Read Online Carolyn G. Hart_Henrie O_05 by Death on the River Walk - Free Book Online Page A

that. But it occurred to me”—I nodded at the windows—“that you may have seen something that might help. Perhaps Iris sent someone to pick something up for her.”
    Her face didn’t change. That suggested to me that Detective Hess had said nothing about the apartment’s having been searched. It’s been my experience with police that they never reveal anything except for a reason. There would be no reason to tell the apartment manager. I would guess the detective inquired about the presence of any strangers.
    â€œMrs. Hernandez, did you see anyone you didn’t know going up the stairs after Iris left on Thursday? Or even on Friday or Saturday?”
    Her eyes flickered toward the table and the bill.
    â€œI have some pictures here. If you wouldn’t mind looking at them…”
    That interested her. Her heavy face was suddenly attentive, less combative. She took the papers, then picked up the television remote, punched off the program. She was quick, scanning the family gathering, then the publicity photos. She pointed to a picture.
    I saw Rick’s young, serious, ambitious face. And was surprised at the sadness that touched me.
    Her voice was brusque. “That’s her boyfriend. Pretty nice kid. Always says hello and smiles. Here all the time. But I haven’t seen him lately.”
    â€œNot on Thursday?”
    â€œNo. Iris was by herself. But she was in a hurry.”
    Rick could have been waiting in his car for Iris.
    â€œYou haven’t seen him since she left?”
    â€œNo. Of course, I don’t sit here all day. I have things to do. I have to keep a check on the laundry room, see to repairs.” She glanced at the bill, smoothed a large worn hand across her chin. “I did see a man I didn’t know Thursday afternoon. But that was after Iris left.”
    Just as Detective Hess suggested, Iris may not have been in the apartment when it was searched.
    Mrs. Hernandez relaxed in her chair, began to rock. She spoke with interest. “I noticed this guy. It must have been close to five Thursday. I noticed because most of my people aren’t home from work yet. I didn’t know who he could be going up to see. Unless it was Mrs. Wentz. In twenty-four. She’s old and she doesn’t get out much. But I’d never seen him before. Anyway, he went up the stairs about five and he came down at five-thirty. I know because the news comes on then. So maybe he went to see Mrs. Wentz.”
    I looked at her attentively. Would she hold out the family photo? Who could it have been?
    â€œHe looked all right.” Her voice was steely. “Believe me, I don’t let anybody hang around here that doesn’t look right. Yes, I keep an eye out. I don’t want any trouble here. This man looked fine.”
    Yes, I supposed he would. In the family portrait, the Garza men had the air of successful, substantial businessmen.
    But she didn’t even glance at the sheets she held loosely in one hand. “Nice-looking guy about forty-five or fifty. Big head. Curly blond hair. Blue eyes. A big mouth. Blue shirt. Gray slacks.” She pushed up from the rocker. “That’s all I remember. Nothing special about him. Maybe five-ten, two hundred pounds. Not fat. Strong-looking.”
    Slowly, I stood. She handed me the photographs I’d brought with such expectations.
    â€œA big blond man.” I suppose the blankness of my voice made my surprise evident.
    She lifted her big shoulders in an expressive shrug. “All I can say is what I saw.”
    I looked at her searchingly.
    She pointed at the papers in my hand. “I could have pointed to someone there. I suppose that would have pleased you. But”—she drew herself up—“I am an honest woman.”
    â€œI’m sure you are. And I appreciate your helping me. It’s wonderful of you to keep such a careful lookout for your tenants.”
    â€œNot much gets past