Bad Samaritan by Aimée Thurlo Page A

and looking for food there. After a while I couldn’t stand it anymore,so I took him a bag of unopened hot dogs. There were plenty to go around. No one went away hungry. The Garcias in particular stuffed themselves silly, taking away four or five at a time. RJ, the son of the guy who ended up dead, came by three times.”
    â€œIs that what you think this is about—hot dogs?” Chuck asked him, surprised.
    â€œWell, isn’t it?”
    Sister Agatha didn’t answer. “Did you talk to him? Scout, that is.”
    â€œTalk?” He shook his head. “No, it wasn’t like that. I spotted him hanging out behind the trash cans, and Mike Herrera, who was working the concession stand with me, saw him, too. He tossed me the pack of hot dogs and told me we could afford to lose a bag. I went over to where Scout was to hand it to him, but as I got close, he gave me this panicked look and started backing off. I knew he was about to bolt, so I broke eye contract, placed the bag of hot dogs on the trash lid, and walked off. When I looked back, Scout and the hot dogs were gone.”
    â€œI’m glad you were both watching out for him,” Sister Agatha said.
    â€œMike and I figured that the town wouldn’t miss one bag, but judging from the way the cops have been coming down on everyone, I guessed wrong. Who’d have thought our city would actually try to track down a few hot dogs?” He shook his head. “Look, Sister, all this is penny ante, if you ask me, but I really need the job here at the center. If you turn us in, Mike and I will probably get fired. Mike will be okay, but I need the money. Summer jobs are hard to find this year, and tuition’s going up again.”
    â€œYou help us, and we’ll help you,” Chuck said, taking over. “We actually need a line on someone who’s dealing drugs on the side—date-rape drugs, stuff like that, nothing hard-core. Mostlikely an amateur. Can you nose around and see what you can find?”
    â€œAnything specific—Rohypnol, GHB, or ketamine?” Cruzer asked.
    â€œHuh?” Chuck asked.
    â€œSorry. I have fifteen hours in chemistry, and those are three of the most common benzodiazeprines—date-rape drugs.”
    â€œNow we’re on the same wavelength,” Sister Agatha said with a nod.
    â€œSo
that’s
what this is all about? Someone drugged one of the ladies the other night and tried to get personal? That makes a whole lot more sense than the township getting sore over some hot dogs.” He glanced at Sister Agatha, then back at Chuck, and nodded. “Yeah, sure I’ll help you.” Cruzer paused, then added, “Hey, you don’t think Mike had anything to do with drugging some babe’s hot dogs, do you? If you do, that’s way off base.”
    â€œWhy’s that?” Sister Agatha asked, allowing Cruzer to think they had something other than Robert Garcia’s murder in mind.
    â€œMike’s not only got a sweet deal with his rich new wife, but he actually loves the girl. He’d never even think of cheating on her. Besides, his father-in-law,
el mayor,
would come unglued. JD told Mike he’d bury him alive if Mike ever hurt his daughter in any way. He wasn’t kidding.”
    â€œCould be that one of Mike’s friends drugged the hot dogs,” Chuck suggested, not correcting any of Cruzer’s assumptions. “Or maybe put stuff in the mustard.”
    â€œNo way. I was standing there almost all the time, and when I wasn’t, there were dozens of other people around us keeping watch. The mayor insisted we follow all local ordinances. We had to wear hats or hairnets, those stupid latex gloves, and keep the water at just the right temperature. He made it crystal clearthat nobody was going to get sick and blame the Garcia administration.”
    â€œYet you still managed to grab some hot dogs for your welfare operation,” Sister