Dog Gone Lies (Pacheco & Chino Mysteries Book 1)

by Ted Clifton

  Monica thanked her and had her point out the restrooms and payphone.

  Monica called her ex-husband and got his voice mail. “Hey Mike, I’m in T or C, at a little diner, and wanted to let you know I think I’ll stay an extra day in El Paso. Made some last minute plans with Betty. If you can, could you go by the house and check on things? Really appreciate it. I’ll call you from El Paso, probably tomorrow, and let you know my exact schedule. Thanks.”

  The angry part of Mike and Monica’s divorce had been over for a long time. Mike’s girlfriend had taken off as soon as Monica filed for divorce. Mike had been very remorseful and underwent extensive therapy to deal with the consequences of his actions. About five years after the divorce, he’d sold his dental practice and retired to an assisted living facility in Albuquerque. He had aged significantly, to the point that Monica and their children were worried about his health.

  Mike seemed to adapt to the assisted living home and soon was feeling better, but he’d changed in many ways. Monica and Mike had three grown children and two grandchildren. In a complete role reversal, Mike had become more involved with the children and grandchildren as Monica became more and more withdrawn.

  Placing another call, Monica waited for an answer.

  “Hello.”

  “Hey, Betty. It’s Monica.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m in T or C and should be in El Paso in about three hours or so. Maybe we could get together this evening for dinner?”

  “Well, I don’t know, Monica. These damn dog show people are such gossips. Lately it seems all they want to do is sneer and point at us like we’re harming them in some way.”

  “To hell with those creeps. Come on, Betty. This is just dinner—you were going to eat anyway weren’t you?”

  “Okay. Sorry. For some reason I seem on edge lately. When you get checked in give me a call. I’m in room 607—see you tonight.”

  Monica and Betty had become close friends over the last few years. They went to the same dog shows and liked to talk about the same sorts of stuff, so they enjoyed each other’s company. But recently they’d become aware of some gossip going around amongst some morons within the dog show organization, suggesting that they had more than just a friendship. At first they were shocked. Then, as they both gave the rumor thought, they realized there probably was more to their relationship than just friendship, but neither of them wanted to deal with what that meant so they’d been avoiding each other the last couple of shows. Monica had decided this was stupid and was going to make an extra effort to have a conversation with Betty about their relationship. If it turned out to be sexual, so be it. If it wasn’t, to hell with those narrow-minded bastards.

  Returning to her table, she settled in just as her food was being served. Her first thought was: thank goodness I only ordered the small. It was enough food for four. But Mexican food was one of Bruce’s favorites, so she could consume about a third of the meal and Bruce could enjoy the rest.

  As she was leaving with her doggy bag, she took a moment to thank her waitress, who’d seemed especially nice.

  When she reached the car she was surprised to see a note or something stuck under the windshield wiper. She first opened the side door and arranged Bruce’s special Mexican treat—he really appreciated the food and rewarded her with tail wagging and dog smiling. Then, with her hands free, she retrieved the paper.

  It was a handwritten note.

  You need to know I’ve been watching you. You can’t call people names and accuse them of immoral behavior and get away with it. People like you think you’re better than everybody, but you’re not. I’m going to make sure you don’t hurt anyone else the way you’ve hurt me. You’ll be sorry. Very Sorry!

  What the hell was this? Monica looked around, as if the author might be standing by to answer questions, but there was nobody about. Then she noticed that her car was leaning. She went around to the other side and saw that both tires on that side were flat. Shit.

  Monica checked on Bruce. She made sure there was plenty of air flowing through the windows, which were rolled down about three inches. She relocked the car, although she wasn’t exactly sure why. Then she went back into the restaurant.

  Sue greeted her at the register.

  “Well, that was quick. Decide you needed dessert?”

  “No. I have a problem with my car. I have two flat tires and I guess I need a tow to someplace that can help me out.”

  “Two flats. Now that sounds like bad luck big time.”

