'I still don't like it.' Bucky ran a hand through his hair.
'Is Amanda really a suspect?'
'Howell says the working assumption is that her loose talk may have planted the idea for the robbery.'
'Can't she straighten this thing out?'
'She's on vacation in Belize.'
'Do the cops know about you and Amanda?' Bucky asked.
Roger laughed.
'Amanda likes to keep her trysts secret.'
'And I like to keep my business affairs private,' Bucky snapped.
'Relax. I can ask the governor to flex a little political muscle, if need be. Given the size of your contribution to his reelection campaign, I'm sure he'd oblige.'
'That would help,' Bucky said.
Tm always glad to be of service to a friend.'
Bucky changed the subject.
'I need to move more money into Rancho Caballo. What's the status on the equestrian center plans?'
Springer got up and went to the desk.
'It's ready to go. All I need is a signature and a check.' He picked up a document and walked back to Bucky.
'Now that we've attracted the wealthy golfers, it's time to bring in the rich horsy set.'
'How much?' Bucky asked, taking the papers.
'Nine million, to cover design, planning, and land acquisition. Can you swing it? The corporation is cash poor until we finish selling the remaining lots. We went overbudget on the clubhouse and golf course.'
Bucky scanned the papers for the bottom line.
'Cobb stands to make a hell of a profit on the land sale to the corporation,' he remarked.
'Stop complaining, Bucky. You get what you need out of the arrangement.'
Bucky scrawled his signature and handed the papers back to Springer.
'When do you want the check?'
'Anytime this week will do.' neil ordway fumed as he slugged back the double shot of whiskey. He wanted to grind the shot glass into the face of the owner of the Cottonwood Bar, who stood behind the counter smirking. His scuffle with Kerney had been reported to the town council, and instead of accepting his resignation, the council had fired him instead. His chances of getting another law enforcement job were now less than zero.
It had taken all of thirty minutes for the news to spread throughout the village.
After turning in his equipment, the keys to the office and patrol car, and his badge and commission card, Ordway had walked from the town hall to the bar brooding over ways he could get back at Kerney.
He glared at the proprietor, a chunky man who always dressed Western and prided himself on looking like Kenny Rogers, the country singer.
Ordway was sure the man dyed his carefully trimmed white beard and razor-cut long hair to intensify the similarity.
He pointed at his empty glass. The owner filled it quickly and moved away.
It was dinnertime and Ordway was the lone customer in the bar. The Cottonwood, a sleazy joint that smelled of sweat, stale liquor, cigarettes, and cheap perfume, catered to hard-core boozers. The crappy, dingy atmosphere suited Ordway's shitty mood perfectly.
He downed his drink, ordered one more for the road, drank it quickly, bought a fifth to carry home, and stepped out into a cold night wind.
There was no one in sight, and the main drag was virtually empty except for a few cars parked across the street in front of the Laundromat.
Ordway buttoned up against the cold and started walking. A car passed by and he stiffened with embarrassment as the glare of the headlights caught him.
Even though his rented house trailer behind the Shaffer Hotel was just a few minutes' walk away, Ordway felt humiliated at the thought of being seen hoofing it home. He hurried across the main drag before another car cruised by, and ducked down a side street.
At the corner where Pop Shaffer's old, long-deserted motor lodge cabins stood, Ordway stopped and looked down the sidewalk toward the hotel. He smiled wickedly at the sight of Robert Cordova parading up and down in front of the weird concrete fence next to the hotel.
Half drunk, Ordway remembered getting a message earlier in the day that the county jail had released Cordova from protective custody. He stuffed the paper bag with the whiskey bottle inside his jacket, walked to Cordova, reached out, and yanked Robert's hands away from his ears.
'Hey, Robert,' he said pleasantly.
Robert opened his eyes.
'Puck you,' he snarled, trying to pull away.
'Be nice. I got something for you.'
'You ain't got nothing I want,' Robert said, still struggling to free himself from Ordway's grip.
'It's from Kerney. He sent you a present, a carton of smokes. Asked me to make sure you got them.'
Cordova relaxed and Ordway released his hold.
'Where are they?' Robert asked.
'In my police car around the corner. Come on. Let's go get them.' He patted Cordova on the shoulder and walked him away from the hotel lights.
When they reached the darkness of the motor lodge, Ordway pushed Cordova into die small courtyard that separated the stone cabins and slammed his fist into Robert's mouth. He heard Cordova's rotten teeth crack. He hit him again and felt some teeth break free.
Robert sank to his knees, blood bubbling out of his lips.
'How do you like your present, you crazy little motherfucker?' Ordway asked as he brought his knee up to Cordova's chin.
Robert collapsed on his side and Ordway started kicking him with his steel-toed boots.
Carlos Ruiz found planes nerve shattering. During the flight, he stayed glued to his seat while the three men with him oiled weapons, loaded ammunition clips, and chatted with one another. He tensed up when De Leon pilot announced through the open cockpit door that they would touch down at the Santa Pc Airport ten minutes behind Kerney.
Takeoffs and landings bothered Carlos most of all.
After Carlos had followed Kerney to the airport the night before, De Leon had ordered him to continue the surveillance, no matter where the gringo went.
Fortunately, it didn't take long to round up De Leon pilot and tail Kerney to El Paso. Once Carlos was back on the ground, shadowing the gringo had been easy. Kerney had no idea he had been followed.
Carlos had stayed in contact with the patron by telephone, advising him of Kerney's movements. As soon as Kerney crossed into Juarez, De Leon ordered Carlos to find out what the gringo was up to. That too proved to be a simple task. First, Kerney spoke with Rose Moya, and then immediately moved on to meet with Francisco Posada's former houseboy, Juan Diaz. After Kerney left, Carlos put another man on Kerney while he paid a visit to Juan.
Experience had taught Carlos that men feared the loss of physical capacity. If you threatened to cripple a man, blind him, or cut off his cock, most became cooperative within a very short time. Juan proved to be no exception.
Carlos didn't need to rough up Juan to learn that Kerney was investigating the Santa Fe art theft. But when Juan hesitated to say more, Carlos loosened his tongue by smashing the bones in his right hand. It alarmed Carlos to discover that Kerney suspected De Leon He reported Juan's disclosures to the patron. Don Enrique seemed unsurprised, which probably meant Carlos had simply confirmed information already at De Leon disposal. The jefe ordered continued surveillance.
Kerney spent the rest of the day meeting with norteamericano law enforcement officials in El Paso. As luck would have it, Kerney spoke with a DEA agent on De Leon payroll. Carlos talked to the agent after Kerney and learned that fingerprint evidence from the burned van had led the gringo to suspect De Leon organization.
That was all the agent knew. Carlos passed on the news to De Leon who once again seemed
