Free White Tombs by Christopher Valen Page A

to Rubén Córdova’s office.
    In a desk drawer, Santana came across Córdova’s calendar and appointment book. He flipped the pages until he found yesterday’s date. Córdova’s handwriting was nearly illegible, but he had no appointment scheduled with Julio Pérez. He had, however, scribbled Mendoza’s name on the line next to 7:30 p.m., which placed him at the crime scene at the time Mendoza died. In a space below the line, Córdova had scrawled what looked like the words: learn more about scandal .
    Experience had taught Santana that most criminals were as bright as a dimly lit bulb, despite how they were portrayed on television crime shows and in movies. Córdova appeared to be even dimmer than most. Along with his appointment book, he had conveniently left a .22 caliber cartridge in Julio Pérez’s study that could be matched to the weapon used in the killing. The evidence clearly suggested that Córdova murdered Pérez and then Mendoza. Then why, Santana thought, did he still have doubts?

Chapter 6
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    R UBÉN C ÓRDOVA LIVED IN F ROGTOWN , one of St. Paul’s most diverse neighborhoods. A mile and a half square area bounded by University and Lexington Avenues, Rice Street and Pierce-Butler Route, Frogtown was a working class neighborhood, settled by Germans, Poles, Swedes and Hungarians in the 1880s, immigrants who wanted to be close to their jobs in the railroad yards and those who worked in the industries that developed as a result of the railroads. Asians were the majority now, with whites and blacks in the minority. The area had the highest crime rate in the city until the SPPD instituted a weed and seed program that targeted drug dealers. Called Operation Sunrise, the weed part of the program managed to lower crime by pushing the dealers and prostitutes into other neighborhoods, but economic development had stalled due to a lack of funds.
    Legend had it that Frogtown got its name from the French who first settled the area, or from the late Archbishop, John Ireland, who named the area Frogtown after he heard frogs croaking in the wetlands near Calvary Cemetery.
    The houses along Charles Street were built in the 1930s and ’40s and their dark windows looked out onto the street like eyes blinded by cataracts. Córdova lived in small, white, two-storied clapboard with a peaked roof and an enclosed porch that looked as though it had been added as an afterthought. Two porch windows were covered with plastic instead of glass and the paint was chipped and peeling. A satellite dish attached to the flat porch roof looked as out of place as a sailboat in the desert.
    A dog began barking in the yard behind the house as Santana walked up the sidewalk that was now covered with three inches of snow. The flakes came down fast and were accumulating at an inch every hour.
    Santana opened the screen door and entered the porch. Gamboni was working on a search warrant, but the doorjamb looked worn and weak. Inserting a pry bar horizontally across the doorframe, he pushed until the bolt popped free from the striker plate and he could easily open the front door. He leaned the pry bar against the siding and took a moment to examine the bolt. A series of fresh scratches ran lengthwise along it indicating someone had used a sharp instrument to force it back. He jotted the information down in his notebook and then went into the house.
    The stained and worn beige carpet in the living room had a heavy odor of dog. Each piece of furniture looked second hand. On the wall above the bureau in a glass frame was a red flag with a white circle in the middle. Inside the circle was a black Aztec eagle. FARMWORKERS was stenciled in black letters above the eagle and AFL-CIO was below it.
    Santana always felt like a thief as he walked through each room in a stranger’s house, looking for clues or evidence that could help solve their murder. While he entered their property and searched their most intimate papers and belongings, the ME