BULLETS by Elijah Drive Page B

his wing, he was the nicest. Fact is, I can’t imagine none of the boys we had working for us ever doing something like that, but Pedro? He was with us for three summers and we knew him well. Very polite, very religious, never got angry and worked hard. Prayed before every meal, heard he sent the majority of his pay home to his mother in Mexico.
    “He’d still be working here, we would’ve kept him on, but he got hired in some construction work that was full time year round for more money, so he moved on. No hard feelings about it, we really liked him, and he liked us. Kept sending us Christmas cards at the holidays, too. Never had a bad word between us. That’s why it don’t make sense that he did this.”
    “Ted say what he thought the motive was?”
    “Ted’s full of hot air. He said something that maybe Pedro was trying to steal something from the farm, some equipment or some such, and when Roger caught him at it, Pedro killed him, but that’s another crock. Pedro wouldn’t steal a glance, much less anything else, and if he needed money Roger would have given him a job in a second and money even faster. Roger was a soft touch and everyone knew it. I told Ted so but doubt he heard me. Listening ain’t his strong suit.”
    “If it wasn’t Pedro, can you think of anyone else who might have had a grievance with your husband?”
    “No, I honestly can’t. Roger was pretty popular, much more than me. He grew up here. Folks thought he was eccentric due to his politics, he was way to the left of most people in this area, but even those who disagreed with Roger on nearly everything had to admit he was probably the nicest guy they ever met. Because, well, he was. He was kind and sweet and he cared about the whole world and all the people in it. He was the best, a whole sight better’n me, that’s for sure.”
    She sighed, set her glass down. “I found him, you know. He usually came to bed real late, did so ever since we lost Jim, but he always came to bed eventually. I woke up before six because he wasn’t there, went to look for him and … found him.”
    She turned away, her voice hitching. She took a deep breath and let it out.
    “His funeral’s this afternoon. I ain’t gonna go, I don’t care what the people will say. I can’t bear to watch another one of my men put into the ground, I just can’t.”
    Slick nodded at that and gave her some time and space to collect herself. She wiped her eyes and turned back around.
    “Hard to be here, too, I see both of ’em everywhere I turn—in the kitchen, in the yard. Been going on nine years and I still swear I hear my son Jim knocking around in the rec room like he used to do. Roger felt the same way, though he’d never admit it to me.
    “It’s only been three days and I keep expecting Roger to bang on into the kitchen without wiping his boots, just like always. I don’t think I’ll be able to handle living here alone, not with the both of ’em doing this to me, it’s too much. I guess I’ll end up selling this place after all.”
    She nearly lost her emotions again but caught herself and looked Slick in the eye. “You want to get Pedro off, is that it?”
    “No, ma’am. I just want to know if he did it. I don’t think he did, but I want to know for sure. If he did do it, I’ll let the wheels of justice turn however they do. If I find out that he didn’t do it then I’ll find out who did.”
    “Why would you do that?”
    Slick didn’t answer right away. “It’s just how I’m wired.”
    She stared for a moment and then nodded. “I believe you. I don’t think Pedro killed my Roger, either, but I don’t know what else I can tell you. You should talk to his priest, though, at Saint Mary’s. If anyone knew Pedro well, it’d be Father Jose.”
    “I will do that, thank you. And thank you for the iced tea and for the hospitality,” Slick said. He gave her the empty glass. She held on to it, briefly.
    “Do you think I’m a terrible person,