A Treasure Deep (21 page)

Sergeant Montulli sat opposite him and seemed
as comfortable as if it were his own dining room table. Next to him
was an olive-skinned Hispanic man. A thin mustache decorated his
lip. He wore a white shirt and silk tie. He’d also worn a blue suit
coat when he entered the room. Once inside, though, he quickly
removed the coat and set it on a chair. His shoulder holster
dangled menacingly, but Perry recognized it as a cheap theatrical
ploy meant to intimidate him. But Perry Sachs didn’t scare
easily.

“My name is Detective Tony Sanchez,” the
officer said, with just a hint of an accent. He struck Perry as an
intelligent man who was confident in his skills. “I’m with the
Homicide Division of the Kern County sheriff’s department. I assume
you already know Sergeant Montulli.”

“Yes,” Perry said.

Sanchez pushed a button on a small tape
recorder in the middle of the table. “We will be recording our
conversation, Mr. Sachs.” It was a statement of fact. Sanchez was
not seeking permission. He first gave his name as well as the names
of Montulli and Perry. He then stated the time and the date.

“Mr. Sachs, you understand that this
conversation is being recorded,” the detective continued.

“I do.”

“Do you also understand that we have asked
you here as part of our ongoing investigation into a murder?”

“Yes.”

“Although you are here at our request, you
understand that you are not under arrest at this time and that our
goal is merely to gain information that will help us solve this
case. Is that true?”

“It is.”

“Although you are not under arrest, we have
taken the precaution of reading you your Miranda rights. Have you
been advised of your rights?”

“I have.”

“And do you understand those rights?”

“I do.”

“For the record, please state your name and
occupation.”

“My name is Perry Sachs.” He spelled it. “I
reside in Seattle, Washington. I am the vice president of Sachs
Engineering and the director of field operations.”

“Sachs Engineering is a family
operation.”

“Partly,” Perry said. “It was founded by my
father, who still serves as president and CEO.”

“How long have you been associated with Sachs
Engineering?”

“Since high school. I came on full time after
graduating from college.”

“And which college is that?”

“I took an architectural degree from MIT and
did post-graduate work in civil engineering.” Perry saw Sanchez
raise an eyebrow.

“I went to Yale, myself,” Sanchez said.

“I’m sorry,” Perry said with a grin.

“I played baseball. Did you play sports?”

Perry knew he was attempting to establish
common ground, make the interviewee feel comfortable. He would be
more likely to make a significant slipup. “Lacrosse.”

“Ouch,” Sanchez said. “Rugby with sticks.” He
leaned over the table and continued. “You are currently involved in
construction work on the property of Hector and Rose Trujillo. Is
that correct?”

“No.” Perry said and waited a moment for the
surprise answer to sink in. “Exploration and excavation. There’s a
difference.”

“Really?” Sanchez probed.

“Construction has to do with building. We are
erecting no structures.”

“All right then, I sit corrected. You are
currently involved in excavation and exploration on the property of
Hector and Rose Trujillo. Is that correct?”

“It is.”

“Are they aware of the activities you are
conducting on their site?”

“They are.”

“How are they aware of those activities?”

“We entered into a contract with them that
allowed us exclusive rights to undertake our survey and
exploration.”

“Were they recompensed for the privilege you
received?”

This man talks like a lawyer, Perry thought.
“We were happy to pay for the privilege.”

“How much were they paid?”

Perry shook his head. “Since that’s a
personal matter, I would feel uncomfortable divulging that without
receiving permission from the Trujillos.”

“We can subpoena that information,” Sanchez
shot back.

“I’m sure you can,” Perry said evenly. He
said nothing more.

Sanchez nodded, seemingly unperturbed by
Perry’s remark. “This morning you found a body on the site. Is that
correct?”

“It is.”

“Please explain how you came to find the
body.”

Perry did, beginning with the early morning
visit to the site, the removal of the tarp, and the discovery of
the corpse. He also related the events that followed up to the
moment he was asked to sit in the interview room.

“The body was found in a pit dug by you and
some of your crew. Why did you dig there?”

“Our surveys revealed an object underground.
We investigated.”

“And what did you find?”

