Chapter 21

It was, thankfully, not a live report. I didn't doubt that Cecelia and I could be articulate live, unlike some people who can't even say "hello" on TV without reading it from a teleprompter, but Cecelia's long answers – she never says anything briefly – wouldn't have worked well that way. By recording the interview, and then helping with the editing – not the technical stuff, just looking over shoulders to be sure what they kept didn't give an impression contrary to the totality of the interview – we were able to get the facts in without taking all day about it.

Lisa Sanchez is about the best reporter I know in Albuquerque. She'd pleasantly surprised me when I was looking into rumors of sexual harassment at Darlia's school, sticking to the facts and making it clear that rumors were nothing more than that, as in fact turned out to be the case. The school had come out of it with an enhanced reputation rather than a wrecked one, which pleased me since I know the place.

She'd agreed to come to the office, where she and her crew had set up in the conference room. Cris had supplied donuts and drinks, running across Wyoming to the new Wal-Mart, and Cecelia and I had managed to keep the makeup down to the bare minimum – we wanted to look on camera the way we look in person, not like dolled up mannequins. At that I've noticed that in spite of the claims, people who appear on TV without TV makeup don't look garish or odd – they look just as normal as those who wear it. Perhaps in the old days makeup was necessary, but today it doesn't seem to be.

Before the camera started rolling we'd laid out the basics of what we wanted to cover – we didn't require Lisa to only ask questions we were ready for, but we wanted her to know in advance that some things we just weren't going to talk about, period, end of discussion. What we did cover was the fact of a serial murderer, the request from the task force that I help out by talking to street people since they were the victims, the reason Cecelia and I were at the crime scene the night before, and some basic information on serial murderers.

It took a couple of hours to get everything, and then we went out to the van for the editing. What used to require a room full of equipment – what once required physically splicing tape – you can now do entirely inside the machine. Digital recording technology and computer software have made a lot of things a lot easier. Finally Lisa, Cecelia, and I all approved of the finished product.

By then it was just about time for the evening news. She did her live standup in front of the office, facing into Inez Park across the street. "This quiet, unassuming neighborhood has become a center of a new criminal investigation here in Albuquerque, with one of the city's most colorful yet unegotistical detectives right at the center of things." That was how she started, and aside from the purple prose and the flattery, and the dramatic style that TV talking heads adopt even when talking about the most mundane things, she did well. She introduced the tape, let it roll, concluded her report, and helped her crew pack up the equipment. I've seen reporters who fit the arrogant, air-headed, self-centered stereotype, but Lisa wasn't one of 'em – she worked as hard at packing things away as anyone else.

"Well," she said when she was done, "I hope you catch this guy. This sort of puts the West Mesa killer in the background – and frankly I want to know who left those poor women out there, and bring him to justice." The cliched phrase grated on me, but I let it slide.

"I hope we catch him too. So far he hasn't nailed anyone I know, but I do know a lot of these people and if he keeps on, I'm gonna be crying at a funeral sooner or later – and I don't want to have to do that."

"You'd cry at the funeral of some homeless person?"

"Lisa, you know me by now, at least a little. Shoot, I bet after that deal up at Calvin Academy you dug into me some."

She smiled. "Yes, I did. And you're right, I do know you a little now. It's just that most people want to give money and pay taxes, and otherwise forget about the homeless. I don't think I've ever known anyone who was friends with a homeless person."

I shrugged. "They're people – an' I approach people like they're people. If they're lying scum that's how I treat 'em, an' if they're honest and reliable I treat 'em thataway. Them street people has their problems, and some of 'em is scum all right, but they's some good people too."

Lisa laughed. "I'd forgotten how you talk when you're not making a point. Anyway, thank you for this, and let me know when you have something else I can use." And she got into the van and headed off to wherever she next needed to be.

Cecelia stirred beside me. "For someone as forward as a reporter needs to be, she seems like a reasonably nice person."

"Yeah, she's one of the good guys, as much as them talkin' heads is ever good guys."

"She also tried to flirt with you."

I chuckled. "You know, it took me a while, but I did figure that out eventually. I thought about shuttin' her down, but shoot, she didn't have no more chance than a lizard has of walkin' across the Atlantic Ocean."

"And that, my darling, is why I did not myself 'shut her down.' If she had possessed any chance of snaring you, I would have eviscerated her, and caponized you."

I looked at her, and she was grinning, but I thought it wasn't entirely a joking grin. "You know, C, I suspect you just might turn me into a steer if I was to go tippin' out on you. But that ain't never gonna happen, 'cause I love you. Even if some woman were to seriously tempt me – an' the woman who could do that ain't never gonna exist – I'd be faithful just 'cause I give my word, and just 'cause I flat-out refuse to do that to you."

"I know, Darvin. There are things which I may not be certain of, but your unshakable fidelity is not among them; I know you could no more betray me than you could shoulder the entire globe."