Never Look Down by Warren C Easley Page A

Tay continued after we ordered. “Claudia told me something about Bonilla in confidence.” She hesitated and I waited. “He was, uh, the only son of a cousin of hers. Claudia wanted to recuse herself from being his caseworker, but her cousin begged her to work with him.”
    â€œSo she did?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWould it make any difference one way or the other?”
    Tay shrugged. “Not really, but there are strict rules against that kind of thing at the FRC. There can be no prior connection between a caseworker and a resident. The cousin pressured Claudia to get involved. It was a dilemma for Claudia—family versus job. She’s Hispanic,Cal. Family comes first. She didn’t have a choice.”
    I nodded. “You think Claudia’s and Bonilla’s deaths are related?”
    Our coffees arrived. Tay waited until the waitress left before responding. “I don’t know, but the timing’s weird, right? Knowing Claudia, I’m sure she promised her cousin she’d do everything she could to help him.”
    â€œHave you told the police about this?”
    Tay dropped her eyes to the table. “Uh, not yet. They need to know, right?”
    â€œYeah, they need to know right away. It could be very important.”
    Tay shifted in her seat and studied her latte. “Then I need some advice on how to handle this. I don’t want, you know, any blowback.” She looked up and met my eyes. “I like my job, Cal. A lot.”
    I nodded and sipped my cappuccino. “You could go to the police and ask that they not tell your employer, but I doubt they’d promise anything. It’s understandable that you don’t want to get involved. You could do it anonymously, I suppose. The key thing’s the information, not the source.”
    Her face brightened. “How would I do that?”
    â€œNando Mendoza could handle it. I can probably arrange something, if you want.”
    She met my eyes. “That would be such a relief, Cal.”
    I nodded and then listened while she told me more about Manuel Diego Bonilla. He was twenty-eight years old, scheduled for release after serving time for a possession-with-intent-to-distribute charge. He’d been working in the kitchen of Jewel, a little bistro in the Pearl District. His dad got deported to Mexico when he was young, and his mother, Sophia Hidalgo, had remarried and was living in eastern Oregon.
    I told Tay I would also try to talk to Hidalgo, and when her eyebrows went up, assured her that I wouldn’t blow her cover. As Arch and I walked back to the car, I couldn’t help feeling a little upbeat, at least mentally. And it wasn’t just from having lunch with Tay Jefferson, although that had almost crossed the line from business to pleasure, at least for me. I’d pass her information on to Nando, who’d make sure Scott and Ludlow got it. But the death of Manny Bonilla intrigued me.
    A random burglary and now a coincidental suicide? No way.

Chapter Fifteen
    Cal
    When I got to Caffeine Central I found Nando out front talking to a man in paint-spattered white coveralls standing next to a beat-up, unmarked pickup. The conversation was heated, part English, part Spanish, and I caught enough of it to realize they were discussing the repair of my furnace. They finally came to some kind of agreement, but the man didn’t look too happy when he left.
    When Nando noticed me, he opened his big hands and said, “ What?” in a decidedly defensive tone.
    â€œThat guy looked like a painter. Does he know anything about heating systems?”
    Nando wrinkled his brow in feigned confusion. “He was the low-cost bidder, Calvin, and I got him to throw in removal of the graffiti at no extra charge.”
    â€œOf course. The low-cost bidder. That explains everything.” Nando looked away, and I studied my friend for a moment. His chinos and long-sleeved shirt looked slept in, his face