Michael McGarity - Serpent Gate

"Keep at it. I'll take the heat, if it comes." de leon was not an early riser, nor did he have a sunny disposition upon awakening. At ten o'clock in the morning, Carlos waited in the library for De Leon to appear.

The room had floor-to-ceiling bookcases, and the centerpiece was a reproduction of the last Mexican viceroy's desk positioned to take full advantage of the view of the mountains. There were whitecaps of snow on the peaks, which Carlos found uninviting; he didn't like snow.

He sat in a reading chair next to a wall of first editions and rare books, with the morning newspaper in his lap. In spite of the fact that his upper false teeth fit perfectly, Carlos adjusted the plate with his thumb. It was an old habit hard to break. His new plate had been provided by the U.S. Army after he'd been beaten by Kerney in the El Paso rail yards, dragged along the tracks tied to the bumper of the gringo's truck, and stripped naked, bound, and left in the dirt to be arrested by military police.

It had happened eighteen months ago, but Carlos would never forget it.

Kerney had come thundering back into his mind as soon as he saw the newspaper article announcing the gringo's appointment as deputy chief of the state police. Carlos wanted the patron to wake up, read the paper^ and order him to kill the motherfucker.

De Leon came into the room just as the telephone rang. Carlos started to rise but vSa amp;jefe waved him back down, picked up the receiver, and sat in the high-backed antique Spanish Colonial chair behind the desk.

"What is it?" De Leon asked in Spanish, not waiting for the caller to identify himself. Anyone with access to the phone number was an employee.

Carlos watched De Leon eyes harden as he listened to the caller. When he finally spoke his voice was cordial but his jaw tightened.

"You did what was necessary considering the circumstances," De Leon said, switching to English.

De Leon listened some more.

"Is the body well hidden?" he asked.

Carlos immediately became more attentive.

"No, stay where you are," De Leon ordered.

"I'll get back to you."

He replaced the receiver and glared at Carlos.

"Patron?" Carlos asked.

"It seems that Nick Palazzi decided it was necessary to kill a state policeman on his way to Mexico. He was reluctant to tell me about it until today. He also felt it necessary to bury Amanda Talley's body and steal a car before he crossed the border."

"What do you wish done?" Carlos said, remembering to respond in English.

"Visit with Nick, Carlos. Have him tell you exactly how to locate Amanda's remains, and when he's told you everything, kill him. Make all traces of Amanda vanish, and get the vehicle safely across the border.

Take the Range Rover. You may need it in the mountains."

"Emilio and Facundo?" Carlos inquired as he stood.

"They are blameless in the matter." Enrique waited for Carlos to depart. Instead the man stood rooted to me floor.

"Are my instructions unclear?"

"No, patron." Carlos stepped to the desk and placed the newspaper on it.

"There is news which might interest you."

"What is it?"

"An article on the inside page announcing an appointment to the state police."

"Why would that hold any interest for me!" De Leon inquired, opening the paper to find the article.

Carlos held back a smile. When De Leon finished reading, his eyes flashed at Carlos.

"Go now," De Leon said.

"We will deal with Senor Kerney when you return."

De Leon reread the article after Carlos departed.

Kevin Kerney, the man who had thwarted the sale of the military artifacts smuggled from White Sands Missile Range, was in Santa Fe.

Enrique pushed the paper aside and looked at the sweeping view of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains.

Northern New Mexico was one of the few places in the United States where he felt completely at home. With a rich Hispanic heritage, flourishing Spanish arts, and a culture tied closely to his own, the area deeply appealed to him.

He switched his thoughts back to Kerney and smiled as he contemplated the police officer's death.

"this is a preliminary hearing to determine if there is probable cause to believe that the crime of murder may have been committed by Anita Lassiter," Judge Ross-Gorden announced.

She had delayed the hearing ten minutes waiting for Kerney to arrive.

He was still a no-show. She looked out over the top of her reading glasses at the nearly empty courtroom. In her late fifties, Ross-Gorden had a high forehead, narrow cheeks, and a slightly pointed chin.

She wore her gray hair pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck. The occupants in the courtroom included the defendant, her attorney, the ADA, Wesley Marshall, a court stenographer, and the deputy sheriff guarding Lassiter.

Anita Lassiter was an attractive, well-dressed woman with an intelligent face who looked frightened. Judge Ross-Gorden wondered if the defense counsel had taken the time to prepare her for the hearing.

"Does your client understand the purpose of these proceedings?"

Ross-Gorden asked Lassiter's attorney, a pudgy man the judge knew only in passing. He was not a criminal trial attorney, and Ross-Gorden wanted to make sure Lassiter had been adequately advised by counsel.

Bradley Pullings stood next to Nita Lassiter at the defendant's table.

"She does. Your Honor."

"Very well," Ross-Gorden said, deciding to be a bit more explicit for Lassiter's sake.

"I have reviewed the arresting officer's written report, and the transcript of Ms. Lassiter's tape-recorded confession. I find that there is sufficient evidence to proceed to trial on the charges of first-degree murder. How does your client plead?"

"Not guilty, Your Honor," Pullings said.

"Do you plan to engage a co-counsel with criminal defense experience?"

Ross-Gorden asked Pullings.

Bradley blushed.

"Yes, Judge."

"That would be wise." Ross-Gorden inclined her head at ADA Marshall, who took the cue and stood.

"We ask the court that Ms. Lassiter be held without bail, Your Honor.

She has confessed to the premeditated murder of a police officer, which is a crime punishable by death if the defendant is found guilty. We believe, based on the serious consequences to the crime, she might be a flight risk."

"Mr. Pullings?" Judge Ross-Gorden asked.

"Ms. Lassiter is a doctor of veterinary medicine, a professional woman of excellent reputation, a businesswoman, and a property owner,"

Pullings replied.

"Moreover, this is the first time Dr. Lassiter has ever appeared before a court of law as a defendant in either a criminal or civil matter. She is not a flight risk, nor is she a danger to society. I ask the court to release Dr. Lassiter on her own recognizance."

The door at the rear of the courtroom opened and Kerney slipped inside.

Ross-Gorden nodded slightly in his direction and spoke directly to Pullings.

"You are new to my court, Mr. Pullings. I have made it a practice since assuming the bench to allow investigating and arresting officers to make a statement at preliminary hearings, if they so choose."

"May I ask for what purpose. Your Honor?"

"Frequently their impression of the defendant is helpful to me."

"I have no objection, Your Honor."

"It is not a decision you can object to, Mr. Pullings," Ross-Gorden replied gently.

Pullings blushed again.

"Sorry, Your Honor."

Ross-Gorden turned her attention to the back of the room.

"Mr. Kerney, you are the investigating officer in this case. Do you have something to say for the record?"

"Yes, Your Honor."

"Come forward."

Nita Lassiter swung her head around as Kerney moved to the railing. She bit her Up and dropped her gaze when he looked at her.