LIES COME EASY
“With meticulous attention to detail and a warm storytelling style, Havill transforms ordinary people into extraordinary...If you haven’t yet discovered these wonderful mysteries, you are in for a treat!”
—Anne Hillerman, New York Times bestselling author
EASY ERRORS
“...meticulous plotting, multidimensional characters, sharp dialogue, and a vivid sense of place. This is one of the very best entries in a consistently excellent series.”
—Booklist (starred review)
BLOOD SWEEP
“The story line is satisfyingly complex, but the novel’s great strength is its well-rendered setting, from the opening description of a silent, motionless antelope to the evocation of a dry riverbed.”
—Publishers Weekly (starred review)
NIGHTZONE
“Gastner’s capabilities are plausible for a septuagenarian, and Havill peoples the book with believable characters.”
—Publishers Weekly (starred review)
THE FOURTH TIME IS MURDER
“The Posadas County Mystery series notches its sixteenth with all its signature virtues intact: good writing, an unerring sense of place and a protagonist it’s a pleasure to root for.”
—Kirkus Reviews (starred review)
OUT OF SEASON
“Full of bright local color and suffused with a compassionate understanding of human motivation, this intelligent, understated mystery deserves a wide and appreciative readership.”
—Publishers Weekly (starred review)
BITTER RECOIL
“This one’s a winner all the way.”
—Washington Times
HEARTSHOT
“Gastner is a unique and endearing protagonist who certainly deserves plenty of encores.”
—Booklist (starred review)
Lies Come
Easy
A Posadas County Mystery
Steven F. Havill
Poisoned Pen Press
Copyright
Copyright © 2018 by Steven F. Havill
First Edition 2018
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Library of Congress Control Number: 2018940946
ISBN: 9781464210310 Hardcover
ISBN: 9781464210334 Trade Paperback
ISBN: 9781464210341 Ebook
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.
Poisoned Pen Press
4014 N. Goldwater Blvd., #201
Scottsdale, AZ 85251
www.poisonedpenpress.com
[email protected]
Printed in the United States of America
Contents
Lies Come Easy
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Map
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
Chapter Forty-three
Chapter Forty-four
Chapter Forty-five
Chapter Forty-six
More from this Author
Contact Us
Dedication
For Kathleen
Acknowledgments
Special thanks to Laura Brush, James Hall,
Josh Havill, and Lif Strand.
Chapter One
“Three ten, PCS.” Dispatcher Ernie Wheeler’s voice sounded vaguely mechanical over the radio.
“Finally,” Undersheriff Estelle Reyes-Guzman said aloud. The dash clock announced eleven forty-five p.m. on the Friday three days before Christmas. The last call she’d taken was a lost dog report at 8:08 that same evening, resolved fifteen minutes later—the aging, deaf, and half-blind Jack Russell mix was found snoozing on a neighbor’s pillowed porch swing after dining on two bowls of cat food. The “daring rescue” had earned Estelle a smothering hug from the elderly dog’s invalid owner, Florence Atencio.
The undersheriff had been sympathetic, since Fudgie the Jack Russell was Mrs. Atencio’s truest companion. The Christmas season was hard enough on the lonely without a missing beloved pet.
The swing shift she had been covering for Lieutenant Jackie Taber would end in a few minutes, but Estelle wasn’t tired. Deputy Tom Pasquale had come on duty a half hour earlier for the graveyard shift and Estelle was confident that tiny Posadas County, New Mexico, was in safe hands. Like Mrs. Atencio, though, she could admit to being a bit lonely, and had no inclination to go home to an empty house. To avoid that earlier, she had volunteered to cover Jackie’s swing shift when Jackie had taken a couple of days of leave to visit her ailing mother in Kansas City.
Friday nights were potentially a showcase for less-than-attractive human behavior, but so far, the rare threat of snow that might bring a white Christmas had kept things quiet.
She keyed the mike in response. “PCS, three ten.”
“Three ten, ten twenty-one, three oh four.”
“Ten four.” Estelle took a moment to wonder why Deputy Pasquale needed to communicate by phone, rather than a prompt and simple radio call. With no traffic, she slowed the Charger to a fast walk along State 61 and fished out her cell phone. Pasquale’s number flashed on the screen and she keyed it in.
“Just one second,” the deputy said by way of greeting. She could hear him talking to someone, and then he came back on the line. “Estelle, I’m about a hundred yards beyond mile marker twenty-one on State 56. I just picked up Derry Fisher. I think he’s okay, and I got him all bundled up in a wool blanket. I don’t have a child seat or nothin’, and he’s had some exposure, so I called out one of the EMT units. They’re rolling now. They’ll be with me in about a minute.”
“Derry Fisher?”
