Mr. Kiss and Tell by Rob Thomas Page B

once in a while to help me mow my lawn. It was so sweet of him. I was too…you know, too heartbroken to see to it myself.” She shook her head. “But I didn’t know much about his personal life, if that’s what you’re asking.”
    “Is there anyone here who might know more?”
    Gladys straightened herself up, one hand going to her hip. “Miss Mars, these people are here for
church
. You can’t just ask—”
    “You sounded very sure that Miguel was innocent,” Veronica interrupted. “If that’s true, don’t you want his name cleared?”
    Gladys fell silent for a moment. At the tables around them, people chattered on, oblivious to the tension at the snack table. A small child darted between them, grabbed an Oreo, and ran off to join his friends again.
    She gave Veronica a strange, searching look. “He’s already been deported. It doesn’t matter.”
    Veronica took a deep breath, frustrated.
    “It
does
matter. I’m trying to save the place you work millions of dollars. I could also restore the reputation of someone you believe is a sweet young guy who couldn’t have done what he’s been accused of.”
    The woman’s eyes dropped down to the dirty linoleum floor. Veronica knew the details of the crime were probably common knowledge among the staff of the Neptune Grand.
    “I don’t want to bother anyone, or get anyone in trouble,” Veronica continued. “But unless I can find some way to either rule him out or find him, this case is going to fall apart.”
    Gladys looked up, her lips pressed tightly together but shaking. She took a deep breath. Then she held up her hand, calling out to someone across the room. “Bianca, honey. Can you come here for a second?”
    Veronica watched as a young woman in a yellow sundress turned toward them from the table where she sat. Her black hair was cut short, and she tucked the ends nervously behind her ears as she approached.
    “What’s up, Gladys?” She crossed her arms over her chest in a gesture that seemed more self-protective than hostile.
    “Well…if you have a few minutes…” Gladys gave a sad little smile. “This young lady has some questions about your husband.”
    —
    Veronica and Bianca sat together on an oak-shaded bench in Founder’s Park, just across the street from the cathedral. Eucalyptus and palm trees dotted the expanse of the neatly manicured lawn. Paved trails wove through the greenery, joggers and speed-walkers hurrying past. Their bench faced a playground where Bianca and Miguel’s four-year-old son, Gabe, shrieked with laughter as he chased another boy.
    Bianca angrily wiped a tear from her eye. “I can’t believe I didn’t know.”
    The feeling is mutual, sister.
Veronica had been prepared to question churchgoers about Miguel, but finding out that he had wife—a wife who had no idea that he was accused of any crime, much less a vicious rape and beating—had left her reeling.
    “It’s strange. If local law enforcement ran any kind of identity check on Miguel, you and Gabe would have come up,” Veronica said, leaning forward, bracing her forearms against her knees.
    Bianca sniffed. “Not necessarily. ‘Miguel Ramirez’ wasn’t his real name. And we weren’t…we weren’t legally married.” Her voice dropped, ashamed. “We always really wanted to be. But he didn’t want me to get in trouble if he got caught. No one at church knows the truth—we told everyone we were married in San Diego.”
    Bianca pulled her phone from her purse and, after pulling up the photos, handed it to Veronica. The screen showed a smiling Miguel with Gabe on his shoulders, somewhere down by the Boardwalk. Carnival lights flashed in the background, and Gabe held a towering cotton candy high over his head. It was hard to reconcile this image with that of the sinister-looking alleged perp in his mug shot. But then, that was the nature of mug shots. They could make Bruno Mars indistinguishable from Rondo Hatton.
    “He told me he was undocumented