She got up and took two coffee cups down from the upper cabinet, two fragile little things with flowers and vines and the sort of tiny handles that are difficult for big fingers.
“You’re sure, absolutely positive, that a vehicle drove by. You’d be able to testify to that in court without a problem?”
She nodded and poured the coffee.
“You could testify that it was white, that it was an SUV, that there was green on it.”
“Yes.”
“If I asked you if you were one hundred percent sure that it was a government vehicle, or a Border Patrol vehicle, you’d have to say no. Is that correct?”
“That’s correct, Sheriff.” She was smiling when she brought the coffee to the table. “Nothing in it, you’re sure?”
“It’s fine, thanks. And I know all this sounds as if I’m holding you over a hot burner, but I have to be sure.”
“I understand all that.”
I watched as she sipped the hot coffee. “How did it happen, Betty? Who’s right?”
“I saw the white vehicle,” she said, enunciating each word carefully, “and it wasn’t the sort of thing that I put any effort into remembering. You know how that goes? But then, after the deputies left-well, Tony and Scott, I mean-I remembered, and I knew that I should have mentioned it to them. I didn’t. It was an oversight. I got to thinking about it later, and knew that it might be important. I mean, we’re talking timing here, right?”
“Yes, we’re talking timing.”
“I should have remembered, and I should have mentioned it, and I felt really stupid for not doing so. And then you stopped by, and it was a good opportunity. I told you about it. And I made a mistake. Nobody likes to sound stupid. So it was just a manner of speaking, you know? I told you that I had mentioned the car passing by to the boys, and that Scott had said it was probably him. Well, I didn’t mention it to them, Bill. I didn’t mention it to them. I should have, obviously. And I knew I should have. So I told you, and stupid me-I made it sound as if I’d already remembered to tell the deputies when they were here.”
“Betty, did you tell anyone else, besides me?”
“No, I didn’t.”
I leaned back and looked out the window. I’d only had a sip or two of the coffee, good as it was. She pointed at the cup and I shook my head.
“That car might be important,” Betty said. “That’s the point of all this, isn’t it?”
“Sure.” I turned my gaze back to her. “Especially if you heard it stop at Baca’s. Or if you heard anything after that.”
“I wish I had,” she said. “The radio here in the kitchen was on, and I was thinking of a jillion other things. Who’s going to notice a car driving by, unless someone tells you in advance that you should be noticing? That’s the hard part of being a witness. Tell me beforehand that I should pay attention, and it’s easy.”
“Isn’t that the truth,” I said. “One more thing. You told me that it was probably Scott Gutierrez who drove by. Now lots of agents work for the U.S. Border Patrol, and they rotate through here all the time. I could list you half a dozen that the Sheriff’s Department sees on a regular basis. Why did you think it might have been him?”
“I suppose because Scott is the one I see most often, and I know him pretty well, what with his sister working just down the hall from me. He stops in once in a while. I got to thinking about it, and he was the last one I happened to see. His name came to mind first. A good assumption.”
“If there is such a thing,” I said. “When was the last time you saw Scott Gutierrez drive by-and I mean the last time you were sure that it was Scott? When maybe you actually waved to him?”
She took a deep breath. “Friday evening,” she said.
“You’re sure of that?”
“Yes, I’m sure. I’m positive, I’m so sure. Emilio was with me. We were both on the front porch. He drove by then. He had someone else in the vehicle, but it was dark, I couldn’t see who it was.” This time her smile was strained. “My assumption was that it was another agent. Scott leaned forward when he saw us, though. And he waved.”
“Do you recall what time that was?”
“I’d be guessing,” she said. “Sometime between eight and nine, maybe. No later than nine, certainly. We were only outside for a little bit.”
“Stargazing, or what?”
She laughed. “The coyotes were giving a concert. It sounded so comical, like maybe a whole den of little ones were trying to learn how to howl the proper way. We stepped outside to listen.” Her face brightened. “And yes…I remember the time. We’d watched the first part of StarTown, and it was during a commercial break about halfway through. So that makes it sometime between eight-forty and eight-fifty.”
“And you’re sure it was Scott Gutierrez who was driving,” I said.
“Oh, yes. I’m sure. That’s probably why his name popped into my mind the next morning. It made sense to me. So much for trying to be helpful.”
I stood up with a sigh. “I’m sorry to have caught you at a bad time, Betty. But I appreciate it.”
“I’m sorry that I made problems for you,” she said. “It was just one of those things. We sometimes say things without stopping to think.” She smiled tightly. “A little embellishment sometimes sounds so good. At the time.”
I left the Contrerases’ feeling as if all I’d done was slip into deeper, murkier water. Betty had fabricated when she’d first talked to me, trying to make herself sound like a better witness. Hell, that happened all the time…it went with the turf. It was amazing how many witnesses told us what they saw, when in fact they never saw a damn thing. It felt good to tell a colorful story, I guess, to tell an officer what he wanted to hear.
Betty Contreras was unusual. She admitted what she’d done, instead of stubbornly trying to stonewall her mistake. Her years spent keeping track of all those tax numbers helped develop that skill, I was sure.
Scott Gutierrez had told me that he hadn’t driven through Regal Saturday morning, and now Betty’s recollection neither supported nor contradicted him. He hadn’t gone out of his way to tell me that he’d driven through the village on Friday night, either. Perhaps he didn’t consider it important. And maybe it wasn’t. After all, when the lame jokes of the sitcom StarTown were airing and the coyote pups were practicing their howling, both Matt Baca and his father were still very much alive.
Chapter Thirty-four
I hesitated to bother Frank Dayan on a Sunday morning. The frenetic newspaper publisher burned up the sidewalks six days a week trying to keep the Posadas Register alive and well, and any questions I had for him about Posadas County politics could wait for Monday. Instead, I went home, planning to spend some time putting the house in order for the imminent Guzman invasion.
What I could do about that order was a mystery, since Maria Ibarra, my housekeeper, thought far ahead of any meager efforts I might make. She hadn’t done any grocery shopping, though, and neither had I. My son was taking care of that. He’d even taken the money I’d forced on him and stuffed it into his son’s shirt pocket. Tadd would attend to the culinary end of things, I was confident. Evidently, Buddy didn’t share my assumption that when hungry, the Guzman kids could just truck on down to the Don Juan de Onate Restaurant for a Burrito Grande.
The guest rooms were ready, including a whole zoo of stuffed animals that Maria had dragged from a closet. She used them to populate the single beds where little Francisco and Carlos Guzman would snuggle and giggle. I didn’t even remember that I’d kept the damn animals, originally part of my youngest daughter’s collection. The critters had been jammed away in the dark years ago and then forgotten.