“You thinking that’s what it was?”
“We’re exploring a couple of different avenues,” I hedged. I’d known Tony for years, and thought of him as an honest, hard-working village employee. But sometimes it was hard to tell what the connections were. “Tony, this is hard for you guys, I know. But I asked Bea if we can take a look at Larry’s personnel files.”
“Jesus, Bill, I can’t let you do that,” Tony replied without taking a moment to think it over. Well, he could, of course, but I hadn’t used all the keys yet to open that door. “I mean those files are confidential.” I nodded as if that was that, giving myself time to mull my options. I hadn’t said “warrant” yet in this conversation, and once I did, there was no going back. I was convinced that the shot that killed Larry Zipoli had not been an errant slug from across the arroyo.
“Does…did…Larry have much of a drinking problem on the job?” The blunt question might as well have been a ball peen hammer between the eyes. I saw the blood rush up Tony’s dark face, and he blinked half a dozen times, digesting the question.
“What?”
“There’s some indication that Larry liked his booze, Tony.”
“I…I don’t know anything about that. Larry’s been working for us for Jesus knows how many years. He gets the job done, just like he’s paid to do. Hell, Bill, you’ve known him as long as I have. Where’d all this come from? Did Marilyn say something to you about him drinking, or what?”
“He had the remains of a pretty good party in the cooler in his truck,” I replied.
“You were in his truck?” Why that would have surprised Tony, I didn’t know.
“Sure enough. His daily log doesn’t show many miles, and we need to know what he did yesterday, Tony.”
“Jesus,” Tony muttered. “We got to get into all this?”
“Yes.” If not now, then on the witness stand under a D.A’s grilling, I thought, but spared Tony Pino that worry so early in the game. “He started work at the usual time?”
“Left the yard with the grader right around 8:15,” Tony snapped, his turf thoroughly stepped on. “He was workin’ up on Nineteen the day before, and yesterday he was going to catch up on some work up on Highland. That last frog strangler we got? Did some damage up there. He went out in the morning, and had some damn problem with the exhaust stack, so he brought the grader back before lunch, and he worked on it for an hour or so right here in the yard. And then he went back out and right away blew a hydraulic hose. Louis made up a new one, and got Mike to run it out.”
“What time was that?”
“Maybe Bea could tell you. I was down in María most of the morning. Buddy or Louis might know. They spent most of the morning on that twin-screw that we got in shop.”
“So Larry would have eaten lunch here in the shop?”
“I guess so. Hell, I don’t know. He might have drove down to the Don Juan. Sometimes at the Country Club. Maybe he went home.”
“And then over to Highland after lunch sometime.”
Tony nodded, thinking it through. “What time are you thinkin’ that all this happened?”
“The original call to 911 came at seventeen minutes after three. The grader’s engine was running but in neutral. No sign that Larry ever had a chance to move an inch.”
“Jesus. This is a crazy world. Something like this happening here, for God’s sakes. I mean in the big cities, you know. But here?”
“We have our moments,” I said. “Did Larry have any arguments with anybody here at work? Were you aware of any friction between him and, well, anyone else?”
“Larry minded his own business,” Tony said. “He can drive anything with wheels, and is the best heavy equipment operator we got. He can grade a dirt road so it feels like you was drivin’ on pavement, for Christ’s sake. He don’t give a hard time to any of the kids we got workin’ for us now. Some of the young bucks can do some pretty stupid things, you know. Larry, he just laughs it off and does his best to keep ’em on the straight and narrow.” He held his hands parallel. “I can’t even imagine who’d do a thing like this, Bill.”
“Anything you can tell us is a help,” I prompted. “Anything at all. Did you and Cheri get together with Larry and Marilyn much?”
Tony took a moment before answering. “Not so much, no. They’re always here when we have some special thing, you know. But other than that, we kinda…”
“Keep to yourselves?”
“That’s right.”
“In the past few years, did Larry have any disciplinary actions against him for anything?”
“What sort of things do you mean?”
“Anything at all. Any infraction that you noticed. Any unexplained absence from work. Drinking on the job. Money problems. Anything.”
“That’s all his business, don’t you think?”
I took a long, deep breath. “Tony, Larry was a county employee. He was killed while on the job, in the most cold-blooded way I can imagine. We’re going to find out who did this thing, believe it. And I’ll do whatever that takes, Tony. One of the first things I want to establish is a victim profile. Like anybody, I’m sure Larry Zipoli had his share of secrets.” I paused, then decided to hell with it. “In a homicide investigation, we’ll look for links where ever we can, including all the demons in the closet.”
Now that the word was out, floating around the office while Tony Pino tried to cope with it, I pushed him just a little. “We need to see his personnel records, Tony.”
“Marilyn don’t deserve any of this,” he said quietly.
“No, she doesn’t. And neither did Larry, for that matter. But some son-of-a-bitch doesn’t get to pull the trigger on him, and then just walk away. That isn’t going to happen.”
“Jesus.”
“If you want, we’ll go through the records here in the office, but it would be a whole lot better if we could take them over to our casa for a thorough review.”
