A/N: Enjoy! Adding more to this mystery!

The Day of Love and Friendship

Chapter 5

As the police officers, Sara, and Grissom waited for the phone to charge, they talked about the three women. Grissom expressed his reservations about the way the wife had banged her head on the countertop.

"But both Aurora and Neva said she did it," said the police chief.

Sara nodded, agreeing the women's stories had matched.

Juan said, "She was hiding the bruising at the funeral—wearing a hat with a thing—a net—over her face."

There had been an appeal to the public for witnesses—none had come forward which surprised no one in a place where murder was a rare event. The two women were alibis for each other and no one could think of a reason for the daughter to kill the man who was her stepfather.

Lissette's finger was on the phone as the battery supply light came on. "Do I try it?" Before anyone could reply, she pressed the screen and a collective sigh of relief filled the room when the screen came on and no password was required.

"Try recent calls," said Sara.

A disappointed moan came as there were no recent calls, no messages; no names on the contact list. Lissette pressed 'Photos' and immediately said, "We have photos!" After a pause, she said, "Dozens of them." It seemed everyone held their breath as she opened a file. "Meat—it's all meat photos." Quickly, she opened another folder, scrolling through photo after photo of cuts of meat, chicken, pork.

The chief, looking over her shoulder, said, "It belongs to the butcher but why use it just for photos of—of meat?"

Deflated, the others slumped after having expectations of finding something useful on the phone.

The chief said, "We can send it to Quito—maybe they can find something."

Lissette's finger shot out; with excitement in her voice, she said, "Here's something else—someone…" She slid the phone to Sara asking, "What do you think?"

With heads together, the two women looked at three photos of a nude woman with dark hair covering most of her face posing in somewhat erotic positions. A fourth photo, a man's face, quickly recognized as the handsome butcher, filled the screen. A female hand with brightly painted red nails rested on his neck.

As Lissette scrolled back to a photo of the woman, Sara shook her head, saying, "Who is it? She's not the wife—she's—she is filled out more. The wife is very slim." Then, tapping to enlarge the photo, she grinned, "It's the upstairs apartment—I closed the windows earlier and it's the same curtain."

The phone was passed to the chief with him saying, "I think this is Aurora!"

"The wife's friend?" One of the young men asked as he looked at the photo.

Sara turned the phone so she could see the woman again. A few seconds later, she said, "I think it is—the wife's friend."

Juan said, "Why is the friend with the husband?"

"Or why is the husband with his wife's friend?" Grissom asked.

For several moments, everyone remained silent, processing the possibilities of the four photos.

Grissom stood, saying, "I suggest we go see the wife and daughter—maybe the women are not as friendly as we've been told."

As they were getting ready to leave, the chief expressed a request to Sara that she would take the interview with the wife while he and Grissom observed, saying "I don't know how to go about this—maybe a woman is better."

His words were barely out of his mouth when an elderly man opened the door and asked to speak to the chief. The man, Sam Diego, slowly explained he lived by himself and did his own shopping.

Chief Barton was impatient and did his best not to show his impatient.

"It's to do with what I noticed a few times but I didn't say anything. It probably has nothing to do with it," the old man apologized.

"What's it you've noticed, Sam?"

What he said next caused everyone in the room to stop what they were doing.

He said, "Last year—around June, I went in the butcher's shop. The wife was working and she was always real nice to me. She was keeping her head down and then when she lifted her face, I was shocked." His hand covered his eye as he said, "She had a black eye and a cut on her cheek. I said it looked like she'd been in a boxing ring but she said she fell."

Sara's mouth dropped open, the appearance of an abused woman forming in her mind. Silently, she castigated herself for not having seen it in Maggie Mincho. The washed out, drained appearance, the extreme thinness, the hollows under her cheekbones, the submissiveness and meekness of manner.

The chief asked, "Was that the only time you noticed bruising on her?"

"No, no," Sam Diego shuffled his feet, looking down as he said, "Two more times—her face was black and blue—along her jaw and ear. And another time, she had her wrist wrapped but there were bruises on her arm up to her shoulder.

"I didn't comment again but she knew I saw her arm because she pulled a shawl over the bruises. It's been preying on my mind since the butcher died—if it had been her, I'd been in real quick."

After the old man left, everyone was confused, puzzled by what they had heard, which conflicted significantly with what people had said about Alex Mincho.

"We need to talk to more people," said the chief. Quickly, he gave instructions to the other officers. "Find anyone who has been around for a while—older women, maybe—they might not be so mesmerized by good looks. Sam is not the only person in this town who noticed bruises on Maggie's face."

