Exit Wounds - J. A. Jance [52]
“Good,” Joanna said.
Together they sorted through one photo after another, twenty or so in all—photos taken before and after the bodies were removed from the scene, along with enlarged photos of shell casings with their telltale antique markings. Joanna was disappointed in the material. She had hoped for something definitive. Other than some footprints and the possibility of fingerprints, the New Mexico authorities didn’t have any more to go on in this case than Joanna’s people had in the Carol Mossman case. Even so, when they had finished with Deputy Valentine’s packet of photos, Dave Hollicker passed along the flimsy collection of Mossman material.
“I don’t think we’re dealing with a terribly sophisticated or organized perp,” Frank Montoya theorized as Valentine thumbed his way through the new set of crime scene photos. “If he was, he never would have left his brass lying around like that, to say nothing of brass with prints on it.”
“I agree,” Ernie said. “He may not be organized this minute, but at the rate he’s going, he won’t stay disorganized for long.”
“Right,” Jaime Carbajal added. “It could be he’s somebody who’s been thinking about killing people for a long time and he’s only just now started.”
“But he’s off to a big start,” Ernie said. “Right this minute the death toll stands at three. If he keeps up the pace, I’d hate to think how much damage he might do between now and Monday morning.”
“And he may not have started here,” Joanna put in. “Sheriff Trotter is having his people check points east looking for cases with similar MOs. I told him we’ll look west of here. If we can come up with any other recent cases that might be connected, we’d at least have some idea of what direction he’s going in.”
Valentine finished sorting through the Mossman material and then stuffed it into the now empty folder he’d brought with him. “I’d better take this and head home,” he said.
“Sorry there’s not more,” Joanna told him.
“That’s okay. It’s better than nothing.”
“Well, guys,” Joanna said, turning to her officers once Deputy Valentine had left the room. “What do you think?”
“Sounds like we’ve got a big problem,” Jaime Carbajal said.
Ernie nodded. “The sooner we find this guy, the better. The trouble is, we spent a big chunk of today dealing with Richard Osmond when we should have been chasing Carol Mossman’s killer.”
Joanna nodded in agreement. “That’s what I think, too. This is too serious to let sit fallow over a three-day weekend. Overtime or not, we have to have people tracking on this tomorrow and Saturday both.”
“Count me in,” Jaime said.
“Wait a minute,” Ernie objected. “Don’t the Coyotes have a big game tomorrow?”
Jaime Carbajal coached a Little League team called the Copper Queen Coyotes. Pepe Carbajal, Jaime’s twelve-year-old son, was the Coyotes’ star pitcher.
“Yes,” Jaime said, “but not until mid-afternoon. Why?”
“I’ll tell you what,” Ernie said. “The Fourth of July is for kids. I’ll take your on-call. You spend the day with Delcia and Pepe. I’ll come in and work.”
“Thanks, Ernie,” Jaime said, “but phone me and keep me in the loop.”
“Don’t thank me,” Ernie added gruffly. “I’ll see to it that we even up eventually.”
Joanna appreciated the effortless way in which the two detectives sorted out the scheduling arrangements.
“Now tell me,” she said. “Did you finish the Calhoun and Braxton interviews?”
“Sure did,” Ernie said. “And it looks like we’re in the clear on those. Osmond never said a word to either one of his cell mates about not feeling well. We’ve got no notations of him asking to see a doctor or of his going to the infirmary, either. I’m guessing the situation just snuck up on him. Took him by surprise same as it did everybody else. And, if you ask me, it’s a pretty good way to go. Not in jail, mind you, but to just lie down to take a nap like that and…poof…you’re out of there.”
“I have a feeling that Marla and Gabriel Gomez won’t necessarily share your benign view of the situation,” Joanna said. “You’ll