Bad Country: A Novel (3 page)

So, who is this little fella, Garnet? asked the sheriff. You know most of the hands and half the stock in Los Jarros, don’t you?

That’s probably about the right percentages, Ray. But I don’t know this one.

Looks sorta like an Indian but he’s not an Apache or Pie Face from around here. He’s not one of your Pascua Yaqui, is he?

No. He doesn’t look like one of my tribe, said Rodeo. He’s a Mexican Indio, would be my guess.

He’s a Wet then, said the sheriff. But I can’t see one of your Illegals walking across Sonora and keeping his new clothes clean. The sheriff stood and stared down at the dead man. Jeans have still got a Walmart sale tag on them, don’t they.

Rodeo nodded and adjusted his lean against the truck so his sore back absorbed some of the heat stored there.

The sheriff glanced around again. Why not just drag him back across the road and dump him into the arroyo and let this country work him down to bones with nobody the wiser?

Maybe somebody wanted him found, said Rodeo.

Goddammit. Less than five hundred murders in all the state last year, said the sheriff. And now we might have almost a handful of Unsolveds in the last few weeks just here in Los Jarros.

Buenjose Contreras honked the horn and rolled down the window of his SUV.

State Highway says they’ll send a grunt from Traffic over here for crime scene perimeter if you want, Sheriff, and then SIU can get a evidence van over here but not for two or three hours, said the deputy. Medical Examiner is getting around to getting out here asap as soon as possible too, but Doc Boxer and them are all wrapping up at the Boulder Turn-Out just now so …

Hell, it’ll be dark before any of them gets here, said the sheriff.

Nothing I can do about that, Sheriff.

Nothing you can do about anything, Buenjose, said the sheriff.

The deputy rolled up his window and the sheriff tipped his cattleman’s to block the westering sun and looked at Rodeo’s casita in the near distance.

You say your house was locked or unlocked when you got back home here, Garnet?

I didn’t say, Ray. I hadn’t even been over there yet.

Anybody else got a key to your house?

Luis does. My lawyer had a key to the storage shed but I changed that lock … Rodeo hesitated.

And Sirena Rae? Did my daughter ever get a house key to your place out here when y’all were living together in Tucson?

I never gave her one …

Rodeo quit talking.

But you wouldn’t put it past Sirena to lift one and make a copy?

No, I wouldn’t, Ray, said Rodeo.

I wish that girl had just stayed in school, said the sheriff. He took in and let out a big breath of hot air. She had a full free ride academic scholarship at Arizona State, you know. The ones reserved for genius level. But she was too damned lazy to even go to her classes.

I know about her, Ray, said Rodeo.

Water seeks its own level, doesn’t it?

Usually at the lowest point, Ray. Rodeo changed the subject.

Why would anybody in particular want in my place anyway? he asked. Even with keys to the one door you’d only be in a old house full of worthless shit except for the gun safe.

Which is uncrackable, right? asked the sheriff.

My safe’s rated T-30 but there’s nothing an intelligent person can’t do with enough time and the right tools, Ray, you know that. He thought for a moment. But no Law Enforcement, not you or your deputies or State or Federal ever comes around here. Not even the watchdog vigilantes ever comes to The Hole, so anybody could operate out here at their leisure when I’m on my yearly vacation if they had a mind to.

You got all your guns in that safe?

I got guns all over the place, Rodeo said.

That’s another sure sign of your intelligence, Garnet.

What’re you looking for, Ray?

At this point I’m looking for anything, the sheriff said. Because I seriously cannot make hide nor hair out of the killings around here in Los Jarros lately. Mostly all killed by shotgun and all left near roads not dragged out into this desert. He looked around at the barren landscape and shook his head. They’re not drug hits, I don’t think. And they’re not relative-murders. All’s I can figure is that they’re all Indians of one type or another that are getting killed. But Conquistadors and Cavalry are all gone now, so who’d want to kill Indians just to kill Indians these days?

I don’t know, Ray.

All right then, said the sheriff. Just sit in your truck till the Medical Examiner and Special Investigations and State Highway Patrol … and God knows who-all else in Law Enforcement get out here. Then we’ll see what in hell everybody in the world has to say about this here.

It’s getting late, Ray. I want to go home.

Humor me, Garnet.