  “The tires are fairly new so I think maybe someone cut them or something—it looks like there are slash marks on the sidewalls.”

  “What? I can’t believe that! Right downtown in front of the café—no way.”

  “Yeah, seems strange to me too. But that sure looks like what happened. Anyway, do you know of someone I could call?”

  “Of course, dear. Let me make the call. I’ll get Tom Yates—he has the only tow truck in town—and then I’ll call Bill Lopez, who runs the Firestone store. Just give me a second, and we will get some things movin’.”

  Sue came back and told Monica that she’d called everyone and the tow truck would be there any minute. She also said she’d called the sheriff’s office so that they could take a report about someone slashing her tires.

  “Thanks, Sue. I guess that’s okay. I don’t want to make any trouble for anyone.”

  “Sure it’s okay. That’s what the deputies are for. And believe me, nobody in T or C wants someone slashing visitor’s tires. The town lives on tourists. They’ll take this stuff seriously.”

  About that time the tow truck arrived, closely followed by the sheriff’s deputy’s car. Monica went out and talked to both the tow truck driver and the deputy. They agreed she would get her dog out and ride with the deputy over to the Firestone store while the tow truck driver hooked up the car and brought it along. Monica waved to the waitress through the window, and with Bruce in tow got into the deputy’s vehicle.

  It was a short ride to the Firestone store. The deputy parked in front of the store and Monica related what had happened, giving him the note. He asked her if there was anyone who might wish her harm. She said she wasn’t aware of anyone specific who’d do something like this. She explained that she was on her way to a dog show in El Paso and that she didn’t know anyone in T or C. He took extensive notes as they sat in the car, while Bruce made himself at home in the rear seat as usual.

  “Well, not sure what to tell you Ms. Jackson, but that note indicates someone who knows you and has some kind of grudge. I consider this a genuine threat. Slashing your tires is an act of aggression. If someone’s angry, they often start with this type of thing and then progress to more serious acts. Before you leave town I’d like you to come by my office and let me take a more formal statement. Would you do that?”

  Monica hesitated. She was looking forward to getting to El Paso and relaxing tonight. It was already early afternoon, and she still needed her car fixed.

  “I’ll do my best. I don’t know though if I believe someone is really threatening me. If for some reason I can’t make it by, I’ll call. Okay?”

  “Well, I can’t force you to come by, but you should take this threat seriously. Here’s my card.”

  Monica thanked the deputy and opened the door for Bruce. She had seen the tow truck take her car around to the side of the building and she walked back to that area, where she talked to Bill Lopez, the manager of the tire store. He didn’t have two tires that would fit her car—said they didn’t have many Subarus in town. He could change out all four tires using a different size or he could order two tires and have them by the next day. The day wasn’t getting better for Monica. She couldn’t justify buying two additional tires, especially if they weren’t even the recommended sizes. It seemed like she had no choice but to wait until the next day.

  “Is there a place around here you’d recommend for me to stay?”

  “Best place in town is the Hot Sprin
gs Inn,” Lopez said immediately. “Matter of fact, I’d be happy to run you up there if that’s where you’d like to go.”

  “Well, that’d be very nice of you Mr. Lopez. When do you think you’ll have the car ready tomorrow?”

  “First thing, ma’am. The truck from El Paso should be at my shop by eight thirty or so and it’ll take us only about thirty minutes to get everything fixed up. Matter of fact, I’m sure the Inn has a van—they can run you down here about nine and everything should be ready.”

  So far Monica had only encountered nice people in this town—except, of course, for whoever had sliced her tires. It was a quick trip up a slight hill to the Hot Springs Inn. She left most of her luggage in her car and brought only a small case for the night. She unloaded the case and Bruce in front of the Inn and said goodbye to Mr. Lopez. As soon as she turned around there was someone there to assist her.

