In the kitchen, which had been designated as the evidence collection area, Kerney looked over what had already been discovered. An empty battered briefcase with traces of soil on it, most likely from the well house, sat on the kitchen table. Next to it were a number of gold coins in clear plastic sleeves, and passports from the United Kingdom, Canada, and Belize bearing Denise Riley’s photograph and the names of Diane Plumley, Debra Stokes, and Dorothy Travis—the aliases used by Denise that had been uncovered by Claire Paley, the questioned document expert.
Kerney gave the gold coins a careful once-over. Some were Krugerrands, and according to the Brisbane P.D. coin heist case file, none of the stolen Edgerton coins had been Krugerrands. He asked the young sheriff’s investigator who’d been assigned the responsibility of receiving, logging, and guarding evidence if the Krugerrands had been found with the other coins.
The cop consulted the form on his clipboard and nodded affirmatively.
Also on the table was a Beretta over/under twenty-gauge shotgun with gold engraving and a high-grade walnut stock worth at least six to eight thousand dollars. Kerney wondered if it had been the weapon used to kill Deputy Riley.
“Have other guns been found?” he asked.
“Not yet, Chief,” the investigator said. “But that sweet Beretta twenty-gauge you’re looking at showed up as stolen from a gun heist in Montreal, Canada, over twelve years ago. Twenty-three sporting weapons and rare antique rifles were taken out of a private residence while the owners were vacationing in Mexico. Total value of the haul at the time of the burglary was 1.2 million in Canadian dollars. Major Mielke has requested a copy of the case file from the Montreal police.”
“Do we have any indication that Culley may be connected to the robbery?”
“Not yet, but Detective Chacon is working on it.”
“Well, if Culley did pull the heist, I can understand why he kept the shotgun,” Kerney said. “It’s a beauty. Is there any evidence the gun has been recently used?”
The cop shook his head. “It’s been thoroughly cleaned and oiled, but Sergeant Istee says it wasn’t used to kill Deputy Riley.”
“Why does he say that?”
“Because a twelve-gauge was used in that shooting.”
On the countertop next to the sink was a pair of men’s lightweight hiking boots with a tread that matched the shoe impression Clayton had found on the trail to the well house. There was soil embedded in the heel which a forensic geologist might be able to match to the soil at the well house. The size label stitched inside the tongue showed that the books were indeed a size eight narrow.
Next to the hiking boots was an closed accordion document file. Kerney asked the young S.O. investigator what was inside.
“Financial papers, Chief. Sergeant Pino said she would have a detective go through them after the house search is completed.”
Kerney looked at what had been gathered so far. It was all good, damning circumstantial evidence, but hardly the stuff an ironclad multiple murder conviction was made of. In his head, he could hear Sid Larranaga saying the same thing at the meeting tomorrow morning.
Clayton entered the kitchen carrying a Glock 9mm handgun in a clear plastic bag.
“Is that the same caliber used in the Robocker-Connors homicides?” Kerney asked hopefully.
“Negative.” Clayton handed the weapon to the young officer, who began logging it in as evidence. “According to the autopsy reports, the bullets that killed Robocker and Officer Connors came from a thirty-eight. Probably a throwaway. Did Culley confess or make a statement?”
“He said he wanted a lawyer and clammed up. The DA has asked to meet with us tomorrow morning, and he’ll be waiting to hear that we’ve got hard evidence he can use to guarantee a conviction.”
“I’d like that too, but so far it isn’t happening. I called Detective Armijo at APD and gave him information about Culley’s vehicle. He’s gathering video from the surveillance cameras at Robocker’s apartment complex and a nearby traffic camera used to catch drivers who run red lights. Hopefully, we’ll be able to put Culley in his vehicle at or near the crime scene.”
“What did Proctor Whitley have to say?”
