The Witness, page 4
part #1 of Felipe Santos Series
“Erm, right, yeah,” Martin stammered, nodding. Another sip of water. “Me and Leon, we -”
He trailed off, taking another drink of water.
“You and Leon,” Felipe nodded, encouraging him. “He’s your friend, right?”
Martin nodded.
“How do you know him?” Felipe asked.
“We’re mates,” Martin told him, finding his voice.
“And Teo Silva?” Felipe asked. “Was he your friend too?”
Martin swallowed hard, reaching for the cup of water. He lifted it to his lips before realising it was empty. He put it down on the table again, hands shaking once more. He shook his head slowly.
“You weren’t friends with him?” Felipe asked. “How did you know him then?”
“I don’t know him,” Martin said, his voice quiet, almost a whisper. “I’d never heard of him before. I didn’t know that was his name.”
“Did Leon know him?” Felipe asked.
Martin’s eyes flashed, and that was answer enough for Felipe, but he needed more.
“He did, didn’t he?”
“I don’t know, you need to ask him,” Martin said. His voice was hoarse. He eyed the empty glass of water. He looked up, found Felipe watching him closely and let out a sigh. “Leon never mentioned him, okay? I don’t know how he knew the guy, though, but it was weird.”
“Weird?” Felipe repeated. “Weird, how?”
“It just was,” Martin shrugged. “We were walking down the street after seeing some friends, and then Leon saw that guy and he just started shouting at him. I didn’t know him, and Leon wouldn’t tell me how he knew him either. I figured maybe it was a guy from a rival gang, y’know, and they had some history or whatever, but something was off.”
Felipe nodded to encourage him.
“Leon roughed him up a little, he was shouting all kinds of stuff, and this Teo guy took off,” Martin said. “Leon said he was going after him. I thought he’d lost it, but I followed him. I had to watch his back.”
“Leon chased after him?” Felipe asked, glancing at Henrique.
This was all that they needed. Once Martin had confessed on tape that Leon had killed Teo, Leon could have the best lawyers in the country, but they would have their case.
Martin looked up at him and nodded.
“Yeah, he ran after him,” Martin said.
“You chased him into the metro station?” Felipe prompted him.
Martin nodded again.
“And what happened when Leon caught up with him?” Felipe asked.
They were so close now.
Martin opened his mouth to speak, when a loud knock at the door broke the tension in the room. Martin’s mouth closed as their heads turned to the door. Felipe swallowed down his frustration, nodding to Henrique.
His partner stood, but the door opened before he reached it. A policía poked his head in, instantly looking abashed at the furious glare that Felipe shot him.
“What is it?” Felipe demanded.
The policía did not need to speak. He stepped into the room and held the door open for a tall, wiry man in a suit. Felipe let out a breath of air, feeling his excitement rapidly deflate.
“I’m Martin Fonseca’s lawyer,” the man said, striding into the room and standing behind the empty chair beside his client. He looked down at Felipe and Henrique with disapproval. “I really wish you had not conducted an interview before I arrived. I need time with my client, if you would be so kind as to terminate this interview. You should know better, señors.”
Felipe gritted his teeth. He spoke into the tape, concluding the interview. Martin looked bewildered, his gaze shooting between the lawyer and Felipe.
“What’s happening?” Martin asked, his voice thick with confusion. “I don’t have a lawyer.”
The lawyer smiled down at him.
“I’ve been hired me to represent you,” he said with a smile for his client. “At the behest of Leon’s family. Don’t worry, Martin. I’m here now. I’m here to help you.”
Martin did not look much relieved, but Felipe had no choice but to follow Henrique out of the room. The policía had the good sense not to say a word as he held the door for them, and then closed it behind them to give Martin and his new lawyer their privacy.
In the corridor, Felipe wanted to kick the wall or upend a table, but he resorted to pacing up and down instead. Henrique looked just as frustrated, but he had a better control over it than his partner did.
“Goddamn it,” Felipe groaned, shaking his head. “We were so close. One more minute, and we would have heard the words come out of his mouth.”
“It wasn’t a waste of time though,” Henrique reasoned. “We know that Leon knew Teo somehow. Perhaps he was from a rival gang. We can dig into Teo’s background a little deeper.”
Felipe considered his words. He knew his partner was right. He stopped his pacing and nodded. The interview had still gleaned some useful information for them. He tried not to think about how smug Leon must feel now, probably already concocting all kinds of alibis with his own lawyer.
“We need to look into all three of them further,” Felipe said, nodding. “We should get a list of friends, family, girlfriends. We need to find out how Leon knew Teo Silva, and why he killed him.”
CHAPTER NINE
The sun was bright and fierce when Constanza awoke. The storm of last night had passed, leaving no trace behind.
She had forgotten to close the curtains last night and the bedroom was shining with the brilliant morning sunshine. She rolled over, burying her head into her pillow, but she could not find sleep again.
Her brain conjured up images that she did not welcome. The young boy drenched in his own blood as it pooled around him on the platform. The echo of the gunshot. The back of his head exploding against the backdrop of the metro station.
