seductive, if you know what I mean. So, I baby-talked him and acted all coy.'
'And he wanted you to call him Daddy.'
'Yeah.'
'Any spanking?'
Ronda shook her head. 'That's not what I do.'
'Did he ask?'
'No. He was into watching. I'm a pretty good actress. He just sat on the bed drinking whiskey from a bottle. I'd say something to him like did he want to see my panties, then I'd do it, and he'd call me a bitch or a slut.'
'Went no further than that?'
'He asked me to take a bath, and he watched through a crack in the door.'
'Just watched?'
'Well, no. When I got out of the tub, he dried me off with a towel.'
'Was he aroused at any time?'
'Yeah, in the bathroom. He jacked off, and then I got dressed and left.'
'Did you lend him a hand?'
Ronda made a face at Kerney's word play. 'That's real cute. No, he just wanted me to watch, and believe me, it didn't take long.'
'Was he free with his money?'
'He gave me a nice tip.'
'How much?'
'A hundred dollars.'
Eric had given Kerney the impression he'd been short on cash during his drinking binge. Yet he'd not only paid for an expensive hotel room, but also an expensive woman, whom he'd tipped heavily.
' 'What denomination were the bills?'
'Five twenties.'
'Did he flash a bankroll?'
'No, he kinda snuck the bills out of his wallet.'
'You told the other officer Eric wanted you to act the part of his sister.'
'That's what I meant about the Lolita thing. He was real excited about that.'
'Excited?'
'Like animated, if you know what I mean-ready to get started right away.'
'Did he talk to you about it in any detail?'
'No, he just told me what he wanted me to do.'
'What did you do to get him to send you the ring?'
'Nothing, I swear. I thought he was just acting like a big shot and trying to impress me.'
'Did he tell you what he was going to give you as a present?'
'No, he said it would be a surprise, something pretty, and I'd like it.'
'Had Langsford ever been your client before?'
'No, but Crystal saw him once.'
'Who is Crystal?'
'Betty Cook is her real name. She works with me. I can give you her phone number.'
Kerney left and used a public phone to speak to Crystal, who reported that Eric had asked her to undress and masturbate while he watched from the bathroom door.
'Did he make any other requests?' Kerney asked.
'When he called for the date he asked for a blonde. But there wasn't one available. So Mario had me wear a wig. He wasn't too happy when he found out I was a redhead.'
'What did he say?'
'Nothing. But he didn't tip me, and I put on a really good show.'
He stopped at the hotel and asked the reservation clerk to check if Langsford had any prior stays at the hotel. She came up with four overnight registrations and calls to three additional dating services in the last year, all occurring around the time Eric received his quarterly checks for serving as a corporate board member for one of his father's companies.
Working a lobby phone, Kerney tracked down the women who'd been sent to Langsford's room, and got basically the same story: Eric liked to play Peeping Tom, wanted to be called 'Daddy,' avoided any actual sexual contact, and always asked for blondes.
Other than Ronda, none had received any surprise gifts in the mail. Or if they had, weren't admitting to it.
Eric's disappearance from Roswell, the inconsistencies in his alibi, his hatred of his father, and his proximity to the crime scenes added up to strong circumstantial evidence against him. But Kerney wanted some tangible proof of Eric's guilt, either in the form of physical evidence or a voluntary confession. He preferred both if possible.
Through the hotel lobby window he watched a parking attendant wheel a new Jaguar to the curb, where a slightly pudgy man in an expensive suit stood waiting. The car had Mexican license plates. That was the third luxury car in a row the attendant had parked, all with Mexican tags, all for men in expensive suits.
Business in the border city was obviously profitable, and Kerney didn't think for a second that all of it was legitimate.
As the most junior agent on the team, Mary Margaret Lovato got the drudge work assignments. Ordered back to Carrizozo, she'd spent the morning on a door-to-door canvas of every business and government office in town, showing photographs, asking questions, and trying to find one witness who could put any of the possible suspects in the area before the first homicide at the Valley of Fires campground. No one Mary Margaret spoke to was able to ID Kay Murray, Penelope Gibben, or Linda and Eric Langsford.
Situated at the north end of the Tularosa Basin, Carrizozo was bracketed by mountain ranges, some near and some distant. While the landscape was lovely to look at, the winds were constant, swirling out of the mountains from all directions.
After a few minutes of small talk with the county sheriff outside the county administration building, Mary Margaret went to her unit, ran a comb through her hair, and wrote up her field notes. Her next scheduled stop was the village of Tularosa, fifty miles south.
She doubled-checked her list against the local phone book to make sure every possible contact had been made, crossed out the names of businesses no longer in existence, and noted down for later followup the few places where she'd been unable to speak to anyone.
The phone book included listings for the village of Capitan, a short twenty-mile drive southeast into the mountains. Famous as the birthplace of Smokey Bear, Capitan had not been canvassed. Mary Margaret cranked the engine. It was worth a shot.
She arrived in the village and made a quick tour. Nestled in a valley with mountains to the south and rolling hills to the north rising to a high range that extended in an easterly direction, it took its name from the peak that dominated the skyline. Businesses were concentrated along the highway and on several short blocks of side streets.
In the town center was the Smokey Bear Historical State Park, which celebrated the rescue fifty years ago of the famous Forest Service icon from a nearby wildfire.
Behind the somewhat quaint main drag, residential streets crisscrossed a narrow flat area for a few blocks before giving way to open grassland.
Mary Margaret swung back on the main drag, stopped at a mom-and-pop motel, placed photographs on the office counter, and showed them to a slow-moving overweight woman who had emerged from the apartment behind the office.
The woman jabbed a finger at Eric Langsford's photo. 'He stays here.'
'When was the last time?' Mary Margaret asked.
The woman paged through her register. 'Last month.'
