While working at Western Peds, I’d known several Latin women who’d chosen that same unadorned appearance. Long hair, always a braid, dresses, never pants. Devout women, Pentecostal Christians.
“Something I can do for you, ma’am?”
“Are you . . . you’re police, right?” The old mouth emitted a young voice, breathy and tentative. No accent; the merest softening at the end of each syllable. She could’ve found employment giving phone sex.
“Yes, ma’am.” Milo flashed the badge. “And you are…”
She reached into the macrame bag and brought out a red plastic alligator-print wallet. Producing her own I.D., as if it had been demanded of her many times.
Social Security card. She thrust it at Milo.
He read, “Guillerma Salcido.”
“Guillerma Salcido Mate,” said the woman defiantly. “I don’t use his name anymore, but that doesn’t change a thing. I’m still Dr. Mate’s wife—his widow.”
CHAPTER 10
GUILLERMA MATE STOOD straighter, as if fortified by the claim. Took the Social Security card from Milo’s fingers and slipped it back into her purse.
“You’re married to Dr. Mate?” He sounded doubtful.
Another dip into the bag, another thrust of paper.
Marriage license, fold marks grubby, photocopied lettering faded to the color of raw plywood. Date of issue, twenty-seven years ago, City of San Diego, County of San Diego. Guillerma Salcido de Vega and Eldon Howard Mate wagering on nuptial bliss.
“There,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am. Do you live here in L.A.?”
“Oakland. When I heard—it’s been a long time, I didn’t know if I should come. I’m busy, got a job taking care of the elderly at a convalescent home. But I figured I should come. Eldon was sending me money, this pension he had. Now that he’s gone, I should know what’s going on. I took the Greyhound. When I got here I couldn’t believe it. What a mess this place is, all the streets dug up. I got lost on the city bus. I’ve never been here.”
“To L.A.?”
“I been to L.A. Never been here.” Jabbing a stubby finger at the duplex. “Maybe the whole thing was a sign.”
“What happened to Eldon. I don’t mean I’m some prophet. But when things happen that aren’t natural, sometimes it means you have to take a big step. I thought I should find out. Like who’s burying him? He had no faith, but everyone should be buried—he didn’t want to be cremated, did he?”
“Not that I know.”
“Okay. Then maybe I should do it. My church would help.”
“How long exactly has it been since you saw Dr. Mate?”
She touched her finger to her upper lip. “Twenty-five years and . .. four months. Since right after my son was born—his son. Eldon Junior, he goes by Donny. Eldon didn’t like Donny—didn’t like kids. He was honest about that, told me right at the beginning, but I figured he was just talking, once he had his own he’d change his mind. So I got pregnant anyway. And what do you think? Eldon left me.”
“But he supported you financially.”
“Not really,” she said. “You can’t call five hundred a month support—I always worked. But he did send it every month, money order, right on the dot, I’ll give him that. Only, this month I didn’t get it. It was due five days ago, I have to figure out who to talk to at the army. It was an army reserve pension, they need to send it directly to me now. You have any idea how to contact them?”
“I might be able to get you a number,” said Milo. “During the twenty-five years, how often did you and Dr. Mate communicate?”
“We didn’t. He just sent the money. I used to think it was because he felt guilty. About walking out. But now I know he probably didn’t. For guilt you got to have faith, out or habit, I don’t know. When his mother was alive he used to send her money. Instead of visiting. He was always one for habits—doing things the same exact way, every single time. One color shirt, one color pants. He said it left time for important things.”
“Like what?”
She shrugged. Her eyes fluttered and she began to sway. Began to fall. Both Milo and I took hold of her shoulders.