Mexican Hat

by Michael McGarrity

  “What can you tell me?” Kerney leaned forward to test Karen’s reaction. She inched back from him. Something had her uptight.

  “I have no new information.”

  “Do you think your father is holding something back?”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “I don’t know.” He held out the special investigator commission card. “Here. Take it. I’m afraid you can’t borrow my services any longer.”

  Karen looked from the card to Kerney’s face, her expression vexed. “What’s this all about?”

  Kerney shrugged. “Politics. I got fired. Read the morning paper.”

  “What will you do?”

  “I’ll think of something,” he said, placing the card in Karen’s hand.

  She reached out and touched Kerney on the arm. “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too. I was looking forward to working with you.”

  She reacted with a flush of agreement in her voice. “I still need you to fill me in on what happened.”

  “I will.” He left her standing in the hallway and paid a quick visit to Jim.

  “You just missed Karen,” Jim said. He was propped up in bed with two pillows stuffed behind his head.

  Kerney nodded. “How are you doing?”

  “The food sucks and I want to go home.”

  Full vision was back in Jim’s right eye, but the doctor wanted to keep him under observation for another day. His arm was sore as hell. They talked a bit about José Padilla’s death, and Jim promised he’d redouble his research efforts now that the only potential eyewitness was gone.

  Kerney groaned at the pun and waved goodbye. Jim belly-laughed as Kerney left the room.

  As Kerney crossed the lobby he saw Karen in the gift shop buying the morning paper. For someone who was running late, he wondered why she was still at the hospital. He dismissed the thought as he walked outside. Carol Cassidy’s decision to give him two extra weeks to solve the case was a nice gesture, but Kerney had already decided before the offer was made to nail the perpetrator, no matter how long it took. He hated leaving a job unfinished, and Jim Stiles deserved to have the asshole who shot him caught.

  KAREN BOUGHT THE PAPER and looked at the wall clock in the gift shop. Her parents were due to arrive soon for Mom’s appointment with the doctor, and Karen had made arrangements to go to work late so she could be with them when they received the results of the biopsy. Mom had made sure Daddy knew that Karen had been told about the cancer. Both had welcomed her demand to be included in on the meeting with the doctor.

  She was angry at her father—much more so than before. He had lied to her twice. She wanted to believe that his lies were inconsequential, motivated by his desire to protect her from his personal conflict with Eugene. But now it seemed more damaging. Raising the issue with him today was out of the question. She wondered if bringing it up with him at all was the right way to go. Maybe she needed to do some digging on her own before broaching the subject again.

  She folded the newspaper under her arm and walked to the hospital cafeteria. It had just opened for business, and no one was in the serving line. She poured a cup of coffee, paid for it at the cashier’s station, and carried it to an empty table in the corner of the dining room, away from the only other occupants, a surgical team dressed in green scrubs and plastic booties, sitting in an area reserved for hospital staff.

  She took a sip, and opened the paper to the front page. The headline read:

  FIRED RANGER RESCUES

  WOUNDED GAME AND FISH OFFICER

  Kevin Kerney, a ranger fired yesterday from his job with the Forest Service, rescued Game and Fish Officer James Stiles, who had been shot by an unknown assailant while investigating the murder of Hector Padilla, a Mexican national. According to the Catron County sheriff, Omar Gatewood, Kerney found Stiles, administered first aid and carried him out of a remote canyon in the Mangas Mountains north of Reserve to a waiting helicopter. Stiles, who was wounded in the arm, face and left eye, was airlifted to the Gila Regional Medical Center, where he is listed in satisfactory condition.

  According to Dr. Harrison Walker, attending physician, Officer Stiles will make a complete recovery from his wounds. Walker credits Kerney for responding in a “timely and appropriate manner,” and for “possibly saving Officer Stiles’ life.”

  Kerney, who was released from his position with the Forest Service because of his appointment as a special investigator with the district attorney’s office, served as the chief of detectives for the Santa Fe Police Department until a gun battle left him seriously wounded and forced him into retirement.

