Steven Havill - Scavengers

“She doesn’t know them well enough to tell?” Torrez said skeptically.

“Distance,” Estelle said. “And maybe squirrelly light. And maybe a little denial thrown in.”

“I guess.” He sighed and put his hands on his hips. “With the kid split to Mexico, there’s not a whole lot we can do, other than asking Naranjo’s boys to make some inquiries for us.”

“And they’re doing that,” Estelle said.

“Good. Bill and I were just tackling the problem of the donkeys,” Torrez said. “And some bad news, by the way.”

“Bad news how?”

“Eleanor Pope didn’t make it.”

Estelle felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach. She reached out a hand to the cool, smooth surface of the wall and stood silently for a long minute. The sheriff waited until she looked up.

“Francis called me just after nine this morning.”

“Ah,” Estelle said. By nine, her mother had decided that the new day held at least a few more promises. Eleanor Pope had given up on any she might have had left. “She took a lot of answers with her, then.”

“Yes, she did,” Gastner said. He took a sip of the coffee and grimaced-whether from appreciation or revulsion, Estelle couldn’t tell. “Somebody made a deal with Billy White up in Belen,” Gastner said. “He was supposed to take a look at the wee beasties this morning, and if he liked what he saw, haul off the whole bunch.” Seeing the blank look on Estelle’s face, he added, “White’s a dealer. White and Sons Livestock. Actually, his specialty is draft horses.” He grinned. “One extreme to another, I supposed. The idea of horse-things about the size of cocker spaniels appealed to him.”

“Who called him?”

“He said that he took a call from Denton Pope earlier in the week. Pope offered the critters for sale.”

“But White didn’t talk with Eleanor?”

“Apparently not.”

“And this Billy White person…he just called you from out of the blue? Had he heard about the fire, or what?”

“No, nothing like that,” Gastner said. “There was a message on my answering machine.” He flashed a quick smile. “A day or two old, I might add. You know how diligent I am about checking that damn thing. Anyway, White had been trying to get in contact with me for a few days, but I’ve been in and out, and we’ve managed to miss each other.” Gastner took another swallow of coffee, and his right hand patted his shirt pocket as if there might be a cigarette there.

“White’s a legit dealer who plays by the rules,” he said. “Denton told him that he had all the paperwork, and I guess White asked him a question or two and didn’t get the answers that he thought he should. He called me to make sure the deal was on the level. To make sure the livestock were as advertised before he drove all the way down here from Belen.”

“Ah.”

“Ah, is right,” Gastner said.

“That’s interesting,” Estelle said, more to herself than to anyone else.

“Yes, it is,” Gastner agreed.

“Did Denton suggest when Billy White would come to inspect the animals?”

“Apparently he did. White said he was supposed to come to Posadas this afternoon.”

“And knowing that, Denton set the place on fire. After turning the animals loose.”

“A truly great mind at work,” Gastner said. “Makes it easy, number one, to tell me that the paperwork for the animals was destroyed in the fire.”

“But there are copies,” Estelle said.

“True enough.” Gastner smiled. “We can excuse a man who would poke holes in a propane line for missing a salient point like that. And number two, my guess would be that Eleanor had no intention of seeing her herd of pets auctioned off. She didn’t call Billy White, after all.”

“If Denton stood to collect on house insurance, his mother’s life insurance, and the sale of the animals, it would have been a clean sweep,” Estelle said.

“Yep. Then Denton could fly off to Tahiti or some such place. And probably never break open another bale of alfalfa in his life.”

“We don’t know about the insurance angle yet,” Torrez said.

“Collins is working on that,” Estelle said. “Just Eleanor’s medical bills alone would have been staggering, even assuming Medicare took care of most of it.” She turned to Gastner. “What are you going to do with the donkeys?”

“They’re sampling a piece of pasture over on Herb Torrance’s place,” Gastner said. “He’s got a paddock with the boards set close enough together that they won’t just slip under and wander off.”

“You have them all?”

Gastner grinned. “I doubt it. But we will. A couple of the neighborhood kids volunteered to play cowboy, helping Herb and his son with the roundup. They think it’s great fun.”

“Has anyone heard from the Fire Marshal’s office?” Estelle asked.

“Todd Paul showed up with a couple assistants,” Torrez said. He glanced at his watch. “I was going over there in a few minutes to see what they found out.”

“Are there relatives, by the way?”

“To the Popes, you mean? No, I don’t think so. At least no one close.”

“There’s a cousin,” Gastner interjected. “Well, her niece, his cousin. Something like that. One of the neighbors thinks that she lives in Denver, but doesn’t know her name. An older woman, they said.”

“We’ll find her,” Torrez said.

“Maybe she’ll want a few ducks for her backyard pool,” Gastner said, and waved his cup at the two officers. “I need to hit the road. If you think of anything else you need from me, just hesitate to ask.” He frowned at Estelle. “You still headed to Mexico this afternoon?”

“Yes. Naranjo agreed to meet with me in Tres Santos. We’ll compare notes.”

Gastner nodded, taking a long, slow breath. “You be careful.”

“Oh sure.”

“And give my best to your mother.”

“I’ll do that.”

Gayle Torrez reappeared, and gave Bill Gastner an affectionate pinch on the arm as he walked by. “Pam Gardiner on two, Bobby,” she said to the sheriff, and Torrez rolled his eyes. His method of dealing with the Posadas Register had so far not progressed beyond the stage of ignoring its presence.

“Why don’t you talk to her?” he said to Estelle.

Estelle smiled. “I’d rather go to Mexico,” she said. They both heard Gastner’s chuckle as he pushed open the outside door.

The telephone caught Estelle in midstride between refrigerator and cooler. For just a moment, she looked at the instrument as if she could make it vanish before it triggered the answering machine on the fifth ring. She set the bottles of chilled juice down on the counter and picked up the receiver.

“Guzman.”

“Estelle, Tony Abeyta.” The deputy sounded as if he were holding his breath when he talked.

“What’s up, Tony?”

“On December twenty-seventh of last year, Mountain Trails Sporting Goods in Las Cruces sold a forty-four magnum Marlin Model eighteen ninety-four lever action rifle to Eurelio Saenz.”

The silence on the line hung heavy for a few heartbeats. The deputy anticipated Estelle’s question. “The salesman remembers mounting the scope and bore-sighting the rifle for Saenz at the time. He remembers that Eurelio had an old scope with him, but that it was much too big for the rifle. He ended up buying another one that he liked better…the whole package. Rifle, scope, rings, and mounts.”

“Uh,” Estelle groaned. “I was hoping that wouldn’t be the case.” She sighed. “Have you passed word to Jackie yet?”

“No, ma’am. I just got off the phone with Cruces. Jackie’s out on the prairie somewhere, sifting sand.”