Mexican hat (26 page)

THE LIVING ROOM of the ranch house, a wide, deep room with exposed rock walls and an oak floor, was richly furnished. Two tan matching Italian leather couches sat on either side of a fireplace which could easily take an eight-foot log. Scattered over the floor were expensive Navajo rugs. The mantel above the fireplace, a good six feet off the ground, displayed a collection of Zuni pots. An antique side table held a Remington bronze that looked authentic.

Kerney and Jim Stiles sat together on the couch that faced the

2 3 8 ■ Michael M c G a r r i t y

front windows of the room. High up on the wall were mounted heads of elk, deer, and antelope overlooking the room. Charlie Perry sat on the other couch. Behind him was a floor lamp made of deer horns. A bear pelt, complete with head and paws, hung on the wall next to the fireplace.

"Let's have it," Kerney said to Perry.

Charlie pushed his sandy hair up from his forehead and stretched out his legs. "About three years ago the bureau infiltrated the Michigan Militia. Sanderson, the guy who owns the Double Zero, a rich right-wing zealot from Detroit who made his money in insurance, stepped in and helped bankroll the organization. There was nothing illegal about it, but it made Sanderson worth watching.

"He put a hundred thousand dollars on the table and we kept waiting to see how the money would be used. Finally, the money was filtered to a national committee charged with reorganizing state and local militia groups into regional military districts. We have a mole serving on the committee. There are six regional districts already operating. The committee decided to use Sanderson's funds to finance a special project.

"Leon Spence ran a smuggling organization that specialized in bringing exotic birds and animals into the States. The committee approached Spence with a scheme to harvest wild game to supply the Asian market with ingredients for folk remedies. He had an organization in place that could move the product to the right buyers and get top dollar for the goods.

"It was a damn good idea. Hardly anybody knows you can kill a cougar, boil its testicles, and sell the concoction as an aphrodisiac in a third-world country at a big profit. It's been a quiet crime spree that hasn't drawn any media attention.

Mexican Hat ■ 239

"Spence targeted two areas for harvesting—Alaska and south-em New Mexico. Both fit the criteria: small populations, the right kind of wildlife, and not enough cops to cover the wide open spaces. He's been running the operation for the past two years."

"What were the proceeds to be used for?" Kerney asked.

"What every army needs," Perry replied. "Weapons and guns. Nice little toys for the self-proclaimed patriots."

"The crates," Stiles exclaimed.

"Exactly," Charlie confirmed. "All of them filled with illegal armaments."

"Tell me about Spence," Kerney asked.

Charlie laughed. "He's a blue-eyed, blond-haired, Spanish-speaking Mexican, with a green card. His father is the son of a German who immigrated to Mexico after World War 11. His mother is the daughter of the former governor of the state of Nuveo Leon. He went to a military prep school in Georgia and took a degree at Tu-lane in New Orleans. He does a great southern accent."

"Steve Lujan worked for Spence," Kerney prompted.

"Exactly."

"I'd sure like to know how he got paid," Jim broke in. "I couldn't find a money trail."

Charlie chuckled and stood up. "The deposits were made to a bank in the Bahamas. We've got the account impounded along with about a dozen more." He looked at his watch. "We have agents picking up the national committee members and Sanderson right about now. Plus we're shutting down two illegal arms dealers and breaking the back of a whole network of illicit exotic animal traders. This is one for the good guys."

"It sounds like a major bust," Kerney said, standing up so he could look Perry in the eye.

2 4 0 ■ Michael M c G a r r i t y

"Big-time."

"Did Steve Lujan murder Hector Padilla?"

"I can't answer that."

"I'm real happy for your success Charlie, but it doesn't get us any closer to finding out who shot Jim and blew up my trailer."

Perry chewed his lip for a minute before he answered. "Your assumption about Lujan killing Padilla is reasonable. Maybe we can get Spence to confirm it. But if you think Steve came after the two of you to cover his tracks, you're betting on the wrong horse. I don't think Spence would allow that."

"Would Spence do it himself?"

"No way. He was under full surveillance when Jim was shot and your trailer was blown up. He wasn't even in the neighborhood."

"So who is coming after us?" Kerney demanded.

Charlie shrugged his shoulders. "Your guess is as good as mine."

