Serpent's Gate - Michael McGarity

by Michael McGarrity

  "What can I do for you, Officer?" Marcia asked, as she gestured for Kerney to join her on the couch. Kerney obliged.

  "I understand that Robert Cordova gets his medication from you when he's in Mountainair."

  Marcia sat at the end of the couch and turned to face Kerney directly.

  "Yes. I dispense it through an arrangement with the psychiatrist at the state mental hospital. Is Robert in some sort of trouble?"

  She brushed a strand of long dark hair away from her face and looked at Kerney more closely.

  "You're the investigator looking into Paul Gillespie's murder." She stiffened a bit and crossed her legs.

  "Surely you don't think Robert is a suspect."

  "He doesn't strike me as a killer."

  Marcia answered with an agreeing smile. "He's not. Robert's normal behavior--if you can call it that--is all bravado and posturing. The onset of his illness came during adolescence. Besides being schizophrenic, he's fixated at a juvenile stage of development."

  "You seem to know him well."

  "Well enough. But that doesn't mean I can tell you more about him. His medical records are confidential. I've been told that he's eloped from Las Vegas."

  "Eloped?"

  Marcia laughed quickly.

  "It's a polite way of saying he escaped. After all, we don't want people to think mental hospitals are prisons."

  "Aren't they?"

  "Not all. Have you seen him?"

  "I have him in protective custody at the Torrance County jail."

  Marda sighed. "That's a relief. Each time he disappears I'm sure he's going to be found beaten to a pulp and left to die along some roadside."

  "He doesn't want to go back to Las Vegas. I thought you could help."

  She nodded her head in agreement.

  "He never wants to go back, but once he gets there and settles in to a routine, it's beneficial. Of course I'll help. I can see him in the morning."

  "I'd like to be there when you see him."

  Marda's voice became guarded. "I don't intend to help you conduct an interrogation."

  "I don't plan to interrogate him, Ms. Yearwood. There's a remote chance Robert may have seen something, or may know something about what happened the night Gillespie was shot. I need him

  to talk about it."

  "That may not be easy."

  "I know."

  Marda tapped her finger against her lip. "Normally, I'd say no, but I think this time it will be okay. However, be warned: if you try to intimidate him, I'll stop you dead in your tracks."

  "Fair enough."

  "He doesn't like cops, you know."

  Kerney smiled.

  "That's what I've heard. Is there some reason for it?"

  "I don't know," Marda replied with a slight shrug.

  "He said he went to high school with Paul Gillespie."

  "I believe he did."

  "How would you characterize Gillespie?"

  "He was a bit of a bully who had an eye for the girls."

  Kerney had heard the same comment from several other sources, but had been unable to locate anyone who could provide specifics.

  "Did he come on to you?"

  "He wouldn't dare. Besides, I wasn't his type. He liked younger women."

  "Anyone in particular?"

  "I haven't the foggiest idea. But I'd see him chatting with teenage girls a lot after school got out."

  "What makes that stand out in your mind?"

  "He was always talking to the girls," Marda answered. "The teenage boys he seemed to ignore, unless they were speeding or drinking beer at the town park after dark."

  "Do you know if he was sexually or romantically involved with any of the girls?"

  "No, I don't."

  "Any rumors?"

  Marda waved off the question.

  "There are rumors floating around about everybody who lives in this town. I pay no attention to them."

  Kerney tried again: "Any rumors specifically about Gillespie?"

  "Rumors, no. I've made it very dear to people that I'm not part of the local gossip mill. But several years ago, one of the high school girls who came to the clinic told me she thought Gillespie was creepy."

  "Creepy in what way?"

  "She baby-sat for the same family on a regular basis several times a month. Gillespie would always drive by the house three or four times a night whenever she was there. But only if her boyfriend wasn't with her."

  "That's creepy enough," Kerney said.

  "I'd like to talk to her."

  "I had a fairly close relationship with the girl, and I'm sure she would have told me if anything more had happened."

