The Big Gamble - Michael Mcgarrity [42]
“No way, Kerney,” Sara replied.
“Why not?”
“Because I can’t teach both you and our child to swim in a lap pool, and I want something all of us can enjoy. Get that knee fixed and I’ll have you ready to compete in a Senior Olympics swimming event within a year.”
“You say the sweetest things.”
Sara giggled. “I know it. Make sure the pool is heated, so we can use it year-round.”
“I didn’t think of that. When should I schedule the surgery?”
“At the latest, before your son learns to walk, so you can keep up with him. Preferably sooner.”
“Son?” Kerney asked, caught completely off guard.
“That’s what I said. The ultrasound confirmed it today.”
Kerney sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Is that all you can say?” Sara asked.
“I’m flabbergasted. I’m grinning from ear to ear. I don’t know what to say, except let’s try for a daughter next time.”
“One of each would be great, wouldn’t it? But slow down, Kerney. Let me get through one pregnancy at a time. Besides, we might find that one child is all we can handle. Just ask the architect to revise the plans to include the swimming pool. I want to make sure that it’s perfectly sited.”
“I’ll call him in the morning.”
“Say good night.”
Kerney did as told and went to bed thinking of what it would be like to raise a son, and actually get to be a father.
Finished with a review of all the evidence and information that had been gathered during the day, Clayton and Paul Hewitt lapsed into silence. Except for an on-duty dispatcher, the men were alone in the offices. It was deflating when all of the known suspects in a homicide investigation had airtight alibis, and that seemed to be the situation.
Luis Rojas and Ned Halloran, the two men who’d flown to the game in private planes, had arrived home before Ulibarri had been killed, and their whereabouts had been accounted for by no fewer than three independent sources each, including airport personnel in Phoenix and El Paso and business associates.
One of the guests at Casey’s Cozy Cabins admitted to taking Ulibarri to the Ruidoso Downs Racetrack about ten in the morning and said they’d played video poker at the track casino for several hours. The second guest showed up to play the ponies just before televised off-track betting from California began. Surveillance tapes showed that both men were still at the track long after Ulibarri left to go back to his cabin to get himself murdered.
Neither man professed to know where Ulibarri had gone or what he’d planned to do after leaving the racetrack casino.
Tredwell had agreed to let his client account for his activities during the time of the murder. Staggs had taken his car in for warranty service at the dealership, where the discovery of a leaky oil pan made it necessary to keep the vehicle for several hours beyond the scheduled appointment. Staggs had waited until it became apparent that parts would have to be ordered and the car kept overnight, getting a ride home from the lot boy. The parts manager, service manager, mechanic, and the lot boy all put Staggs at the car dealership before, during, and after Ulibarri’s estimated time of death.
“All we’ve got is a staged crime scene,” Clayton finally said, looking at the photograph of Ulibarri’s body with his belt undone, his pants unzipped, and his cowboy boots placed neatly together on the floor. “Telling us what?”
“Don’t know,” Hewitt said, rubbing an eye. “Maybe it’s not a message meant for us. Maybe it’s not even staged. Tomorrow, let’s see what we can learn about Johnny Jackson.”
Clayton nodded. “I’ll also contact the FBI to see if any similarly staged homicides have been reported.”
“Yeah,” Hewitt said.
“Yeah,” Clayton echoed, his mind blank, his body weary.
A quiet, dark house greeted Clayton upon his arrival home. In the living room he removed his weapon, ejected the magazine, and locked both in the gun cabinet where he kept his hunting rifles. He heard Grace shush him, turned around, and found her sitting in the recliner with Hannah cradled in her arms, fast asleep. She