"What about the Catron County Militia? The People of the West? The Free Range Society?"

Charlie smirked. "Take your pick. Look, Kerney, let me make it clear. This operation wasn't designed to round up every pissed-off, angry white male in Catron County who wanted to join the revolution, rewrite the Constitution, or take a deer out of season. We've got a national militia organization developing that could make the Ku Klux Klan look like a bunch of boy scouts in bed sheets, once it really gets rolling. That's our target, and we plan to cut its head off."

"One more question."

"What is it?"

"Did you put a tail on me?"

"You bet I did. You're a loose cannon. I'll let Gatewood know

Mexican Hal ■ 24

we've got a suspect in the Lujan murder and tell him to rescind the arrest warrant on you."

"Gatewood got the warrant approved?"

"He sure did. You're a fugitive."

"Don't tell Gatewood anything."

Jim Stiles gave Kerney a quizzical look. "Why not?"

"What kind of hand are you playing?" Charlie demanded.

"Just a hunch."

"Have it your way," Charlie said.

KERNEY SAT down in the easy chair in Jim's living room wearing a pair of blue jeans that were a tad too tight around the waist and a blue cowboy shirt that fit him pretty well. He was just out of the shower and felt a hell of a lot better after a shave and a fresh change of clothes, supplied by his host.

Jim sprawled on the couch, sipped a beer, and waited for Kerney to settle himself. "Why didn't you want Charlie to tell Gatewood to cancel the arrest warrant?" he asked.

"I don't trust Gatewood," Kerney answered. "He's too eager to make me his prime suspect. Besides, I need an edge."

Stiles rested his head on the arm of the couch. "An edge against who?"

Kerney smiled. "That's the question, isn't it? Tell me about the local militia."

"I don't know who runs it," Jim replied. "They keep a pretty low profile. What I've heard is mostly rumors."

"Gatewood said he knew the leadership."

"Maybe he does."

"Is he connected with them in any way?"

242 ■ Michael McGarrity

"Hell, I don't know."

"Does the name Ulibarri mean anything to you?"

"Sure. Steve Lujan's sister, Ramona Ulibarri. She lives in Southern California with her husband."

"Any kids?"

"Two teenage boys, I think. Maybe a little younger. They visit every summer."

"Do you know the kids' names?"

"No. But the husband's name is Ray. Why are you interested in them?"

"A ELM officer checked with Gatewood after he stopped a kid on an ATV outside of Deming. The kid said he was from Reserve and gave his name as Ulibarri. Gatewood told the officer he didn't know anybody in the county by that name."

"Gatewood knows the family," Jim said. "They only moved to California a short while back."

"Was Gatewood informed of the mountain lion translocation?"

Stiles adjusted his position. "I'm almost certain he was."

"How certain are you?"

"If he reads his mail, he had to know. Santa Fe sends out bulletins to all local law enforcement agencies on every translocation of a cat, with an advisory to inform us if the animal is found dead or killed."

"Then he knew."

"Most likely. Do you think Gatewood's dirty?"

"Gatewood's a politician. He could be anything."

Jim laughed. "That's funny, but I don't think Omar Gatewood would shoot me."

"Maybe he didn't. Maybe he just helped get you shot."

"That's an interesting idea. How do we find out?"

Mexican Hat ■ 243

"Amador Ortiz. His phone call sent you to Padilla Canyon. Maybe somebody encouraged him to make that call."

"Let's talk to him," Jim said as he got off the couch. "I'll go with you.

Before Kerney could answer, the front door opened and Molly Hamilton flew into the room. She glanced at Kerney, sparks flashing in her eyes, and gave Jim a very nasty look.

"Goddamn you!"

"What?"

She walked to Stiles and poked her finger in his chest. "You were supposed to call me, remember?"

44T' "

1 m sorry.

She poked him again. "That's not good enough."

"I think I'll leave," Kerney said, unraveling himself from the chair.

"Stay put, Kerney. I'll get to you in a minute." She poked Jim again. "I've been all over the damn place looking for you, wondering if you'd been shot again, or kidnapped, or something."

"We haven't been anywhere near a phone until just now," Jim explained. "We just got back. We're fine. Stop worrying."

