Steven Havill - Scavengers

“That’s likely,” Estelle chuckled. “If they need to reach me, I’ll be home, Ernie.”

She hung up and grinned at the pleased look on her husband’s face. “The trouble is, this stuff smells too good,” she said, lifting the lid on the posole . “It makes me want to forget everything else.”

“That’s likely,” Francis said.

Estelle awoke with a start, nearly dumping her youngest son on the floor. She didn’t remember hearing the soft ring of the telephone, but became aware of Irma’s voice out in the kitchen in one-sided conversation.

“ Hijo , we almost had a crash,” Estelle laughed, and Carlos smiled up at her. They were sitting in the tall-backed rocker in the living room, a rocker that was all hard spindles and unforgiving maple armrests-and inexplicably, the little boy’s favorite piece of furniture. She pulled him back up on her lap and wrapped the knitted shawl over his head so that he looked like a miniature Bedouin.

“You stopped reading,” the three year-old said from underneath the shawl. It was just a droll reminder, a bookmark of a comment. Estelle leaned over to retrieve the little boy’s literary passion that particular month. Los Tres Pequeños Jabalíes lay on the floor behind the rocker, just out of reach. She remembered reading the page that included the DO NOT DISTURB sign over the two sleeping Javelinas, comfortable in their house constructed of saguaro cactus ribs. Apparently the suggestion of the pigs’ comfortable snoozing had been effective. She had no recollection of turning the page after that.

She looked at her watch and saw that it was eight-thirty. A half an hour had disappeared somehow.

“That’s because it’s time for bed, querido ,” she said.

“Abuela can read.”

Estelle leaned forward and let Carlos slide to the floor, shawl dragging between his feet. “Abuela’s asleep, hijo .” She collected the book, straightened a bent page, and held it out to the boy. “Take it to bed with you.”

Irma giggled and then she appeared in the doorway, the phone mouthpiece covered with her hand.

“It’s Jackie Taber. Are you home?”

Estelle nodded. “You bet.” She ushered Carlos and his book toward the hallway, taking the phone from Irma at the same time. “I think he’s feeling better,” she said as Irma turned to follow the small moving shawl toward his bedroom. “Jackie, what’s up?”

“But are you feeling better?” Deputy Jackie Taber’s voice was soft. “Gayle said you went home lookin’ kind of punk.”

“Sure. A passing moment,” Estelle replied. “It’s been an interesting week around this place.” In the background, she could hear the distorted, metallic conversations of the police radio.

“Hold on just a sec,” the deputy said. “They’re yackin’ at me.” Estelle made her way back to the rocker and sat down. “Three oh six, go to the phone,” Jackie said, and then to Estelle she added, “Pasquale is trying to reach me. Can I buzz you back in about five minutes?”

“Sure. I’ll be here,” Estelle said, and switched off. She rested her head back against the warm wood of the chair and closed her eyes. Nothing ached, nothing twinged, nothing pounded, but there wasn’t much motivation to move, either. Sitting still felt just fine. In a moment, she could hear the muffled voice of Irma Sedillos in the boys’ bedroom, continuing the harrowing tale of the three jabalíes and their continuing struggle with southwestern building codes and threats from the mangy coyote. Because there were no pleas to start the story all over again, she knew that Francisco was sound asleep. Were her oldest son awake, there would be argument and discussion about every move the jabalíes made.

In less than five minutes, the phone chirped again. Estelle put it to her ear without opening her eyes.

“Guzman.”

“Estelle,” Jackie said, “did Linda find you yet? She had some photos that she wanted to show you.”

“She hasn’t been by. The last I heard was this afternoon, when you two were going back out to see what you could find. Did Dennis talk to the MacInerny brothers, by the way?”

“That’s part of what I wanted to tell you. Dale was home, and we drew a blank there. He doesn’t remember anything out of the ordinary during the past weeks. But Collins caught up with Perry MacInerny at their parents’ home in Lordsburg. Perry remembers hearing shots, but he says that someone is always shooting out that way, someplace. But what stuck in his memory is that a week or two ago, he heard shots in the evening. After dark. That’s unusual enough that he took notice.”

“Was he able to come closer with a date?”

“He told Collins that he thinks that it was a Friday night, two weeks ago. He says he couldn’t swear to it, but he thinks that’s when it was.”

“Did he say why?”

“He said that he stayed late at the pit, working on some piece of cranky equipment. It was getting dark, and he says for a change the wind wasn’t blowing. It was real still. Whatever job he had to do involved lots of oil, and I guess he was eager to take the opportunity to work without blowing sand. He remembers hearing the shots, and he told Dennis that his first thought was that it was probably jack-lighters over east somewhere.”

“Did he count the shots, by any chance?”

“We should be so lucky,” Jackie said. “More than one, he said. He thought it was hunters. That’s about as descriptive as he was willing to get.”

“That’s interesting,” Estelle said. “If it was dark, how could Perry see what he was working on?”

“He told Collins that he’s got a light that he strings from his pickup truck. Plugs into the cigarette lighter.”

“I’m impressed,” Estelle said.

“What…that he’s got a light?”

“No,” she chuckled. “That Collins thought to ask in the first place. There’s hope, maybe.”

“Maybe.”

“Dennis had to drive to Lordsburg to talk with him, though?”

“Apparently so. He said he didn’t want to do it over the phone, and didn’t want to wait until Perry came back late tonight. Deputy Collins brought back a signed deposition, on top of that.”

“I’m doubly impressed,” Estelle said, amused when her remark brought no comment from the other end of the line. That Jackie Taber didn’t hold Dennis Collins in particularly high regard was no secret, but they rarely crossed paths. Jackie preferred the dark times and solitude. Dennis liked the political visibility of daylight.

Jackie’s voice dropped another decibel, barely more than a whisper. Estelle shifted the phone so that she could hear. “But here’s the deal,” and she hadn’t finished the sentence when the police radio blared in the background. “Just a sec,” Jackie said, and her voice drifted away as mike replaced phone. “Three oh one is ten-seven, just coming up on Pershing Park.” The park was in the middle of the village, two good stone throws from the Public Safety Building and dispatch.

“Ten-four, three oh one.”

“Let me turn this radio down so I can hear,” Jackie said. “There’s two points of good news, actually. Perry MacInerny said that the day after he worked on the rock crusher, or whatever it was, he had to buy a couple parts for it. He says he’s got the invoice in the office at the gravel pit, and it would have the date on it. Collins was going to check with him and get a copy. If his memory is accurate, that date will give us something.”

“That’s good. What else?”

“The photos that the woman took from the airplane show a double set of tracks, Estelle. They’re pretty clear. They come in from the east, and one photo shows them clearly enough that we were able to establish the point of origin from a roadway.”