“What’s that?” she asked as she got out of the car and slipped on her jacket to cut the chill of the April wind.
“The mayor told me privately that he doesn’t plan to run for reelection next March. That means I’ll probably be out of a job in less than a year.”
Sara held back a smile as she unstrapped Patrick from the toddler seat and woke him up. Was it possible that both of her major concerns could be resolved within a matter of months? Would he be willing to resign his position before the municipal election and go with her on her next duty assignment? They could arrange for a caretaker to look after the ranch in their absence.
Kerney was a rich man by way of an unexpected inheritance several years back from an old family friend. He served as police chief not for the money, but because it had been the job he’d always wanted. Now that it would be ending, they could finally start living as a family, see a bit of the world together. Nothing would make Sara happier.
Kerney popped open the trunk and took out the luggage. “Did you hear what I said?”
Sara nodded, took Patrick out of his seat, put him on the ground, and bundled him into his warm coat. “Are you ready to retire?”
“It’s about that time,” Kerney said, looking stoical.
Patrick scooted away in the direction of the geldings in the paddock. “Can I go riding now?” he called. “With Daddy?”
Sara caught up to him and took him by the hand. “In the morning, young man.”
“Can I give the horses some biscuits?” Patrick pleaded, trying to tug Sara along.
“Yes, you can.” She turned back toward Kerney as Patrick led her away. “Watching how a film gets made and getting to play cowboy might be fun.”
Kerney smiled. “That’s what I think.”
“You come see the horses, too, Daddy,” Patrick called over his shoulder.
Kerney dropped the luggage and joined his family. Together, the threesome walked hand-in-hand toward the horses at the fence awaiting their arrival, heads bobbing in anticipation.
Chapter Two
June brought hot, dry days, high winds, a rash of snatch-and-grab thefts from local art galleries, and, at the end of the month, Johnny Jordan’s return to Santa Fe. Kerney agreed to meet him for morning coffee at a downtown cafe, and not surprisingly Johnny was late again. He came into the crowded restaurant and spotted Kerney in one of the small booths along the back wall next to the kitchen. Smile flashing, he approached holding the local newspaper and pointed to the front-page headline:
RASH OF ART THEFTS STYMIES POLICE
“Seems you’ve got a crime wave on your hands,” he said.
“Apparently,” Kerney replied as he gestured to the waitress, who approached, filled Johnny’s coffee cup, and offered Kerney a refill of his hot tea, which he refused. Johnny dumped cream and sugar into his cup and stirred it vigorously.
“So are you stymied?” Johnny asked.
“We’re investigating all creditable leads.”
Johnny laughed, put the newspaper aside, and laid a manila envelope on the table. “That means you’ve got nothing. Here’s your technical-advisor contract for the movie.”
Kerney didn’t touch it. Two days ago, Johnny had called from Denver to say he was coming to town to hand-deliver the contract and talk to him about some unspecified business.
Interested in what that business might be, Kerney had contacted the municipal court. Johnny was scheduled to appear before a judge on his DWI bust later in the morning. He wondered if Johnny would ask him once again to get him off the hook.
“You don’t have to sign it now,” Johnny said between sips of coffee. “Look it over, show it to your lawyer, and mail it back to me.”
Kerney said nothing and put the envelope aside. Through the cafe window tourists milled around the sidewalk, waiting to be called for the next available table. Across the street, a middle-aged man in baggy shorts and an oversized T-shirt videoed his wife and two bored-looking children as they walked along the Plaza.
Johnny put the cup down and gave Kerney a sideways look. “You’re not bailing out of the deal, are you?”
“No, but I’d like to meet the principal parties involved before I make a commitment.”
Johnny made a thumbs-up gesture. “Hey, great minds think alike. We want you to come to the Bootheel for a couple of days in September before we start production.”
Kerney was surprised: he’d expected Johnny to ask him to help get his DWI arrest dropped. “That might be possible,” he said. “What would I be doing there?”
“We’ll take a tour of all the locations before the actual filming begins. It’s called a tech scout. The producer, director, cinematographer, and key members of the technical crew visit each site and do advance planning on what they’ll need to shoot a scene.”
“I thought you were the producer,” Kerney said.
Johnny tapped his chest with a finger. “I’m an executive producer. That means, aside from coming up with the story idea, writing some stuff for the rodeo scenes, scouting out the Bootheel locations, getting my clients cast in the movie, and arranging for some product placement, I don’t have much to do with the actual filming.”
“And this tech scout thing would be done in two days?”
“Your part of it would.”
“You do know that the town of Playas is now an antiterrorism facility,” Kerney said.
“Yeah, but the governor arranged for us to use it.”
“What days would you need me?”
“It can be on a weekend.” Johnny pointed to the manila envelope next to Kerney’s elbow. “I’ve added the tech-scout trip to your contract, along with a nice bump in your fee.”
Kerney shook his head in amusement. “Even as a kid you always assumed that you’d get whatever you wanted.”
“That’s because I practice the power of positive thinking, Kerney. What are you doing later this morning?”
“Why do you ask?”
Johnny smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve got this DWI thing nipping at my heels and I could sure use a character witness.”
Many ordinary citizens weren’t shy about asking for special treatment from cops when they got in trouble with the law. But in this case Kerney wondered if Johnny had added money to the consulting contract as a way to buy a favor. Although it smacked of attempted bribery, it fell legally short of the mark.
“That’s not possible,” he said flatly.
Johnny’s lips tightened in annoyance. He hid it by dabbing his mouth with a napkin. “I just thought I’d ask.”
“Let your lawyer handle it,” Kerney said.
Johnny gave Kerney an easy, casual grin that didn’t quite mask his irritation. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. But I can’t afford to be hobbled by legal stuff right now. There’s too much I’ve got to do. We’re less than three months away from filming. I need to be able to move fast, stay mobile.”
“If it’s your first DWI conviction, you’ll have your license back in ninety days.”
“That’s what I’m talking about. This is no time for me to be without wheels.”
The waitress came with the check. At the cashier’s station Kerney paid the bill and left a tip. “I can’t help you, Johnny,” he said. “I’ll be in touch about the contract.”
“Make it soon.”
Kerney left Johnny on the sidewalk looking completely disgruntled. But it didn’t bother him one bit. Doted on and spoiled by his parents, Johnny had never been forced to take responsibility for his actions. A shot of reality might help him grow up.
Pissed off, Johnny watched Kerney’s unmarked police cruiser turn the corner. All he’d asked Kerney to do was vouch for him with the judge. What was the big deal with that? He’d put money in the guy’s pocket and gotten nothing in return.
Staying angry at Kerney wouldn’t help him solve the immediate problem of losing his driver’s license. The sports-channel rodeo deal had been finalized, but it would be weeks before he’d see any cash. There were cross-country business trips and client meetings that couldn’t be put off, and he didn’t have the scratch to hire a car and driver. Johnny decided his only option was to get the local lawyer he’d retained to request a continuance so he could stay behind the wheel. He walked across the street to the Plaza, sat on a park bench, flipped open his cell phone, dialed the lawyer’s number, and told him what had to be done.