“Whitley’s gay, Culley’s bi, and Denise Riley, who was also bi, was Culley’s lover. Whitley swears he didn’t know Denise was pregnant. He did say that Culley went out of town to attend some insurance training seminars just before and after Deputy Riley’s murder and the double homicide in Albuquerque. We still don’t know if he’s an accomplice in Culley’s past crimes or involved in any of the homicides.”
“If Culley ever starts talking, it will be interesting to see what kind of alibi he comes up,” Kerney said. “So you’re telling me that Tim Riley was the poor sap Denise Riley married to make her straight, Catholic siblings believe that she’d given up her wild ways and settled down.”
“That’s what I’m telling you.”
“I’ve asked the DA to get a search warrant to draw a blood sample from Culley.”
“Culley had to be the one who got Denise pregnant,” Clayton said. “That’s the only way this makes any sense. I think Denise Riley made a decision to leave Tim Riley, talked him into taking the Lincoln County S.O. job, and had no intention of moving with him. Maybe she was even planning to leave Santa Fe and disappear. I also think she decided to have the baby rather than abort, and when Culley demanded that she abort it, she decided to end her relationship with him. Maternal instincts can be very powerful.”
“There was a strong sexual element to the staging of Denise’s murder in Cañoncito,” Kerney said. “And it was his least well-organized killing. It was if he was angry, not thinking clearly, and wanted to degrade her. But why bushwhack Deputy Riley, hunt down Brian Riley, and kill Robocker and Connors along the way?”
“Paranoia makes sense,” Clayton replied. “Maybe Culley started worrying that Denise had spilled the beans to her husband and stepson about him, their criminal past together, and their intimate relationship. Maybe he figured Brian could have told Robocker, so to protect himself Culley took her out. Officer Connors just happened to get in the way.”
“I want to know everything there is to know about John Culley, aka Archie Pattison,” Kerney said. “I want Sid Larranaga armed with enough information about Culley to convince a jury that the man had the necessary knowledge and expertise to commit these crimes. And I want Proctor Whitley put through an intense interrogation. Either he washes clean in all past or present cases or we book him on every felony we can think of that applies. Have Sergeant Pino take him into custody, remove him from the premises to police headquarters, and start the process now. Tell her we need to squeeze every bit of pertinent information we can out of him pronto.”
Clayton gave Kerney a quizzical look. “We’ve got a lot of time to work this case before it goes to trial. Why the big hurry?”
“Because I’m running out of time and I want this case as far along as possible on the day I retire.” Kerney turned and started for the door.
“Fair enough. Where are you going now?”
“To tell Helen Muiz that we’ve caught her sister’s killer. I’ll be back.”
In the days remaining until his retirement, Kerney put in long hours overseeing the progress of the investigation. While it was clear he would leave without handing Sal Larranaga the clear-cut proof needed to guarantee Culley’s conviction as a mass murderer, the circumstantial evidence that the team had amassed against Culley was overwhelming.
Detective Lee Armijo’s review of videotapes from surveillance and traffic cameras clearly put Culley in the vicinity of the Robocker-Connors murders on the day before the crime. A deep background check of Archie Pattison, aka John Culley, revealed that not only had he served in the Royal Marines, he’d been trained in an elite force that carried out special covert ops.
In the years following his military service, Culley had traveled the world, financing his extravagant lifestyle by pulling off well-planned robberies. Both th
e Brisbane coin heist and the Montreal weapons caper had been conclusively pinned on Culley and Denise Riley, and based on evidence seized at Culley’s house, the duo were primary suspects in a half-dozen more cold cases spanning three continents.
Arrest warrants for Culley had been issued by police departments of three foreign countries, and various federal agencies had slapped heavy felony charges against him for violating a number of immigration laws and criminal statues. But Kerney figured once Culley was convicted on the murder one counts, most of the pending cases would be dropped.
Ramona Pino’s interrogation of Proctor Whitley revealed the man was not an accomplice to any of Culley’s crimes. He agreed to cooperate fully and gave specific information about several heated arguments he’d overheard where Culley had demanded that Denise get an abortion. Because it went straight to the issue of Culley’s motive, Sid Larranaga loved it. Sid was also very happy when the paternity test results confirmed that Culley had been the father of Denise’s unborn child.
