by Celia Kinsey
“You know,” I told Morticia. “Hank kept a pet possum when he was a kid.”
For the first time since I’d brought up the subject of Hank, Morticia looked interested.
“He kept him in a cage made out of old milk crates. The possum’s name was Roosevelt.”
“Roosevelt?”
“Bizarre, huh? That may have been the first clue Hank would become obsessed with Chupacabras later in life.”
I had more details at the ready concerning the apocryphal Roosevelt, but I didn’t get a chance to plant them, because just then we saw a plume of dust coming down the rough track.
It was Nancy, who I’d called just after I’d phoned the Santa Fe County Sheriff’s office. I hoped the police would not be far behind.
August and Hugo could be making bail at any moment, and there was no way of knowing if they didn’t have associates still at large. I was quite certain that only one person knew where the stash of cash was hidden. I was equally certain that there were several people searching for it.
Morticia and I walked down the hill to meet Nancy.
I didn’t unearth the box again for Nancy’s benefit, but I did show her the picture I’d snapped of the contents.
“I’m really going to have to start keeping a sharper eye on things,” Nancy said. Her lips were pressed together. “I had my hands checking up on this place from time to time, but apparently, all of them were in on it.”
Hugo’s job might have survived pointing a gun at my head, but I didn’t think it was going to survive the revelation that he’d been running a criminal enterprise of impressive scale out of Nancy’s old barn.
August was going to be thrown out on his ear, too, the first chance Nancy got.
“What about Jasper? Are you sure he was in on it, too?” I asked.
Nancy said she couldn’t be sure.
“Did you send him out here in the weeks prior to Jorge getting shot?”
Nancy thought for a minute before she said, “I did send him out here a couple of days before that, I think. I wanted him to look for an old piece of equipment I thought might have been stored in the barn.”
“Is it possible that was the first time he’d been out here?”
“It is possible. Jasper was hired to deal with the animals, and that kept him so busy—”
“Then it’s probable he stumbled on the chop shop for the first time just a couple of days before Jorge—”
“Unless he was involved in it himself, or found out from one of the other hands, that probably was when he—”
Nancy gestured helplessly.
“The day after he disappeared, I found some dirty mechanic’s coveralls in his things,” I said. “There were also some snakeskin boots covered in motor oil and automotive paint, and a set of tools used to break into cars.”
“Snakeskin boots?” Nancy asked.
I nodded.
“Teal blue? Pretty beat up?”
“Yes.”
“What color were the coveralls?”
“Tan.”
“Ripped out knees?”
“I’m not sure. I didn’t take time to look them over.”
“I don’t know about the coveralls, but I’m pretty sure those boots belonged to Jorge,” said Nancy.
This was a startling revelation, but I didn’t have time to process it because three police cars were pulling up beside the barn.
While one of the officers—Officer Reyes was nowhere in evidence—took our statements, several others went to work extracting the ammo box full of cash from the floor of the root cellar.
“We’ve issued a warrant—” I heard an officer say to Nancy. I wondered for whom and on what pretext. Hugo and August were already both in custody.
After the police departed—they weren’t there long—I asked Nancy, “What was that officer saying about issuing a warrant?”
“Jasper Hamm is wanted for murdering Jorge.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
I shouldn’t have been shocked when Nancy said that Jasper was wanted for murdering Jorge, but I was.
“What brought the police to that conclusion?” I asked Nancy.
“I guess while they were in custody, both Hugo and August said they’d seen Jasper kill Jorge.”
I didn’t believe a word of it.
“And the police are taking their word for it?”
“I guess so.”
The real killer was about to slip through the fingers of the police, and an innocent man was about to be arrested for a murder he hadn’t committed.
I had somewhere to be, so I had Nancy drop me off at Little Tombstone. I got straight into my car and headed for Speedy Pete’s Tire Shop in Albuquerque.
When I got there, Tina was sitting at the desk, talking on the phone and tapping away at her computer. There was a considerable line waiting to consult with her, so I got in the back and waited for my turn.
By the time I got my two minutes with Tina, it was nearly noon. Tina might have a lunch break in theory, but I was starting to wonder if she was going to get to take it.
“I have a missing tire,” I said when I got to the desk. “I have a reason to believe it’s in danger of disintegrating. It’s a Jasper brand. The model is HAMM.”
If I’d had any question that I had the right Tina, it vanished when I saw the look on Tina’s face.
“You’ll have to fill out a form,” she said in an even voice, but her hand was shaking as she handed me the clipboard. “Please fill in the complete details.”
I took the form out of her hand, took it back to one of the chairs lining the waiting area, and wrote out the details of the situation on the backside of the form. I then scribbled in some meaningless information on the front and wrote: “see other side” and drew a big arrow. I took my form right up to the front of the line and set it on the counter.
“I’ll continue to wait,” I said.
I waited another 2 hours before Tina went on break. I watched her digest what I’d written in snatches while she dealt with customers.
When she was finally relieved for lunch break, she motioned to me to follow her. We headed out to the parking lot.
