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“I saw the look you gave her at church. So did Lily. What’s going on with you two?”
“Nothing as far as I can tell.”
Joaquin snorted. “Oh, man, you like Deborah Smith.”
Something in Joaquin’s tone stung and made Alex want to defend Deborah. “You have a problem with that?”
“No. But you will.”
“What do you mean?”
“The woman’s trouble.”
His desire to find out what Joaquin knew about Deborah overcame Alex’s natural reticence about his personal life. “What do you know about Deborah’s problems?”
“I have ears and eyes. She has a reputation for getting around. That seems to have died down a little since she supposedly quit drinking, but when she drank—”
“She doesn’t drink anymore.”
Joaquin snorted. “Except like last night.”
“I thought she was your friend.”
“She’s Ray’s partner, and she’s a police officer. I don’t dislike her, but I know what it’s like when someone’s got a drinking problem. She’ll drag you down, dude.”
The stony look on Joaquin’s face said this wasn’t the time to probe his experience with people who drank too much. Alex squirmed in his seat. “She’s trying.”
“Sure she is, and she has my wife’s family and Ray to help her. That makes a big difference.”
“And she goes to church.”
“Yeah, don’t make her an angel.” Another stony look.
“What’s up with you, Joaquin?”
“Nothing.”
“You seem a little uptight about the church thing.”
“No.”
Joaquin fiddled with the knob on the radio. A voice droned on about the importance of recycling. Alex turned the volume down, ignoring Joaquin’s dark look. “You sure?”
“I’m just saying be careful. You get involved with an alcoholic, it’ll come back to bite you in the butt.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. But you don’t specifically know anything about Deborah?”
“She’s an alcoholic. That’s all I have to know. Just leave it at that. Can we talk about something else?”
“Sure.” Alex didn’t bother to point out that his friend had brought the subject up. No need to get the guy more riled up.
It took them almost twenty minutes to get to Miguel Suarez’s neighborhood. They pulled onto a street pitted with potholes and littered with trash, one junk pile of a car parked in the middle of the block. A stray dog, so skinny every rib showed, shot across the street, forcing Joaquin to brake hard. Alex’s chest slammed against his tightened seatbelt. “Easy, dude.”
A marked SAPD unit idled at the corner half a block from the residence. “There’s our backup.” Joaquin pulled alongside the Crown Victoria and put the Blazer in park.
Alex rolled his window down. He’d met the driver a few times before. “Hey, Diego. Anybody home?”
The officer shrugged. “We did a roll-by. No vehicle in the driveway. Nobody outside. You gonna knock and talk?’
