eduardo thought that wouldn’t do any good.”

“And Hank did move away shortly after that?”

“Yes. He did.”

“And the Tripps?”

“You know, I don’t remember. But Brad Tripp moved away, too. I know that. He moved things into storage and then he went away. And Hank, he moved away too, just like he said he would. And that was that.”

“Essie, do you know whether or not the Tripps ever found out about the incident?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t. All I know is that after a while everyone went away. And after that, it was a much quieter neighborhood. But you know, I’ve often wondered…” She let it hang unfinished. “We’ll never know, I suppose.”

“And maybe just as well,” Gastner said, pushing himself out of his chair.

“A small world,” Essie said. “Eduardo thought the world of the boy, you know. Of Mike. That boy is nothing at all like his father. But I worried a little when I heard that they were going together… Mike and Janet. Do you think Mike knew about his father and the girl?”

“I don’t know,” Estelle said. “Kids are sometimes pretty good at keeping secrets from their parents-it works the other way around, too.”