Nothing but Trouble_ A Kevin Kerney Novel - Michael Mcgarrity [8]
Kerney called the jail and learned that Johnny had been released on bail. His phone rang just as he was about to dial the hotel.
“Hey, Kerney,” Johnny said cheerfully when Kerney answered. “You should have had that nightcap with me at the bar, then I wouldn’t have gotten into trouble with one of your cops.”
“I just read about your ‘little trouble,’ Johnny,” Kerney said.
“Didn’t the cop call you at home? I asked him to.”
“He had no reason to do that.”
“Even if he had, I figured you wouldn’t give a rat’s ass,” Johnny said sourly.
There was static on the receiver. “Where are you calling from?” Kerney asked.
“I’m on the road, heading home. Can you help me get out of this pickle for old time’s sake?”
“Sorry, Johnny. Get a lawyer to handle it.”
“Is it that cut-and-dried?”
“In my department it is.”
“I thought as much. Even though I’m pissed, I’ll still get that shooting script off to you. It will be on your desk tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll give it a look, Johnny.”
“Good deal. My reception is breaking up. I’ll talk to you soon.”
Johnny disconnected and Kerney spent time running a quick background check on Johnny. In Colorado, Johnny had been cited twice for speeding but had no DWI arrests on his record. The National Crime Information Center showed no outstanding wants or warrants, and there was nothing on him in the New Mexico law enforcement computer system.
Although it appeared to be Johnny’s first DWI bust, it wasn’t something Kerney could take lightly. Because Johnny could be untrustworthy and downright conniving, he decided to pay a visit to the New Mexico Film Office to learn more about the movie project. He wanted to know if it was the real deal or one of Johnny’s pie-in-the-sky fantasies.
Housed in offices on St. Francis Drive, the film office had undergone a resurgence with the election of a new governor who made trips to Hollywood to court production companies to film pictures in New Mexico. Under the governor’s watch new state laws had been passed offering tax incentives and loan subsidies to moviemakers.
Kerney introduced himself to the receptionist, a young woman with light brown hair and plucked eyebrows, and asked if someone could tell him about a movie to be filmed in the Bootheel later in the year.
Somewhat taken aback by Kerney’s uniform, the young woman cautiously asked why he was interested. Kerney told her he’d been approached to serve as a technical advisor on the project, and the receptionist passed him on to the director, a middle-aged woman named Vikki Morrison.
Trim and energetic, Morrison had short blond fluffy hair and high cheekbones. Her office walls were filled with framed, autographed photos of movie stars and posters of films shot in the state. A director’s chair at the side of her desk carried the name of one of Santa Fe’s best-known resident film celebrities. A bookshelf held a display of various shooting scripts signed by cast members, along with a carefully arranged display of copies of a book, 100 Years of Filmmaking in New Mexico.
Kerney explained his personal relationship with Johnny Jordan and asked about the movie project in the Bootheel. Morrison told him that Johnny had been a driving force behind getting the film shot in the state. He’d brokered a deal to use the nearly abandoned mining town of Playas as the production headquarters. In addition to serving as a movie set, the town would house the cast and crew during filming in the area.
Kerney knew about the town through a recent article in a law-enforcement bulletin. Built in the 1970s, Playas had once been a company town of over a thousand people. But when the nearby copper-smelting operations were shut down, it became a virtual modern-day ghost town containing over 250 homes, 25 apartments, a bank building, post office, fire station, churches, community