"Shit!" Molly punched Jim in the chest with her fist and dropped her head. When she raised it, the anger on her face had been replaced with tears. "I wish it was that easy to do," she said.

Jim pulled her close in a one-arm hug. Molly didn't resist.

Kerney quietly slipped out of the room and went to the kitchen.

MOLLY SNIFFLED and wiped her nose, Still a little red from crying. She sat with Kerney and Jim at the kitchen table. "Sorry I sounded so bitchy," Molly said.

2 4 4 ■ Michael M c G a r r i t y

"You have every reason to bitch," Kerney allowed.

"You're right. I do. I called Karen Cox this morning after I started worrying about Jim." She shot him a dirty look, and he flinched. "She said Gatewood went over her head to the DA in Socorro to get the warrant signed. She wants you to stay out of Catron County and turn yourself in to the police in Silver City."

"I have no intention of going to jail on a murder-one charge," Kerney retorted.

"I'll bail you out," Jim countered.

"I may not be allowed to make bail," Kerney replied.

Molly wrinkled her nose. "Fine. Jim can harbor you, and you can both be fugitives." She took a slip of paper from her purse and passed it to Stiles. "A lady called for you. She got your message on her answering machine asking about Eugene Cox's wife."

Jim read the name and address. "Emily Wheeler. Pie Town. What did she say?"

"She wrote a book about the Great Depression and World War II in Pie Town. It's a history of her family and friends who home-steaded in the area. It sounds like she did a lot of research. Tracking down former residents, searching public records, interviewing folks, and corresponding with old-timers who had moved away. She published it herself and sent copies to all her friends and relatives."

"Did she say anything about Louise Cox?" Jim asked.

"She won't talk about Louise unless you can prove you're really a police officer. She was quite insistent about it."

Kerney raised an eyebrow. "Go and see her," he said to Jim. "Take Molly with you."

"Right now? It's too late."

"Get her out of bed if you have to."

"It can wait until morning," Stiles argued. "I'm going with you."

Mexican Hal ■ 245

"No, you're not. Take Molly and go to Pie Town."

Jim gave him a stormy look.

"I don't want you with me," Kerney added.

"I think we should do what the man asks," Molly said.

Jim's expression softened when he looked at Molly. "Okay. Pie Town it is."

"Can I use your truck?" Kerney asked.

Jim tossed him the keys. "Don't get busted, for chrissake. At least not until we get back."

"If I'm caught, I'll tell Gatewood I stole the truck," Kerney replied.

AMADOR'S HOUSE was dark, but a quarter mile up the road the Lujan house was filled with people, and a large number of vehicles were parked in front of the chain-link fence. Kerney debated delaying a confrontation with Ortiz and decided to wait and see how long the gathering of mourners would last. He parked Jim's truck out of sight, walked back to the road, and settled under a tree halfway between the two houses. With moonrise several hours away, the night was dark. Above him the Milky Way cut a swath across the sky and sprinkled out into a vast, random pattern.

He heard a car engine fire up, and soon it passed him, traveling to the blacktop highway and turning toward town. More cars began to leave, along with a few people on foot, walking down the dirt road to their houses. Finally all the cars were gone, except for the Lujans', but Amador had yet to appear. Half an hour later, Amador and his three children came out, walked slowly down the road, and veered up the path to their house.

Kerney waited, wondering if Amador's wife was staying with

2 4 6 ■ Michael M c G a r r i t y

Yolanda. He tried to think of a way to separate Amador from the children without announcing his presence, but no ideas came, short of breaking in and yanking him out.

Amador suppHed the solution. The bedroom lights were doused, and within minutes Amador was on the porch lighting a cigarette. Kemey waited until Amador walked into the yard before making a long, looping circle behind the house.

Amador flicked his cigarette away, turned to go inside, and felt the muzzle of a gun pressed against his ear,

"Walk across the road," Kemey whispered.

"You motherfucker," Amador said.

Kemey slapped the barrel against Amador's temple, just hard enough to get his attention. "No talking," he hissed. "Move."

In the darkness under the trees, he ordered Amador to turn around. Ortiz spun quickly, and Kemey hit him hard across the bridge of the nose with the pistol. Amador's hands flew to his face.