Nothing but Trouble_ A Kevin Kerney Novel - Michael Mcgarrity [130]
“What kind of vehicle was he driving?”
“I think it was a Dodge truck. Extended cab. He had the saddle in the backseat.”
“That’s helpful information. Do you know if he was competing in the rodeo? If so, that could narrow our search.”
Martinez shook his head and reached for the mug. “He didn’t look like a contestant.”
“Was anyone with you at the diner who saw the man?”
Martinez tensed his shoulders, pulled his hand back from the mug, and gave Kerney a hard look. “No. Why didn’t you ask me all these questions at the corral when you made such a big deal out of admiring my saddle?”
Kerney smiled reassuringly. “I had no reason to question you then, Mr. Martinez.”
“Yeah, but that didn’t stop you from thinking I was some sort of criminal because I’ve got a custom-made saddle.”
“If you had told me all this at the ranch instead of trying to flee, we could have avoided inconveniencing you.”
Martinez drained his coffee and wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt. “You cops always think the worst of people.”
“Unfortunately, that’s often the case. I’ve a few more questions about the truck the man was driving. Whatever you can recall could help us find him.”
Martinez said the truck was black in color. He said it had a chrome rear bumper. He said the truck had a diesel engine. He recalled hearing it when the cowboy drove away.
Kerney wrote it all down.
Leo stepped into the room, gave Kerney a folder, and left. Kerney scanned the information. Martinez owned a manufactured home on an acre of land in Hachita that he’d bought outright over a year ago, and was making monthly payments on a top-of-the-line new four-wheel-drive pickup truck. He had two bank cards and a gasoline credit card, and the monthly transaction records showed that he paid the balances in full regularly.
All in all, Martinez had been living quite well over the past several years, an unusual circumstance for someone in a traditionally low-paying occupation.
Martinez leaned forward in his chair. “What’s that you’re looking at?”
“Just some additional information about the saddle,” Kerney lied. “Did you know it’s worth almost five thousand dollars?”
“That much?”
“Yeah,” Kerney said as he scanned Martinez’s credit card purchases. “It was taken from a saddlemaker’s shop in Duncan, Arizona. Ever been there?”
“I’ve passed through it once or twice. Not much there worth stopping for.”
“That’s what I hear.” Kerney stood and waved the file folder at Martinez. “Now that we know who the rightful owner is, the saddle has to be returned. I’m afraid you’re out the thousand bucks you paid for it.”
Martinez shrugged and smiled. “Easy come, easy go. Like I said, I bought it with money I won gambling.”
“I’ll tell the sheriff to cut you loose. If you like, you can wait in the reception area. I’ll give you a ride back to the ranch.”
“No jail?”
“That’s right.” Kerney patted Martinez on the arm. “You’re a free man.”
He escorted Martinez to reception and then dropped in on Leo.
“That was quick,” Leo said from behind his desk. “Did he confess?”
“I didn’t even try to take him that far.” Kerney handed Leo the gasoline-credit-card transaction report. “Look at the dates of his gas purchases. Every two weeks he fills up his tank, drives to Phoenix, Ruidoso, or Albuquerque, and then gasses up again for the return trip home on the same night. What kind of ranch hand does that kind of traveling, especially at night during the week? Or has the kind of money to buy a house outright?”
“None that I know of.” Leo brushed his mustache with a finger. “He’s making deliveries. But what kind, and why to Phoenix, Ruidoso, and Albuquerque?”
“I don’t know.”
“So why not lean on him?”
“Because it would only tip our hand. If his pattern holds, Martinez will be on the road again soon. I’m betting another plane will be landing at the Sentinel Butte Ranch any day now. If so, we can take down Martinez, Shaw, and the supplier all at once.”
“You’re talking about a stakeout.”
Kerney nodded. “It needs to be put in place as soon as possible.”
Leo scratched