Dog Gone Lies (Pacheco & Chino Mysteries Book 1)

by Ted Clifton

  Big Jack was excited, too. He allowed how he’d love to beat that asshole Martinez and his crooked old man. He agreed that his store could be campaign headquarters and Tyee could hook up anything he wanted. Clayton showed up and was impressed with the ideas and plans that Ray, Tyee, and Big Jack had devised. Time was short, so they agreed to meet again on Thursday evening.

  Wednesday

  Ray woke up energized. The discussion of the election and the possibility of putting a good guy in office instead of a jerk made his blood flow a little faster. He wasn’t a do-gooder, he was a practical man and thought people should mostly be allowed to do as they saw fit—unless, of course, it harmed other people. People like the Martinez family, who used cronyism to make other people miserable, got Ray fired up.

  Ray let Happy out for his morning business. He was sure that once something was discovered about Ms. Jackson’s disappearance that someone would be along to claim the dog. It had only been a few days, but he had to admit he was going to miss him. He wouldn’t get anywhere worrying about what might happen, though, so he concentrated on what he could do to maybe unravel the mystery of Ms. Jackson. After getting dressed, he decided he would go visit the Hot Springs Inn. He doubted much would come of it, but maybe there would be something he could learn.

  Happy took his now familiar spot in the back of the Jeep and went to sleep. Ray hadn’t been around many dogs, and he was astounded by the number of little naps they took during the day. As he approached the Inn, he recalled a few visits he and his wife had made to enjoy the healing waters. He liked the place a lot and was somewhat surprised that they were not doing better business. There were very few cars in the lot.

  Ray entered and went to the registration desk.

  “Hello sir, may I help you?”

  “Hi. My name is Ray Pacheco—used to be sheriff down in Dona Ana County.”

  “Well sure, sheriff, I remember you. You and your wife have stayed with us a couple times. Nice to see you.”

  “Thanks—we always enjoyed our stays here. I’m no longer sheriff, I retired, so this maybe a little out of line. I was wondering if I could ask you some questions about Ms. Jackson, the lady that disappeared.”

  “It’s great with me. Our sheriff has decided to do nothing, apparently. What can I tell you?”

  “Just tell me what you know about her checking in and if you saw her at all after that.”

  “She was a very nice lady and she had a dog—wait a minute, that’s the same dog with you.”

  “Yes, somehow the dog was let go or something up in a remote area of the lake where I have a cabin. That’s one of the reasons I have an interest in finding Ms. Jackson—returning her dog.” Not completely true, but close enough.

  “My gracious, that sounds ominous. Anyway, she just checked in—nothing abnormal at all. Asked if we could give her a ride in the morning back to her car, which was being worked on at the Firestone store. We made arrangements for her to leave about nine the next morning and we would drive her to the store. I don’t believe anyone at the hotel saw her again—I know I didn’t. I called her room in the morning about nine and didn’t get an answer. I thought maybe she was still in the bathroom, so I waited a while and then called again about 9:30—still no answer. At that point I got worried that something was wrong. I was thinking maybe she was ill or something, so I decided to go and check. I knocked but she didn’t answer. I’m always reluctant to just go into a room, but I thought there must be something wrong so I used my key. Everything looked normal except that she wasn’t there. The things she had with her when she checked in were still in the room. At that point I called the sheriff’s office.”

  “Had the bed been slept in?”

  “Yes, the covers were pulled back and it did look like someone had slept in the bed.”

  “Does the room have an exit other than the front door?”

  “It does. Those rooms along that section all have sliding doors that take you out to an area that has outdoor spas.”

  “Was that door open or shut.”

  The manager paused a bit as he thought.

  “Now that you ask, I believe that door was open a few inches—she could’ve gone out that way.”

  “Did she make or receive any phone calls?”

  “The first deputy, Clayton, I think was his name, asked me that question. So I looked, and she did make three phone calls, and looks like she received two.”

  “Do you have the numbers?”

  “Only on the out calls. We currently don’t capture the phone number of someone calling in.”

