Steven Havill - Statute of Limitations

“It’s what the county commission and the village trustees want to do,” Estelle said. “It’s really as simple as that. Naturally, from an administrative standpoint, there are some advantages for us by putting everything under one roof. That makes some things easier.”

“Some things?”

“Sure. Some. Not all. Nothing’s perfect. And remember that it isn’t really consolidation, Frank. That’s what we all call it, but it’s not really that. The village dissolved its police department, and contracted the county for services. That’s a little different than consolidation.”

“You’re a good politician, you know that?” Dayan laughed, and pushed himself out of the straight-backed chair. “There’s a bunch of things I need to do. I’ll get out of here and let you enjoy your Christmas morning,” he said. “Where are we at with the two morons from Indiana?”

“We’re going to fit in a prelim with Judge Hobart this morning sometime. Just as soon as we can. I think that Tom Pasquale is going to handle that chore.”

“What’s next, then?”

“We’ll be meeting with the district attorney…probably tomorrow or Monday. We’ll just have to see. There are some communications that are necessary with the folks in Indiana, too.”

“You think he’s going to set bail pretty high? Interstate flight risk and all that?”

“You’d have to ask the judge about that, Frank.”

“Oh, sure.” He took a deep breath. “That’s like petting a rattlesnake. How about if I check with you tomorrow. How about that?”

“That would be good.” She rose and offered a warm smile to Dayan. “I know I’m not terribly forthcoming, Frank. But we have a lot that’s pending, and until some basic decisions are made…”

“I know how it works,” Dayan said. “I’ll be in touch. Would you holler if something major erupts?”

She nodded and stood behind her desk for a moment, well past the time when his footsteps had faded down the hall. Eventually she realized that Deputy Brent Sutherland was standing in the doorway of her office. He leaned against the doorframe as if content to see how long Estelle was planning to remain lost in her thoughts.

“Hola, Señor Brent,” she said, and shook her head to bring the present time and place back into focus. “Thanks for staying on. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem,” the young deputy said, although the resigned expression on his face said that wasn’t quite true. “How’s the sheriff?”

“Not so good, I think,” Estelle replied. “They’re going to fly him up to Albuquerque in a few minutes.”

“Ouch.”

“Yes, ouch.” She moved out from behind her desk. “I saw on the duty board that Tommy Pasquale has switched with Dennis for the day?”

“Yes, ma’am. Sergeant Mears okayed that. Dennis wanted to go to Phoenix to spend Christmas with his mom and dad, and Pasquale didn’t have any problems about working today. Linda was coming in this afternoon anyway. She and Bill Gastner were going to figure out where to start. With her working, Tom thought he might as well do the same.”

“Ah,” Estelle said. “ Padrino is a bad influence, I can see that.” She speculated that holidays meant little more to Bill Gastner than just another irritating day when his favorite restaurant might be closed. A long-time widower, he didn’t take the opportunity of the holidays to visit any of his own four adult children and their families.

Looking as if dispensing more good news might win him a reprieve, Sutherland said, “Sergeant Mears wired up three computer terminals in the conference room that all tie into the main server. They’re all set to go. Linda was going to check everything out this afternoon when Gastner got here.”

“What about Mike?”

Sutherland smiled. “He said he might duck in for a few minutes before he and Janet headed to Lordsburg to see his folks.”

Former sheriff Bill Gastner had agreed to head up the records project if Deputy Mike Sisneros, a former village patrolman, worked with Linda Real and himself as a team. Estelle had agreed, even though she was loath to tie up Linda with the job, since Linda was the department’s most talented photographer and Gayle Torrez’s assistant office manager.

She pulled the cell phone from her belt as it chirped.

“Guzman.” She could hear the thunderous roar in the background and knew instantly that it was the twin turboprops of the air ambulance.

“ Querida, we’re on the way,” her husband said, his voice unnaturally loud. “I’ll give you a buzz from the hospital a little later, all right?”

“Sure. And I was serious about taking Sofía to Albuquerque, oso. Let me know if you get yourself stuck up there. We’ll come rescue you.”

“We’ll just have to see,” Francis said. “I think they’re dead-heading the plane back to Cruces after they drop us off, and if they do that, I’m going to lose my ride.”

“Then let me know. How’s Bobby?”

“Riding comfortably, and cranky as ever. I’m optimistic, but we’ll just see how this all goes.”

“Be careful.”

“You got it. Love you, querida. ”

“Y yo a ti,” she said, and rang off. Brent Sutherland had retreated back to his world of radios, phones, and computers, and Estelle stepped out of her office in time to see Deputy Jackie Taber heading toward the staff workroom.

“All quiet?” she called, and Taber stopped short.

“I think so,” the deputy said, and looked heavenward. “I escorted the ambulance over to the airport. They got off all right. I was thinkin’ that a good rap upside the head might make the sheriff a little easier to manage.” She patted the telescoping baton on her belt. “He’s a real trip.”

“He just prefers to be the one carrying the stretcher, rather than riding on it,” Estelle said.

“Can’t argue with that,” Jackie said. “Being pampered ruins his Mr. Indestructible image.”

Estelle laughed. “You’re going to do up a sympathy card?”

“You bet,” Jackie said with relish. An artist of considerable talent, the deputy enjoyed turning her pen and ink to caricatures of the department when the need arose. “Real sympathy. I started on it as soon as I heard.” She propped her briefcase on one knee and opened it, pulling out a drawing tablet. She swept the tablet cover back and offered it to Estelle.

The rough pencil sketch showed the sheriff in a hospital gown that was far too short, lying in bed amid an enormous tangle of hospital paraphernalia, with various roughed-out figures gathered around the bed. Estelle recognized Perrone’s slicked-back hair and large nose, as well as Gayle Torrez’s trademark ponytail. The figure on the bed was recoiling in horror from the apparition who was approaching the foot of the bed…a figure who was unmistakably Leona Spears. The large woman, her muumuu flowing, carried a hospital cafeteria tray. you just need some mothering, was printed in neat architectural block letters above Leona’s head. Her name tag included the tiny legend, county manager.

“You’re cruel,” Estelle said. “What a way to find out.”

“He doesn’t know about Leona yet? The rest of the world does.”

Estelle shook her head. “I don’t think so. He would have said something to me if he did.”

“You want me to hold off?”

Estelle thought for only a second. “Nah,” she said, and nodded at the artwork. “That’s delightful. He’ll treasure it, I’m sure.”

Jackie laughed as she slipped the drawing pad back in her briefcase. “Treasure it all the way to reassigning me to Siberia,” she said.

“To the day shift, more likely.”

The deputy looked up in mock horror. “Spare me, please.”