Concha wore a white suit, her silver gray hair buzzed close to her scalp. She knelt and lay a bouquet of wildflowers on her grandmother’s grave, which was in the center of the cemetery behind the old Yerberia on South Flores. The flowers tripped a glowscreen projection of home movies onto the tombstone. Kaylee waited for the scene to end before clearing her throat.
“Almost the same age as she was, now, aren’t you?” said Kaylee.
“Older actually. How’d you find me, Kaylee?” Despite her age, Concha rose with strength. She didn’t turn to face Kaylee.
Kaylee started, her palms sweating, “You look well.” Closer, Kaylee could see the start of elegant lines at the edges of her face. “You’re not the only super sleuth in Alamo City, y’know. October twenty-sixth. This had to be the reason your activity dips on the boards and other logs every October twenty-sixth.”
“Some time for you to make a personal call,” said Concha.
“I’m just sayin’. We’ve — I keep an eye on you. You’re not as alone as you think you are,” said Kaylee.
“Then you should know I should be alone. You’ve seen how I work. Nobody would put up with it.” She flashed half of a nearly regretful grin.
“Speaking of that. I came to ask for your help. We’ve tracked a mosquito. A bad one. And who knows, darlin’, maybe if you saw how I worked, we’d both be able to put up with each other’s habits.”
“Of course I have my own tabs on you, too. Sere honesto, no sabia que tenias un target nueva. Quien es?”
“Hold onto your britches…” said Kaylee, with hopeful eyes.