Hilda know about the phone so she doesn’t waste her time trying to keep calling Tera.”
“We?” Reese said, and Jake coughed and gave Darla a look. “I’d prefer you not discuss anything you know concerning the case with anyone else,” Reese replied, his formal manner suddenly all cop. “I’ll handle any necessary communication with Mrs. Aguilar. Darla, I’m asking this as a favor to me.”
Which, translated from cop-speak, meant that even though he was asking politely, he expected her to keep her mouth shut.
Which further translated to mean Hilda was what the CSI shows called a “person of interest” in regard to Curt’s murder.
“Sure, Reese, no problem,” she managed, feeling her chest tighten.
Until this moment, she’d never truly believed that the elegant Hilda might have been the one to wield the lethal crowbar. But it seemed that Reese had some reason to suspect her. Darla frowned. What had happened to Porn Shop Bill as a suspect? And what did that mean regarding Tera’s disappearance? If Hilda had killed Curt, could Tera have witnessed the crime and then fled lest her mother turn the same weapon on her?
And, most important, what the heck was Tera’s cell phone doing in the Dumpster, when apparently Tera was still out there somewhere walking around?
“Mr. Eisen, thank you for your cooperation,” Reese was now saying to Barry, who had joined them. “We may need to search this container again, so I ask that you not arrange for its pickup without clearing it with me first.”
“Um, sure,” Barry agreed, and then gestured to the debris that Reese and Jake had dragged out of the container. “But what about this stuff? Are you going to put it back where you found it?”
“Sorry for the inconvenience, sir, but I need to get this evidence logged in,” the detective replied, indicating the bagged phone he held. Turning to Jake, he said, “Why don’t I give you a ride back to your place?”
“Sure, if you don’t mind a little cigarette smoke.” Sliding her mirrored sunglasses back into place, she said to Darla, “You don’t mind going home alone, do you?”
“I’ll manage,” she replied, feeling like she had in high school when a friend would ditch her to hang out with a cute guy.
So much for dancing with the one that brung you, she thought with an inner shrug at that old Texas saw as the pair headed toward Reese’s city-issued car. She had seen the look the two had exchanged and understood what was going on. Reese wanted to confer with Jake out of civilian earshot, and that could only happen if Darla hoofed it home alone. Still, she couldn’t let Reese go without mentioning that other bit of information that she’d learned about Bill.
She raced after them, catching the cop as he was sliding into his seat behind the wheel. Swiftly, she repeated the rumor Robert had told her that about the porn shop owner having once attacked a man with a hammer.
When she’d finished, Reese nodded. “Thanks for the tip, but I already pulled Ferguson’s rap sheet. Just a couple of assault charges that were pleaded down. Don’t worry, though, the guy is still on my list. And feel free to call me if he shows up at your shop again.”
“I will. But, Reese, about Tera’s phone . . . why would it be in the Dumpster?”
“Good question, Red. That’s what I plan to find out.”
He and Jake pulled away from the curb, leaving Darla alone with Barry and the mini–disaster area around them. For the moment, there was nothing she could do about the Tera situation. However . . .
With a rueful look at Barry, she said, “Why don’t I help you clean up this junk before I go? It will be getting dark soon, and you don’t want to accidentally trip over something.”
Then, when he didn’t immediately reply, she reached for his arm and gave it a tentative shake. “Barry, are you all right?”
Barry had been silently staring at the Dumpster. Now, looking rather stunned, he turned and focused on her. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“I’m offering you free labor,” she replied. “I’ll help you toss all this junk into the container before I leave.”
Seeming to gather his wits, he managed a feeble smile for her. “What do you think they were looking for besides a cell phone? Whose is it, anyhow?”
She hesitated, Reese’s warning against blabbing ringing in her ears. On the other hand, he’d been speaking about Hilda, not Barry. And despite this