  "How can I reach her?"

  "Not easily. She's a medical technician serving in the navy on a hospital ship."

  Kerney got the girl's name for the record. He could track her down through her parents or naval authorities, if necessary. "What can you tell me about Robert's family history?"

  "He was born and raised in Mountainair. The family was very dysfunctional. Robert started getting in trouble with the police when he was fairly young. He spent some time in a foster home."

  "Was he sent away?"

  "No. He was placed with a family here in town."

  "Who were the foster parents?"

  "An older couple. I never met them. I believe they're both deceased."

  "Does Robert have any siblings?"

  "An older sister, but she moved to Texas years ago after her parents divorced and left the state. Robert says he has no contact with her."

  "Does he stay in touch with his biological parents?"

  "Not as far as I know."

  "Does he have any children?"

  Marda made a face and shook her head. "No. You're asking about Satan raping his daughter, aren't you? That has been Robert's predominant delusion since the onset of his illness."

  "I wonder what it means."

  "I have no idea." Marcia rose from the couch, signaling that the discussion had ended.

  Kerney stood up with her. "Do you know any of the local veterinarians?"

  "I don't think there is one. Maybe in Estanda, but not here."

  "Do you know a female veterinarian, or a woman who works for a vet?"

  Marcia shook her head. "Sorry, I don't. But I'm sure one of the ranchers can tell you."

  After making arrangements to meet Marda Yearwood at the jail at mid-morning, Kerney started the long drive back to Santa Fe in a snowstorm that kept pushing drifts across the highway. He wondered if he was simply spinning his wheels. He decided to give it one more day before telling Andy Baca the investigation wasn't getting anywhere. He hated the idea that the case might go unsolved.

  ***

  In the morning, Kerney got an early start and drove the sixty miles from Santa Fe to the Torrance County jail in Estancia. The road had been plowed and a bright sun made the snow-coated range grass glisten like a sea of silver stems rolling across the Estancia Valley. At the jail, he had Robert brought to the staff conference room. He wanted time alone with him before Marcia Yearwood showed up. Robert was brought in by a guard. He wore an orange jumpsuit with Torrando county jail stendled on the back, a pair of plastic shower sandals, and a shit eating grin. His hair was combed, his beard trimmed, and he looked freshly scrubbed. He sat next to Kerney at the end of the long conference table and lit a cigarette.

  Kerney adjusted his position so he could look squarely at Robert, and took a whiff. Robert didn't smell bad at all.

  "Are you going to let me stay in jail?" Robert asked hopefully.

  "I don't see how I can do that."

  "Charge me with something." His foot wasn't wiggling at all, and he seemed calm.

  "What would you suggest?"

  Robert smiled widely. "Rape."

  "Did you rape someone?"

  "Of course I did. I already told you about it."

  "No, you told me that Satan raped your daughter."

  Robert poked himself in the chest with a finger. "I'
m Satan."

  "If that's the case, you'd better tell me who you raped."

  Robert shook his head. "I can't. It's a secret."

  "Well, it can't be your daughter. You don't have one."

  "It was my sister. I raped my sister."

  "The one that lives in Texas."

  "Not that one," Robert said with a scowl.

  "Tell me about this other sister."

  "What I did to her was bad."

  "Where did you rape her?"

  "At Serpent Gate."

  "Where is that?"

  Robert waved the question away. "I'm not going to tell you."

  "Did Paul Gillespie know about Serpent Gate?"

  "I don't want to talk about that motherfucker."

  "Okay, we won't. When did you rape your sister?"

  "A long time ago."

  "What's your sister's name?"

  Robert put a finger to his lips. "It's a secret."

  Before Kerney could ask another question, Marda Yearwood burst into the conference room. She stood at the end of the long table, glaring at him.

  "I see you started without me."

  "We were just chatting," Kerney answered.

  Marda forced a smile in Robert's direction and moved down the table behind a row of neatly arranged conference chairs. She wore a dark blue turtleneck sweater and wool slacks under a long charcoal gray winter coat. She composed herself as she removed her coat, and sat down next to Robert.