“I just don’t think I have the authority to do that.”
“Well, you do, Tony. You’re the boss.”
“If I don’t give you the records, you’ll get a warrant?”
“Yes.”
“Then I guess that’s what should happen, Bill. You know, I hate to play hard-nosed about this, but we should probably follow all the rules.” He shrugged. “Maybe by tomorrow, then?”
I smiled good-naturedly, as if that was all just fine with me. “May I use your phone for just a moment?”
Tony reached out and shoved the multi-buttoned console toward me. “Any line that isn’t lit,” he said, and I nodded my thanks. T.C. Barnes in dispatch answered promptly.
“T.C.,” I said, “ask Sheriff Salcido to give me a call ASAP.” I gave him the Highway Department’s number. “If he’s out in the car, have him either call me, or stop by. If he’s out of reach somehow, have one of the deputies track him down.”
“I think he’s over off Hutton talking with folks,” Barnes said. “I’ll reach him somehow.”
“ASAP,” I reminded Barnes. “Send someone over there if you have to. I’ll be at the Highway Department until I hear from you.” I replaced the receiver gently.
“I hate to be a prick,” Tony said with a regretful shake of the head. “But I’d tell Eduardo the same thing. The personnel records are confidential…”
I held up a placating hand. “Not to worry, Tony. The sheriff is not going to argue with you. Either he or I will go for the warrant, and we’ll get all this moving on down the road.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Well, we do. We need to look at the records, the sooner the better. You’re absolutely correct, Tony. A warrant is the proper way to make sure all the i’s are crossed and the t’s dotted. That lets all of you off the hook.” He didn’t look amused or mollified.
&nbs
p; “We can get all that stuff together for you,” he said again. “Whatever you want.” Somehow, Tony Pino didn’t understand that tomorrow wasn’t good enough.
“That’s okay. I’ll wait.” I didn’t bother to explain that I wanted the records untainted by helpful, editing hands. I’m sure he was smart enough to figure that out.
Chapter Twelve
I’d never earn that sunny smile from Bea Summers again. She struck me as one of those fine women who was a jewel until crossed, and then your name was forever engraved on her shit list. The eyes went glacial, the glances toward Estelle Reyes and me were fleeting and cold. Apparently the issue wasn’t so much an urgency to explore every avenue in the life of Larry Zipolil, even if that was what was necessary to find out who killed him. But nobody likes to be strong-armed. The gray filing cabinet that held the personnel records was their turf, not mine. Bea Summers wanted me to know that.
My hand-held radio squawked, and I pulled it off my belt. “I’ll take it outside,” I said to Estelle, and she understood and settled into one of the gray metal chairs just inside the office counter. I didn’t mind her overhearing my conversation, but I also wanted her eyes glued to those filing cabinets during my absence. Not that I didn’t trust Bea or Tony, of course. But turf is turf.
“Go ahead,” I said into the radio as soon as I cleared the door and switched to channel three, our most restricted, car-to-car frequency.
“Bill, what do you have going on over there?” Eduardo Salcido’s tone was its usual sing-song, even over the radio waves.
“We’re going to need to look through Larry Zipoli’s personnel records, Eduardo. “ Despite the restricted radio channel, I didn’t want to go into details of our discovery in Larry’s truck. “Can you talk a warrant out of Judge Smith?”
“Tony won’t give you the records?”
“Reluctantly, at best. I don’t want to argue with him and make an enemy. He’ll feel better with paper. So will the DA when all is said and done.”
“You want that now?”
I chuckled. “Yes. I don’t want there to be an opportunity for anything to go missing, Eduardo.”
“Oh, they’re not going to do that.”
You gentle old soul, I thought. “When you drop the warrant off, I’ll show you something interesting,” I said, adding some additional bait so he didn’t sink into mañana land.
The sheriff had his thumb on the transmit button quickly enough that his sigh came through loud and clear. “Ten four, then. I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks. We’ll be waiting.”
Back inside, Bea Summers was trying to find something on her computer, and I leaned casually on the counter, watching. “Are most of the department’s records computerized now?” I asked, going for my most pleasant and innocuous tone.
“I wouldn’t trust these things with a birthday party invitation.” Bea’s tone was brittle, but she glanced my way and the corners of her mouth twitched. “We hard-copy everything, just like B.C.”
“Who’s B .C.?”
“Before Computers, sheriff.”
“Oh, well of course. We do too.”
“I should think so.”
Tony appeared from his office, hesitated, and then beckoned. “Let me talk to you for a minute, Bill,” he said, and his invitation was singular. Estelle heard it and stayed where she was.
Back in the office, Tony closed the door carefully and took his time settling back in his chair.
“You reached the sheriff?”
“I did. He’s on his way, so we’re all set.” Whether the lugubrious Judge Everett Smith would get his ass in gear was another issue.
Tony fell silent, and I let him think uninterrupted.
“Look, Bill, we’ve known each other a long time.”
“We have indeed.”
“This is just between you and me, now.”
I held up a hand. “I’m here in an official capacity, Tony. If something you tell me has a bearing on this particular case, that information will go into the hopper along with everything else. You need to understand that.”
