"Did anybody see Terjo working?"
"One neighbor heard the sound of a chain saw, and another neighbor coming down from his hilltop house saw Terjo at the site. The detective who examined the area said the trees were freshly cut."
"Why did Terjo run?"
"He came down to the house to get something to eat and let the dog out of the RV. Supposedly, Mrs. Terrell gave him standing permission to raid the refrigerator whenever she was away. He went into the house through the main entrance. That's when he saw Terrell's body. He got scared, panicked, and went back to the RV just about the time Matt Garcia was chasing Zippy up the hill. He saw Garcia and took off. He said he thought Garcia was the murderer."
"It's a good story," Kerney said.
"Do we have any physical evidence from the crime scene?"
"No prints on the scissors," Molina replied.
"But we've found some pubic and head hairs and a small fluid stain on Mrs. Terrell's bed sheets. Also, we have one set of footprints that don't match up with the victim, Terjo, or Matt Garcia. They're from a size-ten hiking boot. The tracks start at the front side of the patio, drop down the hill, and end at the road."
"Anything else?"
"Yeah. Seven Baggies of marijuana, hidden in the stables. Terjo says he knows nothing about it. But I think he ran away so he could move his stash."
"Have you asked Terjo to provide head and pubic hairs for comparison purposes?"
"He agreed to it in writing. I took him to the hospital on the way here and had a nurse take samples. The lab has them. We're still waiting on results."
"You've found no other physical evidence?" Kerney asked.
"Not yet," Molina said.
"If the precipitating event was a lovers' quarrel or a burglary gone bad, there should be."
Molina nodded.
"No prints on the scissors and no sign of forced entry does seem to make it look a little too neat and tidy. I've been thinking that maybe the murder was staged."
"For what purpose?"
"If you can tell me that, Chief, then I'd have a motive."
Kerney studied Terjo through the glass. The man was nervous, rubbing his hands together and constantly shifting his weight in the chair.
"Terrell and her husband were separated. Maybe Terjo knows something about Phyllis Terrell that can help us answer that question," he said.
"I think he'll cooperate," Sal said.
"He already knows how much time he's facing on a possession-with-intent-to-sell conviction."
"If you can make it stick." Kerney nodded in Terjo's direction.
"Let's see what he says." *** Santiago Terjo had seen enough television cop shows to figure people were watching through the mirror and talking about him. He slumped against the back of the metal chair and tried to remain calm.
But the longer he waited alone in the small room the more his hands got nervous and his gaze wandered toward the mirror.
He'd lied to the police lieutenant about the marijuana, and about his family in Mexico. In truth, Terjo had no wife and children. If the cops found out he'd assumed his dead brother's identity, Terjo could go to prison first and afterward get deported. Then there would be no more money to send home every month for his only sister-in-law, Lupita, her children, his parents, or his aunts and uncles.
Three years ago Santiago, his brother, had died from a stomach illness while home for a visit. Ignacio, who had much the same features as his brother and was only a half inch taller, had used Santiago's green card to enter the United States and find work.
Because Santiago had worked in Texas, Ignacio had decided to go to New Mexico, where the switch wouldn't be discovered. It had worked perfectly. To Rebecca, Mrs. Terrell, and everybody he'd met in Santa Fe, he was Santiago.
How could he convince the cop it wasn't his stash they'd found in the stables, even though it was? He always brought marijuana back with him from his visits to Mexico, but only for his personal use, not to sell.
Usually he brought enough to last for six or eight months, sometimes a whole year.
Terjo coughed and swallowed the phlegm in his throat. It scared him to think he could be charged with drug dealing and maybe sent to prison for a very long time. Before the cops arrested him at the stables, he'd used a rag to rub the Baggies clean of any prints. That should help, but what if they found some seeds or stems in the RV, which was likely? How could he explain that?
He needed to come up with a convincing story. He tried to think of something the police lieutenant might believe. *** "Sorry to keep you waiting," Sal said as he entered the interrogation room and placed a tape recorder on the table.
"Who's watching me through the mirror?" Terjo asked.
"My new boss," Sal said, easing himself into the chair across from Terjo.
"I think he wants to make sure I know how to do my job. Help me out and cooperate, Santiago. I don't want to look bad."
"I already told you everything."
"Give me a minute," Sal said. He turned on the recorder, identified himself, and gave specifics of who he was interviewing, why, and when.
"There, that's out of the way. What did you say before I turned the machine on?"
"That I told you everything," Terjo said, giving Molina a friendly smile.
"But we haven't talked about the scissors," Sal said.
"The scissors?"
"They're expensive German-made, just like my wife's."
"As;?" Terjo replied, pulling at an earlobe.
"So, I'm wondering if you ever saw Mrs. Terrell use those scissors, or scissors like them."
"I don't think so," Terjo said.
"But she has a lot of stuff she doesn't really use much."
"Maybe she used them as kitchen shears," Sal said.
"Or for cutting string and wrapping presents."
"Maybe."
"Are the scissors yours?" Sal asked.
"No, pero I keep some in my toolbox."
"We found those." Sal rubbed his chin.
"Do you think the killer brought the scissors with him?"
Terjo shook his head.
"You shook your head," Sal noted.
"Nobody does that."
"I agree. Most people don't carry scissors around with them. That tells me something."
"What?"
"The killer was someone Terrell knew and let into the house."
"A lot of people come to the house, making deliveries, visiting."
"I have the list of names you gave me. Does anyone special come around a lot?"
"Alexandra Lawton. She is Senora Terrell's neighbor."
"Killing someone with scissors is something a woman is more likely to do," Sal said.
"She would never do such a thing."
"You must know Ms. Lawton pretty well to call her by her first name."
"She asked me to do so."
"Maybe you used the scissors as the murder weapon."
"I have no reason to kill Senora Terrell. She has been very good to me."
"Does Lawton have a boyfriend?"
"Who knows? It is not my business."
"Have you seen her with men?"
"yes, but they are strangers to me."
"What about Terrell? Did she have men friends who came to visit;?"
"I don't spy on my boss."
"Did you know that Terrell and her husband were getting a divorce?"
MI knew."
"An attractive woman like Mrs. Terrell must have had a boyfriend or someone she was seeing. After all, she'd been separated from her husband for nearly two years."
"I know nothing about that."
"Your English is very good," Sal said.
"I studied it in school as a child."
"How far in school did you go?" Sal asked.
Terjo tensed and stalled momentarily, mentally counting the number of years his brother had been in school.
"Eight years."
"And they taught you English?" Sal asked, leaning closer, breaking into Terjo's space.