'Any children?'
'None that I know of. Is Clayton my son?'
Isabel studied Kerney for a long, hard minute before answering.
'Why would that be important to you?'
'If I have a child I want to know it.'
'I suppose you have a right to know. Yes, Clayton is your son.'
'Does he know who I am?'
'No.'
'Why not?'
'I've never told him. He only knows that his father was an Anglo boy I met at school. I wanted two things when I went to college, a nursing degree and a baby. I came back to Mescalero with both.'
'Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?'
'You had no desire to be a father, and I wasn't interested in marriage You gave me what I wanted, Kevin, and I gave you what you wanted.'
'That's cold, Isabel. I liked you a lot.'
'I don't mean it that way. We both enjoyed each other, and I have always remembered you fondly. Every time I look at Clayton he're minds me of you.'
'That's kind of you to say.'
'Now that you know, what will you do?'
'That question is yours to answer.'
Isabel nodded solemnly. 'I appreciate that. I will tell Clayton about you. The rest is up to him. He doesn't need a father, Kevin. He's a grown man.'
'I understand.'
'My son is Apache, Kevin.'
'I understand that, also.'
'I always knew this day would come.'
'I will cause you and your son no trouble.'
'I'd like to believe you.' Isabel stood, extended her hand, and Kerney shook it. 'Thank you, Kevin.'
'No thanks are necessary.'
Isabel smiled. 'I mean, for giving me Clayton. I made a good choice when I picked you.'
'Were you that deliberate?' Kerney asked, somewhat taken aback.
Isabel laughed. 'Oh, yes.'
Kay Murray's town house was the last unit at the end of a long dead end lane in the community of Alto, just outside of Ruidoso. The development, nestled in a grove of pine trees, looked to be a combination of second homes and long-term vacation rentals. Two-story mountain chalets, all with steep pitched shingled roofs, second-story decks, attached garages, and wood exteriors, were grouped in a semicircle around a common park area that contained several permanently installed barbecue grills and picnic tables, two tennis courts, and a small playground. Each house was marked with a rustic wooden street-number sign planted in the lawn next to the pathway that curved to the front door.
Kerney parked and tried to pull himself together. The thirty-minute drive from Mescalero hadn't done much to settle his mind. He'd always hoped someday to be a father. But to become one suddenly, retroactively, over the course of nearly thirty years, left him flabbergasted.
Would he have married Isabel if he'd known she was pregnant? Probably, assuming she would've agreed, which, based on their conversation, seemed completely unlikely.
He didn't know if he felt misused by Isabel or simply superfluous in her scheme of things. He decided both feelings were valid, and left it there until he could sort it out.
Kay Murray answered the doorbell wearing an angora camisole, shorts, and not much else. Kerney caught an unpleasant glint in her eyes.
'Your agents made a mess of Judge Langsford's house,' she said. 'I was up most of the night putting things back together.'
'May I come in?' Kerney asked.
'I'm just about to do my yoga,' Murray answered.
'I won't take much of your time.'
'I suppose it's all right,' Murray said, stepping aside.
A half-round soapstone woodstove in the center of the k-shaped room served as the focal point. Except for the couch in front of a wall of books, the furniture was sleek and very European looking. A multicolored weaving in the shape of a long, unfurled streamer dominated one wall. On the wood floor was a padded exercise mat.
Murray folded her arms and didn't offer Kerney a seat.
'Are you aware that Judge Langsford named you in his will?'
'Of course,' Murray said. 'He also bought me my car, gave me a sizable down payment for my house, and paid me an ample salary. What's your point?'
'It would seem that the judge was quite generous with you.'
'Yes, he was.'
'I'd like to know why.'
'Judge Langsford appreciated my services,' Murray said with a cold smile. 'Haven't we already talked about this?'
'Sometimes elderly people can be taken advantage of.'
'I resent that remark. Judge Langsford was sound in mind and body. I doubt anyone could have taken advantage of him.'
'Do you have a boyfriend, Ms. Murray?'
'I see someone.'
'Here in town?'
'Yes.'
'Tell me who he is.'
Murray shook her head. 'That's none of your business. I refuse to let you treat me as a suspect. You already know that I had nothing to do with Judge Langsford's murder.'
'I still need to speak with your boyfriend.'
'So, I am a suspect after all.'
'Not necessarily.'
'I don't like having my privacy invaded.'
Kerney shrugged. 'If you don't cooperate now, I'll just keep coming back until you tell me, or find a more public way to identify him. Would you like that?'
'That's harassment.'
'Why are you hiding his identity?'
Hostility seeped from Murray's eyes. 'Because he's married.'
'I'm sure you'd like to have me go away and never come back, Ms. Murray. Talking to your boyfriend just may make that happen.'
'The man I'm seeing isn't a murderer.'
'I'm sure you're right. But, one way or the other, I need to confirm that.'
'His name is Joel Cushman. He's a psychologist in private practice.'
'Thank you for cooperating.'
'This is utterly insane.'
Joel Cushman had his practice in a small office complex on Mechem Road.
When Kerney arrived, Cushman had just finished a session with a client. Kerney showed his credentials to the receptionist, who quickly buzzed Cushman and directed Kerney through the appropriate door.
