ten miles an hour over the limit.
'Yeah, but that's not why I stopped you.'
'What can I do for you?' Kerney asked.
'It's more like what I can do for you,' Clayton said. 'I know somebody you might want to talk to.'
'And who might that be?'
'Are you interested or not?'
'I'm interested,' Kerney answered.
'Follow me,' Clayton said. 'But when we get there, let me do the talking at first.'
'Does this person have a name
'If he wants to tell you, he will.'
Clayton swung his unit around in the direction of Ruidoso, and Kerney followed. They turned off on a graded tribal dirt road that wound through narrow mountain canyons and descended into a large meadow ringed by old- growth pine trees.
A modern wood-frame cabin with smoke drifting from a chimney sat in a clearing at the edge of the meadow. A young man about Clayton's age, wearing jeans and a denim jacket, stepped out on the porch and watched the vehicles approach. Shoulder-length hair fell loose behind his ears.
High cheekbones and a small chin gave him a gaunt appearance.
Kerney stayed at his vehicle and let Clayton take the lead. The man raised his chin in a greeting to Clayton, and they talked briefly before approaching Kerney's unit. He got out to meet them.
'Clayton says you're okay,' the man said, looking Kerney up and down. 'Is this off the record?'
'Is that the way you want it?'
The man searched Kerney's face before nodding.
'Then it's off the record.'
'Clayton said you want to know about Eric Langsford.'
'Whatever you can tell me,' Kerney said.
'I worked with Eric at the resort, before his mother got killed. We used to drink and gamble together after hours. When he'd get a check from his father's company we'd go on a spree with the money.'
'Go on.'
'I got fired from the job but kept hanging with Eric at the casino and the racetrack in Ruidoso for a couple of years, until I joined AA and got into recovery.'
'And?'
'If he had money and I was tapped, he'd always give me some. I owed him maybe two thousand dollars.'
A long stretch of silence prompted Kerney to ask, 'Is that it?' The young man glanced at Clayton for reassurance and got a nod. 'Once, he asked me to pay him back what I owed, but I didn't have that kind of cash. So he asked me to rob his father's house in Ruidoso.'
'When was this?' Kerney asked.
'A little over four years ago, in late summer-August, I think. Eric had me drive him around his father's neighborhood so he could point out the place to me. He said he'd get me a list of things to steal and where I could find them.'
'Did he?'
'Yeah, about a week later. He wanted me to do it, like, right away, but I chickened out.'
'How did Eric find out what was inside his father's house?'
'He didn't say.'
'What did he want you to steal?'
'Jewelry, a coin collection, handguns-stuff like that.'
'Handguns?'
Kerney asked. Not one weapon had been found in the search of Judge Langsford's house.
'Yeah, I guess the judge had quite a collection.'
'And Eric knew exactly where to look for everything?'
'I guess so.'
'What did he say when you backed out of the plan?'
'That he'd do it himself. That he'd ripped off things from his father when he was a kid.'
'Did he do the job?'
'I guess so. About a week later, I saw him at the casino betting heavy, and asked if he'd ripped off his old man. He smiled and nodded like it was a big joke.'
'Did he say anything?'
'Something about how he could never steal enough from his asshole father to make up for his shitty childhood.'
'I appreciate your taking the time to talk to me,' Kerney said. 'No problem,' the man said, as he walked away.
'How did you connect this guy with Eric?' Kerney asked Clayton.
'He told me the story a couple of years ago, after he stopped drinking and got into treatment. I thought it might interest you.'
'Eric told me he'd never been near his father or the house in the last six years. Not once.'
'So you caught him in a lie,' Clayton said.
'Either that, or his brain is just fried from staying stoned and loaded for years.'
The half-friendly expression on Clayton's face vanished. 'I'm sorry if I wasted your time.'
'You didn't. This case is a tough nut to crack. I've got enough motives for a dozen murders, a screwed-up family a shrink described as needing treatment, a suspect who wants to believe he killed his father but can't remember doing it, and no hard evidence that points to anyone else.'
'So, you've got no Apache suspects,' Clayton said somewhat smugly. 'I told you there weren't any.'
'So far, you've been right.'
'But that won't stop you looking.'
'Give it a break. I don't give a damn what the killer's ethnicity is, as long as I catch him.' Kerney paused. 'I told my wife about you this morning.'
'Yeah? How did she take it?'
'She teased me about being an old man with grandchildren.'
'That's it?'
'I'd like her to meet you and your family.'
'Why?'
'Because she's part of my life.'
'Or is she just curious about your bastard Apache son?'
'Believe it or not, that subject wasn't broached. You don't let up on this race thing, do you?'
'Why should I?'
'Maybe you just don't like the idea that your father is a gringo.'
'Maybe I don't.' Clayton switched his gaze to his unit. 'You can follow me out.'
'Whatever you say.'
Kerney clamped down on his anger as he drove behind the tribal unit.
Butting heads with Clayton was no fun, and yet twice the kid had voluntarily helped the investigation, which meant something. He needed to see beyond Clayton's fierce Apache pride and his leeriness about Anglos.
He smiled and waved at Clayton as he pulled onto the highway, and got a curt nod of acknowledgment in return.
Kay Murray wasn't at her town house, so Kerney drove to the Langsford residence, where he spotted her Explorer parked in the drive. He rang the doorbell incessantly for a few minutes before Murray opened up. Her face was clear of emotion, but anger rose in her voice when she spoke.
'The voyeur cop returns for more fun and games. I have nothing to say to you.'