  Kerney was fired from the Forest Service after having been enlisted by Assistant District Attorney Karen Cox to assist in the inquiry into the murder of Hector Padilla. Acting Regional Forester Samuel Aldrich released a press statement from his Albuquerque office saying “the investigation of a murder is not an appropriate function for Forest Service personnel. We regret having to terminate Mr. Kerney’s temporary employment sooner than planned, but are pleased that he’s now free to pursue his investigation for the district attorney’s office without distraction.”

  Sheriff Gatewood, who commissioned Stiles to help his department investigate the Padilla murder, has announced that Stiles will receive special commendations for bravery from his office and the state Game and Fish Department. Stiles, Gatewood said, will continue to hold a commission with the sheriff’s department until the murder of Padilla is solved. There are no suspects or new developments in the case, but police believe that the murder of Padilla and the wounding of Officer Stiles may be linked.

  Last year, Kerney was praised by Dona Ana County Sheriff Andy Baca for solving the case of a murdered soldier at White Sands Missile Range and recovering historical artifacts stolen from the military installation. Kerney was serving as a lieutenant in the department at the time.

  Carol Cassidy, supervisor of the Luna District Office, said that Kerney’s performance on the job had been “exemplary.” Assistant District Attorney Cox, who was recently appointed to her position, has not yet issued a statement. Attempts to reach Kevin Kerney for comment have been unsuccessful.

  Coffee forgotten, she quickly scanned the related articles. Kerney deserved a hell of a lot better treatment than he was getting, she thought soberly. He had no choice but to turn in the commission card. The state law was very clear: without a full-time salaried law-enforcement job, Kerney could not legally serve as a special investigator. He was now simply a civilian with no police powers.

  EDGAR COX walked between his wife and daughter into the bright midmorning sun, his mind racing. The lump in his wife’s breast was cancerous, of that the doctor was certain. The fact had stunned Edgar into silence. Margaret and Karen had asked all the questions during the consultation, while Edgar looked on blankly. He had listened to the discussion with a feeling of unreality as the doctor recommended a mastectomy. Margaret had put on her reading glasses, and with handwritten notes taken from her purse, had begun asking questions: good, solid inquiries about alternative treatments and less intrusive procedures. Edgar had been amazed by her rock-solid performance. She was tough as nails. The meeting had ended with Margaret agreeing to the operation as soon as possible.

  Margaret stopped and looked up at him. “You’ve been very quiet.”

  “I know. Sorry.”

  “Tell me what you’re thinking,” Margaret prodded.

  “You’re one tough cookie,” Edgar replied, placing his arm around his wife’s waist.

  Margaret laughed and leaned against him. “Are you just finding that out?”

  “No, I knew it the day I met you.”

  “How do you feel about the operation?”

  “Scared,” Edgar answered. “I don’t want you to have to go through this.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Promise?”

  Margaret nodded solemnly. “Promise.”

  “That’s good enough for me,” Edgar said, hugging Margaret. He looke
d at Karen. “How about you, Peanut? Think all this is going to work out?”

  Karen forced a smile, trying to dispel the worry in her father’s eyes. “I think Mom’s going to be with us for a very long time.”

  He reached for his daughter and pulled her close. He felt her stiffen and looked down at her. Karen’s expression was one of frank appraisal as she scanned his face. He had never seen that look from her before.

  “God, I hope so,” Edgar said.

  AMADOR POKED A FINGER under his T-shirt and scratched his belly button. “I feel bad about what happened to Jimmy. Almost like it was my fault.”

  “Somebody was waiting for him at the mine,” Kerney countered. “Did you tell anyone else about the ATV tracks in the canyon?”

  Using the same finger, Amador scratched under his lower lip and used his chin to point in the direction of his crew. The four men were at the back of the maintenance building, restocking construction materials and cleaning tools.

