Pale Death

by Aimée Thurlo

  “They? Someone was here waiting for him?”

  “Sure looked like it. The other car, the big green sedan, was parked right in front of my house for several minutes. I couldn’t get a good look at the driver and I didn’t want to turn on my porch light and create attention. It didn’t look like one of those—you know—carjackings.”

  “Was the man carrying something, like a rifle or pistol?”

  “He was carrying something in one hand, but not anything long, like a rifle.”

  “You’re very observant, Rosanna. Did you notice anything at all about the driver? A man or woman, long or short hair, what they were wearing? Anything?”

  Rosanna thought about that a moment, yawned, then smiled, embarrassed. “Sorry, Officer Hawk. I had a long day.”

  “I know, ma’am.” Lee smiled. “But I need to leave soon and go after them. Do you remember something about the driver?”

  “Yeah, the driver was short and had long hair. Blond.”

  “Maybe a woman?”

  “Yes, I think it was a woman. I didn’t see her face, but she kept looking around.”

  “What make of car was it?”

  “Big, long, green—not a Cadillac, I know those. And not a Mercedes, though it had a front grille kind of like that. My sister has a Mercedes, so I know it was close. I think it was a Ford or Chevrolet. Four-door, luxury model. If I saw a picture, I might be sure.”

  “Good. Did you notice a license plate or bumper sticker?”

  “It looked like a New Mexico plate, but I couldn’t see what it said before it pulled away. Would you like some coffee, officer?”

  “Thank you, ma’am. But I’ve got to use the information you’ve given me while it’s still fresh. Here’s my card, if you think of anything else.” Lee handed it to her, then turned and reached for the doorknob.

  “Good night, Officer Hawk,” Ms. Luna called as Lee stepped outside.

  “You too, ma’am.” Lee walked away quickly, anxious to get away. The woman made him uncomfortable for some reason, but now they had a new lead. His eyes watching everywhere at once, Lee noted that another police car had arrived, this one a county sheriff’s unit. Diane was talking on her cell phone while the deputy checked out the Mustang. The other cop, the Farmington patrolman, was at the door of an adjacent home, speaking to a resident.

  Diane looked up, shaking her head as soon as she spotted Lee, then ended the call. “Anything from the resident?”

  “Tanner met someone else here and they drove away in a green sedan. From what the witness said, it sounded like a Ford Crown Victoria to me. It had New Mexico plates, but the woman couldn’t get the letters or numbers.”

  Lee looked over at the sticker on the Mustang. “Valley Motors. Let’s have someone check with the dealership—and call your people in Albuquerque. We need to verify if Tanner knew anyone in this community. Someone with long hair, blond, and probably a woman.”

  “A woman? That’s an interesting complication. Maybe an old girlfriend?”

  “Officer Hawk?”

  Lee turned and saw Ms. Luna, standing beneath the porch light, waving at him.

  “Your witness?” Diane asked. “She’s barely dressed. Got guts coming out like that.”

  Lee shrugged, then turned and walked back to the porch. “You remembered something else, Ms. Luna?”

  “A purse. There was a purse on the seat beside the driver. I remember it now, because she reached for it, then turned her dome light on and started messing with her nails. That confirms it was a woman, right?”

  “Thank you so much, ma’am. You’ve been a big help. If you think of anything else after I leave, just tell one of the officers, or call the number on the card.”

  “I will, Officer Hawk. I will.”

  Lee excused himself and walked back to Diane, who was on the cell phone again. She gestured toward the vehicle, and he went around to the driver’s side as she climbed in, still talking to someone.

  They were a block away when Diane finally hung up. “My SAC managed to crack open some records at a small private high school in Albuquerque, then did a follow-up. Stewart Tanner’s original last name was Bowen. He grew up in Farmington, an only child. At the age of fifteen he landed in a foster home after both parents were killed in a traffic accident while high on drugs. They were meth dealers, apparently. Bowen was adopted within six months by an older couple in Albuquerque, and took their name to avoid the publicity.”

