Jim smiled.
'I do. Sometimes my mustache gets caught on the tab. It hurts like hell when it happens.
The beer can I found didn't have a tab.'
'So I should look for a guy with a mustache who drinks beer?' Kerney ventured.
'Unless you know a woman with a really hairy upper lip,' Stiles countered.
'You've narrowed the field down to one gender.
Good thinking,' Kerney replied in mock seriousness.
'It's a clue,' Jim shot back.
'I can't be expected to do everything for you.'
'You can do something for me.' Kerney dropped Jose Padilla's papers on the bed. He had read through the documents before falling asleep in the waiting room.
'Use your contacts and find somebody to research the history of the Padilla ranch. I want to know everything about the American Valley Company. Incorporators. Stockholders. How it was organized. What happened to that part of it Don Luis Padilla owned. And I need a search of newspaper archives on the Padillas, especially anything having to do with the death of Jose's father.'
'I know just the person to recruit,'
Stiles said with a grin.
'As long as he's trustworthy and can keep a tight lip,' Kerney cautioned.
'She's absolutely trustworthy,' Jim replied, with a smile.
'Good enough.'
'Sorry I fucked up today. Thanks again for bailing me out.'
'Learn from it,' Kerney replied.
'You don't have a job that allows for poor judgment.'
Jim took the criticism like a slap in the face, and Kerney wished he could erase his words. He patted Jim's hand.
'Forget I said that. I'm dead on my feet and you're all shot up. You don't need me ragging on you. I'm just glad you didn't get yourself killed.'
Jim's smile came back.
'Well, that's some consolation.'
He left Stiles and stopped by the I.C.U. The state police had pulled security off the door. He rang the buzzer. The duty nurse, a man with an amiable expression, opened up. Kerney asked to see Jose Padilla.
The nurse sadly shook his head.
'He died two hours ago.'
'Thanks.' Kerney turned on his heel and left, stewing over the information. It was the perfect end to a shitty day, he thought. He had been counting on the old man for some answers. He swallowed hard against the memory of his ill-timed scolding of Jim Stiles. It had been poor form and bad manners, coming as it had on the heels of Jim's expression of gratitude.
He drove to a motel, got a room, soaked his knee with a hot compress, and collapsed in a stupor on the bed.
It was early morning when Kerney turned the corner of the hospital corridor on his way to see Jim before leaving Silver City. He almost ran over Karen Cox. She wore black linen trousers and a vanilla colored jacket over a silk shirt. It made her seem even more willowy.
'How's Jim doing?' he asked, glancing down the hallway to the hospital room where Stiles temporarily resided.
'He seems okay, thankfully. I expect a full briefing from you.'
'Whenever you say.'
'Not now. I'm running late. I understand you had a talk with my father,' she said.
'What was that about?'
'Didn't he tell you?'
'I'd like to hear your version.'
'According to your father, he came to the hospital on Sunday to find out if Jose Padilla was someone he once knew.'
Karen blinked. Kerney waited for more of a reaction.
'And?' she demanded.
'He's not sure,' Kerney replied.
'But if it turns out that Padilla is an old acquaintance, your father may be a source of information.'
Faced with confirmation that her father had lied to her about his meeting with Kerney, Karen struggled to keep her composure.
'What did you learn about Jose Padilla?' she asked.
Kerney read the distress in Karen's eyes.
'He was born here. He was attending medical school in Mexico City when his father died. He came back because he believed his father, Don Luis, was murdered sixty years ago.'
Karen's tone became guarded.
'I thought the working hypothesis was that Hector Padilla was shot to protect the poacher's identity.'
'That's one motive,' Kerney said.
'Another is that the killer simply panicked when Hector came on the scene. A third motive is that the killing might be tied to Jose and Hector Padilla's arrival in Catron County to look into the death of Don Luis.'
'When can I talk to Jose Padilla?'
'You can't. He died last night. What I've learned was supplied by his daughter, who came up from Mexico City.'
'I want to talk to her.' Kerney told Karen where Cornelia Marquez was staying.
She nodded, broke eye contact, looked at her wristwatch, and glanced at him impatiently.
'Anything else?'
'What can you tell me?' Kerney leaned forward to test Karen's reaction.
She inched back from him.
Something had her uptight.
'I have no new information.'
'Do you think your father is holding something back?'
'Why would he do that?'
'I don't know.' He held out the special investigator commission card.
'Here. Take it. I'm afraid you can't borrow my services any longer.'
Karen looked from the card to Kerney's face, her expression vexed.
'What's this all about?'
Kerney shrugged.
'Politics. I got fired. Read the morning paper.'
'What will you do?'
'I'll think of something,' he said, placing the card in Karen's hand.
She reached out and touched Kerney on the arm.
'I'm sorry.'
'Me too. I was looking forward to working with you.'
She reacted with a flush of agreement in her voice.
'I still need you to fill me in on what happened.'
'I will.' He left her standing in the hallway and paid a quick visit to Jim.
'You just missed Karen,' Jim said. He was propped up in bed with two pillows stuffed behind his head.
Kerney nodded.
'How are you doing?'
'The food sucks and I want to go home.'
Full vision was back in Jim's right eye, but the doctor wanted to keep him under observation for another day. His arm was sore as hell. They talked a bit about Jose Padilla's death, and Jim promised he'd redouble his research
