Michael McGarity - Serpent Gate

Using the services of the best plastic surgeon in the state, Pletcher had removed a good twenty years from his seventy-five-year-old face. He was eccentric, vain, and one of the most interesting people Kerney knew.

Kerney sat up, stared groggily at Fletcher, and looked at his wristwatch. He'd been asleep for an hour.

"What is it?" he asked grumpily.

"There's a very impressive looking policeman sitting in my living room demanding to see you."

"Who is it?"

"Andy Baca. You don't smell very nice, Kevin. What in the world have you been doing?"

"Delivering a foal," Kerney grumbled as he reached for his boots.

"It was a difficult birth. Both mother and child are doing fine."

"I'm glad to hear it. Policemen do such interesting work." Fletcher put his hand on Kerney's shoulder to stop him.

"Shower and change first. I will not have you trailing that barnyard smell into the house."

"Don't be so picky, Fletcher. You made your reputation as an artist painting barnyard animals."

"How they look on canvas and how they smell are entirely different matters. Go shower. I'll keep the good Chief Baca entertained. Do you think he likes gay old men?"

"Andy's straight."

"Pity," Fletcher said.

"Give him your best pitch, anyway," Kerney replied as he walked to the small bathroom.

"Maybe you'll change his point of view on the subject."

"I may just do that," Pletcher said, closing the door on his way out. kern by entered the living room to find Andy Baca sitting in a Mexican colonial chair while Fletcher stood in front of the corner kiva fireplace explaining the history of the twelve framed nineteenth-century Japanese fans that climbed the wall above the franco. On the other side of the fireplace was Fletcher's large portrait of a Holstein dairy cow bordered by hand-stenciled hearts.

Andy looked a bit nonplussed and uneasy, which made Kerney feel a little better about being yanked out of a dead sleep.

"What's up?" he asked Andy when Fletcher finished his discourse on the history and rarity of the fans.

Andy stood.

"I'll tell you outside."

Kerney sank onto the Mexican colonial couch opposite Andy's chair.

"Whatever it is, tell me here so I can go back to bed when you're finished."

"You don't have time to sleep, Kerney. The art collection at the governor's office was ripped off early this morning. I need you at work, now."

Kerney sat up on the couch.

"The entire collection?"

"Everything."

"Any leads?"

"Not yet," Andy answered.

"I figure it to be an inside job."

"What makes you say that?" Fletcher asked.

Andy eyed Pletcher uncomfortably.

"By the way it was done, Mr. Hartley."

"I see," Fletcher said.

"I certainly wouldn't want you to divulge confidential information.

Chief Baca, but as I recall, Governor Springer had a very valuable collection of art in his offices."

"You're familiar with the collection?" Andy asked.

"Partially," Fletcher replied" Do you have a complete list of what was taken?"

Andy glanced at Kerney, who nodded in Fletcher's direction. He got up and gave the list to Fletcher, who read it quickly and handed it back.

"The Dixon and the Sharp paintings, I arranged to have purchased by the museum when I was director. The O'Keefie paintings were donated to the museum by Georgia herself. Everything that was taken must be recovered. They are treasures much too valuable to lose."

"You were director of the fine arts museum?" Andy asked.

"For many years."

"Fletcher may be able to help," Kerney suggested.

"I insist upon it," Pletcher said.

"First, I must contact the International Foundation for Art Research in New York and the Art Loss Register in Great Britain. I'll need photographs along with a copy of the list. I can send the information to them by computer."

"How does that help?" Andy asked.

"It alerts the international art establishment worldwide.

If any queries are made to a reputable dealer offering to sell one of the pieces, it will be reported immediately."

"That could make a difference," Andy said.

"But there's no time to waste on our investigation," Fletcher added.

"After the first forty-eight hours, ninety percent of stolen art is never recovered."

"That's not what I want to hear," Andy said.

"Nevertheless, it's true. Do you have an officer who specializes in art thefts? Preferably someone who knows the local dealer network and has a background in art?"

"Kerney is about as close as I can come to an expert," Andy answered.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Kerney said.

"That will have to do," Fletcher said.

"Kevin has a good general knowledge of art." He turned to Kerney.

"And I know the dealers. I will contact them on your behalf. It will save a good deal of time."

Before Kerney could reply, Andy got to his feet.

"I'll draw up a consultant contract. We'll pay you for your services."

Fletcher waved off the offer.

"I don't need the money, Chief Baca. Let's just say I'll assist the departent in making some inquiries."

"This is real life, Mr. Hartley, not a cozy British mystery."

"I view this crime with great seriousness, Chief Baca, and have no intention of treating it lightly."

"What do you need to get started, Pletcher?" Kerney asked.

"As I said, a copy of the list and photographs as soon as possible.

I'll contact the research foundation and the Brits as soon as I have it. I'll start talking to local gallery owners to see if any have been approached to buy art from suspicious characters, or have been asked for off the-cuff appraisals on works by the artists in question."

"I'll get a packet to you right away," Kerney said as he stood up.

"Send it over with one of those handsome gay officers," Fletcher said.

"I don't think we have any," Andy replied.

"Oh, you are very much mistaken. Chief Baca." kerney got in Andy's unmarked police cruiser and closed the door.

"Do I really have gay cops working for me?" Andy asked.

"Why shouldn't you?" Kerney replied.

"Besides, this is Santa Fe, the city different."

Andy shook his head in disbelief.

"I don't even want to think about it. How did you meet Fletcher?"

"Outrageous, isn't he? But he's sharp, talented, and a sweet guy.

When I was with the Santa Fe PD, Fletcher had a California boyfriend-one of those dumb, good-looking muscle boys. Fletcher wouldn't increase his spending allowance, so he ripped off Fletcher's Japanese fan collection. It's worth a small fortune.

"I caught up with the perp when he tried to sell the fans to an Albuquerque antique dealer. The dealer sent him away, tipped me, and I picked up the suspect when he went back to close the deal. It was an easy bust.

Fletcher has always been grateful."

"How grateful?" Andy asked with a grin.

Kerney grinned back.

"Don't try to be funny, Andy.

You know my taste in women."

Andy groaned in response.

"Yeah, the type that always seems to leave you."

Kerney thought about Karen Cox, the ADA he had worked with in Catron County.

"That's not true. They just don't seem to be interested in long-term relationships."

"Whatever. By the way, you did a damn fine job on the Gillespie case."

"Thanks. But it doesn't feel real good."

"Why do you say that?"

Kerney put the cassette tape of Nita Lassiter's confession on the dashboard.

"Listen to the tape. I think you'll find it interesting."

"I can't wait to hear it," Andy said, reaching into his shirt pocket.

"Your efforts deserve special recognition."

He laid the deputy chief shield in Kerney's hand.

"Put this beauty in your badge case."

Kerney stared dumbly at the shield for a minute.