The Big Gamble - Michael Mcgarrity [100]
Clayton looked miffed.
“Speak your mind,” Hewitt said.
“Are you talking to me as the sheriff, or as a politician?” Clayton asked.
“You really need to learn to be a bit more diplomatic, Deputy,” Hewitt said firmly. “Norvell and I sit on opposite sides of the political fence. Even if that weren’t the case, I wouldn’t give a shit. First and foremost, I’m a cop. If he’s dirty, then he’s dirty.”
Clayton dropped his gaze. “Sorry about that. I don’t do very well at being subtle.”
“No, you don’t. Now, we’re going to have to contain this investigation and keep it focused on the Ulibarri homicide. Since Staggs hasn’t surfaced, your best bet is that Deborah Shea woman. Since she’s a whore, she shouldn’t be all that hard to find. She lied to alibi Rojas, so you need to pull her in and break her down.”
Clayton nodded. “What about the prostitution ring?”
“That’s way outside the scope of what we can handle on our own,” Hewitt replied. “Besides, what’s happening in El Paso is outside of our jurisdiction. When the time comes, we’ll turn your findings over to the appropriate Texas state authorities, not the El Paso police.”
The phone rang. Hewitt picked up, listened, and told his secretary to put the call through.
“How are you, Chief?” he said as he smiled and sat back in his chair.
Chief who? Clayton wondered, watching Hewitt’s smile gradually fade. Hewitt reached for a pencil and started busily scribbling notes, his eyes signaling surprise as he listened.
Although the call didn’t last long, time dragged as Clayton waited.
Finally, Hewitt dropped his pencil and said, “We’ll see you first thing in the morning.”
He hung up and looked at Clayton. “Seems we don’t have to worry about limiting our scope. The Santa Fe police investigation into the Montoya homicide has led to the creation of a multiagency task force, and we’re in on it. The targets are Rojas, Norvell, his sister, two Albuquerque state legislators, and a member of the Tully family. They’re looking at a whole range of possible state and federal felony charges. Chief Kerney wants everything we have on Rojas, Norvell, and the Ulibarri homicide faxed to his deputy chief right away. Plus he wants your assistance on the Montoya case. He’ll brief us here tomorrow at seven a.m.”
Clayton looked at the thick file in his lap. “I better get started.”
Fidel was restless and irritable. Except for a couple of quick trips to buy some food and take a leak, he’d been sitting outside the sheriff’s office all afternoon, still waiting for the Indian cop to come out of the building.
He called Rojas with the news that nothing was happening, hoping he’d get to go home. Instead, Rojas wanted him to stick with the cop for one more day, which was a total downer.
Around dusk the cop got into his unit and drove away. Fidel followed at a distance. It was easy to keep the four-by-four police car in view with its high profile and rack of roof lights without trailing too close behind.
The cop turned off at the reservation village just as darkness fell. Fidel decided it was too risky to follow. He parked and waited across the road near a Catholic church for a couple of hours, in case the cop reappeared. He played some music and counted passing cars to keep his mind occupied.
When the cop didn’t show, Fidel decided to bail and head to his motel room. He’d be back at first light. Small-town cop work sure must be boring, he thought as he sped down the highway.
Chapter 13
Kerney didn’t do well in motels; he missed his own bed and pillow. He’d rolled into Ruidoso last night at a reasonable hour, hoping to catch up on some sleep. But Sara’s harsh annoyance about his bullheadedness and the prospect of facing Clayton’s negativity made for troubled dreams that woke him off and on throughout the night.
At six a.m. Kerney called his office to get an update. Helen Muiz had pulled her people in at five a.m. to finish preparing the