Bob looked skeptical and I pushed ahead. “Really. I’ve got an idea that I think might work out. And the news isn’t all good, Roberto. If your sister’s involved…” I paused and watched the flicker of emotion on Torrez’s dark face. “If she’s hiding something, I think that I’ll be able to tell. We’re going to have to move and move quickly. But it’d be easier if I did it.”
He shook his head. “I think it’s something I need to do, sir.”
“Bullshit, my friend. For one thing, when it’s family like this, it’s ten times as hard, election year or not. And no matter how hard you try to be impartial, you’ll have a set of family blinders on.” Torrez’s frown deepened.
“And I’ve been thinking about something else. The inscrutable one will be here later today.” Torrez knew exactly who I meant, and his expression turned guarded. “You know that while she’s here, Estelle doesn’t intend to sit on my back patio and knit-even if she could find the patio for all the weeds. The gals know each other really well. I think that if I go and talk with Melinda, and Estelle is along, we’ll know the truth by the time we’re done.”
“Melinda’s not even in town right now.”
“She’s not?” My stomach sank.
“No. She’ll be back on Monday afternoon sometime. Becky and Melinda and one of their cousins went to Albuquerque this afternoon. A weekend of doing malls or some damn thing.” He grinned. “I told ’em that if they weren’t back in time to vote, and if I lost…” He let the rest of the implied threat against his two sisters and their cousin dangle. And then his face lost all its brief humor. “And the double funeral for Matt and Uncle Sosimo is Monday afternoon at five. They have to be back for that.”
“The MVD office is open Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday, right?” He nodded. “Then first thing Tuesday morning, before the herds arrive to take a number, Estelle and I will have a chat with Melinda.”
“And say what?”
“For one thing, I want to ask her how a clerk would go about making a fake license like that one,” and I jabbed the plastic bag with my forefinger. “We need to know that, regardless of what office is involved.”
Torrez’s eyes narrowed as he continued to assess what I was offering.
“If Melinda had nothing to do with this, I think it’ll be obvious. And I’ll have Estelle’s judgment to back me up.”
“Okay,” Torrez said. “Actually, that will work, because Melinda will be by herself on Tuesday. Connie French won’t be there. She’s taking a couple of days off to do some hunting.”
“With her stepdad and brother,” I said. “That’s what Scott told me earlier.”
“And that’s the other thing,” Torrez said. He took a deep breath, as if he needed to wind himself up like a friction motor to launch into the next explanation. “Now I keep asking myself these questions. First of all, Scott and Bergmann arrived on the scene when Matthew kicked out the car window. Fair enough. I checked with the Border Patrol district office, and Bergmann did just join this region, and a tour wouldn’t be unusual-although why at night I don’t know, except that’s the shift that Bergmann had been assigned to.”
He tapped his second finger. “Scott is in the area first thing Saturday morning. In fact, he was the first officer who responded to my call from the Baca house. He was quality assistance, too. He stayed around until we’d cleared the scene. And”-he tapped his third finger-“despite the fact that it wasn’t his case, and that he had no connection to it other than as courtesy backup, he stayed in the area most of Saturday. He was in the area and responded to the fracas at the Broken Spur when you took Dale Torrance into custody.”
“So he’s around a lot. That’s his job, Robert.”
“And he went on leave sometime Saturday.”
“That’s what he says.”
“He can’t sleep, so he’s prowling around Regal half the night, and according to Archie Sisneros, was actually inside the Baca house. I have to ask myself…looking for what?” He reached over and tapped the license. “This, maybe?”
“I mentioned to Scott that we’d recovered it, by the way. That might not have been too smart.”
“What did he say to that?”
“He was surprised.”
“I bet he was.” He hooked his little finger. “What about this. Suppose that his sister issued that license to Matthew Baca. Not my sister at all. Maybe Melinda didn’t even know anything about it. Connie French issues it, either as a favor, or for some bucks, or because she’s got a crush on Matthew. I don’t know if she did or didn’t, but anything is possible with that kid. If Scott Gutierrez found out about what was going on, he might try to protect his sister.”
“Maybe.”
Torrez frowned. “During the course of the investigation, he would have certainly heard someone in the department talking about a faked ID, about the interviews with Tommy Portillo at the convenience store, maybe even about Matthew’s attempt to buy booze at the Broken Spur. There’s lots of talk, and Scott would have heard.”
“It’s possible. And that might explain why he was inside the house tonight. He was looking for that license. And after I told him that we had it in evidence, he left Regal.” I spread my hands wide. “Not in a rush, but he gave up his vigil at the church.”
“I don’t know,” Torrez mused. “What doesn’t sit too easy with me is that there are other explanations, too.”
I knew what he was thinking and remained silent, letting him sort out in his own mind how he wanted to approach the next step.
“I don’t think that my sister would have issued the license,” he said after a moment. “But there’s that possibility, isn’t there?”
“I suppose there is. But I agree with you-it’s unlikely.” The undersheriff didn’t ask me why I thought it might be unlikely, and I would have been hard-pressed for an answer other than my high opinion of the Torrez family in general, and my regard for the pleasant young lady whom I saw regularly.
“Suppose Melinda was the one who issued the license. I couldn’t guess why she’d do a thing like that, but just suppose,” Torrez said, retracing his steps. “And in the first place, with the new computerized systems, I don’t even know how she’d do it, but like anything else, I imagine there’s a way. If she did that, what’s Scott’s interest in it?”
“From a cop’s point of view, he’d want to protect his sister, and nail Melinda. He’d want to make sure that Connie didn’t take a fall for something she didn’t do. It’s possible Connie got wind of the deal, and mentioned it to Scott.”
“Sure. That sort of thing is hardly the Border Patrol’s turf, but like you say, it’s family.” Torrez rested both forearms on the desk and fixed me with an unblinking stare. He didn’t say a word for a long time, and finally I broke the stalemate.
“What?” I asked.
“You talked with Tony Abeyta earlier tonight,” Torrez said. “Apparently Betty Contreras is saying that she saw a Border Patrol vehicle drive by around eight? Just before the Lucero kid wandered over and found Sosimo dead?”
“That’s what Betty says. She told me that she mentioned the incident to Scott, and that Scott then told her that the vehicle was probably him. But that’s not what he tells me. Tony agrees-he said the conversation never took place, at least in his presence. And he never left the room while Scott was there.”
“So Betty’s lying. On top of that, she told me the same thing.” Torrez turned and looked out the window. “Why would she do that?”
“I have no idea, Robert. Scott said that he never drove through the village.”
“Did you happen to ask him if he picked up Sosimo that morning? While my uncle was walking along the road?”
“No. But if he’d picked him up and took him home, then he would have driven through the village, wouldn’t he?” I shrugged. “And he would have said so.”
Torrez didn’t look as if he was listening. Instead, he said, “If Scott Gutierrez was the one who picked up Sosimo yesterday morning, I’d have to ask myself why he’d bother. He wasn’t scheduled to work yesterday during the day. Why is he there at all? If he saw an old man walking along the highway, why would he bother to pick him up?”