Page 26 of Nothing Left

"Here is his address and phone number. He is due to come on shift today at eleven, so if you do not get hold of him before then, he will be here."

"And did he go off shift after that delivery?" Juliette asked.

The woman, now obliging, checked the time on her computer.

"I see that delivery was called in at about half past midnight. It was his last delivery for the night," she said, which made Juliette pause thoughtfully.

"Thank you," she said.

The time of death was too late for Alfonso to have killed Samantha while he’d been there. But what if he’d come back? What if Expresso didn’t know that they’d gotten a killer on their books?

With this entire conversation having been conducted in Spanish, she quickly updated Wyatt and Sierra on the outcome as they walked back to the car.

As they sat in the car, Wyatt looked over the details of Alfonso Perez. "New to the city and only been working for a couple of months. He could be a useful witness, or he could be the killer," he said.

Juliette nodded. "We won't know until we talk to him. Let's head over to his place now and see if we can catch him before his shift starts."

Alfonso Perez lived outside of the tourist area, and the drive there took them to a side of Barcelona that was shabby looking but without the threatening feel that they'd had when venturing to Enzo's home last night. Juliette got the impression that the residents in this cramped but cheerful area were part of the local Spanish community, living in affordable housing all crammed together, and with a few tiny restaurants and roadside shops adding local flavor. Coffee bars were open and doing a brisk trade, but at this stage on a Sunday, nothing else was yet open and the neighborhood was quiet. Church bells rang out from somewhere nearby.

Juliette noticed that outside Alfonso's apartment building, there were several motor scooters. Deliveries must be a common line of work for people in the area, she guessed.

They headed inside and up the narrow staircase. There was a man coming down, walking in a hurry, and they all had to flatten themselves against the side of the stairway for the man to pass. Juliette quickly glanced at him, wondering if he was Alfonso. But he was too young. This young man looked about sixteen, and he was dressed in football gear.

They continued up to the third floor and along the corridor. When she knocked on the door, Juliette heard the raucous sound of children's shouting coming from inside.

The door creaked open slowly, and a petite woman of about twenty-five years old with long, shiny dark hair opened it. She looked surprised to see three people at the door and even more astonished when Juliette presented her FBI ID.

"Good morning, ma'am. We're looking for Alfonso Perez. Is he here?" Juliette asked.

"He's not in any trouble, is he? Please, tell me he's not in trouble," the woman said, turning pale.

"Would getting into trouble be a concern?" Juliette asked, wanting to get more information if it was available.

"No, not at all," the woman said hurriedly. "But we are new to Spain. Alonzo is from Portugal. We came here because he is studying part-time to become a quantity surveyor. I am worried there was something wrong with his papers. He is allowed to work, they said?"

She obviously had the wrong end of the stick in terms of why the FBI was here, and Juliette hastened to explain.

"The night before last, he delivered food to a place where there was a murder," she said. The woman's eyes widened, and she now looked totally shocked.

"What? A murder?"

At that point, Alfonso himself appeared in the same branded jacket that Juliette had seen the woman at Expresso wearing and holding a young, dark-haired child of about three years old, who was wailing loudly.

"Must I speak to them?" he asked her, looking stressed. "Would you take Luca?"

The woman quickly grabbed the child from him and hustled away. She closed a door, and the noise abated.

Alfonso looked at them with a worried expression.

"Please, what is this about?" he asked.

"There was a murder the night before last at the apartment where you delivered pizza. I believe that stop was your last delivery of the evening?" Juliette said.

Alfonso nodded. He spoke in English, to Juliette's relief. At least Wyatt and Sierra could get the information directly from their witness as he spoke.

"Yes, yes. I remember that delivery. Those people, who looked like students, were very drunk. It was - it was troubling. I was worried one of them would injure themselves. There was already smashed glass inside. You say there was a murder?"

He didn't appear guilty, although he did seem shocked.

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