  “Good Afternoon, ma’am. Checking in?”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  He carried her small bag into an impressive lobby. The exterior of the building needed some attention, but once inside she was impressed. The lobby was very large, and off to one side she could see an enclosed pool. It had been designed for soaking, so the entire pool was shallow, and there were benches placed in the water where people could relax. She walked up to the registrations counter, which was massive and very ornate. At one time the place must have done a lot more business than they were now.

  “Hi. I had a little car trouble and I’m in need of a room for one night.”

  “Well of course, ma’am. Hope it wasn’t anything serious?”

  “No not really. Two flat tires, but the store here didn’t have the right size so the car won’t be ready until the morning.”

  “Too bad. Is it at Firestone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, Mr. Lopez will take good care of you. Now let’s see. I have a single queen bed, a single king bed, or a two-room suite.”

  “The single queen will be great. Also I’ll need a ride about nine in the morning to the Firestone store. Can you do that?”

  “Of course. As soon as you’re ready in the morning, let us know and we’ll run you down there.”

  The very efficient desk clerk had presented her a registration card and quoted her a price as they were talking. Monica handed over her credit card.

  “While you’re with us, Ms. Jackson, you’ve got complete pool privileges. We have the large community pool, which stays open until eight in the evening, and we have more private spas that you can schedule for any time. There’s no charge for whichever one you prefer, but the private spas have to be reserved and sometimes aren’t available. But for today that shouldn’t be a problem. We have one dining room that will be serving until eight this evening. The menu’s limited, but all the items are very good. There’s also a small bar just off of the dining room serving drinks and snacks. Thank you for staying with us. Your room is 125, which is directly down this hall to your left. Can I help you with anything else?”

  “No, you’ve been very helpful. Thanks so much. Did I mention that I have a dog with me? Is that okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I saw your dog. He’s very beautiful. Is he a show dog?”

  “He is. That’s where we were headed, to a dog show that starts tomorrow in El Paso.”

  “There’s no problem with the dog staying in your room. We would request that if there are other guests in the public areas that you limit the dog to going or coming from the room. But since we’re a little slow today he can more or less have the run of the place.”

  Monica thanked the man again and headed to her room. It sounded like she might be the only guest, which felt a little spooky, but it would be nice for Bruce.

  Once in the room, Monica called the El Paso hotel and spoke to the desk clerk. She told the woman that she wouldn’t be needing a room for that night since she was stuck in T or C with car trouble—she confirmed her room reservation for the next night. She then dialed back to the hotel and asked for Betty’s room. Getting voice mail, she left the message that she had some car trouble and wouldn’t be in El Paso tonight but expected to be there before noon tomorrow. She apologized to Betty and told her not to worry. She also left the name and number of the Hot Springs Inn.

  Saturday

  Ray arrived at Tyee’s camp right on time. Scary huge fishing guides can make you very punctual. He searched the camp site area but didn’t find Mr. Chino. Thinking that he might have headed down to the lake, Ray began the small hike toward the water. After going a short distance, he spotted Tyee working on getting gear into a small boat.

  “Good morning, Mr. Chino.” Ray waved as he called out.

  “Yet to know if good morning. We will see soon.”

  The response wasn’t warm and friendly, but compared to the day before it was a hearty welcome.

  “I didn’t introduce myself yesterday. I’m Ray Pacheco.” No response from the guide.

  Ray went on down and helped as much as he could, which was limited since he didn’t know what needed to be done and Tyee wasn’t saying anything.

  “Are there basic things I’ll need to know before we get started?” Ray asked, thinking what the hell, might as well ask this mute mountain of a man something. Depending on the answer he might not want to go out onto the lake with this guy.

  “Yes.”

  Great, they just had a conversation. This wasn’t going to be easy. Ray decided that there would be conversation when Chino wanted it, so Ray should just shut up and wait.

  “First will talk about boat safety. Even if you good swimmer, you wear life vest. Is small and should not bother you, but it could save your life. I not wear vest because I’m Tyee and not fall in water.”