Rodeo reentered his pickup, leaned his head back on the bench seat, laid a hand on his agitated dog and within a couple of minutes both the man and his dog were asleep.

*   *   *

The Arizona Department of Public Safety Highway Patrol “grunt” arrived in a blue-on-white Ford Crown Victoria with no siren on but bubble lights swirling red and blue. The AZDPS cruiser parked behind Rodeo’s truck. The single patrolman got out, put on his stiff Statie hat and walked to the Sheriff. He jerked a thumb at the corpse.

Looks like one dead man and one dead vulture, Sheriff Molina. Was it a shootout?

The sheriff ignored the joke.

Where’s the CSI van at, Ted?

The Special Investigations Unit is still on scene at what you all call the Boulder Turn-Out, said the policeman. I came to secure this scene but I see you already got your Number One Lady Detective on the job. The state trooper inclined his flat-brimmed hat at the County 4 × 4 where Deputy Buenjose Contreras was talking into his private cell phone and lighting a fresh cigarette. You’re not in a big hurry with this investigation, Sheriff Molina?

He’ll keep, the sheriff said.

It’s your county, Sheriff, said the trooper.

It is that. The old lawman scratched his chest as if his heart itched. For better and for worse.

Rodeo stepped out of his truck and walked over to Sheriff Molina and the AZDPS cop.

Do I know you from somewhere? the patrolman asked.

I don’t know who you know or where you been, Officer, said Rodeo. So I couldn’t say.

The sheriff grunted. You two jokers ought to get along just famous, he said. This is Ted Anderton. The sheriff looked at the state trooper and then nodded toward Rodeo. And this is the homeowner near the scene of the crime as it were, name of Rodeo Grace Garnet.

Neither man attempted to shake hands.

Do you work in this area, sir? The policeman’s voice was artificially polite. His stare at Rodeo also verged on the impolite.

Garnet here is a famous private eye, Ted. You know the drill. Citizen goes online, takes a test or two and gets a bounty hunter license, buys some handcuffs, lots of guns and Tasers and a flak jacket then starts calling himself a cop—

You’re the private investigator who beat Charles Constance to death several years ago. The state trooper interrupted the sheriff and stared at Rodeo.

Garnet’s also the man who found Charlie Constance out when nobody else in Law Enforcement could, including your own Arizona Special Investigations Unit and the entirety of the USA FBI, said Sheriff Molina. And so some down here in this county consider what Garnet did to Charlie Constance a public service. The sheriff moved half a step closer to standing between the Statie and the PI. But however you see it, since no charges were ever filed against Garnet the Constance Case is dry water under a old bridge we don’t speak of anymore around here. The sheriff squinted at the state patrolman. If that suits you, Ted.

The Statie turned to look at the corpse near the gates.

Can you identify this deceased, Mr. Garnet, or do you have knowledge of the other recent murder victims in the area?

Who’s that, Officer? asked Rodeo.

One, the recent victim found under the interstate overpass. Two, the vic at what you local people call the Boulder Turn-Out on Agua Seco Road. There was also a third death, down in Sells a few weeks ago, a young man shot with an unidentified .38. Plus this vic makes four. All these murders within the last few weeks are within the boundary of Los Jarros County. That’s an inordinate number of murders for such a small, isolated area and in such a compressed time span.

That kid down in Sells that was gutshot near the Dairy Queen, he was from up at Lake Havasu, Ted, said the sheriff. You know how shorthand we are in Los Jarros but I did my diligence and sent Pal Real up there to the Lake to interview the vic’s people.

Did Deputy Real make any pertinent discoveries?

No he did not, said the sheriff. That victim was just a regular kid for nowadays. Had some little job at a convenience store and spent the rest of his day playing those video games they play and jacking off to porno, Pal Real said.

What was that vic doing in this area? asked the state trooper.

Kid had some cousins on South Tohona O’odham Res and was down here in our country for a little powwow somebody had going on near the border, said the sheriff. His cousins and kin in Los Jarros and up at the Lake were all clean too, except for DUIs of course. They all said the kid was just going out for a walk and to have a smoke, probably some reefer he was smoking, and he never came back. The sheriff wiped a hand over his face. They found the kid a few hours later, bled out in the barditch not far from the Dairy Queen. But with no computer matches on the slug in his guts and with no way to separate tire tracks and with no witnesses, no motive, no gang connections and nothing on the kid we got nada but drive-by, culprit or culprits unknown. Apache Ray jerked his head toward the nearest dead man. But it’s sure not a .38 gutshot on this one here.

