Michael McGarrity: Nothing But Trouble

“Where did you learn all this?” Sara asked.

“In a book I’m reading on New Mexico filmmaking.”

“Why the sudden interest in movies?”

Kerney slowed to let a semitruck pass. “I’ve been asked to serve as a technical advisor on a movie to be shot here starting in September.”

“Is it a shoot-’em-up or a cop caper?” Sara asked.

“A bit of both.”

“How did this happen to land in your lap?”

“By way of an old boyhood acquaintance,” Kerney replied.

He gave Sara the lowdown on Johnny Jordan and the movie. He told her that Dale Jennings had signed on to be a wrangler and planned to bring Barbara and the girls with him. The more he talked about the idea the more animated he became, particularly when he described the cattle drive and the rodeo that would be filmed in the Bootheel. He was grinning from ear to ear when he finished.

“You sound like you want to do it.”

“Not without you and Patrick,” Kerney said as he signaled his turn off the highway onto the ranch road.

“Let’s talk about it some more.”

Soon the ranch house came into view. Tucked into a saddleback ridge, it looked out on the Galisteo Basin, with the Ortiz and Sandia Mountains in the distance. Sara sighed as the car climbed the long hill. It was paradise, and the thought of spending a month at the ranch before heading off to Turkey was more than appealing to her. But the movie idea did sound like it could be a fun adventure, and Kerney was clearly drawn to it.

“There’s one more thing,” Kerney said as he pulled to a stop outside the house.

Sara gazed at the pasture and the horse barn across the field from the house. Four geldings were in the paddock, their heads up, ears forward, alerted by the sound of the car. To the west the sun was low, behind a thin bank of clouds, spreading a pink glow over the Jemez Mountains.

“What’s that?” she asked as she got out of the car and slipped on her jacket to cut the chill of the April wind.

“The mayor told me privately that he doesn’t plan to run for reelection next March. That means I’ll probably be out of a job in less than a year.”

Sara held back a smile as she unstrapped Patrick from the toddler seat and woke him up. Was it possible that both of her major concerns could be resolved within a matter of months? Would he be willing to resign his position before the municipal election and go with her on her next duty assignment? They could arrange for a caretaker to look after the ranch in their absence.

Kerney was a rich man by way of an unexpected inheritance several years back from an old family friend. He served as police chief not for the money, but because it had been the job he’d always wanted. Now that it would be ending, they could finally start living as a family, see a bit of the world together. Nothing would make Sara happier.

Kerney popped open the trunk and took out the luggage. “Did you hear what I said?”

Sara nodded, took Patrick out of his seat, put him on the ground, and bundled him into his warm coat. “Are you ready to retire?”

“It’s about that time,” Kerney said, looking stoical.

Patrick scooted away in the direction of the geldings in the paddock. “Can I go riding now?” he called. “With Daddy?”

Sara caught up to him and took him by the hand. “In the morning, young man.”

“Can I give the horses some biscuits?” Patrick pleaded, trying to tug Sara along.

“Yes, you can.” She turned back toward Kerney as Patrick led her away. “Watching how a film gets made and getting to play cowboy might be fun.”

Kerney smiled. “That’s what I think.”

“You come see the horses, too, Daddy,” Patrick called over his shoulder.

Kerney dropped the luggage and joined his family. Together, the threesome walked hand-in-hand toward the horses at the fence awaiting their arrival, heads bobbing in anticipation.

June brought hot, dry days, high winds, a rash of snatch-and-grab thefts from local art galleries, and, at the end of the month, Johnny Jordan’s return to Santa Fe. Kerney agreed to meet him for morning coffee at a downtown cafe, and not surprisingly Johnny was late again. He came into the crowded restaurant and spotted Kerney in one of the small booths along the back wall next to the kitchen. Smile flashing, he approached holding the local newspaper and pointed to the front-page headline:

RASH OF ART THEFTS STYMIES POLICE

“Seems you’ve got a crime wave on your hands,” he said.

“Apparently,” Kerney replied as he gestured to the waitress, who approached, filled Johnny’s coffee cup, and offered Kerney a refill of his hot tea, which he refused. Johnny dumped cream and sugar into his cup and stirred it vigorously.

“So are you stymied?” Johnny asked.

“We’re investigating all creditable leads.”

Johnny laughed, put the newspaper aside, and laid a manila envelope on the table. “That means you’ve got nothing. Here’s your technical-advisor contract for the movie.”

Kerney didn’t touch it. Two days ago, Johnny had called from Denver to say he was coming to town to hand-deliver the contract and talk to him about some unspecified business.

Interested in what that business might be, Kerney had contacted the municipal court. Johnny was scheduled to appear before a judge on his DWI bust later in the morning. He wondered if Johnny would ask him once again to get him off the hook.

“You don’t have to sign it now,” Johnny said between sips of coffee. “Look it over, show it to your lawyer, and mail it back to me.”

Kerney said nothing and put the envelope aside. Through the cafe window tourists milled around the sidewalk, waiting to be called for the next available table. Across the street, a middle-aged man in baggy shorts and an oversized T-shirt videoed his wife and two bored-looking children as they walked along the Plaza.

Johnny put the cup down and gave Kerney a sideways look. “You’re not bailing out of the deal, are you?”

“No, but I’d like to meet the principal parties involved before I make a commitment.”

Johnny made a thumbs-up gesture. “Hey, great minds think alike. We want you to come to the Bootheel for a couple of days in September before we start production.”

Kerney was surprised: he’d expected Johnny to ask him to help get his DWI arrest dropped. “That might be possible,” he said. “What would I be doing there?”

“We’ll take a tour of all the locations before the actual filming begins. It’s called a tech scout. The producer, director, cinematographer, and key members of the technical crew visit each site and do advance planning on what they’ll need to shoot a scene.”

“I thought you were the producer,” Kerney said.

Johnny tapped his chest with a finger. “I’m an executive producer. That means, aside from coming up with the story idea, writing some stuff for the rodeo scenes, scouting out the Bootheel locations, getting my clients cast in the movie, and arranging for some product placement, I don’t have much to do with the actual filming.”

“And this tech scout thing would be done in two days?”

“Your part of it would.”

“You do know that the town of Playas is now an antiterrorism facility,” Kerney said.

“Yeah, but the governor arranged for us to use it.”

“What days would you need me?”

“It can be on a weekend.” Johnny pointed to the manila envelope next to Kerney’s elbow. “I’ve added the tech-scout trip to your contract, along with a nice bump in your fee.”

Kerney shook his head in amusement. “Even as a kid you always assumed that you’d get whatever you wanted.”

“That’s because I practice the power of positive thinking, Kerney. What are you doing later this morning?”