“Who are you?” she said.
Valid question, under the circumstances.
“I live next door to Nancy Flynn’s ranch,” I said. “Jasper’s sister Janey is staying at my house until—”
Tina cut me off.
“We can’t talk here.”
We walked to a nearby park and sat on a bench and basked in the mid-January sunshine while I filled Tina in on every development regarding Jorge’s death and the events surrounding it. If I wanted Jasper to know everything I knew, then the best way to make that happen was to tell Tina.
Based on her nonreaction to my revelations regarding the case, she was in constant contact with Jasper and somebody—Janey, I imagined—was keeping him abreast of developments.
However, when I told Tina that Hugo and August were both claiming that Jasper was the killer and a warrant had been issued for his arrest, it was clearly new information to her.
“I think he should turn himself in,” I said.
“Why? He didn’t do it.”
“Hugo and August will be out on bail soon. Jasper is safer in police custody.”
“But what if nobody finds conclusive evidence that Jasper didn’t do it?”
She had me there. I felt I was on the brink of a breakthrough, but that was hardly a compelling reason for Jasper to take my advice.
“Jasper knows who killed Jorge,” said Tina. “That’s why he’s gone into hiding.”
“Why doesn’t he just go to the police and tell them what he saw?”
“He can’t.”
Nothing I could say after that would pry the identity of the killer out of Tina. Neither could I determine why Jasper was so scared to reveal what he knew.
“Please urge Jasper to consider turning himself in,” I said as I got up to leave. “Being falsely accused of murder is much preferable to being d
ead.”
As I drove back to Little Tombstone, I reviewed what I knew and didn’t know about the case. I decided the key to the conundrum might lie in the drone footage I’d bought off Clive and Cliff. I fully intended to start combing through it as soon as I got home.
However, as soon as I walked into the apartment, Georgia presented me with the latest copy of the Amatista Advance.
“Look at this,” she said, thrusting the newsletter into my hand.
“The crossword puzzle?”
“I think you may find it illuminating.”
I read the clues aloud:
“Three across: ______ is an honorable estate.”
“Marriage,” said Georgia. “Try seven down.”
“Better off______.”
“Wed.”
“Are you sure that isn’t supposed to be ‘dead’?”
“It can’t be,” Georgia pointed out. “It’s only three letters.”
I read out twelve across: “He who finds a _______ finds life.”
“Wife.”
“Make an ______ woman of her.”
“Honest.”
“______ knows best.”
“Mother.”
“Shouldn’t that be Father knows best?”
“It isn’t in this case.”
“Eight down: Marry ________ without delay.”
“And therein lies the key to the conundrum,” said Georgia. “Someone is egging Hank on to marry Phyllis.”
I counted out the letters for eight across and matched up the empty squares with the available clues.
Despite the improbability of Phyllis’s name fitting perfectly in the Amatista Advance crossword, it did.
“I think you may be right, Georgia,” I told my cousin. “It does very much appear that someone wants Hank to marry Phyllis without delay, but I don’t think that person is Phyllis herself.”
“I wouldn’t blame Phyllis for not wanting to hitch her wagon to Hank Edwards’ star,” said Georgia.
“It’s not that I don’t think Phyllis wants to marry Hank,” I said. “It’s just that I don’t think she’s the driving force behind the messages from beyond that someone is hiding in the crossword puzzle.”
“If it’s not Phyllis who’s behind the crossword, then who is it?”
I had a pretty good idea, but I decided to keep my suspicions to myself for the time being. Time and my little white lie about Hank’s childhood pet possum Roosevelt might reveal the truth, even if the suspect party wouldn’t admit to it herself.
I was very curious to see how Hank was taking this apparent order from his late mother to marry Phyllis at first opportunity. I wanted to march right down to the Museum of the Unexplained and find out for myself, but I had more urgent matters to attend to.
The living room was rather full up with yelping pugs, squealing piglets and overactive 6-year-old boys, so I decided to take my laptop downstairs and look at the footage in the relative peace and quiet of the tiny office Juanita had in the back of the kitchen, that is, if there wasn’t someone in that space, too.
When I got downstairs and asked Juanita if I could lock myself in her office, she said, “You’re welcome to use it, but it’ll take you some time just to unearth the desk.”
I didn’t even try; instead I closed the door and sat down on the floor and started sorting through the footage. A full four hours later, I was bleary and bug-eyed, numb from sitting, and thoroughly discouraged.
Compelling evidence of the identity of Jorge’s killer might still be contained in the unwatched footage, but I was in no condition to look for it any longer.
I decided to take a break and go over the Museum of the Unexplained and find out if a wedding was imminent.
As I headed for the door of the Museum, I saw the door of the Curio Shop was propped open, and I went inside. The Curio Shop was empty, so I passed through the archway separating the jumbled shop from the equally jumbled Museum.
It also seemed to be deserted. I called out to Hank and got a muffled response. A few minutes later, he emerged, looking his usual rather rumpled and cantankerous self.
