is suspect.'
'My people won't like it.'
'And I don't like doing it,' Andy replied, checking his watch. He needed to get this investigation under way pronto.
'I want you and your entire unit at headquarters in an hour to meet with Internal Affairs. A temporary plaindothes detail is on the way to relieve you until the IA investigation is concluded.'
'I know my people, Chief. Nobody in my unit had anything to do with this.'
'We're going to cover all the bases anyway. Captain.
You know the drill.'
Howell nodded glumly.
'Who's running the investigation?'
'Kevin Kerney' Howell stifled a surprised expression.
'Is that wise, Chief? Kerney's new to the department and he has no command authority.'
'He does now,' Andy replied.
'When you meet with him, you'll be talking to the new deputy chief.'
'Is the posting temporary?'
'No, it's not. Captain.'
'You've jumped him over a lot of senior commanders.'
Tm sure I'll get an earful from all of them,' Andy replied.
'When the bitching is over, Captain-and it better be kept to a minimum-I expect everyone to cooperate with Chief Kerney.'
Howell swallowed hard.
'I'll be glad to.'
'I know you will, Captain.'
Vance Howell left Andy alone in the office and walked down the hall thinking that there were going to be a number of rightly puckered assholes, including his own, tiptoeing around Andy and his new deputy chief. dog-tired and not in a good mood to begin with, Kerney crawled through the early morning rush-hour traffic on St. Francis Drive, pissed off with the congestion and the yuppies in their leather-lined, air-conditioned, four-wheel-drive sport utility vehicles used for fetching children from school, shopping excursions to Albuquerque malls, and getting up to Taos for skiing.
The changes in Santa Pc had turned the city into a seemingly endless array of strip malls, bedroom subdivisions, and gated communities for the rich.
The folks in places like Mountainair referred to the state capital as Santa Fake, and it rang true enough to make Kerney realize that the chamber of commerce growth mentality had won the war over those who wanted to preserve the tradition of the an dent city.
Nothing had stopped the greed.
After dealing with the crime scene unit at the Von Hewett Ranch and undergoing an interrogation about me shooting, Kerney had driven to the Albuquerque hospital where Nita had been transported. Although he had a brief confession in hand, he wanted to get a complete statement from Lassiter before the lawyers showed up to circle their wagons.
He had waited until she was out of the recovery room, in her hospital bed, and fully consdous before reading Nita her rights and tape-recording her confession.
She retold her story in greater detail and with such candor that Kerney found it hard to suspend judgment about the possibility of Gillespie's guilt. He had left the hospital feeling slightly sickened by the ugliness of the man's actions, and not at all happy about busting Nita Lassiter.
He got out of the traffic flow and drove into the south capitol neighborhood, an older residential area within walking distance of the downtown plaza and the seat of state government. At the end of a paved street, a private dirt lane led to two houses. He turned into the driveway of an adobe house almost completely hidden by a small rise at the front of the lot.
He parked at the side of the house by the door to the attached guest quarters, dragged himself inside, stripped off his boots, and fell across the bed, still smelling like horse shit. in kern by dream, a soft voice told him to wake up.
It sounded remarkably like Fletcher Hartley, his host and old friend, who had offered Kerney the use of the guest quarters.
The soft voice changed as Fletcher Hartley raised his easy baritone several notches in volume.
'Kevin, you must wake up.'
Kerney opened an eye to find Pletcher standing over him. The door from the guest addition to the main house stood open. Fletcher wore a black silk kimono with brilliant orange, blue, and yellow hand-stitched flowers and butterflies. The kimono hung open to reveal a pair of boxer shorts and Fletcher's spindly but well-muscled legs.
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.