  “We all saw the tracks,” Amador replied. “It wasn’t a big deal or anything like that. A lot of people use off-road vehicles to get into the mountains. I didn’t even think about it until after the murder up on the meadows. Then, when I remembered it, I thought it might be important.”

  Kerney restated: “Did you tell anybody about your suspicions, before or after you talked to Jim?”

  “No. I was off yesterday. I just stayed at home working around the house. Didn’t see anybody to talk to, except the family. Why are you asking me these questions? Shouldn’t you be out looking for a job?”

  “Do my questions bother you?” Kerney countered.

  “It’s no skin off my nose, but you’re wasting your time. You got no job, no authority. So why push it? It ain’t gonna make you any friends, not that you have any I know of.”

  Kerney shrugged. “You’re Henry Lujan’s uncle. Tell me about him. Is he having any kind of problems at college? Money worries, perhaps?”

  Amador got red in the face. “Madre de Dios, are you out in left field. If you think Henry’s got anything to do with this, you’re crazy.”

  “Everything’s okay with Henry? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “I’m not saying anything,” Amador corrected. He pointed at a small man with a receding hairline who was restacking plywood. “That’s Steve Lujan. Henry’s father. Maybe he’ll talk to you, maybe he won’t. But don’t do it on my time, while he’s working.”

  “What’s the problem, Amador?”

  “I don’t have a problem, you do,” he snorted, looking up at the gringo. “Poking around in other people’s business isn’t healthy. You get my meaning?”

  “It’s been fun working with you, Amador. Thanks for all the help.”

  “Screw you,” Amador replied.

  Kerney walked out into the sunlight, thinking that it must have taken Steve Lujan a good long time to grow the Zapata mustache that drooped majestically over his upper lip. It also occurred to him that Amador was right: he hadn’t made very many friends in Catron County.

  CAROL MADE a final check mark on the inventory control sheet and raised her head. She pushed the box filled with Kerney’s uniforms, equipment, weapon, and shield to one side of her desk. “That does it,” she said, as Kerney dropped the keys to the ranger vehicle in her hand. “I’ll get you a ride back to Reserve.”

  “Thanks,” Kerney replied.

  “Anything happening you’d like to tell me about?”

  Kerney tilted his head toward the open office door.

  Carol got up and closed it. “What is it?”

  “What do you know about Henry and Steve Lujan?” Kerney asked. “I need some background information, and Amador wasn’t inclined to cooperate.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me,” Carol said, returning to her chair behind the desk. “He keeps family matters to himself. Both Henry and Steve are temporary employees who work every summer for me. Henry’s a college student, and his father sells firewood, flagstone, and landscape rock to the folks in Silver City during the off-season.”

  “What do you know about Henry?”

  “Not much. Amador recommended him to me. He’s been reliable. Uses the money he makes for his college living expenses. He went to school up in Albuquerque his first year. Didn’t like being so far away from home, so he transferred to Western New Mexico University in Silver City. Is he a suspect?”

  “No, but he’s one of two people who were in the area when Padilla was murdered.”

  “That’s stretching it,” Carol replied. “He was on duty at the lookout tower. I checked the radio log. He couldn’t possibly get to and from Elderman Meadows in an hour. Impossible. Who’s the other person?”

  “Amador,” Kerney replied. “He camped out at the construction site the night before we found José Padilla and his grandson’s body.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Carol said, wrinkling her nose. “Although he’s done it before. It’s not out of character.”

  “That’s good to know. And Steve Lujan?”

  “He got laid off at the copper mine down by Silver City. Three years ago, I think it was. Worked there for ten or fifteen years. Commuted home on the weekends. It must have hit him hard, financially. He’s got three kids in college. Henry’s the youngest.”

  “Are all the kids still in school?”

  “The oldest, Leonard, is working on a master’s degree in El Paso. Henry and his sister are still going to Western as far as I know.”

  “What about Henry’s mother?”

  “Yolanda works down at the Glenwood District Office as a secretary. Charlie Perry hired her right after he came to the district. About two years ago. I’m sure you’ve met her.”