  The manager gave Ray the two numbers Ms. Jackson called, indicating that she had called one number twice. Ray thanked him for his trouble and wondered if it was okay if he looked into the room. The manager gave him the room number and then walked down the hall and opened the door for him. He told Ray to just shut the door when he was finished. Ray examined the room, but there was nothing he could see. As he was leaving, though, he noticed something sticking out from under the bed. Reaching down, he put it into his pocket—probably nothing, but it was more than he had before.

  He went out back and looked at the area just outside the room, then walked around the area that had the spas. He could see that they hadn’t been used in a while. Heading back toward the parking lot, he noticed a groundskeeper working on a flower bed at the corner of the building.

  “Good morning.”

  “Morning, sir.”

  “Don’t mean to interrupt your work. I’m looking into the matter with the woman who went missing and I was wondering if you saw anything last Friday or Saturday that might help me?”

  “I heard about the missing person. Really strange—nothing like that ever happens around here. I think I did see that lady very early Saturday morning. She had her dog with her and was walking along the north path. I’d come in around five that morning because I was going to dig up another flower bed and wanted to leave early in the day, so I’d guess this was about five fifteen or so. That path goes up over that little rise and then back down next to the parking lot. Didn’t think anything about it because she was walking her dog, so I went back to my truck and got some more soil and continued to work. I didn’t see her come back. Figured she had already gone back in while I was out to the truck.”

  “Did you happen to notice if the sliding door was open or shut?”

  “No, I don’t remember looking over that way at all. I finished up that bed and then moved around to the other side of the building.”

  “Hear any cars or anything at that time?”

  “No. Didn’t hear or see anything else.”

  “Okay thanks, you’ve been helpful.”

  So she could’ve taken the dog for his morning walk, someone was waiting for her and forced them both into a vehicle. While a little farfetched, it was reasonable that she’d be out with the dog fairly early in the morning—Ray had already seen the demands of that schedule. If someone knew she was staying there, waiting for her outside in the wee hours of the morning would be a perfect opportunity for something. Still didn’t know what—but at least it helped to create an outline of what might’ve happened.

  Ray looked around the parking lot, especially the area along the north path. There was nothing unusual that he could see. He did notice that there were security cameras in the parking lot. He went back in and asked the manager about the cameras and learned that they were dummies—a cheap security measure designed to scare off the completely stupid.

  The paper Ray had found under the bed seemed to be a partial phone number. Not much help. He was becoming increasingly convinced that Ms. Jackson and her dog had been kidnapped Saturday morning. The kidnappers must have headed out toward the lake, for reasons that Ray couldn’t yet guess at, and the dog escaped, or he was let go in the hope he wouldn’t survive. So did that mean Ms. Jackson had been killed and dumped or buried in the same area? He had no idea, also had no idea how to find out. Beginning to look like a dead end. Martinez’s dumb-headed p
lan of doing nothing unless something happened might actually be the only plan available. But he wouldn’t accept that—there had to be other options.

  Ray decided to stop by Big Jack’s on his way home. He found the proprietor out on the dock with a beer and his infamous unlit cigar, more or less asleep. As he walked up, Big Jack stirred, took a sip of his no-doubt warm beer, and welcomed his visitors. Happy returned the greeting with licking and tail wagging. Since this was obviously Big Jack’s afternoon slow period, Ray decided to fill him in on the missing woman’s story.

  Ray laid out everything he knew and offered his speculation. The big question was: is she still alive? And if so, where is she?

  “My guess is she’s dead. The note and the slashed tires—as the deputy pointed out, those are acts of aggression. While most people don’t recognize it, it’s not a huge step from that kind of aggression to actually committing murder—especially if it’s based on hatred. The note suggests it’s someone who hates her for some real or imagined injuries that the missing lady caused this person. People with that much hate can’t hold it for long—they’ll want to hurt the person who’s the focus of all that emotion. Regarding the dog apparently being let go, my guess is that this person could kill the woman, but couldn’t bring himself to harm the dog.”