Chief Barton turned to Grissom and Sara, saying, "Let's go talk to Maggie. Maybe the daughter will be working—this is a complete mystery to me." He shook his head in confusion, adding, "The two women were together—did the girl—Neva—did she kill him?"

Grissom had moved to Sara, touching her arm slightly as he whispered, "Are you okay with this?"

She nodded yet angry with herself that she had not questioned the wife's appearance.

In fifteen minutes, they were knocking on the door of the small house after the chief had given instructions to the officers to talk to anyone on the street who might know Maggie.

It took several minutes for the door to be opened by the daughter. Sara heard the chief's sigh; he wanted the wife to be alone.

The daughter led them to a small patio where there were enough chairs for all of them and called for her mother to join them.

"Have you found who killed Alex?" Maggie Mincho asked. Bruises were fading but obvious on her face.

After the question, Sara asked both women the same questions about how they had found the butcher, their immediate reactions, and got the same answers, almost parrot like, but she left questions about the mother's bruised face until last.

Neva, the daughter, answered first, "She knelt down and held his head and that's how she got blood on her. Me and Aurora pulled her off him and she started banging her head on the counter."

Sara physically turned to look at the recent widow and asked in a voice barely above a whisper, "Were you banging your face on the counter in June when you had a black eye? A few months later, did you bruise you face by hitting the counter again?"

She heard a sharp intake of air from the daughter but she kept looking at Maggie.

A full minute passed before Maggie spoke. "I banged my head on the counter—I was upset. Before I left a door open and hit by face. I am clumsy—everyone knows that."

To Sara, the woman looked like a small mouse trapped in a corner.

Quickly, Neva said, "My mom is—is awkward. She bruises easily."

"What about your bandaged wrist? When you were bruised to your shoulder? What caused that?"

Maggie shrugged, "It happens a lot, I guess. I don't remember."

Sara turned her eyes to the daughter, a beautiful dark-eyed young woman, dressed in a simple white shirt and dark pants. Her work uniform, Sara thought. The daughter did not blink as she stared at Sara who turned her eyes back to Maggie, sitting in a drab cotton dress with a knitted sweater pulled around her skinny shoulders. The air stilled in a moment of clarity as the two women stared at each other.

Sara knew Maggie Mincho had been beaten and battered by her husband; and she knew Maggie knew this.

But the woman denied it. "Tom was a good man—he had a good business. Everyone liked him." Her head dropped so her chin touched her chest. Neva's hand covered her mother's and squeezed it.

Sara raised her hand, palm toward Neva. "Your mother got those bruises because Alex hit her in the face. It wasn't the first time. I don't know why—over money? Or maybe she protested about Aurora living upstairs—but if your mother argued with him, he reacted by hitting her."

The two women remained silent for several moments. Finally, Neva said, "If you say so."

Again, in a voice barely more than a whisper, Sara asked, "Did you know he was having sex with Aurora in the upstairs apartment?"

When Maggie lifted her eyes, Sara could have sworn there was a flash of emotion that came and went as quick as a blink. She fidgeted for a moment; her daughter's hand tightened on her mother's.

It was Neva who responded. "Aurora was Alex's girlfriend."

Sara broke her stare and looked at Chief Barton and Grissom before she asked, "What do you mean by that?"

The younger woman was almost condescending. "What anyone means—his girlfriend. His lover. His mistress. He rented her the apartment."

The women had nothing more to say except to repeat what they had said earlier. The chief, stunned, was trying to process Neva's statement.

With a subtle nod from Sara, Grissom ended the interviews, saying they would be in touch.

As they walked back to the police station, Chief Barton said, "Sara, you did a great job—I'm learning from you. I was beginning to think Maggie's alibi was going down the drain—her friend was lying for her. But now, I can't see the mistress giving an alibi to the wife—especially to the wife who had just killed her lover."

Grissom and Sara held hands as they walked; a silent message had passed between them as they left the house indicating she was satisfied with the interview.

"They are hiding something," Sara said. "It was in their eyes."

"Do you think the daughter did it?"

Grissom said, "She was wearing a white shirt that day—whoever killed him would have had blood all over their clothes. Maggie had blood on her clothes but with all three confirming the same story-we have nothing. Let's talk to Aurora—take the phone so we have the photographs."

The chief slowed, looked at Sara and asked, "Are you up for another interview?"

She nodded, "Yeah—these women know more than they are telling. Maybe Aurora's story will change."

A/N: Thanks to everyone for reading! More to come! Love live GSR!