'I don't know what to think about Robert. Did you see him on the day of the murder?'
'Yeah, as a matter of fact I did. I was coming down the main drag after work and I saw him talking to some woman in front of the grocery store.'
'Did you recognize her?'
'No. She was in a pickup truck. Cordova was standing by the driver's door, so I didn't get a good look at her.'
'Did you notice anything else?'
'I think the woman was a veterinarian, or she works for one. She was pulling a horse trailer, and it had the name of a veterinary service painted on the side panel.'
'Do you remember the name?'
'No. It said something about specializing in large animals. That's all I recall.'
The waitress brought dinner, and Kerney picked at an overcooked ham steak and some soggy vegetables.
With part of his stomach shot away, Kerney found eating in greasy spoons to be a real chore; die food usually didn't sit well. He gave up on trying to force down the meal and made small talk until Wilson was ready to check in at the motel.
He paid for dinner, took Floyd to the motel, paid for the room, thanked Wilson for his time, and started the drive back to Mountainair. It was well into the night, and the brewing snowstorm looked like it could turn nasty, but he wanted to talk to one more person before heading back home to Santa Fe. marcia year wood the physician's assistant who ran the rural health clinic in Mountainair, promptly answered Kerney's knock at her front door.
'Yes, what is it?'
She was a pleasant-looking woman in her thirties, with big, perfectly round brown eyes accentuated by eyeglasses, and a wide mouth that hinted at an easy smile. She wore sweatpants, a sweatshirt, and slippers.
Kerney showed her his badge.
'May I have a few minutes of your time?'
'It's not a medical emergency, I take it?'
'Not at all.'
'Come in.'
Yearwood's home, a single-story stone structure near the high school, sat well back on a heavily treed lot. The front room contained a couch with two matching chairs and a coffee table, grouped in front of a fireplace. There were some tasteful fine art posters on the walls, including a Georgia O'Keeffe print and several Gustave Baumann reproductions. Books and magazines were scattered about within easy reach, and on the floor next to the couch was a canvas bag filled with embroidery yarn. The fireplace had a crackling cedar fire going that warmed the room nicely. From the feel of the place, Kerney guessed Yearwood was unattached.
'What can I do for you, Officer?' Marcia asked, as she gestured for Kerney to join her on the couch.
Kerney obliged.
'I understand that Robert Cordova gets his medication from you when he's in Mountainair.'
Marcia sat at the end of the couch and turned to face Kerney directly.
'Yes. I dispense it through an arrangement with the psychiatrist at the state mental hospital.
Is Robert in some sort of trouble?'
She brushed a strand of long dark hair away from her face and looked at Kerney more closely.
'You're the investigator looking into Paul Gillespie's murder.' She stiffened a bit and crossed her legs.
'Surely you don't think Robert is a suspect.'
'He doesn't strike me as a killer.'
Marcia answered with an agreeing smile.
'He's not.
Robert's normal behavior-if you can call it that-is all bravado and posturing. The onset of his illness came during adolescence. Besides being schizophrenic, he's fixated at a juvenile stage of development.'
'You seem to know him well.'
'Well enough. But that doesn't mean I can tell you more about him. His medical records are confidential.
I've been told that he's eloped from Las Vegas.'
'Eloped?'
Marcia laughed quickly.
'It's a polite way of saying he escaped. After all, we don't want people to think mental hospitals are prisons.'
'Aren't they?'
'Not all. Have you seen him?'
'I have him in protective custody at the Torrance County jail.'
Marda sighed.
'That's a relief. Each time he disappears I'm sure he's going to be found beaten to a pulp and left to die along some roadside.'
'He doesn't want to go back to Las Vegas. I thought you could help.'
She nodded her head in agreement.
'He never wants to go back, but once he gets there and settles in to a routine, it's beneficial. Of course I'll help. I can see him in the morning.'
'I'd like to be there when you see him.'
Marda's voice became guarded.
'I don't intend to help you conduct an interrogation.'
'I don't plan to interrogate him, Ms. Yearwood.
There's a remote chance Robert may have seen something, or may know something about what happened the night Gillespie was shot. I need him to talk about it.'
'That may not be easy.'
'I know.'
Marda tapped her finger against her lip.
'Normally, I'd say no, but I think this time it will be okay. However, be warned: if you try to intimidate him, I'll stop you dead in your tracks.'
'Pair enough.'
'He doesn't like cops, you know.'
Kerney smiled.
'That's what I've heard. Is there some reason for it?'
'I don't know,' Marda replied with a slight shrug.
'He said he went to high school with Paul Gillespie.'
'I believe he did.'
'How would you characterize Gillespie?'
'He was a bit of a bully who had an eye for the girls.'
Kerney had heard the same comment from several other sources, but had been unable to locate anyone who could provide specifics.
'Did he come on to you?'
'He wouldn't dare. Besides, I wasn't his type. He liked younger women.'
'Anyone in particular?'
'I haven't the foggiest idea. But I'd see him chatting with teenage girls a lot after school got out.'
'What makes that stand out in your mind?'
'He was always talking to the girls,' Marda answered.
'The teenage boys he seemed to ignore, unless they were speeding or drinking beer at the town park after dark.'
'Do you know if he was sexually or romantically involved with any of the girls?'
'No, I don't.'
'Any rumors?'
Marda waved off the question.
