Slow Kill - Michael Mcgarrity [46]
Putting that issue aside, Kerney still wondered how Spalding had been able to bail out of his financial difficulties so quickly and come up with enough cash to pay for land next to a major shopping mall. Did he have help from a national hotel chain, as Parker reported? If so, why would any large corporation partner with a small-time operator who was about to go broke? It made no sense.
He had Helen Muiz fax copies to Joe Valdez, and took a call from the Harding County sheriff, Luciano “Lucky” Suazo, who reported that his horseback trek along the Canadian to look for Dean at his cabin had been fruitless.
“Nobody’s there,” Lucky said, “and I saw no sign of anybody coming or going.”
“What about his vehicle?” Kerney asked.
“Didn’t see it. His closest access would be at the Mills campground. He’d have to leave his vehicle there and cross the river on horseback or on foot to get to his land. From the campground, it’s two hours by horse, three on foot, to get to his cabin.”
“Are there any other jumping-off points?”
“Yeah, on private land. I’m calling all the ranchers up and down the river now,” Lucky replied. “So far, nobody has seen Dean or his vehicle, and believe me, they’re out there looking.”
“What about the cabin?” Kerney asked.
“Locked up tight, with shutters over the windows. No fresh footprints. Looks like it’s been a couple of months since anyone has been around.”
“Thanks, Sheriff,” Kerney said.
“No need for that, Chief,” Lucky replied. “Just doing my job. I’ll get back to you if anything turns up.”
Kerney hung up and went looking for Ramona Pino, who was in her cubbyhole of an office, fingers clacking away at a computer keyboard.
“I just got off the phone with the Harding County sheriff,” he said, as he sat in a straight-back chair. “Dean wasn’t at his cabin. Do you have any news?”
“Nothing yet, Chief,” Ramona replied. “We’ve got the Denver PD staking out Dean’s ex-wife’s house, and I just finished calling all the airlines. He hasn’t flown out of either the Santa Fe or Albuquerque airports.”
“Did you talk to the ex-wife?” Kerney asked.
“Yeah, and she’s not a big fan of her ex-hubby. She’s about to file against him for failure to pay child support. He’s in arrears for almost fifty thousand dollars.”
“What’s up with the evidence?” Kerney asked.
“The knives are on the way to California,” Ramona said. “Hopefully the lab out there will be able to match one of them to the tool marks on the pill. The stuff I pulled out of the trash bin at Dean’s house had traces of thyroid medication on it, and we lifted Dean’s prints off both packets the drug wholesaler shipped to him. The packet we found in the workshop contained a mixture of all the ingredients Dean used to make the pills. I guess Dean decided to keep his concoction for another attempt on Spalding’s life in case the first batch of pills didn’t kill him.”
“So, where the hell is he?” Kerney asked.
Ramona shook her head. “I wish I knew. Ellie Lowrey has the Montecito estate under observation in case he shows.”
“Okay,” Kerney said.
“I’d like to rework the arrest affidavit on Claudia Spalding and have it ready to resubmit, Chief.”
“What can you add to it?” Kerney asked.
“The only way Dean could possibly have known the specifics about Spalding’s medication and heart condition is through knowledge he gained from Claudia Spalding. Where else could he have gotten it?”
“I agree that it’s a good supposition,” Kerney said. “But a defense lawyer would argue that the information was innocently passed on to Dean by Claudia Spalding. We need something that irrefutably ties the two of them together as coconspirators.”
“We’ve also got the last phone call Claudia Spalding made to Dean at the pharmacy just before he took off.”
“Again, unless we can prove that Claudia actually warned Dean of the arrest warrant, it’s circumstantial. What’s Sergeant Lowrey