“10-4,” she said and hung up.
The waste management plant was over by the railroad tracks, and it was several large industrial buildings surrounded by a tall chain-link fence. There was a gated entrance and a guard stepped out as we approached.
“Can I help you?” the guard asked. He was an older man, probably in his sixties, with a shock of silver hair and a pleasant, round face and twinkling blue eyes.
“Bruno Corelli?” Jack asked.
The guard nodded and reached for his clipboard, running his finger down the page until he found the name. “He’s in building two.” He pointed us to a building on the left. “Should be able to find him there. He’s still clocked in.”
“Appreciate it,” Jack said, and waved as the gate opened for us.
“I’ve never been to the waste plant before,” I said. “I thought it would smell worse.”
“There’s so many chemicals here you’ll be lucky if you can smell at all by the time we leave,” Jack said, pulling into a parking spot outside of building two.
“Look at the way the sun is shining off the metal roof,” I said. “Isn’t it glorious.”
“I think you’re waterlogged,” Jack said. “Sounds like it’s time for a beach trip.”
“Stop talking sexy like that to me,” I said. “I can’t be held responsible for what I’ll do.”
“You’re so easy,” he said, squeezing my shoulder.
“When it comes to you, I’m always easy,” I said. “Now put on your mean face so Bruno takes us seriously.”
“I don’t have a mean face,” Jack said.
I laughed. “You don’t really think that, do you? You can be a scary guy. And you have cop face.”
“Cop face?” he asked, arching a brow.
“You know how you can always tell who’s a cop in the room. It’s the eyes. You’ve got good eyes. But you can be intimidating when you want to be.”
“Do I intimidate you?” he asked.
“No,” I said, grinning at him. “But I’ll let you practice on me later.”
Even if I hadn’t already seen Bruno Corelli’s driver’s license picture, I would’ve been able to pick him out of a lineup. If anyone looked like a Bruno, it was him.
He was several inches over six feet and built like a bear. His shoulders were broad and his biceps well defined, but he’d gone a little soft in the middle. He looked like a man who enjoyed a beer or five. His hair was dark and his beard was close cropped, and he looked comfortable in a red flannel shirt and jeans.
“Mr. Corelli?” Jack asked, moving his jacket aside so his badge was visible.
“Yeah?” Bruno asked.
“Can we talk to you a few minutes? It’s about Juliet Dunnegan.”
He looked at us nervously and then swallowed. “Sure. Come on back to my office. I can take a few minutes.”
The office was made of tin siding with a white door that looked like it had been kicked a few times and a window with cheap blinds hanging haphazardly. On the door was a placard that said Waste Supervisor—Antonio Corelli.
He cleared his throat and said, “I heard what happened to Juliet. Everyone in the company was talking about it. We were all there. I just don’t see how it could have happened. There were people everywhere.”
“The company?” I asked.
“The regular cast at the Curtain Call,” he said. “We do five new plays every year and A Christmas Carol every December. We audition for the parts, so we’re never in the same roles. I was working sets for this last one.” He kind of laughed and then pointed to his body. “I’m not exactly built like an English lord. Sorry about the mess.”
He moved stacks of papers and files off two metal chairs and then he rolled his desk chair to the side so we could see each other face-to-face.
“You said you were working sets?” Jack asked. “What does that mean?”
“I’m the heavy lifter behind the scenes, rolling sets into place and making sure everything is ready for the next scene. It’s an important job. Stressful.”
“Did you see Juliet after the play was over?” Jack asked.
“Not really,” he said. “Things are kind of crazy then. People are moving and family members are coming backstage. Especially on closing night. The last time I saw her was after the last curtain call. She was heading to her dressing room, and she gave me a quick wave. It was real quick. We didn’t even speak.” He swallowed again and clasped his hands together. “It’s hard to think that was the last time. She was so alive. Smiling and excited. Everyone has that glow after a final performance. It’s a lot of work.”
“What did you do after the play was over?” Jack asked.
“On the last night everyone leaves the mess for the next day cleanup and we all go out and get drunk,” he said, shrugging. “It’s tradition. But I had to be here at work at eight in the morning, so I took a raincheck. I went home instead.”
“Can anyone verify that?” Jack asked.
“I don’t know,” he said, shrugging. “Maybe some of the guys saw me leave. I told them I couldn’t go with them. I’ve made that mistake before and I learned my lesson. Got fired from a job once for partying all night before I came into work.”
“What was your relationship like with Juliet?” Jack asked.
Bruno blew out a breath and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in his chair. “How much time do you have?” he asked, trying to smile. “It was complicated.”
“Because of all the other men in her life?” I asked.
“No, nothing like that,” he said. “We dated in high school some, so we had a history. And sometimes people you have a history with are just comfortable. Juliet had a rough upbringing. Dad was an alcoholic and her mom walked out on them Juliet’s freshman year of high school. I think she was always searching for a knight in shining armor to kind of carry her away. You know what I mean?”
“Yeah,” Jack said softly. “I know what you mean.”
“She would have married me right out of high school if I’d asked her,” he said. “She’d hinted at it a time or two, but I wasn’t ready for marriage. Things kind of cooled off between us after that and she said she was going to LA to be an actress. She always loved performing. And she was good at it. Better than me. I only ever joined theater because the girls were pretty. And then I found I liked it too. Weird how that works, huh?”
“She left town?” I asked, keeping him on track.
“Sure did,” he said. “Packed her bags and snuck in my window the night she left. She didn’t tell me she was leaving. I just thought she was over her pout and wanted to pick up where we’d left off. The next morning there was a goodbye note on my dresser. I probably kept that thing ten years before I threw it away. I always expected to see her in some commercial or movie someday, but I never did.”
“She obviously came back home,” Jack said.
“Yeah, she spent about ten years in Hollywood before she came back,” he said. “It looked like it had been a hard ten years. I was already involved with the Curtain Call. That was before Trest bought it and renovated the place. So she kind of fit right back into the fold when she moved back. She waited tables and did her thing. But boy, she could con a conman. Always looked like she had money even though she didn’t have two nickels to rub together. Was good with makeup and hairstyles. She met that jerk she’s married to pretty quick after moving back and she didn’t waste any time getting a proposal from him.”