“Drugs!” Emma Garcia retorted angrily, but Tony Guerrero raised his hand and again told her to shut up.

“Drugs? Please tell us about these drugs,” he said in his most cordial shoe salesman tones.

What did they know? My brain was not working fast enough. How were they connected to Monica Fullbright? She must have gone against them, and they trashed her crib. Kidnapped her. Did they have her in another room here? “Why should I tell you?” Let them think I knew more than I did.

“For Christ’s sake, stop beating around the bush or they’ll think you’re with the CIA,” Lupe demanded.

“The CIA?” I laughed, but I was angry. I demonstrated against the war in Vietnam, against Three Mile Island, against aid to the contras. “Do you think I’m with the CIA?”

“How should I know?” Lupe replied. “I didn’t even vote in the last election.”

Tony Guerrero gestured impatiently. Raul said something in a low voice to Lupe and she fell silent.

“Cathy Vega had five thousand bucks with her when she left for Mexico. Do you expect me to believe that was to buy the video?” That was it: toss out my best card and see if there were any takers.

There was a long enough silence to tell me they didn’t know about the money.

“What was she going to do with five thousand dollars?” I pushed. “Seems like just the right amount to buy half a k of bad brown Mexican smack.”

“We have nothing to do with drugs here,” argued Tony Guerrero.

“We gave her that money, but it wasn’t for drugs,” countered Emma Garcia.

They looked at each other in confusion. He didn’t trust her any more than she trusted him.

“Whoever sent her to Mexico with that money knows how she died,” I said.

“Bad idea using a junkie courier!” exclaimed Lupe. “I’m really surprised at you. Didn’t you know she’d use the drugs herself? That’s elementary. It’s rule number one—don’t get high on your own supply.”

Angrily Tony Guerrero walked over to Cathy’s body, knelt and untied the scarf around her neck. “You think there would be a black and blue mark like that if she just overdose?” He lifted her hair. An ugly dark mottled line about four or five inches long ran horizontal across the nape of her neck.

Someone had chopped her hard with a blunt object. I doubted a hand alone could have left such a bruise. Who was that strong? I looked up at Raul. She was probably out cold by the time her panties were ripped off and he... The needle could have been placed by her to make it look like an overdose. I felt sick to my stomach again.

He retied the scarf carefully and smoothed her hair several times before placing her head down.