  “So Tanner knew and probably still knows someone in this community, right?” Lee said. “Can we get in touch with some of them?”

  “I have FPD rousting some local school administrators. They’re going to track down any of his old teachers, check yearbooks and such, and get some names. Once somebody remembers him, we’ll be notified.”

  “Check on old girlfriends—or female classmates that may have been close to him. My witness remembers seeing a purse in the car. Tanner’s chauffeur was a female, according to Ms. Luna.”

  “Interesting. I also checked the key in the Mustang. It looks like it came right from the dealer. Oh, and another goodie. My SAC is sending us faxes of Tanner’s old credit card statements. It was easy to get a court order after what happened to Judge Baca, apparently.”

  “Things are definitely starting to come together. Let’s get in contact with the locals again and have them run down that Ford dealer, and check on any stolen green sedans. Two parties lost their cars tonight, and if Tanner got some extra keys at the dealership, he might have taken a third, or have plans to steal one later.”

  Diane hung up the telephone in Lee’s motel room and turned as he came through the door holding two big paper bags. “Breakfast—thank God, Lee. I’m almost as hungry as I am sleepy. At least we know Tanner and his woman friend have probably gone into hiding for the day.”

  “Unless he decides to surprise us again. What did you get on the phone?” Lee handed Diane a bag so he could lock the door, then stepped over to the small hotel desk. Together they brought out the foam containers holding coffee and the breakfast specials.

  “Valley Ford confirmed the loss of the Mustang sometime after closing time at nine P.M. The vehicle wasn’t missed until a vehicle count at six A.M., just as the auto shop personnel arrived to handle early-morning drop-off customers on their way to work.”

  “No all-night security?”

  “They have a service, but the rent-a-cops didn’t spot the loss during their last pass, which was at three-fifteen A.M. But a dealer key was found in the Mustang.”

  “What about the dealership office? The key must have come from there.”

  Diane pulled up one of the room chairs and sat down in front of a plate of steaming hot pancakes, smearing pads of butter on them with a plastic knife. “The office manager said that one of their doors showed signs of being forced, but the alarm hadn’t gone off, for some reason. The key was missing from a cabinet, but it appeared to be the only one missing, according to a quick inventory.”

  “Tanner hasn’t been subtle, so far. How did he pull this off?”

  “Maybe he lifted the key earlier when the business was open, then jammed the door later to cover what he’d done.”

  “Or maybe he had someone on the inside.”

  Diane nodded. “Like a blond woman. We need to follow up on that.” She reached for the phone.

  Lee reached out, stopping her. “Eat first. Let Farmington PD watch the dealership employees for a while. You need to get some sleep. You look exhausted.”

  Diane yawned. “Maybe a little nap …”

  “Eat first—have some juice.”

  “One more thing. No new green cars like a Crown Victoria have been reported missing within the past few days. So that’s still a mystery,” Diane said.

  “It had to come from somewhere. We’ll be hearing about it before too long,” Lee replied. Then he ate like a pig, polishing off scrambled eggs, four slices of bacon, two glasses of OJ, and eight pancakes smothered in syrup. Diane had about half that, then
lay down on the bed and was asleep within three minutes.

  He sat alone at the desk, sipping coffee and going over the past few days in his mind. Tanner was the target, but Lee couldn’t help but feel some sympathy for the guy. He’d obviously been put through the ringer by the likes of Victor Wayne and his people. The same could have happened to him, or to the one other vampire he knew—a young woman he’d come across in Albuquerque last year—if Dr. Wayne ever managed to find out about them. He decided to talk about this to Diane when she woke up.

  Meanwhile, because he needed very little sleep as long as he was well fed, he’d monitor any calls coming in. Diane’s calls had been forwarded to his cell phone, which was set on vibrate. Barely ten minutes had gone by before the phone began to twitch. He moved into the bathroom silently and closed the door before answering the call.

