Troubleshooter

Chapter 33

She survives thirteen months in Iraq, dies snorkeling in Cabo." Mr. Villarosa, a distinguished man with graying sideburns and erect posture, smoothed his sleek mustache with his thumb and fore-finger. "We dropped her off at LAX smiling, beautiful. She came back three days later in a casket."

His wife's delicate blue eyes leaked at the corners; she'd had tissue in hand even when she answered the door. Mr. Villarosa was more stoic-he had a profile cut from stone-but the pain still showed in the creases in his upper cheeks, the rigidity of his carriage. The suffering couldn't penetrate his facade, so it had worked on him from the inside. Tim wondered if his own erosion was as evident to a practiced eye.

Focus on them, Timothy. You owe them that.

Both parents, speaking nearly perfect, unaccented English, had been gracious when Tim and Bear had apologized for interrupting their Christmas afternoon. Cinnamon candles enlivened the air, and a bird was roasting deliciously in the oven, but the holiday embellishments seemed added by rote. The house was still suffused with grief. Jennifer had died October 29, less than two months ago.

Wicker-and-glass cabinets displayed gold-rimmed china and a few pieces of dubious crystal. The carpet was plush-too plush-and bore vacuum-cleaner stripes. Porcelain sylvan figurines were arranged on doilies with great pride. When Mr. Villarosa offered that he'd run a household-appliance repair business for twenty-five years, his hand pulled toward his pocket, an instinctive move for his business card. Tim watched the impulse extinguished, brutally, the moment Villarosa recalled the meeting's purpose.

A glass-framed photo of Jennifer and a carefully constructed wreath decorated the lid of an off-white upright piano. A tough-looking, hefty woman with a bull neck, muscular shoulders, and shorn hair, she wore a stern face, peering out from beneath her ROTC cadet dress hat.

"Why was she in Mexico?"

"She won a trip there," Mrs. Villarosa said softly. "She went with her…friend."

Mr. Villarosa handed them some papers with GOOD MORNING VACATIONS cheerily lettered across the top in predictable yellow. Congratulations, Ms. Villarosa, you've won an all-expenses-paid trip to Cabo San Lucas!!

"Where's her friend now?" Bear asked.

"Back in Iraq."

"Were you apprised of the circumstances of her death?"

"Yes, the army aided us in looking into it. They poked around with the hotel and the detectives down there. We were spared the details, but we were told there wasn't anything to find out. A-what did they call it?"

His wife answered quietly, "Shallow-water blackout."

Tim folded the papers into his pocket. "This is an awkward question, Mr. and Mrs. Villarosa, and I apologize, but we need to know if Jennifer ever rode with or had any relationships with bikers."

The man's laugh took Tim by surprise. "No way. She was a school nerd-very straitlaced. A good, good kid." He looked down, studying his thumbnail. Mrs. Villarosa pulled a tissue from her shirtsleeve and dabbed her eyes. "The travel company was very honorable, thank God. They got us our Jennifer delivered right to the funeral home up here. We gave her a good Catholic burial."

"I wish there was something better I could say," Tim said, "but I'd like to offer my condolences. Jennifer seems like she was a lovely person."

Mrs. Villarosa turned her face and wept silently into her tissue. Her husband nodded. "Thank you for using her name."

Tim and Bear rose to leave, standing awkwardly to see if Mrs. Villarosa was going to look up so they could say good-bye.

"Can I ask what this is about?" Mr. Villarosa asked. "It was an accidental death, that's all."

Bear said gently, "I'm afraid we can't-"

"A girl was killed last night," Tim said.

"And you think it's somehow related?"

"We don't know at this point. We really don't."

Mr. Villarosa's face stiffened, anguish pulling his skin taut. "If there's anything we can do, please give us the opportunity."

His handshake was desperate, as if he couldn't make himself let go.

"We will," Tim said.