'I can see that. Have you heard anybody express outrage about the shooting? Somebody who felt sympathetic toward Sergeant Shockley?'
'Henry Waters come to mind. But nobody pays any attention to him.'
'Why is that?'
'He's obsessed about police work. He's in his forties and has always wanted to be a cop. He's a sweet guy but not too bright. He once had a job as a security guard some years ago but got canned. He usually stops in before and after work for a cup.'
'Has he been here today?'
'Yeah, this afternoon. He usually sits at the counter, but today he drank his coffee at a window booth and then left in a hurry.'
Robert looked out the window. It had a clear view of the motel parking lot. He asked the woman if Henry had been in for coffee on the mornings Kerney's unit had been vandalized.
'He's been here every morning this week and last,' the woman answered.
'What did he say about the Shockley shooting?' Robert asked.
'Something like no police officer deserved to die just because he did a little stealing, and that a cop killer, no matter who he is, was the worst kind of animal.'
'Know where Henry lives?' Robert asked.
'I sure don't, but it's in the neighborhood.'
'Where does he work?'
'He's a bagger and stock boy at Shop n' Save Hardware.'
'Mind if I look in your outside trash bin?'
'Sure. What for?'
Robert put a five-dollar bill on the counter. 'You make a good cup of coffee.'
Outside in the trash he found a partially used quart of while latex paint and a cheap fifty-nine-cent brush, the bristles stiff with dried paint. Shop n' Save price stickers were still attached. He bagged them, tagged them, and went looking for Henry Waters.
After meeting again with Tim Dwyer, Kerney stood outside the Roswell district headquarters, his thoughts fixed on the officer's assessment of Arthur Langsford's death. Knowing that three members of one family had been murdered in a nine-year span still didn't answer the fundamental questions of who and why. Were the murders linked or unrelated? If they were linked, one killer might well have murdered eight people, and was targeting Linda Langsford as his next victim. If not, three killers were at large, all with different motives.
Each crime had a unique signature, which made the likelihood of distinct killers a strong possibility. Add in the nine years separating Arthur's death from Vernon's murder, and the argument for different perpetrators gained even more credibility.
Kerney wasn't willing to lay aside the equally plausible notion of a vendetta against the Langsfords. What could have caused it remained obscure. In whatever direction he chose to look, no clear-cut motives emerged. All he had was a very rich, highly respected judge with a not-so-secret love life, a dead wife who may have been murdered by mistake, and a son killed for reasons unknown.
As for suspects, there was only Eric Langsford, who still hadn't been found, according to the latest update from Lee Sedillo.
Commuter traffic rumbled along the highway and a faint sunset put an anemic yellow glow on the western horizon. Kerney stepped toward his unit just as Clayton Istee drove up and cut him off. Kerney nodded a greeting.
'My mother doesn't speak for me,' Clayton said bluntly through the open car window. He got out and slammed the door.
'I never assumed that she did.'
'How would you know what my mother does or doesn't do?'
'I don't,' Kerney replied.
'Then don't try to bullshit me about something you know nothing about.'
'That wasn't my intent,' Kerney said.
Clayton stared hard at Kerney and took a deep breath. 'Forget it,' he said, turning on his heel.
'Wait a minute,' Kerney said.
'What for?' Clayton said, as he swung back around.
'You're too damn hard to talk to. I keep thinking I should try to get to know you better. But every time I see you, you just shut me down.'
'I'm not very good at opening up to people.'
Clayton paused. 'I hear the same thing from my wife.' The harshness in his voice eased a bit.
'There you go,' Kerney said with a smile. 'Maybe it's both of us.'
Clayton's shoulders tightened. 'I'm not like you.'
'Would that be so terrible?' Kerney asked. Clayton didn't answer.
'Let's find a better place to talk,' Kerney said. I'll buy you a drink or a cup of coffee.'
'Coffee will do,' Clayton said. 'I don't drink.'
At a strip-mall diner, where most of the stores sold antiques, used books, old furniture, and knickknacks put on consignment by the sons and daughters of parents who had retired to Roswell before passing on, Kerney tried to break the ice by telling Clayton the story of how, as a boy, he'd helped his father deliver cattle to the Mescalero village where the resort and casino now stood.
'My mother grew up in that village,' Clayton said.
Kerney nodded. 'My father sold those cattle to her father. We used to joke about it in college.'
'Joke about what?'
'About how we might have met a lot sooner.'
'Why did you walk out on her?'
'Excuse me?'
'She was carrying your baby.'
'Isabel never told me about you.'
'I don't believe that.'
'Is that what's been troubling you about me?' Kerney asked.
'You couldn't see that she was pregnant?'
'She broke off the relationship six weeks before our graduation. I went into the army and she went home to Mescalero. Count back from your birthday and do the math. She wasn't showing.'
'And she never said anything to you about being pregnant?'
'That's right. You haven't heard this before?'
'No,' Clayton replied, dropping his gaze from Kerney's face.
'So, as far as you were concerned, I was just some jerk who took advantage of your mother.'
'What else was I supposed to think?'
'You never questioned Isabel about me?'
'You don't question my mother.' Clayton paused and raised his eyes to Kerney's face. 'Are you being straight with me on this?'
'I'd be a fool to bullshit you. Maybe you need to have a talk with Isabel.'
'Maybe I do. Were you serious about feeling bad about missing out on being my father?'
'It would have meant a lot to me.'
'Having a lot of uncles around is one thing,' Clayton said, letting the thought fade away.
'But it's not the same as having a father,' Kerney said.
All Clayton could do was nod. 'Did you like my mother, Kerney? I mean, really care about her, back in college?'
'I more than liked her. I thought we had a good chance to make it as a couple. I tried to get back together