“The same thing you found when the coroner
removed the body. I assume the coroner has removed the body?”

“He has. I must admit it gave him quite a
jolt. He was expecting only one body. You could have warned us
about that.”

“I was already down here, Detective. Sergeant
Montulli was interviewing us then.”

“Did you kill the man found in the pit?”

It was an abrupt question, and Perry knew it
was meant to throw him off guard. “No. Neither one of them.”

“Do you know who killed the victim? The one
not inside the coffin, I mean.”

“No.”

“There was a trowel in the man’s back. Do you
know to whom that trowel belongs?”

“It’s one of our tools,” Perry said. “In
fact, I was using it the night before.”

“So your fingerprints would be on it?”

“I doubt it. I was wearing work gloves.”

“What are you searching for up there?”
Sanchez asked bluntly.

“I’d rather not say.”

“You don’t have that choice, Mr. Sachs,”
Montulli piped in.

“I have the right to remain silent. You said
so yourself.”

“Such a tactic might imply guilt on your
part,” Sanchez said.

“Implied guilt is not the same as guilt,
Detective.”

“Sergeant Montulli tells me that word around
town is that you’ve found some kind of treasure trove. That could
be a powerful motive to kill a man.”

“I didn’t kill him.”

“Where were you last night?”

“After I left the site, I went to my room to
do some paperwork.”

“And you stayed there the whole night?”

“No. I went out once. About eight, I think it
was.”

“You went out? Did you meet anyone? Where did
you go?”

Three questions all at once. Sanchez was
getting eager. “Yes. Yes. A place called O’Tool’s.”

Sanchez looked at Montulli. “A pub just off
the main drag. Pretty nice place.”

“So you felt the need for a couple of beers
after a hard day of tomb digging?”

Perry sighed and pursed his lips. “Did you
learn your sarcasm at Yale or the police academy?”

“Just answer the question, Mr. Sachs.”

“I felt no need for beer, Detective. I don’t
drink. I went there because someone asked me to meet there.”

“Who was that?”

The image of Anne Fitzgerald seated in the
booth drinking scotch straight up flashed in his mind. For some
reason, he felt a need to protect her but couldn’t avoid the direct
question. It was wasted chivalry, he decided. O’Tool’s was a public
place, and the mayor drank there by her own choice. “Anne
Fitzgerald.”

Again, Sanchez looked to Montulli. “She’s the
mayor and a local real estate broker.”

“You met with the mayor? If I asked her about
it, would she confirm that meeting?”

“I can’t speak for what another person will
or will not do. However, I know of no reason why she wouldn’t.”

“Did anyone else see you there?”

“Everyone in the room, I suppose, but I know
none of their names. You could talk to the cocktail waitress. She
would remember me. She was amused that I ordered orange juice.”
Perry described her.

“I’ll do that,” Sanchez said. “I understand
that you had some things stolen from the site.”

“Some survey documents.”

“Who would want to steal them?”

“I don’t know. Maybe someone who read the
local paper. It seems everyone thinks we’re sitting on a cache of
gold.”

“Are you?”

Perry shrugged. “I doubt it.”

“Then what’s so valuable that an engineer
from Seattle would bring in thousands of dollars of equipment and
men?”

“I can’t say.”

“Can’t or won’t.”

“Both.”

Sanchez leaned back in frustration. Perry
could see that he was about to speak again when the door to the
room opened. A uniformed deputy stood at the threshold and motioned
for Sanchez and Montulli to step outside.

The best he could tell, Perry was alone for
the moment, depending on who, if anyone, was standing on the other
side of the mirror. Not prone to depression and familiar with
setbacks, Perry nonetheless felt an overpowering despair. He had
been

so close, and now mountains of obstacles
stood in his way. But there was more to what he was feeling than
depression; there was a sense of foreboding, something he was
unfamiliar with. Something was wrong; something evil was at work,
and he couldn’t identify it.