Constanza tore the covers off herself and ran into the bathroom, dropping to her knees and sticking her head into the toilet bowl. She heaved but nothing came up. She waited a minute until she was satisfied that she would not be sick, and then got back to her feet and ran the faucet. She rinsed her hands and then filled her cupped hands with water and splashed her face.
In the mirror, she surveyed her reflection.
She would have to put some make-up on before Godfredo returned home, she thought. He did not like her to go without and she looked pale, almost ill, after last night, sick at the realisation that she had missed her chance to get away from him. He would take one look at her and walk back out of the door, she thought. Perhaps that was a good thing.
Her phone was on the bedside cabinet where she had left it. It flashed with messages. None from her husband. Ten from her sister.
She groaned but could not bring herself to call her sister. It must have been clear to Diana that she was not coming, that the circumstances had changed. She wondered if Diana feared that Godfredo had caught her as she tried to leave. Perhaps she should call her, Constanza thought, guilt weighing on her, not wanting to put her sister through any unnecessary stress. At least no more than she already had when she had married Godfredo.
Constanza stopped herself from thinking such things. She had been in the throes of heartache when she had met Godfredo. When she had first met him, he had been handsome and charming, and he had set about winning her hand. She had fallen for his act, and Constanza was sure she was not the first woman who had been blinded by flattery, had flung herself into an unsuitable relationship whilst she tried to mend a broken heart.
The phone rang in her hand and Diana’s name flashed across the screen.
Constanza took a deep breath and answered.
“Stanza, where are you?” Diana demanded at once. “Do you know how worried I’ve been? I was up all night, trying to call you. I thought -”
Her voice was thick with worry, and Constanza felt her guilt grow.
“I’m sorry, Di,” she said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I didn’t make it to the airport.”
Diana was silent for a long moment.
“Why not?” she asked. “We had a plan, Stanza. Your flight was booked.”
“I know, I know,” Constanza sighed. “Something happened -”
“What did he do?” Diana asked. “Did he catch you? I thought he was with that puta, that whore, last night?”
“No, no, it was nothing to do with him,” Constanza told her.
She wanted to tell her sister what she had seen, explain why she could not leave.
“Then what?” Diana prompted her. “We can book a new flight, we can -”
Constanza heard the front door.
“I have to go,” she whispered, her breathing hard now. “He’s home.”
“No, Stanza -” Diana protested.
Constanza hung up before she could hear what her sister was going to say. She locked her phone and put it back on the bedside cabinet, noticing her hands were shaking.
She hoped that Godfredo was in a good mood. It varied, after he had spent the night with Carmen. Sometimes he returned home exhilarated, and others he seemed to blame Constanza for the fact that he could not spend all his time with other women and that was when he could get mean.
Constanza took a deep breath as she sat on the edge of the bed.
She had not had time to apply any make-up. She ran a hand through her thick curls, fluffing her hair as she heard his trainers scuffing the floor.
Godfredo appeared in the doorway. He was still handsome, his shoulders broad and his gym-body accentuated by his tight t-shirt and jeans. His skin was dark, his hair tousled and damp. She wondered if he had showered with Carmen, if they were still in the honeymoon phase of their affair. It had been going on for a year or more. Perhaps Godfredo would leave her to be with Carmen and save her the trouble of leaving him. Then he would be Carmen’s problem, and she could deal with his mood swings, his drinking, and give him his alibis for the nights he had a hit.
Godfredo’s dark eyes looked her over for a moment.
Could he tell that something had changed for her? Did he know what she had tried to do?
Constanza forced herself to stay calm, to remain composed.
“Did anything happen whilst I was out?”
Godfredo asked the question calmly. No trace of suspicion or anger.
Constanza swallowed hard, a bead of sweat at the small of her back, before she answered.
CHAPTER TEN
Daylight was streaming in through the office window as Felipe flicked through the files on the computer screen. A cardboard cup of vending-machine coffee, fast growing cold, sat on his desk all but forgotten.
He had battled fatigue as he compiled a list of Leon Herrera’s acquaintances. He wondered how many would talk to him, let alone give him the answers he needed. Most were affiliated with the Sanguinitos. His uncle Carlos had never been arrested but was known to be a high-ranking member. Leon’s father had been in and out of prison but was currently out on parole. Felipe wondered what it must have been like for Leon growing up. The boy had stood no chance, he thought. In a family of Sanguinitos, he had been destined to become one himself.
He was already known to police. He had been picked up for possession of cocaine, but nothing had happened, and he walked out without even being questioned. He had been pulled over a few times for traffic violations. He had been arrested for assaulting a nightclub promoter, but the victim had quickly dropped the charges. Felipe made a note of all these, frustrated that nothing had been done.
Leon had a girlfriend, Amarissa. He doubted she would be able to give him much, but partners knew things that sometimes nobody else did. The chances were low that she did not know about his affiliations, and she was still with him, but it was worth a shot.
Felipe had researched Martin and Teo too. Neither had criminal records, but Martin’s father had spent time in prison for drug offences. He wondered if Martin’s father was associated with the Sanguinitos, if that was how Martin had found himself caught up with Leon.