  “I have. Does anybody in the family have a criminal record?”

  Carol raised an eyebrow. “That’s a tall order. The Lujan and Ortiz families are rather large. How deeply do you want to delve?”

  “Just the principals we’ve been talking about.”

  “Amador served eighteen months for a residential burglary when he was younger. Twenty years or so ago. He got a governor’s pardon right before he started working for the Forest Service.”

  “Do you know the reason for the pardon?” Kerney inquired.

  “I think Edgar Cox arranged it for him. Edgar was chairman of the county commission at the time.”

  “So Henry and Steve have a clean slate?”

  “As far as I know. Henry, certainly. With Steve I’d only be guessing, but Catron County is too small for me not to have heard something.”

  “Any womanizing?”

  “Steve?” Carol asked incredulously. “Yolanda would hand him his huevos on a platter if he tried. And if she didn’t do it, Amador would.” She spread her hands out in a gesture of helplessness. “Sorry I can’t give you more. As far as I know, Steve, Henry, and Amador are solid citizens. I don’t see them as bad guys.”

  “That helps.”

  “Speaking of bad guys, Charlie Perry came back this morning. He wanted to know if you had filed a final report.”

  Kerney held out the papers.

  “Thanks,” Carol said. “I think I’ll mail it to him. Another reply came in to your inquiry right after Charlie left. A BLM officer down in Deming would like you to call him. He just got back from a trip to Washington and read your fax message.” Carol pushed a piece of paper across her desk.

  Kerney picked it up. “You aren’t going to give this to Charlie?”

  Carol smiled sweetly. “Of course I am. I’ll mail it to him with your report. He should receive it in three or four days.”

  “That should do nicely.”

  “I thought you’d appreciate it.” Carol leaned forward, her expression earnest. “You did one hell of a job saving Jim. I think you deserve recognition for it.”

  “You’re not going to get all mushy on me, are you?” Kerney chided.

  Carol giggled. “Absolutely not. But you do deserve something better than a pink slip for your efforts.”

  “I’ll
take that ride to Reserve,” Kerney proposed.

  LEANING AGAINST the corral fence, Edgar watched Cody practice roping his pony. A dark sorrel mare with a bald face, standing barely fourteen hands high, Babe was a gentle horse. Cody made another throw, the noose of the lariat fell short, and Babe loped to the far side of the corral, a good hundred feet away from the boy.

  “I still can’t do it, Grandpa,” Cody moaned, slapping the rope against his leg.

  “Yes you can,” Edgar replied, as he stepped over to the boy. “Watch me one more time.” Edgar uncoiled his lasso and started a slow spin with the noose. “You need to twirl a circle,” he said. “Don’t let your noose flatten out. Don’t try to spin it too fast. Let your wrist do the work for you. Swing the loop up above your head. Listen to the sound it makes. Don’t throw the rope at the horse. Let it float out to where you want it to go.”

  Edgar walked toward Babe with long, fluid strides, Cody at his heels. Swinging the noose slowly above his head, letting it gradually pick up speed, he flicked his wrist and the loop settled over Babe’s neck. He walked to the mare and retrieved the lasso. Babe snorted at him and walked away.

  “What kind of sound did you hear?” Edgar asked.

  “Kind of a whisper. A hissing whisper,” Cody answered.

  “That’s the sound.”

  “I’ll never get it right,” Cody complained in frustration.

  Edgar rubbed Cody’s head. “Yes, you will.” He took Cody’s lasso and shortened the loop. Babe had moved to the gate by the horse barn, where Carl Sloan, one of two hired hands, was cleaning out stalls. Edgar caught the mare by the halter and brought her back to the center of the corral.

  “Let’s try it with you sitting on my shoulders,” Edgar said, as he lifted the boy up and moved ten feet back from the mare.

  Babe gave them a snort and a curious look. Cody spun the lasso and Edgar waited until the sound it made cutting through the air was just about right. “Let it go.”

  The noose fell neatly over Babe’s neck.