'No, I'm not. But you'll fuck her over if you don't help,' Kerney shot back.
'Nobody's gonna believe a crazy fucking mental patient.'
'I thought you were a stand-up guy, Robert.
Somebody who would take the heat for his friends.
Maybe I was wrong.' Kerney dropped Robert on his feet and pushed him away from the car.
'What are you doing?'
'I'm leaving.'
'Wait a minute,' Robert said anxiously.
'Will you help Nita? Yes or no?'
Robert struggled with the decision, shifting his weight back and forth on each foot.
'I'll tell you,' he finally said.
'But just you.'
'Get in the car and we'll tape-record it,' Kerney replied, opening the car door.
Robert balked.
'I want to see Nita first.'
'You can't see her now. She's going back to jail.'
Robert stuck his chin out defiantly.
'That's where I want to go.'
'It's a deal,' Kerney said.
'I'll put you in protective custody as soon as you tell me what you saw Gillespie do to Nita. Just don't try to hit me again. Okay?'
'Did it hurt?'
'Damn right it hurt.'
Robert swaggered around the front of the car, looked at Kerney over the roof, and cocked his head.
'I told you I could fight, man.'
'You're one hell of a tough dude,' Kerney agreed.
'Now, get in the car.' ^ Kerney tape-recorded Robert's statement, put him in protective custody at the county jail, and headed back to Santa Pc. He called in his ETA to headquarters and was asked to report to Governor Springer at his ranch.
Harper Springer rarely stayed at the governor's mansion in Santa Fe, instead favoring his ranch thirty miles outside of the city near the small village of Pecos.
Nestled behind the mesas and foothills of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, the ranch headquarters was several miles down a dirt road from the interstate highway.
Kerney parked in front of a hundred-year-old double adobe hacienda surrounded by a stand of mature cottonwood trees. At the edge of a wide acreage of fenced pasture were a duster of buildings consisting of equipment sheds, barns, corrals, and staff living quarters, all painted white. Thick stands of evergreens along the base of the hills confined and sheltered the ranch, giving it a sedate feeling of isolation. The east slope of the mountains, snowcapped and charcoal gray, towered above a mesa shaped like the prow of a sailing ship.
An unmarked state police unit was parked next to the governor's Cadillac. A thin, middle-aged woman answered Kerney's knock and ushered him into a vast living room that could easily accommodate a dance band and a hundred party guests. Large hand-carved beams spanned the high ceiling, and long windows ran down two lateral walls. On the walls were oil paintings of ranching scenes and Western panoramas. None of them paintings Hetcher would approve of, Kerney decided.
On the back wall above a fireplace was a portrait of the governor's father, the man who had bought scrub rangeland in southeastern New Mexico that eventually yielded a fortune in gas and oil royalties, m the center of the room, oversize leather chairs and couches were grouped around a massive coffee table. Governor Harper Springer sat on a couch with his jacket off and his cowboy boots propped up on the coffee table. Vance Howell slouched in a nearby chair, looking relaxed and perfectly at home.
Kerney sized up the governor as he moved across the room. In his late sixties. Springer was a stocky man of average height with a large head and a full mane of gray hair. He had round cheeks that sagged a bit, and close-set eyes beneath a high forehead.
While Springer fancied himself a rancher, he was mostly a politician who had worked hard over the years to gain the governor's office. He had a down-home style that put just about everybody at ease, and a shrewd mind for cutting political deals.
'Chief Kerney,' Governor Springer said as he rose and extended his hand across the coffee table with an amiable smile.
Howell grudgingly got to his feet.
'Thanks for stopping by,' Springer said.
'Governor,' Kerney replied. Springer's grip was firm.
'Take a seat. You know Captain Howell.'
'I do.' Kerney settled on the couch opposite the governor and smiled at Howell, who nodded stiffly and quickly sat.
Springer continued to smile, resumed his seat, and plopped his boots back on the coffee table. Handmade, they probably cost no less than a thousand dollars.
'I knew your parents,' Springer said.
'Served with your daddy on the state cattle growers board. They were fine people.'
'I'm glad you feel that way about them, Governor,' Kerney replied.
'I do,' Springer said somberly.
'The fact is, I talked to your father just before you came back from Vietnam. He was proud of you, and damn happy you were coming home alive and in one piece. It about broke my heart when they got killed in that traffic accident on their way to meet you at the airport. It was a terrible thing.' Springer shook his head and smiled sadly.
'Yes, sir, it was,' Kerney replied, waiting for more.
'And a terrible loss for you.'
Kerney nodded in agreement, but he doubted that Springer knew the depth of his loss. His parents had been his best friends.
'My foreman tells me you helped out on a couple of our roundups when you were caretaking a spread down in Galisteo. You should have stopped by and introduced yourself.'
'I didn't have the opportunity, Governor.'
'Roundup is a busy time,' Springer agreed.
'Well, no matter. Here you are now, and I'm glad to have you on my team. Andy Baca said he had to strong- arm you into taking the job as his deputy.'
'I didn't put up that much of a fight,' Kerney said.
Springer chuckled.
'That's good to hear. Where do we stand with the investigation?'
'It's just getting under way,' Kerney answered.
'We've made contact with organizations that track stolen art on the international markets, and have conducted a series of interviews with your staff and others who work at the Roundhouse. So far we have no suspects.'
'Andy Baca said it had the look of an inside job.'
'I'm inclined to agree. But if we don't develop a suspect fairly soon, we'll have to rethink that hypothesis.'
'It doesn't sound promising,' Governor Springer said.
'It's going to take a lot of legwork. We might get a break if we can find the man who killed Officer Rogoff.'
Springer stroked his chin.
'You think the two crimes are related?'
'I do. Based on an analysis of the videotape from the camera in Officer Rogoff's unit, there's a good chance the vehicle contained a corpse wrapped in a blanket.'