  Ray was thinking the first lesson seemed to be along the lines of: you’re an idiot and I’m not. Of course when it came to boats and fishing, maybe Ray was an idiot.

  “Second we talk about equipment—what it does, how to handle, and make sure isn’t damaged.”

  Tyee began a discussion of the various rods, lures and baits he had already stowed on the boat. His descriptions were clear and precise. After some time, Ray started to understand some of the equipment and how it was used. Tyee made it clear that types of lures and bait choices were dependent on the type of fish you were trying to catch, time of year, time of day, lake temperature, sunny or cloudy weather, personal preference, and a host of other considerations. Ray was starting to get overloaded. At first the man said nothing—now he wouldn’t shut up.

  “Mr. Chino, I was wondering— ”

  “Please call me Tyee.”

  “Sure, okay. Tyee, I was wondering how you can possibly remember all of the variables you just described to decide what to use?”

  “Good question—uh.”

  “Please call me Ray.”

  “Ray, the more you know the better—but the best fishermen develop an instinct about what to use. Some of this is experience, some is just guess work. Some maybe magic, I’m not sure.”

  This would be what Ray had always called bullshit. Tyee wasn’t a fishing guide, he was a magician. He was starting to regret his decision to take up fishing—maybe he should look into getting one of those big satellite dishes instead.

  Tyee finished packing the boat and shoved it a little further into the water. There was a very old wooden pier that extended out about twenty-five feet into the lake which allowed them to step in the boat without having to wade into the water. That was good, because Ray hadn’t brought the right shoes to go wading. Ray noticed the boat trailer up under some trees. Apparently Tyee had launched the boat by himself. It wasn’t very large and probably didn’t weigh that much, but it would have been fine with Ray if Tyee had asked for his help. The man was obviously self-sufficient.

  The boat was a Pro Craft, with a Mercury motor. There were two tall chairs, no doubt for the fisherman to be able to cast while sitting. It crossed Ray’s mind that the boat couldn’t have been cheap, and he wondered where Tyee got th
e money. He didn’t think about it for long, though—none of his business.

  They settled into the boat and Tyee started the motor and headed out onto the lake. Ray had been around the lake on several occasions, and when he’d been sheriff of Dona Ana County he had assisted in law enforcement operations at the lake, but he’d never been on the lake in a boat and the perspective was totally different. They had been running for about ten minutes and weren’t even close to the middle of the lake yet—it was huge.

  Tyee stopped the boat close to the middle of the widest section of the lake. It suddenly became quiet. The vastness of the water was intimidating.

  “We work on basics this morning. First casting—so we are in middle of lake to make it less likely you get line caught. Most fishing done along the shoreline, or areas where there’re lots of hiding places under the water. There’re fish here but the water much deeper and volume of water to fish not good for catching.”

  Made sense to Ray—more water, fewer fish, less likely to catch something. Tyee got one of the rods and began to show Ray how to hold the pole and operate the reel. Once Ray got started, he was doing pretty well for distance but doubted he could hit any sort of target. He was just happy to get it into the water.

  Their first day of five hours on the water was tough but satisfying. Ray worked hard and seemed to have made a noticeable improvement by the time they called it a day at a little after noon. Once they got back to the shore, Ray helped Tyee load the boat onto the trailer and secure it tightly. He settled up with Tyee with his agreed-upon hourly rate for guidance. They seemed a little bit more comfortable with one another and even shook hands as Ray left.

  Ray was beat—as in totally exhausted. This had been the most physical work he’d done in months. Being out on the water in a rocking boat and casting again and again was very tiring. And the sun had contributed to a washed out, I’m-going-to-fall-down feeling. Plus, on top of everything else, he was starving.

  Ray decided to head to the Lone Post Café in downtown T or C. He’d eaten there many times when he was sheriff in the neighboring county, and had heard from almost everyone that it served the best food in all of southern New Mexico—and he didn’t disagree.