Do you think this vic on Mr. Garnet’s property is an Undocumented Alien? The trooper pointed his thumb again at the dead man in the shadow of the Vista Montana Estates sign.

You might ask Garnet that one, Ted, said Sheriff Molina. He puts water and supplies all over The Hole all the way up to La Entrada on the top of the mountain because he says he don’t like people dying in his own backyard.

And yet here is one, said the trooper. A dead man practically in Mr. Garnet’s backyard.

So he is, said the sheriff.

This crime scene is not on my property, said Rodeo. My property doesn’t start until past these gates here.

You mind if I have a look at the deceased, Sheriff? asked the Statie.

Have a gander, Ted. It’s still a free country for Police.

Officer Anderton removed a squeeze tube of Mentholatum from his shirt pocket and spread a smear under each nostril then moved around the corpse. He pointed at an object just under the right thigh of the dead man.

You recognize this, Sheriff? he asked.

The sheriff moved next to the Statie and looked carefully then shook his head.

Looks like a wing of something, said the sheriff. Wood? Or is it metal?

Is it yours, Mr. Garnet? Ted Anderton asked. Something that could have been in your yard or in your house or could have flown out of the back of your vehicle? An angel wing perhaps from a religious icon? the state policeman asked.

I’m not religious to speak of, said Rodeo. And Apache Ray’s the only icon we got around here.

Anderton stooped near a teddy bear cactus beside the body and touched his gloved fingertip to a small bit of blue plastic.

What you got there, Ted? asked the sheriff.

Butcher’s apron maybe? Anybody doing a slaughter around here lately?

They’re always killing goats for the Mexican meat markets over at Slash/M, said the sheriff.

You know anybody at the Miller Ranch, Sheriff Molina?

There’s not many people in this little county so I pretty much know everybody there is to know, Ted. That’s why I’m still sheriff.

We’ll need to bag this as evidence. Anderton stood and put his hands on his hips. Because if there’s blood other than human or alongside human on this plastic that might be interesting.

It might be, Ted, said the sheriff. It’s always funny to me what you procedural types find interesting.

I want to get to the house and get my dog fed and my AC turned on so we can sleep tonight, Rodeo said. So unless y’all need my services further or want to arrest me I’d care to be on my way now, if that’s all right?

I’m just a traffic cop, said Anderton. Here to stretch out some yellow tape and wait for the Big Boys from the Special Investigations Unit.

Just come on by the courthouse tomorrow, Garnet, and make your statement to Pal Real, said the sheriff. If my other deputy even shows up to work, that is.

You gonna be in the office tomorrow, Ray?

If I’m feeling better I will be. Mercedes might be bringing some chicken and fry bread for lunch I heard, the sheriff said. I’ll tell her to save some for you either way, so ask after it.

All right, Ray. Rodeo nodded at Ted Anderton. The state cop nodded back and watched Rodeo leave.

*   *   *

Rodeo and his dog rode the quarter mile to the casita and parked next to the “front” door on the side of the house. Rodeo got out and began unlocking the stainless steel gear box in the truck bed to get to more of his weaponry. The toolbox was standard heavy duty from Sears but was welded onto the bed of the truck and protected by heavy gauge Master locks defended in pig-iron cages. Rodeo raised the box lid on well-oiled hinges and pulled a modified 10-gauge Browning pump loaded with rubber buckshot from a pile-lined nylon case bolted to the cabside of the storage box. He also extracted from the truck lockbox his compact defense pistol, an aluminum frame NightHawk .45 and slid its nylon clip holster onto the back right side of his tooled leather belt. He shut down the gear box and relocked it, jacked a 10-gauge shell into the chamber of his abbreviated shotgun, slung his Leica binoculars around his neck and began his reconnaissance.

He walked around the house. Several new rabbit corpses were curing in the dirt at the bottom of the dry swimming pool alongside the turquoise remnants of the fiberglass diving board and a couple of deflated basketballs. The basketball goal he had set up on the shuffleboard court was still leaning sideways where his former girlfriend, Sirena Rae Molina, had plowed one of her sheriff daddy’s vehicles into it and the plywood backboard was strafed with shotgun pellets where she had unloaded a double barrel.