“Yep. The little tyke. You know the folks. Penny and Darrell? I don’t get it, but this time the little bugger was all by himself, tryin’ to ride his Scamper along the shoulder of the road. How’s that for strange? It looks to me like the kid got dumped. He isn’t all that coherent, but I got ‘dada’ and ‘truck’ out of him and he pointed up the road toward town. It’s snowin’ like a son-of-a-gun right now. Just a little bit ago, Darrell Fisher passed me in his pickup goin’ northbound, right by the intersection of 61. So if Daddy kicked him out of the truck, I figure the kid was outsid
e for maybe five, six minutes. He’s wearing a T-shirt and his wad of diapers, socks, and sneakers. I don’t know what Dad was thinking.”
“If at all. No sign of them? They didn’t dump him out, drive a little ways, and then turn around to pick him up? Some version of the old fed-up parent’s threat, ‘If you don’t stop that, you’re going to walk home!’”
“My dad used to say that to me and my brother all the time. I don’t remember him doin’ that when I was two and half, though. And I haven’t seen any hint of Darrell turning around to come back.” He paused, and Estelle could hear motion. “Yeah. Come here. That’s the way. You warm now?” The child said something incomprehensible, and Pasquale added, “Now he wants a hug. Oh, good. Here comes the ambulance. You’re kind of stinky, little man.”
“I’ll meet you at the hospital, Thomas. I’m out past María, so it’ll be a few minutes. No sign of Darrell returning yet? Or Penny? She works at the hospital, or did.”
“Nope. You remember them gettin’ into it a couple weeks ago at the Family Supermarket, and one of the clerks was going to file charges against Penny for assault? She clobbered Darrell in the head with a bag of frozen chicken. The clerk never filed, and Darrell let it slide.”
“Is it possible to get photos at the spot where the boy was dropped off?”
“I’m going to try, but things are gettin’ kind of white down this way.”
“Do your best. I’ll meet you at the hospital in a few minutes. I’ll give Gayle a call. Children, Youth, and Families will be involved in this.”
“Roger that. A Merry Christmas to all, huh?”
The snow was snaking across the state highway, looking for someplace to settle. Estelle’s Charger, with rear-wheel drive and altogether too much power, wasn’t happy on the slick asphalt, and she took her time, passing first through the tiny village of María and then out onto the great flat expanse of southern Posadas County. She flipped on the wipers and made a mental note to pick up Jackie’s SUV after she’d finished at the hospital.
“Three ten, can you ten nineteen for a passenger?” This time, Ernie Wheeler’s voice carried a faintly amused note.
“It’ll be a few minutes. I need to swing by the hospital to talk with some folks. I’ll be stopping by the office to pick up a different vehicle in a bit. Ask him if that suits him.”
“He’s nodding yes.”
The identity of the “he” was no mystery. Only one person asked for a ride-along in the middle of a cold, bleak December night.
Chapter Two
“I know it. I know it. I know it.” Darrell Fisher sat on the blue molded plastic chair just outside the emergency room cubicle, hands clasped together between his knees. Exactly whom he was talking to was unclear, and he rocked back and forth as if in bladder agony. His jeans and T-shirt showed a thin body just on the soft side of wiry, as if he’d once weighed thirty pounds more and then dieted down faster than his skin could shrink. His long fair hair was frazzled over ears with lobes sporting the latest fad in self-mutilation, a pair of dime-sized holes rimmed with black plastic inserts. A thin mustache blended into a sparse chin tuft that did nothing for his long, pale face.
Outside in the unpredictable New Mexico weather, neither the little boy nor his father had been wearing a coat. Like father, like son, Estelle thought.
Deputy Tom Pasquale stood within quick, easy reach of Darrell Fisher. Pasquale looked heavenward in tired resignation as Estelle entered the waiting room, but Darrell kept his gaze concentrated on the floor tiles. “Amy’s gettin’ the boy all warmed up,” the deputy said.
Estelle moved the cubicle’s curtain far enough to one side that she could slip through. Inside the cubicle, Nurse Practitioner Amy Salinger had bundled little Derry Fisher in a heated blanket and was trying to interest the child in a covered child’s thermal cup without much success.
“A good shot of brandy would be just the ticket,” she remarked and glanced over at Estelle. “He’s no worse for wear, though.” She watched Estelle as the undersheriff bent and unwound the blanket just enough to examine the little boy’s tiny feet. “All ten accounted for and working fine,” Amy said. “I’m glad he was outside for just a few minutes.”
“That’s for sure.” Estelle straightened up and snugged the warm blanket back around Derry’s feet, and then pulled it close around the child’s ears. “He—” A ruckus outside in the waiting room interrupted her, and she parted the curtain in time to see Deputy Pasquale envelope a large, beet-faced woman in a bear hug.