He came out of his apartment carrying a copy of the Amatista Advance and a pencil, so I had no doubts that he’d gotten the crossword.
“Have you finished the puzzle yet?” I asked.
“I did.”
Hank was looking a little shaken. He’d clearly gotten the message from his mother, loud and clear, that she wanted nothing more than to have her son offer his heart and hand to Phyllis.
“What do you think, Hank?” I said. “Are you going to get down on one knee and propose to the lovely Phyllis?”
Chapter Thirty-Six
When I asked Hank Edwards if he planned to propose to Phyllis, he just grunted at me.
“Did your mother ever meet Phyllis?” I couldn’t help asking. It was akin to validating Hank’s belief that it really was his mother speaking to him through the crossword, but I wasn’t at all sure that whoever was behind the puzzles might not very well have Hank’s best interest in mind. I was very uncertain, however, about Phyllis’s best interests. Would Phyllis really be better off married to the likes of Hank.
“My mother never did meet Phyllis,” said Hank.
“Do you think your mother would have liked Phyllis?” I asked.
Hank grunted again, but at a slightly higher register, which I took to mean that he believed that his mother would have liked Phyllis, had she lived long enough to meet her.
“Do you think Phyllis wants to get married?”
“Humph!”
I took that to mean that, yes, the lady in question did want to marry Hank, although I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why. They say that love is blind, but in the case of Phyllis, love must be blind, deaf, and deprived of a sense of smell.
I left Hank standing next to the display case containing his beloved family of Chupacabras, clutching his crossword puzzle and looking up at the ceiling, possibly seeking an additional sign from heaven amongst the fly speckles and cobwebs.
I took my laptop back upstairs with the intention of combing through a few more hours of footage before my eyes bugged out.
As soon as I opened the door, I knew something big had happened while I’d been gone.
Janey was sitting on the couch, crying and twisting a tissue into knots. Oliver was sitting on one side of her patting her back awkwardly.
Georgia was rattling around in the kitchen. Georgia’s default activity when anyone is distressed is to give the distraught party something to eat or drink.
Maxwell was sitting a few feet away, clutching Earp under one arm and looking like he was in danger of bursting into tears himself.
“What happened?” I said.
“Jasper turned himself in,” said Janey.
I had to get the rest of the details from Oliver because after Janey told me her brother had turned himself in, she burst into uncontrollable sobbing.
Janey’s sobbing pushed Maxwell over the edge, and he, too, began to wail. Earp began barking, and even Hercules started squealing from her pen in the corner of the kitchen.
“It’s going to be all right,” I said over the din.
I hoped I was telling the truth. I sat down on the opposite side of Oliver and tried to calm Janey down.
I held up the USB of the drone footage I’d stashed in my pocket.
“I have drone footage from the time period surrounding Jorge’s murder,” I said.
“How did you get ahold of that?” Oliver asked.
“Cliff and Clive,” I said.
“The problem is that there are thirty hours of footage, and I’ve only looked at a few.”
“How many computers can we get?” Oliver asked. “Couldn’t we copy the files and split them up to get through them faster?”
Georgia brought out her laptop, and Oliver went down to the Bird Cage to see if Katie or Chamomile had a computer to lend. They didn’t. I knew that Ledbetter had one, but he was still in Tucson looking after his
mother.
“What about Morticia?” I asked. Oliver didn’t know, but he went back downstairs and returned with both Morticia and her laptop.
Georgia, Morticia, and I split up the footage and started combing through it. Janey and Oliver would spell us as soon as we got tired. There were roughly 24 hours of footage to get through and if we watched it at double speed, that meant twelve. Between three people, that was only four hours each. If we could keep going without a break, within only a few hours, we’d know for certain if the twins’ drone footage contained anything that might exonerate Jasper.
“Jasper doesn’t intend to say he’s guilty, does he?” I asked Janey.
“Jasper called me right before he turned himself in. He didn’t kill Jorge, but I don’t know what he plans to tell the police about who did.”
“Why doesn’t he just tell the police everything he knows?”
Either Janey didn’t know, or she wasn’t willing to say, because she went quiet.
A few hours later, Nancy called to inform us that Hugo and August had both made bail. They’d come back up to the ranch where she’d summarily fired them both and told them to take their possessions and never darken her door again.
“That’s the last we’ll see of those two no-good scallywags,” said Nancy. She may have used a little stronger language than that, but the meaning was the same.
I wasn’t so sure that was a good thing.
After I hung up with Nancy, I excused myself and went into the stairwell to place a call to Officer Reyes.
“I understand that Hugo Montrose and August Taylor have been released on bail,” I said when he picked up.
“Yes.”
“I expect that August is going to disappear in short order.”
“Oh?”
“And I have a pretty good idea of where you might find him.”
“I see.”
Even if I could have seen Officer Reyes’s face, I don’t think it would have told me anything of interest. He holds his cards close to his chest.
“Would you like me to give you the list of addresses?”
“You have a list?”