In many ways Perry felt as if this journey of
discovery had been plotted out for him—and as if someone was
dedicated to making him fail. Too many coincidences; too many
unexplained events. Coming upon the attack on Dr. Henri in the
early morning six months ago; meeting his wife, Claire, and her
exceptional child, Joseph; the mysterious satchel and the
life-changing item it contained; the interference of the mayor; the
sensationalist newspaper article; the crowds and a murder. There
was darkness surrounding this light, and for a moment, it seemed
that the darkness might win.

He closed his eyes and tried to drive the
uncertainty away. He was not beaten, not yet at least, and, God
willing, he wouldn’t be. This work was a mission, and God wouldn’t
let him down. Not now.

Still, despair tried to ease into his life,
pushing through the tiny cracks of doubt that threatened his
courage. He took a deep breath and let the image of the room
disappear from his memory. Once that evaporated, he pushed away all
other thoughts. “Trust God or don’t,” he told himself. “Make up
your mind. Is God in control or not?” Perry reminded himself that
God had not given up on him. And he wouldn’t give up on God.

A silent prayer floated from his mind.

The door opened with a whoosh and slammed
against the wall. Perry jumped at the sound of it.

Sanchez plowed in like a steamship crushing
through a wood pier. Montulli was on his heels. “Guess what we
found, Mr. Sachs.” The detective threw several Polaroid snapshots
on the table. “Know what these are?”

Perry pulled the pictures closer.
“Binoculars, for one. The other looks like a parabolic dish with a
microphone. It’s probably a listening device. What does this have
to do with anything?”

“They were found at your site.”

“My site?”

“Yup. We had deputies searching the area.
They found this about a hundred yards from the pit you dug. Someone
had you under surveillance.”

“You’re not suggesting I killed him, are
you?”

“It’s a good motive. You’re working, talking
about your treasure or whatever it is you’re hunting for, and then
learn your secret is out, that someone has found out.”

“Let me get this right,” Perry said. “I find
out that someone has been watching us, I kill him with one of my
own tools, carry his body a hundred or so yards across an open
pasture, dump it in the very place I’m trying to protect, then
forget to go back for his equipment. Is that what you’re
suggesting?”

Sanchez said nothing, but Perry could see
that he got through.

“Then how do you explain it?”

“Have you identified the victim?”

“He had no ID on him, but we will discover
who he is—was—soon enough.”

Perry stood. “Gentleman, I’ve been patient,
and I’ve tried to be helpful. I have spent hours waiting on you to
do your work. That’s fine, but I’m not under arrest; I’m calling it
a day.”

“Don’t go far, Mr. Sachs.”

“I’m not leaving the area, Detective. I need
this resolved more than you do.”

ANNE GAZED THROUGH the two-way mirror and watched
Perry Sachs stroll out of the interrogation room. A moment later
the door to her observation room opened, and Montulli entered.
“Satisfied?” he asked.

“With what? His answers? He’s cool under
pressure, I’ll say that for him.”

“I meant with getting your wish to watch the
interrogation.”

“Being mayor ought to have some perks.”

“Just don’t let those perks get in the way of
this investigation. I like you, Mayor, but I won’t sacrifice my
career for your curiosity. There is a limit to the latitude I will
allow, even if you are the mayor.”

“I appreciate that, Greg. Your warning is
understood.”

“You caused quite a scene up at the site. We
were lucky that Sanchez hadn’t arrived yet. He’s a by-the-book guy.
Having you at the crime scene wouldn’t have been healthy for my
career.”

“Did he do it?” Anne asked. “Did Perry Sachs
kill that man?”

“I doubt it,” Montulli replied. “I don’t
think he’s the type. He’s one of those religious people.”

“What makes you say that?”

“He as much as admitted it when I arrived on
the scene this morning. You know the type.”

“Yes, I do. I know the type very well.”

“ALL RIGHT,” Dr. Curtis said. “Someone needs to fill
me in and do it soon.”

“This wasn’t the trip you had in mind?” Jack
jested. He pulled a large slice of pizza from the pan.
“Explanations are Perry’s domain.”

Perry set his soda down and looked at the
people around him. They were at Pizza Joe’s, indulging in an early
dinner. He’d chosen the place because of its proximity to the motel
and because he needed a place to be alone with his key
crew-members. The manager had been gracious enough to open the back
room for them, so for the moment they had privacy.