The building started to fill up and it was not long before Inspector Jimenez sought him out. Jimenez was a decade his senior and was the de facto manager of the investigative branch. He was wearing his uniform and a scowl when he loomed over Felipe, his huge frame blocking out the sunlight from the window behind him.
“Jefe,” Felipe greeted him. “You heard the news then?”
“I heard,” Jimenez said. “I hear everything that happens here, Santos. I’m in charge.”
“Sí, jefe.”
“I’ve had the Prosecutor’s Office on the phone already. Prosecutor Rivera is sending one of his assistants to help you build a case.”
“We don’t need -”
“Rivera says they don’t have enough to take this before a judge, Santos.”
“Jefe, we have security footage of the murder,” Felipe argued. “The suspects we have in custody are clearly the ones on the tape.”
Jimenez looked conflicted. He was a good leader and he had a formidable case record. Felipe respected him, but the jefe often deferred to others, afraid of stepping on the toes of the Prosecutor’s Office or his seniors.
“Get witness statements, get more evidence,” Jimenez said. Felipe swallowed hard and forced himself to nod. “As it stands, you don’t have enough to charge the suspects with this murder. I’ve been accosted by De La Cruz downstairs already.”
Manuel De La Cruz. A competent lawyer, who was well known if not well liked, who had made a name for himself defending Los Sanguinitos in a variety of different trials. Of course he would be the one to defend Leon, Felipe thought.
“I’ve signed their release papers,” Jimenez said. Felipe balked, but the jefe spoke quickly before he could be questioned about his decision. “The Prosecutor’s Office says you have no case yet. You can’t charge them and you can’t keep them here. They’re free to go, Santos.”
“Jefe, you can’t do that. We can keep them here for stealing the car, and -”
“The owner of the car has already declined to press any criminal charges,” Jimenez interrupted. “If you get more evidence, the Prosecutor’s Office will review the case and might decide they have enough to put before a judge.”
“Jefe, por favor,” Felipe protested. “We have witnesses, and -”
“The decision is made,” Jimenez said firmly.
A few people were watching them now and Felipe gritted his teeth. He nodded solemnly and watched Jimenez retreat into his office and close the door behind him.
Felipe wondered if Carlos and the Sanguinitos’ influence extended to the Prosecutor’s Office, or to the jefe’s superiors. He was sure that the evidence would be enough to get anyone else charged. Henrique returned from the canteen with a paper plate of tacos and put it down beside the untouched coffee.
“You haven’t eaten all night,” his partner chastised him, sitting down at his own desk.
“You sound like my grandmother,” Felipe sighed, but he knew Henrique was right. He picked up a taco, his stomach grumbling as the smell of the food wafted from the plate.
He filled in Henrique on the jefe’s decision as he ate. Henrique murmured his discontent, but he did not appear all that surprised.
“We just have to find more evidence,” Henrique said stubbornly. “We have the witnesses coming in tomorrow to sign their statements. We have policías looking for the gun. We can do this.”
Felipe was grateful for the pep talk, letting it lift him from his disappointment.
He went downstairs when Leon and Martin were being processed out and watched as they were handed back their personal effects. They both signed a couple of forms. Leon looked bored, as if his mind was already on what he would be doing this afternoon. Martin was far less confident, his eyes downcast, flickering over to where the detectives stood.
De La Cruz gave Felipe a self-satisfied smile when he caught him looking, and then led Leon outside after Leon and Martin had done a complicated handshake, though Martin hardly met his friend’s eyes.
A woman in her forties marched through the front door as De La Cruz and Leon left. Her dark curls fell to her elbows, framing her thin, pointed facial features. She was a handsome woman, though her nose was a little too angular, her jaw a little too pointed, to be considered beautiful. She wore no make-up except for a smear of red lipstick, and there were lines around her eyes and the corners of her mouth, that was pulled into a frown. She wore a leather jacket that had seen better days and ripped blue jeans. Her snakeskin heels and handbag were market knock-offs. She hitched the straps of the bag on her shoulder as she glanced around.
Her eyes fell on Martin and Felipe noticed the similarities in their faces at once. There was no denying that this was his mother. Teresa Fonseca. He remembered from the research he had done. She was a barmaid, and a single mother. He wondered when she had found out about the arrest, if she had returned home from a night shift to find her son missing, or if somebody had contacted her at the bar, forcing her to leave early. She looked pissed off as she collared Martin.
“What the bloody hell have you got yourself into?” she hissed, her face inches from her son’s. Though she was a head shorter than him, her grip on his ear as she pulled his face down to her level showed that she was no push over. She shot Leon a dark look.
“They’re letting us go,” Martin said lamely, his voice hushed, looking around with flushed cheeks, clearly embarrassed by his mother’s behaviour.
Teresa released her grip and straightened herself up as one of the lawyers introduced himself. Martin rubbed his ear, abashed.
“I never called you,” Teresa said, not bothering to introduce herself. The lawyer had made it clear that he knew who she was. Her eyes drank in the expensive suit and tie. Her nose rankled as if she could smell the price tag that came with him. “I hope you aren’t sending me a bill for this.”
