Closely Akin to Murder by Joan Hess

accommodate a reporter. How can I be of service?”
    â€œI’d like to talk to you about Veronica Landonwood,” I said, sitting in a padded chair and trying to assume a reporter’s air of dogged diligence.
    His cordiality evaporating, Benavides sank down in his chair and began to fiddle with a pen, his face lowered to hide his expression. “I was not prepared for this,” he said at last. “If I had known that you wished to talk about her, I would not have agreed to be interviewed. What happened so long ago should not be awakened.”
    â€œWell, at least you remember the case,” I said. “Would you like to know what happened to Veronica after she was released from prison?”
    â€œI don’t think so, Señora Malloy. Now, if you will excuse me, I have clients coming later this afternoon and I must make—”
    â€œShe petitioned the court to change her name, went on to college and medical school, and is a highly respected researcher.” I gave him a moment to grasp all this, then added, “And she’s being blackmailed.”
    â€œBy whom?”
    â€œThat’s what I’m trying to learn. The press coverage was so minimal that only someone who was involved in the incident would know enough to make a sufficiently threatening demand.”
    He took a silk handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his forehead. “Are you accusing me?”
    â€œWhy shouldn’t I? You knew as much as anyone, if not more. You had copies of documents, and probably were informed when she was released from prison. You could have kept track of her over the years.”
    â€œI had no reason to do that. She was a client, not a close friend or relative. I did what I could to have her deported instead of sent to prison, but she’d confessed to the police. Perhaps if the issue of marijuana had not been brought up, the judge might have been more lenient. This was in the sixties, however, and Zamora was well known to be severe in drug-related cases. Her diary made her case much worse. Zamora was convinced she was a hardened slut who’d schemed to seduce this older man in his own bed, then changed her mind and killed him. Our system is different than yours. There is no jury or testimony from witnesses. The accused is not allowed to address the court. The judge reads the evidence and makes his decision based on what he believes to be the facts.”
    â€œWhat did you believe?”
    â€œShe confessed, so it made no difference what I believed. I spoke very little English at that time, and my office could not afford a translator. On a few occasions, I paid someone out of my own pocket, but I had a wife, three children, and a small salary. I was assigned so many cases that I worked until midnight almost every night and returned to my office at dawn. Señorita Landonwood was withdrawn, unwilling or unable to answer my questions. I felt very sorry for her.”
    I’d nursed a degree of hostility toward him because I’d considered him responsible for Ronnie’s incarceration. Now I realized how impossible his assignment had been. “Did you arrange for her to receive packages of food while she was in prison?”
    â€œYes, but not with my own money. Every month for eight years, I received a small sum from the United States. I used it to make sure the señorita had adequate food, bottled water, vitamins, and medicine. When the checks stopped, I inquired at the prison and learned she was no longer there. I assumed she’d left the country as quickly as possible.”
    â€œWho sent the money?”
    â€œThere was no name or return address on the envelope. The first one contained a terse note as to its purpose. After that, there was only the money.”
    â€œHow strange,” I said. “What about the postmark?”
    Benavides shrugged. “I have no memory of it. Even if I had glanced at it, it would have meant nothing to me because I knew