The Guilty - Jason Pinter [62]
hell were you doing in New Mexico, vacationing?"
"No, sir," I said. "I was following the lead Jack and I touched
on in today's paper. The gun angle. It goes deeper--"
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185
"Did you know about this trip to New Mexico?" Hillerman
asked Wallace.
"O'Donnell made me aware of it last night," he said,
looking at his shoes.
Hillerman squinted his eyes as he stared at me. I didn't
know whether to stare back or let the visual beatdown continue.
"So, Parker," Hillerman finally said. His voice wasn't reprimanding, it was...interested. "Tell us what you found in
New Mexico."
I did a double take.
"Sir?"
"You went there for a reason. I'm hoping you didn't come
up empty-handed."
"Well," I said, clearing my throat, "I was able to identify
the murder weapon as a Winchester rifle, model 1873. That
model is extremely rare, considering Winchester discontinued the gun a hundred years ago. There are barely a few
dozen still in working condition."
Hillerman's eyes widened.
"I figured the gun had to have been stolen from either a
private collection or a museum. Had a gun with that value
been stolen from a collector, they would have filed the requisite insurance claims. There are less than twenty museums
in North America with records of a Winchester 1873. Every
museum still had the Winchester in their possession, except
for one."
"Let me guess. It was in New Mexico," Hillerman said.
"That's right."
"And did you find this museum?"
"Yes, sir, I did. The Museum of Outlaws and Lawmen in
Fort Sumner."
"And?" Hillerman said.
186
Jason Pinter
"After getting railroaded at first by the manager, he eventually confessed that the model they were currently displaying was
a replica, that the real one had been stolen several years back.
They couldn't afford the insurance or security measures and
couldn't risk losing tourist dollars by simply closing the exhibit."
"So the weapon this man has been using was stolen from
a New Mexico museum and then brought to New York where
it's killed four people," Hillerman said. "That's an awful long
schlep, just to use a certain gun."
"Not for this killer. He stole that gun for a reason," I said.
"And why is that?"
"Because the gun he stole used to belong to Billy the Kid."
Hillerman sat back in his chair. The cigar was still hanging
from his mouth, but he seemed to have forgotten about it.
"What you're saying is, this killer is using Billy the Kid's
old gun--as in the Billy the Kid--shoot-'em-up Billy the
Kid--to kill people in New York City."
"Not just random people. He's got a motive, a pattern.
The killer has some sort of connection to either the gun
itself or the Kid."
Hillerman cocked his head and looked at Wallace. The
editor-in-chief hadn't said a word in minutes. Wallace was
between a rock and a hard place: attempting to keep control
of his paper while having to account for his reporter being
eviscerated in articles by their biggest competitor.
"Wallace," Hillerman said. "What do you think?"
Wallace seemed to come to life. "We've already gotten
three calls from Louis Carruthers's office about Jack's ballistics article. Apparently they knew about the similarities
and were hoping to withhold information until further notice."
"But you're saying Henry beat them to the punch."
"That's right."
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187
"And this new information, the possible link between the
killer and the Kid, what have you heard on that?"
"Complete silence from the NYPD," Wallace said. "And
they haven't been silent about anything."
"Which likely means they weren't aware of it," Hillerman
added.
"That's right."
Hillerman again leaned back in his chair, gnawed on the
end of his stogie, then threw the soggy mess into a trash can.
"Here's what we do." His voice was angry, passionate. My
heart was beating faster, my resolve growing stronger. "We
report the living hell out of this story. Henry," he said, "I want
you to chase this down like a goddamn shark smelling blood. I
want you to get Lou Carruthers's office on the line and get the
NYPD's cooperation. Since you