Michael McGarrity - The Judas judge

High cheekbones and a small chin gave him a gaunt appearance.

Kerney stayed at his vehicle and let Clayton take the lead. The man raised his chin in a greeting to Clayton, and they talked briefly before approaching Kerney's unit. He got out to meet them.

"Clayton says you're okay," the man said, looking Kerney up and down. "Is this off the record?"

"Is that the way you want it?"

The man searched Kerney's face before nodding.

"Then it's off the record."

"Clayton said you want to know about Eric Langsford."

"Whatever you can tell me," Kerney said.

"I worked with Eric at the resort, before his mother got killed. We used to drink and gamble together after hours. When he'd get a check from his father's company we'd go on a spree with the money."

"Go on."

"I got fired from the job but kept hanging with Eric at the casino and the racetrack in Ruidoso for a couple of years, until I joined AA and got into recovery."

"And?"

"If he had money and I was tapped, he'd always give me some. I owed him maybe two thousand dollars."

A long stretch of silence prompted Kerney to ask, "Is that it?" The young man glanced at Clayton for reassurance and got a nod. "Once, he asked me to pay him back what I owed, but I didn't have that kind of cash. So he asked me to rob his father's house in Ruidoso."

"When was this?" Kerney asked.

"A little over four years ago, in late summer-August, I think. Eric had me drive him around his father's neighborhood so he could point out the place to me. He said he'd get me a list of things to steal and where I could find them."

"Did he?"

"Yeah, about a week later. He wanted me to do it, like, right away, but I chickened out."

"How did Eric find out what was inside his father's house?"

"He didn't say."

"What did he want you to steal?"

"Jewelry, a coin collection, handguns-stuff like that."

"Handguns?"

Kerney asked. Not one weapon had been found in the search of Judge Langsford's house.

"Yeah, I guess the judge had quite a collection."

"And Eric knew exactly where to look for everything?"

"I guess so."

"What did he say when you backed out of the plan?"

"That he'd do it himself. That he'd ripped off things from his father when he was a kid."

"Did he do the job?"

"I guess so. About a week later, I saw him at the casino betting heavy, and asked if he'd ripped off his old man. He smiled and nodded like it was a big joke."

"Did he say anything?"

"Something about how he could never steal enough from his asshole father to make up for his shitty childhood."

"I appreciate your taking the time to talk to me," Kerney said. "No problem," the man said, as he walked away.

"How did you connect this guy with Eric?" Kerney asked Clayton.

"He told me the story a couple of years ago, after he stopped drinking and got into treatment. I thought it might interest you."

"Eric told me he'd never been near his father or the house in the last six years. Not once."

"So you caught him in a lie," Clayton said.

"Either that, or his brain is just fried from staying stoned and loaded for years."

The half-friendly expression on Clayton's face vanished. "I'm sorry if I wasted your time."

"You didn't. This case is a tough nut to crack. I've got enough motives for a dozen murders, a screwed-up family a shrink described as needing treatment, a suspect who wants to believe he killed his father but can't remember doing it, and no hard evidence that points to anyone else."

"So, you've got no Apache suspects," Clayton said somewhat smugly. "I told you there weren't any."

"So far, you've been right."

"But that won't stop you looking."

"Give it a break. I don't give a damn what the killer's ethnicity is, as long as I catch him." Kerney paused. "I told my wife about you this morning."

"Yeah? How did she take it?"

"She teased me about being an old man with grandchildren."

"That's it?"

"I'd like her to meet you and your family."

"Why?"

"Because she's part of my life."

"Or is she just curious about your bastard Apache son?"

"Believe it or not, that subject wasn't broached. You don't let up on this race thing, do you?"

"Why should I?"

"Maybe you just don't like the idea that your father is a gringo."

"Maybe I don't." Clayton switched his gaze to his unit. "You can follow me out."

"Whatever you say."

Kerney clamped down on his anger as he drove behind the tribal unit.

Butting heads with Clayton was no fun, and yet twice the kid had voluntarily helped the investigation, which meant something. He needed to see beyond Clayton's fierce Apache pride and his leeriness about Anglos.

He smiled and waved at Clayton as he pulled onto the highway, and got a curt nod of acknowledgment in return.

Kay Murray wasn't at her town house, so Kerney drove to the Langsford residence, where he spotted her Explorer parked in the drive. He rang the doorbell incessantly for a few minutes before Murray opened up. Her face was clear of emotion, but anger rose in her voice when she spoke.

"The voyeur cop returns for more fun and games. I have nothing to say to you."

"This isn't a game, Ms. Murray. I understand Judge Langsford's house was burglarized some time back. Were you working for him then?"

Murray's expression turned to puzzlement. "A burglary?"

"A little over four years ago."

"Nothing like that ever happened here."

"Supposedly, Eric broke in and took some of his father's possessions."

Murray laughed sharply. "Did Eric tell you that?"

"Do you have a different version?" Kerney asked.

"Only if you're interested in the truth. Eric didn't break in. He came here demanding that his father give him what he wanted. He even brought a list with him."

"And Judge Langsford complied?"

"Only after Eric refused to take money instead."

"He turned down money?"

"That's right."

"Why?"

"He wanted things the judge prized. He said that writing a check would be too easy."

"He wanted to hurt his father," Kerney suggested.

"I suppose."

"Do you have any ideas on the subject?"

Murray raised her hands in a theatrical gesture. "For past sins. For the death of his mother. For a shitty childhood. How should I know?"

"Or some family secret?" Kerney proposed.

"Every family has them."

"But you don't know what they are?"

"Why should I?"

"How did Eric get Judge Langsford to give him what he wanted?"

"He was half-loaded and waving a gun around."

"So, it was robbery."

"No, and it was never reported to the police. Vernon talked Eric into putting the gun away."

"What kind of gun was it?"

"I don't know. A revolver of some sort."

"What did Eric leave with?"

"Everything on his list. Some of his mother's jewelry, his father's handguns, Arthur's coin collection, and Eric's stamp album. All of it quite valuable."

"How valuable?"

"Eighty, a hundred fifty thousand dollars. In that range, at least."

"That's quite a haul. And the judge just handed everything over?"

"Yes."

"Why would he do that?"

"To get him out of the house, I would imagine."

"Did Eric want anything that had belonged to his sister?"

"I don't think so."

"Did the judge discuss Eric's visit with you afterwards?"

"No."

"Did Eric ever come back here after that visit?"

Kerney took his hand off the front door. "I need a list of the handguns the judge gave Eric."

"I wouldn't know where to look," Kay Murray said. "Go find the killer, Mr. Kerney, and stop wasting your time butting into other people's personal lives." She slammed the door shut in Kerney's face.

Driven by southerly winds, a brown haze of dust and pollution settled over Roswell. The sky was low and dreary, and the mountains to the west were a trivial outline against the horizon. The exquisite, radiant light and the vast conjunction of earth and sky, once so familiar and appealing, were fast becoming a rarity as industry along the Mexican border belched smog that drifted onto the high plains.