Chapter Forty-four
Estelle Reyes-Guzman looked up from her desk as a vast, colorful form filled her doorway. County Manager Leona Speers regarded her with affection.
“Welllllll,” she warbled. “Dare I ask you how things are going?”
The undersheriff leaned back in her chair. “The road ahead is a little straighter.”
Leona’s eyebrows shot up. “My, how philosophical we are this morning. How did the confab with his nibs go?”
“The district attorney is going for a second degree murder charge in the death of Eddie Johns, and criminally negligent homicide in the death of Freddy Romero. And everything is always open to negotiation and bargaining.”
“That’s all fair, isn’t it?”
“Oh, yes. It’s fair. Expected, and fair.”
“Harvey will go with the Pat Garrett defense?”
Estelle looked quizzically at Leona. What Derrick Harvey, the public defender, would decide was always in question.
“You know…self defense. They claimed that Garrett was so dangerous that his killer felt justified in shooting from behind. Face to face, he wouldn’t have stood a chance against Garrett.”
“True enough. Prescott would have no chance face to face with Eddie Johns, and knew it.”
“Mr. Johns’ reputation is going to receive an airing in court, I can believe.”
“I would expect so,” Estelle said. “I’ve never heard it called that, though. The ‘Pat Garrett’ defense. Interesting.”
“Oh, my, yes. You just ask Bill Gastner. He’ll know.”
“I may have to do that.” She turned and found the appropriate folder. “I have two names for you,” and held the folder of job applications out to the county manager.
Leona held up both hands. “Oh, I don’t need to know, do I? Just that you hire two. ” She grinned and leaned forward eagerly. “Who are they?”
“If David Veltri will come work for us, that would be perfect,” Estelle said. “He has military police experience, a perfect record, and is a home town boy. Married, one child. That’s one. And I want to talk in person with Becky Hronich.”
Leona’s eyes grew wide with surprise. “The retired Chicago detective? My, I can’t imagine.”
“Well, neither can I.”
“But she’s older.”
“Oh, just ancient. I believe forty-six.”
“Family?”
“Husband retired from the military, and builds boats. No children.”
“Something of a culture shock for them, I would think. Wait until she talks with Bobby. I’d like to be a mouse in the room.”
“Well, as a matter of fact, she’s had occasion to do that very thing on the phone. ‘No nonsense,’ is how he described her. She’s willing to come out for an interview. Take a look at her file, and see if you have any questions.”
“Oh, it’s not my hire.”
“I know, but I value your opinion, Leona.”
“What did Mr. Bill say about the detective?”
“That if we didn’t hire her, we should have our heads examined.”
“There you are, then.” She nodded brightly, then her expression sank into a frown. “I hear some disturbing rumor, by the by, and that’s really why I stopped by.”
“All rumor is disturbing, Leona.”
“No, this really is. The Romeros? George and his wife? I heard they are planning to sue the department. Well, to sue the county, the department, you, my dear, the EMT’s, and any other moving target they can find.”
Estelle nodded noncommittally. “I heard rumblings of that too. Padrino talked to him a time or two, and that was the impression he got.”
“My dear, on what grounds? For heaven’s sakes, who could have done more than you did?”
“That’s not the issue, my friend,” Estelle replied.
“Whatever is the issue, then?”
“That he can? That it gives him something to focus on, maybe? Someone else to blame? I can’t imagine his loss.”
Leona shook her head slowly, lips compressed. “You’re too sweet, dear. One son loses an eye, the other dead in a senseless crash? We could argue parental supervision until the cows come home, but that won’t do any good.”
She regarded the undersheriff, who didn’t reply. “Maybe his lawyer will talk some sense into him.”
“Don’t hold your breath on that, Leona.”
“I suppose not. But we have good lawyers, too, don’t we. What fun they’ll all have.”
Estelle’s phone rang, and she picked up the receiver, holding up a finger so that Leona wouldn’t leave.
“Guzman.”
“Ah, good,” Frank Dayan said. “I was hoping I could catch you.”
“How are you, sir?”
“Just fine. Any chance?” She knew exactly what the newspaper publisher meant.
“What works for you, sir?”
“How about right now?”
“Here or there?”
“I’ll be right over.”
Estelle hung up. “Frank’s chance,” she said. “He’s finally going to scoop the big metro papers.”
“He lives for that, the dear sweet man. Has Mr. Prescott explained himself? I mean, my goodness, if there is an explanation for what he did?”
“Eddie Johns was infatuated with Christine, Leona. He made crude remarks to Gus on a number of occasions-enough to get his fatherly blood boiling. Prescott was going to Waddell’s property to work on the road, and Johns was there, so excited that he’d managed to shoot a cat so old, tired, or sick that he couldn’t run. He crowed about being able to sell the carcass in Mexico…apparently there’s a market.
“That led to an argument, and one thing led to another. Gus says that Johns was talking a blue streak about what he was going to do…with the cave he’d just discovered, with the cat, with the Mexicans who’d pay a fortune for the carcass, with the stargazers facility he and Miles Waddell were planning, and sure enough, even with Gus’ daughter.
“He crawled into the cave a bit, and Gus was right behind him. The handgun’s butt was right there near at hand, Johns was in an awkward position so that he couldn’t react, and that was the opportunity. Gus took it. That’s his story. He was really, sincerely, worried about Christine.”
She reached out and tapped one of the folders. “If you read Christine’s deposition, you’ll hear some scary things about Johns. She was easy with it all, but her father overheard enough. Christine remembers her father telling her at one point that she wouldn’t have to worry about Johns any more. She didn’t think anything of it at the time.”
“How terribly sad.”
Estelle held up her hands in surrender. “Too much drink, too much lots of things. The trouble is that Gus panicked when it was all over, and then combined that with trying to be too clever. After the shooting, he had Johns’ truck to contend with. He drove it home, stripped what he could use or sell, and crushed it by rolling it with that big old grader of his. Then he burned it to make it look old. Our interest in the cave discoveries prompted him to be just too clever…again. He’d been planning to sell the junk vehicles to make some money to fix the grader, but he hadn’t gotten around to it-until the story about Freddy broke. And then he thought that he’d better get rid of the remains of Johns’ truck.”
She shook her head. “If he’d left it alone? If Johns’ truck hadn’t been on that load, if Padrino hadn’t seen it, we might never have known.”
“Oh, my dear, I have faith you would have made the discovery somehow. When people get too clever for their own good…”
“That’s what we have to always hope,” Estelle replied. She heard steps out in the hallway, and Frank Dayan appeared behind Leona.
“Good morning, you handsome devil,” the county manager greeted, and Frank’s blush was intense. He ducked his head and looked beyond the county manager as if the undersheriff was somehow going to protect him.
“Got a minute?” he asked.
“Come in, Frank,” Estelle said. “Leona, I’ll let you know when our hires sign on the dotted line.”