"I'll do what I can, but it won't be inclusive," Howell said.
"I have no idea who comes and goes when he's not there."
"Ask people," Kerney said flatly, thinking Howell needed to stop worrying about covering his ass and get with the program.
Howell nodded and got up from his chair.
"Am I back in harness. Chief?"
"This is a special assignment, nothing more. I'll let you know when you're cleared to return to regular duty."
The conference room telephone rang as Howell made his exit. Kerney picked up the receiver to find Judge Ross-Gorden's clerk on the line.
Nita Lassiter's arraignment had been set for one o'clock. He hung up and went into Andy's office.
"What's happening?" Andy asked hopefully.
"Nothing. I'm grasping at straws, or pubic hairs, to be more exact."
"Is this a Clarence Thomas joke?" Andy asked.
Kerney explained his comment.
"This could create a bad news day for the governor if word of it leaked out," Andy said.
"It won't. But I'll bet even money Springer will hear about the pubic hairs from Captain Howell."
"Why do you say that?"
"I put a tail on Howell yesterday evening after IA finished interviewing him. He went straight to the governor's ranch. I believe the captain may have divided loyal des Andy pressed his lips together tightly before responding.
"Let's see what plays out before we jump to conclusions.
But if Howell does tell the governor, Springer won't like it. He's a conservative Republican who beats the family values drum every chance he gets. He may want me to put the brakes on the inquiry."
"What do you want me to do?" Kerney asked.
"Keep at it. I'll take the heat, if it comes." de leon was not an early riser, nor did he have a sunny disposition upon awakening. At ten o'clock in the morning, Carlos waited in the library for De Leon to appear.
The room had floor-to-ceiling bookcases, and the centerpiece was a reproduction of the last Mexican viceroy's desk positioned to take full advantage of the view of the mountains. There were whitecaps of snow on the peaks, which Carlos found uninviting; he didn't like snow.
He sat in a reading chair next to a wall of first editions and rare books, with the morning newspaper in his lap. In spite of the fact that his upper false teeth fit perfectly, Carlos adjusted the plate with his thumb. It was an old habit hard to break. His new plate had been provided by the U.S. Army after he'd been beaten by Kerney in the El Paso rail yards, dragged along the tracks tied to the bumper of the gringo's truck, and stripped naked, bound, and left in the dirt to be arrested by military police.
It had happened eighteen months ago, but Carlos would never forget it.
Kerney had come thundering back into his mind as soon as he saw the newspaper article announcing the gringo's appointment as deputy chief of the state police. Carlos wanted the patron to wake up, read the paper^ and order him to kill the motherfucker.
De Leon came into the room just as the telephone rang. Carlos started to rise but vSa amp;jefe waved him back down, picked up the receiver, and sat in the high-backed antique Spanish Colonial chair behind the desk.
"What is it?" De Leon asked in Spanish, not waiting for the caller to identify himself. Anyone with access to the phone number was an employee.
Carlos watched De Leon eyes harden as he listened to the caller. When he finally spoke his voice was cordial but his jaw tightened.
"You did what was necessary considering the circumstances," De Leon said, switching to English.
De Leon listened some more.
"Is the body well hidden?" he asked.
Carlos immediately became more attentive.
"No, stay where you are," De Leon ordered.
"I'll get back to you."
He replaced the receiver and glared at Carlos.
"Patron?" Carlos asked.
"It seems that Nick Palazzi decided it was necessary to kill a state policeman on his way to Mexico. He was reluctant to tell me about it until today. He also felt it necessary to bury Amanda Talley's body and steal a car before he crossed the border."
"What do you wish done?" Carlos said, remembering to respond in English.
"Visit with Nick, Carlos. Have him tell you exactly how to locate Amanda's remains, and when he's told you everything, kill him. Make all traces of Amanda vanish, and get the vehicle safely across the border.
Take the Range Rover. You may need it in the mountains."
"Emilio and Facundo?" Carlos inquired as he stood.
"They are blameless in the matter." Enrique waited for Carlos to depart. Instead the man stood rooted to me floor.
"Are my instructions unclear?"
"No, patron." Carlos stepped to the desk and placed the newspaper on it.
"There is news which might interest you."
"What is it?"
"An article on the inside page announcing an appointment to the state police."
"Why would that hold any interest for me!" De Leon inquired, opening the paper to find the article.
Carlos held back a smile. When De Leon finished reading, his eyes flashed at Carlos.
"Go now," De Leon said.
"We will deal with Senor Kerney when you return."
De Leon reread the article after Carlos departed.
Kevin Kerney, the man who had thwarted the sale of the military artifacts smuggled from White Sands Missile Range, was in Santa Fe.
Enrique pushed the paper aside and looked at the sweeping view of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains.
Northern New Mexico was one of the few places in the United States where he felt completely at home. With a rich Hispanic heritage, flourishing Spanish arts, and a culture tied closely to his own, the area deeply appealed to him.
He switched his thoughts back to Kerney and smiled as he contemplated the police officer's death.
"this is a preliminary hearing to determine if there is probable cause to believe that the crime of murder may have been committed by Anita Lassiter," Judge Ross-Gorden announced.
She had delayed the hearing ten minutes waiting for Kerney to arrive.
He was still a no-show. She looked out over the top of her reading glasses at the nearly empty courtroom. In her late fifties, Ross-Gorden had a high forehead, narrow cheeks, and a slightly pointed chin.
She wore her gray hair pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck. The occupants in the courtroom included the defendant, her attorney, the ADA, Wesley Marshall, a court stenographer, and the deputy sheriff guarding Lassiter.
Anita Lassiter was an attractive, well-dressed woman with an intelligent face who looked frightened. Judge Ross-Gorden wondered if the defense counsel had taken the time to prepare her for the hearing.
"Does your client understand the purpose of these proceedings?"
Ross-Gorden asked Lassiter's attorney, a pudgy man the judge knew only in passing. He was not a criminal trial attorney, and Ross-Gorden wanted to make sure Lassiter had been adequately advised by counsel.
Bradley Pullings stood next to Nita Lassiter at the defendant's table.
"She does. Your Honor."
"Very well," Ross-Gorden said, deciding to be a bit more explicit for Lassiter's sake.
"I have reviewed the arresting officer's written report, and the transcript of Ms. Lassiter's tape-recorded confession. I find that there is sufficient evidence to proceed to trial on the charges of first-degree murder. How does your client plead?"
"Not guilty, Your Honor," Pullings said.
"Do you plan to engage a co-counsel with criminal defense experience?"
Ross-Gorden asked Pullings.
Bradley blushed.
"Yes, Judge."
"That would be wise." Ross-Gorden inclined her head at ADA Marshall, who took the cue and stood.
"We ask the court that Ms. Lassiter be held without bail, Your Honor.