Diego: What can I get you?
Phelps: LAPD, Detective Phelps and Galloway.
Diego: Diego Aguilar. How can I help?
Phelps: You work the bar last night?
Diego: Yeah, me and a temp guy from the agency.
Phelps: Did you have a woman in here last night, 21 years old, Hispanic, drinking heavily?
Diego: We have a lot of ladies like that in here, but yeah, I know who you mean. Antonia Maldonado. What did she do?
Phelps: She was murdered last night.
Diego: Oh shit.
Phelps: Do you know her well? Was she a regular?
Diego: Hell no. But she was good and tight last night, complaining about her old man. It's a story you get used to working in a bar. She was so hammered last night she left a letter on the bar. I'll show you.
Phelps: Divorce papers. Did you open them?
Diego: No need to. She was shouting about it and waving the letter around. Said she was going to show him.
Phelps: Can you remember what jewelry she was wearing?
Diego: She had a necklace. Some kind of religious thing, I think. The temp guy would have more of an idea. She took the beer he served her and cried into it all night.
Phelps: What time did she leave?
Diego: Can't say for sure.
Phelps: Where did she go? Give me something or the LAPD will start getting interested in this place.
Diego: Take it easy. She wanted a cab, okay? My phone was out of order. The closest one I knew was the fruit market across the street, so I suggested she try there. She seemed reluctant.
Phelps: Did Antonia say where she was going when she left?
Diego: She said she was going to serve the papers on the husband. Said that would take the smile off his face. If you ask me, she was scared, and the drink was for Dutch courage.
Galloway: She attract any interest?
Diego: An extremely drunk young woman. What do you think? She managed to scare them off, though.
Phelps: Thanks. You've been a big help.
Diego: No problem. Hey, get the guy, will you?
Phelps: We'll do our best. One last question, what size shoe do you take, Mr. Aguilar?
Diego: A broad nine. I have wide feet.
Phelps: Sir, do you work here?
Man: Sorry, pal. Just making deliveries.
Galloway: From where?
Man: Just Picked Fruit Market, across the street.
Phelps: A fruit market delivers here?
Man: Yeah, sure does. The Mexes love a little slice with their tequila.
Phelps: We found a crate a lot like the ones you're wheeling there, except it was filled with booze. You know anything about that?
Man: What? No. We deliver all over the place, Officer. No telling where the boxes end up. Excuse me. I have to get on with this.
Phelps: Fine. Thanks. Another letter?