  "It's good to see you looking so well, Robert. What were you two

  talking about?"

  Robert gave Kerney a conspiratorial look. "Rape."

  "Really?" Marda replied, unable to mask a hint of surprise in her voice.

  "I'd like to hear about it."

  "No way. Women aren't supposed to hear about shit like that."

  "That's not fair," Marda responded gently.

  "I can't talk about it," Robert said.

  "Besides, Addie doesn't want me to."

  "Who is Addie?" Kerney asked as he moved to a chair across from Robert and Marda. He wanted a clear view of Robert. He could hear Robert's heel slapping against the shower sandal.

  Robert hesitated. "Somebody who talks to me."

  "Is Addie short for Adele or Adelaide?" Kerney asked.

  "Addie's not short for nothing."

  "And you talk to her?" Kerney prodded.

  "Sometimes."

  "Do you talk to her in your head?" Marda suggested.

  "Yeah," Robert said, relief showing on his face. The foot wiggling stopped.

  "Okay," Marcia said.

  "Addie is a voice you hear."

  "That's right."

  Marcia nodded and switched gears. "Mr. Kerney needs to ask you some questions."

  "Sure." Robert glanced at Kerney.

  "What about?"

  "Addie isn't a real person?" Kerney asked.

  Robert tensed.

  "I don't want to talk about her. It makes me nervous."

  "Okay, we won't. On the day Officer Gillespie was shot, you were seen talking to a woman in a pickup truck with a stock trailer," Kerney said.

  "Is she someone you know?"

  "What did she look like?" Robert asked.

  "I thought you could tell me. The trailer may have belonged to a veterinarian."

  "I don't know anybody like that," Robert said. His foot wiggle started again. He lit another cigarette and took a deep drag.

  "Do you remember talking to the woman?"

  "No." He blew smoke in Kerney's direction and flicked a cigarette ash on the carpet.

  "Sometimes I ask people to give me a smoke or some money."

  "So, it was no one you knew?"

  "I don't think so." Robert swallowed hard and looked away.

  Robert was lying. Kerney changed the subject again. "Several days before Gillespie was shot, you were seen outside of town on the railroad tracks."

  "I like to walk along the tracks sometimes," Robert said.

  "Do you go to any particular place?"

  "Sometimes."

  "Does the place have a name?"

  "Sometimes."

  "What do you call it?"

  "I don't call it nothing." He turned and spoke to Marcia. "Do I have to go back to the hospital?"

  "Are you hearing voices?" Marcia replied.

  "Not now. Not since yesterday."

  "When yesterday?" Marcia asked.

  "Before lunch."

  "Maybe I can get you in a hallway house in Albuquerque," Marda said.

  Robert grinned at the prospect.

  Marda turned to Kerney.

  "Do you have any more questions for Robert?"

  "Just one. Were you near the police station around the time Gillespie was shot?"

  Robert stuck his thumb out in a hitchhiker motion.

  "Does that mean no?"

  Robert nodded in agreement. "I hitched a ride to Estanda."

  "Did you see anyone near the police station before you left town?"

  Robert shook his head and looked away, avoiding Kerney's gaze.

  "Thanks, Robert," Kerney said, thinking that maybe Robert had seen someone--someone he knew. But pushing Robert didn't seem to be the best way to get answers.

  "We're done?" Robert asked, and stood up quickly.

  "We're done," Kerney said.

  Robert leaned in Kerney's direction and gave him a high five and a smile.

  "Later," he said.

  "Take care, Robert."

  After escorting him out of the room, Marda returned and sat with Kerney.

  "I expected you to wait for me before meeting with Robert."

  "It was a bit sneaky on my part."

  Marda nodded. "Just so you know why I jumped on you when I came in."

  In another context, Kerney wouldn't have minded the possibility of Marda jumping on him at all.

  "No problem. I deserved it."