Even with his hectic work schedule, Kerney got to savor some special moments. In a ceremony at the Lincoln County Courthouse, with Sara, Patrick, Wendell, and Hannah standing at his side, he watched Grace and Sheriff Paul Hewitt pin lieutenant bars on Clayton’s collar. That same week, back in Santa Fe, he pinned lieutenant bars on Ramona Pino and announced that the mayor had appointed Larry Otero, Kerney’s second in command, to be the next chief of the department.
There were somber moments too. Kerney attended the burial of Deputy Tim Riley at the Santa Fe National Cemetery, a memorial service in Albuquerque for Officer Judy Connors, and Denise Riley’s funeral, all within the span of a few days.
Devastated by Denise’s murder and the revelations of her secret past, Helen Muiz chose not to return to work prior to her official retirement date. She sent her husband Ruben to clean out her office, and while he was there he told Kerney that he was taking Helen to Italy to visit the Vatican and that the archbishop was attempting to secure an audience for her with the pope.
Because he was still spending most of his time away from home on the case, Clayton talked Grace into taking some time off from work, letting the kids miss a few days of school, and joining him in Santa Fe. They stayed with Kerney, Sara, and Patrick in the guest quarters at the ranch, and for five days the house was a beehive of activity filled with the sound of children slamming doors, running in and out, giggling and laughing, arguing about what games to play, drawing pictures and coloring at the kitchen table, and asking any adult within earshot to let them go horseback riding again and again and again.
Having Clayton and his family as houseguests clearly emboldened Sara’s spirits. When their guests left to go back home, she told Kerney it had been the best five days since her return from Iraq.
“I could see that,” he said.
“It was my most fun time ever,” Patrick said.
“I could see that too,” he said. “Maybe you need a brother or a sister.”
“A little brother,” Patrick announced, “not another grownup one like Clayton.”
“What about a little sister?” Sara asked.
Patrick thought about it for a moment. “That would be okay.”
Sara reached down, scooped him up, and nuzzled his cheek. “We’ll see what we can do.”
There is a ceremonial mesa on the Mescalero Apache Reservation that gives a clear south-southwest view of White Sands, the Tularosa Basin, and the San Andres Mountains beyond, seventy-five miles distant. The day after Lieutenant Clayton Istee had wrapped up the Tim Riley homicide investigation, he tiptoed out of the house at three-thirty in the morning while his wife and children slept, and went to the mesa.
Although the dream of Tim Riley singing the Death Song hadn’t reoccurred, it had become fixed in Clayton’s mind and he needed to shake it off permanently. In the darkness of the night with the Big Dipper overhead, he took two large rocks, placed one at the north compass point and the other at the west, which was the direction the dead always took during their beginning passage. Between the two rocks Clayton buried a photograph of Tim Riley in uniform that he’d taken from the Cañoncito double-wide and then bracketed the photograph with smaller stones to symbolically separate the image from the living world. Finished, he stood back, tossed a handful of dirt into the center of the circle, said a few words about Tim Riley, and left for home.
In four days, he would return to the mesa and remove all traces of the burial ritual. As he drove down the mesa, he could already feel himself letting go of Tim Riley. Or was Riley’s ghost letting go of him?
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Michael McGarrity is the author of the Anthony Award–nominated Tularosa, as well as Mexican Hat, Serpent Gate, Hermit’s Peak, The Judas Judge, Under the Color of Law, The Big Gamble, Everyone Dies, Slow Kill, and Nothing but Trouble. A former deputy sheriff for Santa Fe County, he established the first Sex Crimes Unit for the department. He has also served as an instructor at the New Mexico Law Enforcement Academy and as an investigator for the New Mexico Public Defender’s Office. He lives in Santa Fe.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
About the Author
Death Song Page 28