the old trade blankets draped over sofa and chair. Baskets and pots lined a shelf under the window. It didn’t look like Tony’s kind of pad.
“So what about the memorial service?” Kyle put one hand on my shoulder, looking at me earnestly. “I was just going to get something together. Is there—do you want— am I horning in?”
“Not at all.” I looked at Kyle, and remembered the times he’d helped me. I hadn’t asked often, because if Tony had known he would have assumed a sexual relationship between us, which was the only kind he knew about between men and women. But Kyle and I had been friends, and more important even than the times he’d helped me hide from Tony were the conversations we’d had about artifacts and the Anasazi, his true passion in life. “Kyle, I have to say I don’t care about Tony’s memorial service. Did you get hold of his mother?”
“She died a couple of years ago.” Kyle looked grieved. "Tony would never talk about it, but he brooded. Then he got a lead on where you were in California and went out to see you. Did he touch base?”
“You could say so.” Officer Gutierrez looked at me again. I could see her making a mental note to have yet more conversation with me. “Anyway, the memorial service is all yours. I wouldn’t dream of interfering.”
“I guess it’s dumb to have a service for a man with as many enemies as Tony had,” Kyle said, sighing. He moved over to Officer Gutierrez, who was examining a small black and white pot. "That’s Chaco work,” he said, taking the pot from her to trace the design. “You can see the characteristic—” he broke off and laughed. “Sorry. I don’t mean to jump on my hobbyhorse.” Somehow he ended up with the figurine in his hand. He set the pot back carefully on its stand and offered Eva Gutierrez a seat. “Would either of you like a drink? Coffee? Mineral water?”
Officer Gutierrez glanced at the pots and then at Kyle, vanishing into the kitchen. “Just some conversation,” she called after him as he disappeared into the kitchen. She frowned at me. “You can make yourself scarce, Ms. Sullivan. I’m not going to smash up your friend’s artifacts or anything.”
“No, let Liz stay.” Kyle reappeared, drinking a mineral water and carrying two more bottles. I accepted the one he offered me, more as an excuse to stay than because I was thirsty. Office Gutierrez didn’t take one.
“You say Mr. Naylor had enemies.” She had her notebook open now. I wished I had mine out, but I was counting on the tape recorder. “Can you tell me who they were?”
“Afraid not.” Kyle smiled at her, but his eyes looked worried. “Tony didn’t really tell me, and after a couple of incidents year before last, I didn’t ask. I let him stay here when he needed a place, but to tell the truth I was always glad when he moved on.” He sat on the sofa, staring at his clasped hands. “I loved him like a brother,” he said quietly. “And he was always a brother to me. Both of us grew up without dads, you know. My mom is dead, too, and Tony’s was a hopeless alcoholic. He sent her money, but he couldn’t stand to visit her very often, because she was just going downhill. I think in the end she was homeless or something.” He looked up briefly, and I saw the moisture in his eyes. “I always thought he’d straighten out. He was a lot of fun. He just—never grew up. Now he doesn’t have a chance to anymore.”
“So you don’t know who his enemies were?”
Kyle looked at her carefully. “I kind of thought,” he said, choosing his words, “that it was someone local. In the police department, actually.”
Chapter 12
Officer Gutierrez froze. She sent a glance toward my knapsack, probably wondering if my tape recorder was on. “What do you mean by that?”
Kyle shrugged. “Something Tony said awhile ago. He’d been working for some big trucking place, getting accounts from shippers and stuff. And then all of a
“So what about the memorial service?” Kyle put one hand on my shoulder, looking at me earnestly. “I was just going to get something together. Is there—do you want— am I horning in?”
“Not at all.” I looked at Kyle, and remembered the times he’d helped me. I hadn’t asked often, because if Tony had known he would have assumed a sexual relationship between us, which was the only kind he knew about between men and women. But Kyle and I had been friends, and more important even than the times he’d helped me hide from Tony were the conversations we’d had about artifacts and the Anasazi, his true passion in life. “Kyle, I have to say I don’t care about Tony’s memorial service. Did you get hold of his mother?”
“She died a couple of years ago.” Kyle looked grieved. "Tony would never talk about it, but he brooded. Then he got a lead on where you were in California and went out to see you. Did he touch base?”
“You could say so.” Officer Gutierrez looked at me again. I could see her making a mental note to have yet more conversation with me. “Anyway, the memorial service is all yours. I wouldn’t dream of interfering.”
“I guess it’s dumb to have a service for a man with as many enemies as Tony had,” Kyle said, sighing. He moved over to Officer Gutierrez, who was examining a small black and white pot. "That’s Chaco work,” he said, taking the pot from her to trace the design. “You can see the characteristic—” he broke off and laughed. “Sorry. I don’t mean to jump on my hobbyhorse.” Somehow he ended up with the figurine in his hand. He set the pot back carefully on its stand and offered Eva Gutierrez a seat. “Would either of you like a drink? Coffee? Mineral water?”
Officer Gutierrez glanced at the pots and then at Kyle, vanishing into the kitchen. “Just some conversation,” she called after him as he disappeared into the kitchen. She frowned at me. “You can make yourself scarce, Ms. Sullivan. I’m not going to smash up your friend’s artifacts or anything.”
“No, let Liz stay.” Kyle reappeared, drinking a mineral water and carrying two more bottles. I accepted the one he offered me, more as an excuse to stay than because I was thirsty. Office Gutierrez didn’t take one.
“You say Mr. Naylor had enemies.” She had her notebook open now. I wished I had mine out, but I was counting on the tape recorder. “Can you tell me who they were?”
“Afraid not.” Kyle smiled at her, but his eyes looked worried. “Tony didn’t really tell me, and after a couple of incidents year before last, I didn’t ask. I let him stay here when he needed a place, but to tell the truth I was always glad when he moved on.” He sat on the sofa, staring at his clasped hands. “I loved him like a brother,” he said quietly. “And he was always a brother to me. Both of us grew up without dads, you know. My mom is dead, too, and Tony’s was a hopeless alcoholic. He sent her money, but he couldn’t stand to visit her very often, because she was just going downhill. I think in the end she was homeless or something.” He looked up briefly, and I saw the moisture in his eyes. “I always thought he’d straighten out. He was a lot of fun. He just—never grew up. Now he doesn’t have a chance to anymore.”
“So you don’t know who his enemies were?”
Kyle looked at her carefully. “I kind of thought,” he said, choosing his words, “that it was someone local. In the police department, actually.”
Chapter 12
Officer Gutierrez froze. She sent a glance toward my knapsack, probably wondering if my tape recorder was on. “What do you mean by that?”
Kyle shrugged. “Something Tony said awhile ago. He’d been working for some big trucking place, getting accounts from shippers and stuff. And then all of a
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