Just when I thought we were done, our own county attorney got to put his two cents’ worth in. His “Hi, I’m Carson Hilgenberg, and I guess I’m supposed to say something here” was vintage Carson. What followed didn’t exactly enhance his position.
“I think this is, uh, a really worthwhile endeavor. I want you to know my office is open for you, and I’ll be there to help you understand these heavy legal complications as they come up.”
Honest. He even made little quote mark gestures with his fingers when he said “legal complications.”
He paused, and then said, “I’ll be happy to answer any questions regarding this case, if you have any.”
I was about to raise my hand and ask him for a definition of protein, but Hester beat me to it with a real question.
“What authority do we have to act here?”
“Pardon?”
“If somebody asks us under what authority we are questioning workers and inspecting premises, what do we tell them? “she asked, just as though she didn’t know.
Carson Hilgenberg simply looked toward the assistant attorney general and said, “Maybe you’d like to take this one?” He had assumed the role of emcee without blinking an eye.
The deputy AG never missed a beat. He pulled the appropriate citation from his open briefcase and read it to us. “According to Chapter 135.35 of the Code of Iowa, ‘All peace officers of the state when called upon by the department shall enforce its rules and execute the lawful orders of the department within their respective jurisdictions.’ You have officially been ‘called upon.’ Any other questions?”
I love those “toss it to the nearest cop” sections of the Code. They were put there by legislators who didn’t want to fund any enforcement arm for Health, but who just couldn’t leave them with no muscle at all. So they assigned cops to them upon request. The problem is, having virtually no prior training or experience, if we were requested, we had to spend time in long meetings just to get up to speed.
“What do we charge somebody with for noncompliance?” Lamar. Good boy.
“Ah, just a sec…the next one…here. Cite them under 135.36. Interference with authorized agents of the Department of Health.” The AGA looked at his audience. “That’s you.”
“Talk about potential!” said Deputy Mike Connors, one of our longtime guys. “Spread your cheeks and freeze!”
“Knock it off. How much penalty does that section have?” Lamar, again.
“Simple misdemeanor. A hundred and fifty-five dollars, with court costs,” said the assistant AG. He spread his hands at the groans. “I know. But let’s just make a procedure now. You bring ‘em here; you don’t cite into court. Haul ‘em in. Fill out a complaint and affidavit. No automatic ten percent bond. You call a magistrate. That way, it gets ‘em out of the hair of the other members of the investigative team. For a while. How’s that? If you can’t beat ‘em, annoy ‘em,” he said.
That went over well. I leaned over to Hester. “I like this guy,” I said. “Who is he?”
“Morton Bligh. Really. And everybody calls him Captain already, so don’t start.”
“Which of you are the ones who first saw the body of Mr. Gonzales?” asked Bligh.
Hester and I held up our hands.
“I’ll need to talk to you two in a few minutes, so stick around, okay?”
Hell, why not. We’d shot most of the day by now already.
CHAPTER 14
THURSDAY, DECEMBER 20, 2001 15:30
By the time everybody got sorted out and squared away, we ended up sitting down with Bligh in my office at 3:30 in the afternoon. He brought Dr. McWhirter along with him.
“So, you two were the lucky ones,” Bligh said.
“Yep. You have our preliminary reports yet?”
“Attached to the main case file already. Good reports. What else can you tell us about this Gonzales?”
I figured what the hell. “Gonzales was the best friend of a man who was murdered, execution-style, the day before we found him, Gonzales, in his room. Dead guy’s name was Rudy Cueva. Both claimed to be either U.S. or Mexican citizens, but as far as we know, Cueva, the guy who was shot, was from Colombia, and we think Gonzales was, too. Both seem to be illegals.”
Bligh and McWhirter just stared.
“Both were employed at the meat-processing plant. Both are suspected of some sort of narcotics involvement, past or present, but we can’t confirm that. We have reason to think both of these men were murdered, but we’re having one hell of a time getting any hard evidence for Gonzales.”
Bligh cleared his throat. “You’re saying that ricin was deliberately…applied… to Gonzales?”
“It begins to look that way,” said Hester. “The only problem is, that’s not the way drug-related killings go down. Not poison, at least not delayed action. They’re usually really violent: knives or guns, like this Cueva murder. Instant gratification.”
Bligh leaned forward in his chair. “Let me get this: Cueva was killed on…?”
“Tuesday,” I said.
“And your investigation led you to Gonzales.”
“Only as a witness, and one before the fact. Gonzales wasn’t an eyewitness, as far as we know. He was Cueva’s best friend.”
“Right. And who sent you to Gonzales? Who thought it was a murder?”
“Nobody,” said Hester. “The county needed a response to an unattended death. Carl and I were together working Cueva’s murder. We were all that was available,” she said. “The Battenberg officer called us for assistance in a simple unattended death, and that’s what we thought it was at first.”
There was a scratching sound at the door. I thought it was somebody playing a joke, and said, “Not now. We’re busy.”
It persisted. I got up and opened the door. Big Ears, who had been standing on his hind legs to scratch, tumbled through the door, spotted Hester, and galloped over to her outstretched hand.
“That’s Big Ears,” I said, smiling. “Named after Gonzales. It was his dog, and now there’s nobody but Hester who wants him.”
I got a questioning look from Bligh.
“Uh, okay, Gonzales was called Orejas, that means ‘big ears,’ or so we’re told. The dog was under his bed.”
Dr. McWhirter spoke up. “The dog was in the room with the dead man?”
“Yep. Been checked by the vet. He’s just fine.”
“So,” said Bligh, getting us all back on track. “You think Cueva and Gonzales were murdered.”
“Yeah,” I sighed. “I’m afraid it sure looks like it.”
“Because of some drug involvement?”
“It’s the only thing that even begins to fit,” said Hester, lifting Big Ears up to her lap. “It fits the pattern, except for method in the case of Gonzales.”
“You aren’t absolutely certain as to motive, then?”
“Nope,” I said. “Not yet, anyway. Cueva’s live-in girlfriend might be a big help with that, but she split on us early today. We’ve got an ATL out on her, but apparently nobody’s seen her yet.”
“She’s illegal, too?” asked Bligh.
“No,” said Hester. “She’s local, born and bred.”
Bligh shook his head. “You two really stepped into one, didn’t you?”
“Houseman’s cases are always like this,” said Hester. “He never has a simple one.”
“I try,” I said, “to make it interesting for everybody. So far, I’ve succeeded beyond my wildest dreams.”
Bligh got out a notepad. “So, you two have any information as to how the ricin was, uh, applied, to Mr. Gonzales?”
I looked at Dr. McWhirter. “I was thinking the Doc here might know that.”
