The Big Gamble - Michael Mcgarrity [93]
“I’d like you to look at some pictures,” Kerney said, handing over the photographs Sal Molina had left behind last night.
Pearson held the photos in the light. She shook her head at the one of Gene Barrett, identified Luis Rojas, and held up the last photo. “That’s Raymond.”
The image of archconservative state senator and attorney Leo Silva stared back at Kerney. According to Sal Molina, Silva was licensed to practice law in New Mexico, Colorado, Arizona, and Texas, and was affiliated with law firms in El Paso, Phoenix, Denver, and Houston.
He now knew that Piño and Vialpando were right, Silva was the fifth partner.
“I need you to write out a statement covering what we discussed yesterday and today,” Kerney said.
“All of it?”
“Yes.”
“Then what?”
“When the time comes, I’ll present it to the district attorney and ask that you be treated as a confidential informant. He might agree to avoid bringing you before a grand jury.”
“You can guarantee that?” Pearson asked.
“Not yet,” Kerney replied. “But if I gather a few more facts it might be possible.”
It took some time for Pearson to write her statement. Kerney sat with her at the kitchen table, refreshing her memory as needed. She kept her head down as she wrote, stopping to look up when Kerney spoke, absorbing what he said like a schoolgirl taking class notes. It made her look innocent and vulnerable.
Kerney decided there was a deep reservoir of goodness in Helen Pearson, and that she deserved to have her new life protected.
Kerney left Pearson and his headache behind with a promise to keep her informed. Outside, a stiff spring wind blew dust through the evergreens and rolled a few brittle leaves across the gravel driveway. Downtown, the thick stand of poplar and Russian olive trees surrounding the state capitol building swayed in the wind, bare branches clacking together in erratic patterns.
Bill Perkins, the legislative staffer who had pulled Norvell’s per diem reimbursement voucher at Kerney’s request, was in his office. A financial analyst, Perkins evaluated funding and appropriation requests for a number of state agencies, including the state police. Kerney had worked with Perkins during his tenure as deputy chief of the department.
A cheery fellow, Perkins had a shock of curly brown hair and an exceedingly high forehead. He gladly made a copy of the paperwork and handed it over. According to the document Norvell had signed, the senator left Santa Fe just about the time Montoya disappeared.
“Do you archive office records for individual legislators?” Kerney asked, slipping the copy into a pocket.
“Only official documents, not their personal stuff.”
“Who was Norvell’s secretary back then?” Kerney asked.
“I don’t know. Remember, office staffers for legislators are temporary personnel. They only work during regular or special legislative sessions. That information is in another office, and I’ll have to look it up.”
“I’ll wait,” Kerney said.
Perkins grinned. “Is that all you’re going to tell me?”
“Can you do it on the q.t.?”
Perkins made a gimme motion with his hand. “Come on, Chief, fill me in.”
“I wouldn’t want to damage Senator Norvell’s reputation by starting rumors that have no basis in fact,” Kerney said.
“It’s gotta be something.”
“Yes, it does.”
“Cops,” Perkins said, shaking his head and getting to his feet. “They never tell you anything. Hang on, I’ll pull the file.”
Perkins came back with a name and address. “Alice Owen,” he said. “She was a jewel. One of the best of the office staffers.”
“Was?” Kerney asked.
“Retired,” Perkins replied. “Hasn’t worked the sessions for five, maybe six years. I see her around town every now and then. She’s doing the grandmother thing and some charity work.”
Kerney rang the bell at Alice Owen’s house. The door opened partially, and a petite woman, probably