  Five minutes later, Lee ended the conversation and walked back into the room. He heard movement and turned to watch Diane sit up and yawn. She looked good no matter where she was, and had gotten used to his appreciative scrutiny. Whenever she caught him watching her, she usually just smiled.

  “Thanks for letting me sleep, Lee. I’m back among the living now, but I sure could use a shower. Could you hand me my travel bag?”

  He nodded, then stood and retrieved her black ballistic cloth “suitcase” from where it rested against the wall. “We got some news I think you’ll want to hear first.” He then told her about the phone call.

  “You think this Marci Walker, the woman who owns the Valley Ford dealership, could be Tanner’s contact?” Diane asked.

  “Considering Marci was Tanner’s girlfriend before he moved away? It’s a good bet, assuming that the information the detectives were able to get from an old Farmington High School classmate of Tanner’s is correct. Go ahead and take your shower, then I’ll tell you about a plan I just set into motion.”

  “Okay. Room service should be available by now, so would you order some fresh coffee for me? Strong,” Diane asked, taking the bag. “I’ll be out in ten, then you can tell me what you have in mind.”

  He picked up the phone and dialed room service to order some black coffee, then glanced over to the bottle of sunblock on the nightstand. He’d have to reanoint himself in case he ended up having to spend a significant amount of time outside. It was almost nine A.M., and the morning light already indicated it was going to be another bright New Mexico day.

  A while later they were on their way to rendezvous with two Farmington detectives, the same officers they’d encountered at the hotel where the judge had died. They arrived at an old brick building at the east end of downtown Farmington. Going inside quickly from a parking area in the alley, they entered the storeroom of a small printing shop. The detectives were waiting.

  Everyone seemed more upbeat due to the positive news, and handshakes were finally exchanged, even with Lee, and Detective Shannon introduced his partner, Detective Esterbrook. The FPD officers also offered them cups of coffee, which Lee and Diane accepted immediately.

  Esterbrook, who was tall and physically similar to Tanner, spoke first. “We’ve got two uniforms watching from unmarked units. Mrs. Walker, first name Marci, arrived at the dealership, greeted some of her employees, then went into her private office—alone. She’s tall, good-looking, brown or reddish brown hair, and built like a … well, you get the idea.”

  Esterbrook had carefully avoided looking directly at Diane while giving the description. He cleared his throat, finally nodded to Diane, then continued. “We’re trying to track down a photo of the woman right now, ma’am. There’s an officer at the newspaper office checking to see if Mrs. Walker ever made the society page. Worse-case scenario, one of our men will snap a digital photo next time she comes out.”

  “You tailed her from her home, right?” Lee asked.

  “Yeah,” Shannon said. “A big ole two-story job in a fancy neighborhood. Her late husband—he was quite a bit older than she is—has one of the biggest auto dealerships in the state. Must be a millionaire now, the woman, I mean. There were no children, so I suppose she got it all.”

  “All this background from the former classmate?” Diane asked.

  Esterbrook nodded. “He’s an ex-cop who owns a bar on East Main. Saw Tanner’s photo in the newspaper, remembered the guy, called the department. Owner’s name is Macky. He says that Tanner—well, Stewart Bowen then—and Marci were very close before he left town. And, chew on this, Macky remembers seeing them together not long ago—at his bar—making out like bandits in one of those dark corner booths. And this was before her husband died.”

  “That certainly reinforces the notion that Marci Walker has been working with Tanner,” Diane said, “and maybe giving him a place to hide out. Does Tanner know Macky saw him and Marci together? Macky could become a target if he did.”

  “Macky didn’t think so, and he never approached them. Thought it might be embarrassing, considering that Mrs. Walker was sucking tongue with someone other than her husband at the time.”

  “May have saved his life. Any idea how many buildings around the county Marci Walker owns or controls?” Lee asked both detectives.

  “We’re working on that. As we speak, county deputies are on route to check out the Walker cabin up near Navajo Lake,” Shannon said, finally smiling. “Mrs. Walker’s also got a separate garage on her main property. Then, there’s the dealership, with two buildings on the lot. We don’t know what other holdings she may have, though we’ve got a search in progress down at the county offices.”