  Big Jack knew his stuff. Ray agreed completely. “That suggests that it’s someone she knows. It’s probably someone who has a similar connection with dogs—probably someone involved in the dog show or the dog breeding business.”

  “Most murders are committed by someone you know or your relatives—usually the relatives. That’s why I stay far, far away from all of my relatives.”

  “Maybe your relatives are avoiding you?”

  “Now, you’re just getting nasty Ray.”

  “Sorry, didn’t know you were so sensitive. I think you’re right, though. She’s buried somewhere up around my cabin and the dog escaped or was let go when the deed was done. Whoever did it has had more or less four days to disappear and could be in a foreign country by now, or back home in Cleveland. Who the hell knows?”

  Ray and Happy headed home. He didn’t like the conclusion, but he’d be astounded if he discovered that it wasn’t right. Of course Ray had been astounded a lot in his career—people often did the unexpected.

  Thursday

  Ray was meeting Tyee at Big Jack’s dock so they could have a lesson out on the lake. He was somewhat nervous about actually catching a fish. Their previous lesson had been intended to cover aspects of handling the fish, removing the hook, and other things Ray didn’t know how to do, but it had been postponed when they cut the lesson short that day. He could only hope he didn’t catch anything too big.

  Walking around the side of Big Jack’s store, Ray saw Tyee out on the dock getting everything ready. It was shocking to Ray how his impression of Tyee had changed over just a few days. While Tyee still called himself a drunk, other than at their first encounter Ray hadn’t seen Tyee drinking at all. And now he had to absorb the fact that Tyee had a computer science degree and an English Lit degree. He wasn’t even real sure what an English Lit degree was. Despite everything that was going on, Ray felt like he had discovered a unique person whom he wanted to get to know better.

  “Guess I’m ready to actually catch a fish, I think?”

  “Good thing fish can’t hear you, you sound scared of fish—not good for macho fisherman to be scared of fish.”

  “Well, Tyee. You’ve taught me a bunch of things I want to try out, see if I can catch something. Also my macho ego isn’t as large as some, so I say watch out fish here I come!”

  “Good save, sheriff. I believe you are starting to pick up on this fishing stuff.”

  They loaded the remaining gear and headed out onto the lake. It was a cool morning, slightly overcast, and Tyee said this could be a good day for fishing. He went over the map of the lake with Ray and explained various reasons why one area would be better than another, based on depth and the shape of the shoreline. Tyee pulled them into a cove and killed the motor.

  Ray got his gear ready and took one of the casting seats. He had to admit he was a little excited. Surprisingly, as he started casting and concentrating on what he was doing, he experienced an unusual calmness and sense of well-being. Tyee said very little as they each went about their tasks.

  Within about thirty minutes, Ray got a strike. Tyee immediately pulled his own line in and started giving Ray instructions. It appeared to be a large fish and Ray was absolutely amazed at its power. He was using all his strength trying to reel the fish in as Tyee reminded him to let the line out and let the fish tire out. With much prodding from Tyee, he started to get the feel for reeling in and then letting the fish run. After what was probably a short time, but felt like hours, the fish began to tire. Tyee got a net and approached the side of the boat. Ray continued to reel the fish closer. Tyee reached out with the net and, with obvious skill, scooped the fish into the boat. The fish seemed huge. Tyee said it was a medium size bass, but still one hell of a catch. Tyee showed him how to hold the fish and release the hook. Then he gave the fish to Ray to hold while he took a picture, after which Ray released the fish back into the lake. Ray was exhausted, thrilled, and hooked on fishing.

  They had little luck the rest of the morning and decided to call it a day. Tyee aimed the boat back toward Big Jack’s.

  “Tyee, I want to thank you for teaching me fishing and helping me understand the beauty of these skills. I’d never have guessed this would be something that would give me so much pleasure. Thanks again—it means a lot to me.”

  “Hey, satisfied customer testimonial. Must get this in writing.”

