Everyone Dies Read Online Free Page B

care and went to an early morning yoga class for working mothers.”
    Molina held out a slip of paper. “Go talk to this person.”
    Ramona read the note. “Who is she?”
    “A transsexual who stalked Potter some years ago, after he ended a relationship with her,” Molina replied. “She lives with her current boyfriend, who runs a one-man gardening service. Both of them are head cases. The boyfriend isn’t home-he’s a gardener and leaves early for work. I’ve got Sergeant Tafoya looking for him. His name is Kurt Larsen.”
    “What kind of head cases are they?” Ramona asked.
    “Larsen’s a vet with post-traumatic stress, and Patterson gets hysterical and cuts herself with a knife to get attention. The shrinks call it a borderline personality.”
    “You talked to their shrinks?” Ramona said.
    “No, I spoke with the caseworker who supervises the apartments where Patterson and Larsen live. It’s an independent living program for mental patients run by a local agency. The caseworker’s name is Joyce Barbero. See her first before you meet with Patterson.”
    “Will do,” Ramona said.
    “It might be something,” Molina said halfheartedly. “As it is, we’re getting nothing from the neighborhood canvass.”
    “Have we found the spent bullet?”
    “The techs are still looking, but I wouldn’t count on them getting lucky. Be careful with Patterson.”
    Ramona rolled her eyes in agreement and went off to meet with a loony-tune transsexual who liked to play with knives.
    Patterson and Larsen lived in a single-story apartment building behind a large discount department store just off Cerrillos Road, the busiest, noisiest, ugliest street in Santa Fe. A high concrete block wall tagged with graffiti separated the two structures.
    The building had eight units with entrances fronting the street. Patches of stucco had broken off the exterior, exposing the gray undercoat, and the painted wood trim around the doors and windows was chipped and peeling. Landscaping consisted of some low-maintenance native shrubs and a few large boulders in a gravel bed that ran the length of the building from the sidewalk to the front stoops. On the street, litter had accumulated under several broken-down vehicles that were up on blocks and in the process of being repaired.
    A sign in front of an end unit announced the office of the La Puerta Mental Health Independent Living Center, and asked all visitors to check in. Ramona rang the bell and was greeted by Joyce Barbero.
    A large, round, middle-aged woman dressed in a loose-fitting skirt and top, Barbero carefully inspected Ramona’s credentials.
    “I’m sure Mary Beth had nothing to do with the murder,” Barbero said.
    “We’re just gathering information about Mr. Potter from people who knew him,” Ramona replied. “Did you know him?”
    “Not personally. Mary Beth talks about him occasionally in group therapy. His rejection hurt her deeply.”
    “Did he ever come here to visit Mary Beth?”
    “Not that I’m aware of.”
    “Would it be possible to check on that?” Ramona asked.
    “We keep a log of all visitors,” Barbero replied. “Our rules require it.”
    “Both day and nighttime visitors?”
    “Yes, we have shift supervisors who sleep over. Visitors must leave by nine P.M.”
    “Would you check your records?”
    “It will take some time to go through the file.”
    “I’ll stop back after I’ve talked to Ms. Patterson,” Ramona said. “Does she have any violent tendencies?”
    “Not towards other people.”
    “You’re sure of that? I understand she was very angry with Potter.”
    “Angry, yes, but not aggressive. I described Mary Beth’s behavior to your lieutenant. She can be self-destructive. But it’s an attention-getting device, and she hasn’t mutilated herself in a very long time.”
    “Are there knives in the apartment?”
    “Of course.”
    Barbero directed Ramona to Patterson’s apartment and watched from her front stoop. Ramona rang once