  She drummed her fingers on the table. "Did he talk much about rape?"

  "He had just started talking about it. He said a long time ago he raped his sister--not the one who lives in Texas."

  "He doesn't have another sister. It's unusual for Robert to say anything at all about rape, other than the delusional stuff about Satan, Jesus, and his imaginary daughter."

  "Do you think there's some factual basis to what he said?" Kerney asked.

  "Don't count on it." Marda took her glasses off and smiled--an amused half smile that seemed to show some personal interest in Kerney.

  "Robert says he likes you. That's high praise from him for a police officer."

  "I'm glad to hear it."

  She offered her hand to him across the table. It was warm and soft.

  "I hope you catch your killer, Mr. Kerney." Kerney let go of her hand slowly. It had been a while since he'd felt a woman's touch.

  "Thanks. Will you be able to keep Robert out of the hospital?"

  "It's possible. I'll do a mental status exam. If he's clear enough, I should be able to swing it."

  ***

  After marcia left to evaluate Robert, Kerney stayed behind to think things through. If, as Marcia indicated, Robert never talked about rape except when he was hallucinating or delusional, why did he raise the topic in the absence of any psychotic symptoms? While Kerney was no expert in mental illness, he believed Robert had something specific on his mind. Robert had flat-out lied about the woman in the pickup truck, with all the clumsiness of a twelve-year old caught red-handed. And he had lied again about not seeing anyone outside the police station.

  The only new bit of information Robert had provided was a name: Addie. Was she real or imaginary? Marda thought it was part of Robert's delusion, but Kerney wasn't so sure. He stared at the freshly polished tabletop. There were smeared, sweaty palm prints where Robert had been sitting. Until Marda suggested that Addie was only a voice in his head, Robert had nervously rubbed his hand on the table. The hand rubbing and foot wiggling started up again when Kerney pushed the issue about Addie a little harder
.

  Kerney smiled. Maybe Addie was real. Maybe the case wasn't as dead as a doornail yet.

  ***

  Using the jail administrator's phone, Kerney called around until he connected with the state agency responsible for foster care. He had to smooth-talk a handful of bureaucrats and record clerks before he could get the names of Robert Cordova's former foster parents. An attempt to get the names of the children living with the couple during Robert's placement was unsuccessful--the juvenile records were confidential and sealed. After confirming that Robert's foster parents. Burl and Thelma Jackson, were deceased, he got their last known Mountainair address and headed down the road.

  The day had warmed up and the rangeland had shed the previous night's snow. As he drove, Kerney pondered the facts of the Gillespie murder. Gillespie's sidearm had been used to blow the top of his head off, and the gun had been wiped clean of prints. There was no sign of a struggle, and no incriminating evidence had been found at the crime scene.

  How could the killer have gotten control of Gillespie's weapon? That fact alone made it highly likely that the killer was known to Gillespie. Which meant Kerney needed to find a precipitating event that could lead to a motive. The crime could have been fueled by jealousy, rage, or revenge. But was it a premeditated crime or one of passion? Either way, what did Gillespie do to make somebody want to kill him? Kerney still didn't have a hint.

  Burl and Thelma Jackson's last address turned out to be a rambling adobe house with a pitched roof on several fenced acres near a Forest Service building. East of the house an old Santa Fe Railroad boxcar sat on masonry piers next to a working windmill. A picket fence at the front of the house enclosed a sandbox and swing set. Near a freestanding garage with a sagging roof, a rusted Ford Fairlane slumped on blocks with the hood open, yawning at the sky.

  Kerney knocked at the door, which was opened by an overweight woman of about forty. Dressed in a bulky sweater that covered a thick stomach, she had a harried expression and full lips that curved downward. In the background, Kerney heard the voices of young children.

  "Yes?" the woman asked, looking Kerney up and down. She was holding a baby's bib in one hand. It was splattered with what looked like applesauce or vomit.

  Kerney showed his shield and introduced himself. "I'm trying to locate someone who knew Burl and Thelma Jackson."