“You were down at Al’s, weren’t you?” the woman shouted. “I have to work late, and I can’t trust you to stay home with the boy.” Dressed in stretch slacks and a baggy sweat shirt that didn’t complement her blocky body, Penny Fisher trembled with rage. “Let go of me, you big freak,” she howled, twisting in Pasquale’s restraining arms. She managed to raise one forearm and pointed a finger at her husband, who cringed back. “You went down to Al’s, didn’t you?”
“Just for a little bit,” Darrell whimpered. “Really. Maria was there, too, playing with Derry.”
“At midnight in the middle of a blizzard?” Penny twisted against the deputy’s grip. “Are you going to let go of me, or am I going to have to—” She lashed out with a thick-soled work shoe, catching Pasquale on the side of the calf. One arm worked loose and smacked the deputy on the side of the head.
“Lady,” Pasquale said, his voice full of calm resignation. With an expert twist, he spun her face-first against the wall with her nose pressed against the colorful poster explaining patient rights when unable to pay for medical care. The handcuffs snicked in place, securing first one wrist and then the other.
“What do you think…?” Penny bellowed. “Get these off of me.”
“You’re going to have to do some serious calming down,” Pasquale said matter-of-factly.
“Calm? Are you kidding me?” She glared at Estelle, who had stepped between the husband and wife. Husband remained cowering in the chair. “And what do you want? What, Bobby is too busy to come out on a night like this?”
“Derry is fine,” Estelle said, ignoring the distraught woman’s snipe at Sheriff Robert Torrez. “I’m sure that’s the first thing you’ll want to know.”
“I have to see him.”
“In a few minutes. First you need to calm down and get a hold of yourself.”
The woman huffed a deep breath, and tapped her forehead a couple of times against the wall, not hard enough to dent the sheetrock, but enough to jar the clock above her head. When she looked back at Estelle, a couple of tears were sliding down her cheeks. “This has to stop,” she said. “This is it.” Her gaze drifted over to her husband. “This worthless piece of shit…”
The ER door opened and Lester Gutierrez bustled in, almost as wide as he was tall, deep-set black eyes under heavy brows darting from person to person. The nylon jacket he wore over a crisp white shirt and black pants sported three-inch tall letters across the back that announced Hospital Security. He pointed the short antenna of his radio at Penny Fisher. “You’re going to behave yourself, Miss Penny. I mean what’s going on here? I could hear you all the way down the hall.”
“It’s just my former husband being stupid again,” she said. “The hopeless son-of-a-bitch kicked our son out of the truck and was making him walk home through all this snow.” She jerked her head back to indicate Deputy Pasquale. “And I’m the one in handcuffs. Go figure that.”
“Former husband?” Darrell bleated.
Penny’s face wrinkled into a sarcastic smile. “Yes, former. I’ve had enough of you and your dip-shit brother and his girlfriend of the moment and that whole dip-shit crowd of drug-heads down there.”
Darrell squirmed sideways in his chair and said, just loud enough to be heard, “Well, you ain’t such a grand catch yourself, woman.”
Penny’s muscles bunched, and Deputy Pasquale put one hand on t
he cuffs and one on her left shoulder. “Settle,” he said.
“Look,” she said, “will you please take these off? I’m not going to do anything other than maybe break a chair over his worthless head.”
“Yep,” Pasquale said. “So I think we’ll leave ’em on for the time being. And kick me again and you’ll be wearin’ ankle wraps, too.”
The ER door opened once again, and Gayle Torrez stepped into the room. Statuesque, with an angular face just shy of beautiful, Gayle had worked for the Sheriff’s Department for years before marrying Sheriff Robert Torrez and then taking a job with the Children, Youth, and Families Division of the local Social Services. Seeing Gayle, Penny Fisher almost collapsed with relief.
“Oh, my God, Gayle…talk some sense into these people, please. That creature over there,” and Penny nodded toward her husband, “put little Derry out of the truck, what, at just about midnight? In the snow? And what, he’s supposed to ride his Scamper home in traffic? In his diapers?”
Gayle Torrez nodded at Deputy Pasquale. “How come the ’cuffs?”
“She kicked me, and hit me in the head. No big deal on that, but it appears she would really like to assault her husband.”
Penny snorted. “Listen to this guy. And you bet your life I’d like to assault him.”
Estelle stepped close to the woman, their faces inches apart. “Listen to me, Penny.” She reached out and placed a hand on Penny’s right shoulder. With Tom Pasquale keeping a hand on the cuffs, Penny was effectively blocked. Estelle lowered her voice.
“Derry is fine.” She held up an index finger. “That’s first. Now this is what’s going to happen, Penny. Because your husband is facing charges of reckless endangerment of a child, possible child abuse, and several other counts, it’s entirely possible that Judge Tate will want him to remain in custody overnight, at least until arraignment in the morning. That gives everybody a chance to cool down.”
Lies Come Easy Page 1