  Both men sat back and enjoyed the boat ride. It was a pleasant afternoon with more sunshine than there had been in the morning. The breeze from the movement of the boat, and the warmth of the sun, gave the experience a comforting quality—it was easy just to live the moment, smile, and say nothing. When they reached the dock, Tyee jumped out and secured the boat.

  “Something I’d been meaning to ask you Tyee. You know I’m kind of poking around looking for evidence or information regarding the missing lady, Ms. Jackson. I have some phone numbers and a partial number, and I was wondering if you could help to try and identify who the numbers belong to.”

  “Sure, no problem. Sometimes that can be easy, and of course sometimes it just can’t be done. Do you have the numbers with you?”

  Ray handed Tyee a piece of paper that had the two out-going calls numbers written on it and told him that the Inn knew that Ms. Jackson had also received two calls but that their system didn’t capture those numbers. However, when he’d been searching Ms. Jackson room he’d found a torn piece of paper that seemed to have a portion of a phone number written on it. He wasn’t sure if this was related to Jackson or not.

  “I just about have my computer systems up and running in Big Jack’s storeroom. I’ll do some research on these numbers this afternoon. Also should have some information on resident lists for the campaign at tonight’s meeting.”

  Ray said that sounded good. They went into the store and related Ray’s fishing experience to Big Jack. It was hard to tell who looked the proudest Ray or Tyee. Big Jack said maybe he should sponsor Ray in the annual fishing competition on the lake. At first they all laughed, but after a moment’s thought they decided that maybe it was actually a good idea.

  Tyee went to work in his computer lair and Ray, along with Happy, headed home.

  As Ray approached his cabin he could see a car in the driveway, possibly the first time anyone had driven to the cabin since he’d moved in except for Ray himself. The condition of the access road was terrible, and unless you had a good map it was hard to find the entrance. He pulled in and parked next to the car. As he got out of his Jeep, a man got out of the car and waved.

  “Hello, you must be Ray Pacheco. Sorry to just drop in on you, but they said you didn’t have a phone. My name’s Mike Jackson, from Albuquerque. I’m the ex-husb
and of Monica Jackson—the lady who disappeared from the Hot Springs Inn.”

  “Hello, Mr. Jackson. I’m Ray Pacheco, and dropping in is just fine. Sorry about the condition of the roads, but this is a remote part of the county and they don’t get a lot upkeep. How can I help you?” Ray was concerned about the man—he looked very tired, or possibly ill.

  “Please call me Mike.”

  “Okay Mike, and call me Ray.”

  About this time, Happy came up and greeted Mike like a long lost friend. Mike was pleased to see Happy, too, and gave him a good rubdown, which prompted a great deal of tail wagging.

  “It’s great that Bruce is looking so good. They told me at the sheriff’s office that you had him. This is wonderful, I was so worried about him.” Greeting the dog had added much-needed energy to Mike’s demeanor.

  “Are you here to get the dog?”

  “I don’t think so, Ray. Mostly I’m here to ask for your help. I called the sheriff’s office numerous times and talked to Sheriff Martinez several times. To be blunt, I don’t think they know what they’re doing. The sheriff has even gotten to the point of telling me not to call anymore. Well, at that point I decided to head down here and see what the hell was going on. I met with the sheriff this morning and he as much as told me that I was wasting his time and if I didn’t like it, tough shit. He’s one rude person.”

  “Yeah, I’m afraid our sheriff’s in over his head a little. But Mike I have to tell you I’m not real sure what he could do—other than be more polite.”

  “I kind of guessed that—even though he was being all self-important what I sensed was that they didn’t have any leads and didn’t know what to do next. Well, I had a chance to chat with Deputy Clayton, who seems like a very nice young man, and he said he thought my best hope of finding something was you.”

  “Not sure about that, Mike. I guess someone told you my story. The ex-sheriff from Dona Ana County who moved up here some months ago to retire. I have absolutely no authority to interfere with the sheriff’s investigation and no desire to do so. I was curious to some extent because of the dog, so I stepped into the fire a little and asked some questions. But it’s the sheriff who has the responsibility and the authority to find out what happened to your ex-wife.”