“Shit, man, I know all that. I’m just asking that you keep this under your hat. That’s all.” Ask me once, no. Ask me twice, yes? My kids used to play that game, and it didn’t work then, either.
“I understand.” I smiled sympathetically. “What I’m telling you is that any information we gain will be used as we see fit. You’re just going to have to trust my judgment.”
He signed and regarded his desk blotter.
“Look, Larry had his share of troubles, you know? Now, I don’t know everything, but I know a little. Money’s tight for them.”
I nodded. On an equipment operator’s salary, even coupled with a bank cashier’s wages, a nice house, nice family, nice boat, nice truck and camper ate up a budget. And that was just if all those nice things sat unused. A weekend trip to Elephant Butte to enjoy fishing, camping, and water skiing took another big chunk.
“You know what I think?” Tony asked rhetorically. “I think Larry was maxed out.”
“You mean money-wise.”
Tony nodded. “You know, last week, he won five bucks in that scratch-off lottery? First thing he did was buy ten more tickets.” He smiled ruefully. “None of them were winners, so he’s further in the hole than before.”
Money troubles that can lead to depression can deepen to suicide, but Larry Zipoli hadn’t offed himself from eighty yards away. “He drinks a lot? Sometimes that can really screw things up.”
“I think so. No,” and he waved a hand impatiently. “I know so. He thinks those damn cigars of his hide it, you know. Well, they don’t.”
“He drank on the job?”
Tony reared back in his chair and hooked his hands behind his head. He gazed at the water stains on the ceiling tiles for a few seconds while he made up his mind. “Yeah, Bill. Couple of times.”
“A couple?” The cooler left in the pickup cab didn’t suggest a couple.
“’Look,’ I told Larry, ‘look, man, you can’t be doin’ this. You can’t be takin’ the booze with you on the job.’” Tony’s hands waved in frustration. “He’d say, ‘Yeah, yeah. I not doin’ that.’ But he was, Bill. He was. And you know, I got to protect the department. So that’s what you’re going to find in the files.
“I wrote him up a bunch of times. The last time was just a week ago. Something like that. I said, ‘One more time, Larry. One more, and we got to let you go.’ And I meant it, too.”
I didn’t believe that for a second.
Tony shook his head sadly. “Last week, over on Nineteen, he hooked the blade on the end of a culvert. He never would a done that before. Took us the rest of the morning to fix what he done. And yeah. I wrote him up.”
I hadn’t taken any notes, hadn’t had a tape recorder running, and apparently Tony Pino took some comfort in that. “So what now?”
“Just what I said before, Tony. We see what comes out of all this. There’s three routes this can take.” I held up two fingers. “One, his death is an unfortunate, unthinking, careless accident. Somebody let fly from across the way, and Larry was sitting in the wrong place at the wrong time. Two, it was a deliberate act of vandalism, and maybe the shooter didn‘t know Larry was sitting in the machine. The angle of the sun, all that.” I took a deep breath and held up the third finger. “And three, someone shot Larry Zipoli deliberately. One shot.”
“Who would do a thing like that?”
“I have no idea. If I did, I wouldn’t be sitting here, enjoying your hospitality.”
“All this drinking business…that comes out, it’s going to be hard on Marilyn, you know.”
“Of course. Right now, it’s anyone’s guess whether anything about Larry’s personal life is connected to his death.”
To
ny shook his head and expelled a long, heart-felt sigh. “I sure wouldn’t want your job right now.”
“Sometimes I don’t want it either.”
His philosophical expression brightened. “The young lady you got riding with you…she’s a looker. She living out there with old Reuben?”
“Actually, I don’t know where she’s living.” I realized as I said that just how little I actually did know about Estelle Reyes. What was supposed to be a simple across-the-desk interview with a new hire had turned into something else, but I was okay with that. I was finding out far more about the young lady than any conversation would offer.
Despite the logistical problems of finding a judge and talking him into executing a warrant with short notice, Eduardo Salcido managed the challenge in less than an hour.
He didn’t exactly say, “I don’t want to know” when he delivered the warrant, but he didn’t get out of the car or offer to come inside and commiserate with Tony and Bea. “I got some things on the burner,” he said, and let it go at that. “What are you diggin’ up?”
“Larry was into the sauce, Eduardo. To the point he was carrying both beer and whiskey in his county truck.” I nodded across the bone yard at the orange Dodge.
The sheriff’s face scrunched up in genuine sadness. “What makes you think…” He hesitated and looked up at me with one eye comically closed. “So what’s the connection?”
“Damned if I know. But it’s something to follow up on. I want to see his files. Tony tells me that he wrote Larry up a time or two for drinking on the job. I want to see just how many times.”
“Why didn’t Tony just fire him?” Salcido asked in wonder. “What’s so hard about that? Well, don’t answer that…I know how hard it is.”
I straightened up. “It’s just somewhere we need to go, Eduardo. You never know.”
“No, you never do.” He nodded. “You do what you think is best, jefito. I got somebody over on Hutton who heard the shots, by the way.”
One Perfect Shot Page 9