  Diane nodded, then spoke. “What can you tell us about that home garage? The late Mr. Walker must have owned more than one car, being a dealer.”

  “It’s a big four-door building with a second floor and maybe an upstairs office,” the detective answered. “The estate has only two exits, one at the end of the sidewalk and the other the driveway, and gates at each spot. There’s an eight-foot wall around the property.”

  “How many officers are watching the property?” Lee asked.

  “Two. But we’re hoping to get a third officer free to join them. Tanner’s been known to go up and down walls like a lizard.”

  Diane looked over at Lee. “We’ll check out the home.”

  Lee nodded, noticing a large, rolled-up piece of drafting paper on a nearby table. “And unless I miss my guess, those are blueprints of the Walker place.”

  “Good eye, Officer Hawk.” Detective Esterbrook reached over and grabbed the roll. “Let’s take a look.”

  CHAPTER 12

  “You plan on breaking in, don’t you?” Diane said as they parked beside the curb next to a small, tree-filled public park. She’d been driving so that he could do touch-up work with the sunblock. “That’s why you asked Shannon and Esterbrook to relieve the officer watching the front of the property. You gave them a heads-up so they wouldn’t shoot first and ask questions later.”

  “Let’s just say my argument was good and they agreed to look the other way,” Lee said. “To go in legally we’d need a search warrant and it’s possible someone would tip them off.”

  “You think he’s really there?”

  “Why not? Her home is convenient, and with her status in the community, she’s got resources. The fact that he’s had no problem finding transportation suggests that Marci Walker is already involved. Good thing they weren’t more careful with the dealer sticker and the fact that they were having an affair.”

  “Reporting the thefts would have worked too, if we hadn’t already been looking for a connection and had some good luck and an alert ex-cop identify Tanner. But amateur criminals make mistakes, no matter how bright they are. Too many things to consider at once,” she said. “Besides, there must be strong emotions involved—and not only Tanner’s need for revenge. The two were obviously having an affair before her husband died. Then Tanner disappeared, and suddenly shows up months later—a killer on the run with remarkable abilities. Mrs. Walker must have gone through the entire range of emotions—including ac
cepting a killer into her home. No wonder they’ve made a mistake. They’ll make more.”

  “We hope. And we can probably rule out that cabin. It’s too far away from the action.”

  “We should hear soon enough. The deputies are due there about now.” She looked at her watch. “Ready to go?”

  They stepped out of the unmarked vehicle and walked down the sidewalk, strolling hand-in-hand like a couple on a morning walk. Lee had on a broad-brimmed hat to conceal his face, and carried a folded-up newspaper. Diane had an oversized purse.

  The neighborhood was upper class, for New Mexico, and each home covered an acre or more. The houses, most of them brick or stone, were set back from the street, well landscaped with huge trees, spacious lawns, and colorful flower beds. The Walker estate was surrounded by a four-foot-high brown block wall topped with another four feet of wrought-iron fencing terminating with fleur-de-lis points. The gates were wrought iron, and the driveway entrance, double-gated, opened electrically after entering a pass code in a keypad.

  Continuing on past the driveway, which led to the garage another hundred feet away, Lee glanced casually over at the two detectives, now wearing coveralls identifying them as city workers. The officers were raking leaves on the tree-covered median.

  One of the detectives started whistling an old seventies tune, the signal that Marci Walker was still back at her dealership and they were clear to make a move.

  As they neared the corner of the block, Lee noted a concrete-lined drainage ditch across the street that carried rainwater downhill across a large, tree-covered park. Beneath the road and sidewalk was a culvert, and it terminated to their right, where a three-foot-deep collecting basin gathered water from the Walker estate that passed through a large iron grate at the foot of the wall.

  Traffic was virtually nonexistent, but Diane still kept watch while Lee jumped down into the basin. He examined the grate.

  “It’s pretty solid, so you’d better hand me the crowbar to make it look good,” Lee said.