and the miniature TV security cameras above the entrances and the garage door.
A new Ford Explorer pulled into the driveway as Kerney came around the side of the house, and a leggy woman wearing jeans and a lightweight wool turtleneck got out and hurried toward him.
'Can I help you?' the woman asked.
Somewhere in her thirties, she had long brown hair and an aura of sexuality that showed in her blue green eyes and the ease of her carriage.
Kerney showed his shield and introduced himself. 'Has there been a break-in?' the woman asked.
'Nothing like that. Please tell me your name.'
'Kay Murray. I work for Judge Langsford.'
'Can we talk inside?'
Murray hesitated, then nodded. 'Let me get my things.'
Kerney watched as the woman returned to the Explorer, retrieved a large purse, an overnight bag, and a leather-covered day planner, then locked the car. Not tall, she gave the impression of height, and had a very shapely rump. She unlocked the front door and turned to Kerney. 'Give me a minute to turn off the alarm.'
'Of course.'
Inside, she dropped her bag and purse on the couch and placed the day planner on an end table. The living room, a deep space with a fireplace along one wall and a large picture window with a view of the tenth hole, was decorated in expensive leather furniture accented by bulky dark oak side tables, which held handsome pottery lamps. Two beautifully framed Remington prints were nicely hung on either side of the fireplace, reinforcing the strong masculine feel of the room.
Kerney looked closer at the prints and decided they were original oils, not reproductions.
'What is this all about?' Kay Murray asked.
'Judge Langsford has been murdered.'
Murray pressed a hand against her mouth. 'Oh, dear, that can't be.'
'I take it you haven't spoken to the local police.'
'No, I've been in Albuquerque for the last two days. I just got back. What happened?'
'I can't go into the specifics. I'm trying to contact either his son or his daughter.'
'Vernon has very little to do with either of them. You could say he's estranged from his children. I don't think he's spoken to Eric or seen him since I've been working for him, and about the only communication he has with his daughter is an exchange of cards during the holidays.'
'How long have you worked for him?'
'Five years.'
'Do you know why he's estranged from his children?'
'Eric and Linda hold him responsible for the death of their mother.'
'Why would they do that?'
'You know about the letter bomb?'
'I do.'
'The only reason Marsha Langsford was killed instead of the judge was because Vernon was supposedly away at a legal convention, while in fact he was spending time with another woman.'
'How did you come to learn this?'
Murray dropped her gaze from Kerney's face. 'Vernon told me. He's never stopped feeling guilty about it.'
'Did his children know about this woman?'
'Oh, yes. He'd already told Marsha he was going to leave her, and of course she told Eric and Linda.'
'None of this ever came out during the investigation.'
'It was hushed up by the family. But it cost the judge a good bit of money.'
'He bribed Eric' and Linda to keep silent?'
'I wouldn't put it that way. He gave Eric fifty thousand dollars. Linda's husband had just filed for divorce when it happened, after discovering that she'd been having an affair. I guess she didn't think she could cast the first stone.'
'Who was the woman in Judge Langsford's life?'
'Is that important?'
'It could be.'
'Penelope Gibben. She works for Ranchers' Exploration and Development in Roswell. Vernon broke off the relationship immediately after Marsha's death.'
'Langsford confided a great deal in you.'
'I'm about his only confidante. In some ways he's a very lonely man.' Her face tightened. 'I mean, was.'
'What did Eric do with the fifty thousand?'
'He blew it. Eric has a long-standing drug and alcohol problem.'
'Exactly what kind of work do you do for Judge Langsford?'
'I'm a combination housekeeper and personal assistant. I keep his books, respond to his correspondence-if he chooses not to do so himself-pay the bills, shop, and fix his meals.'
'Do you write checks for the judge?'
'Only on the household account. He has his own personal checking accounts. I simply mail him the unopened bank statements if he's not here when they arrive.'
'Did you work for him full-time?'
'During the spring and summer when he's in residence, I do. Then it's three days a week during the fall and winter.'
'And there was enough work to keep you busy?' Kerney asked. 'Part of it was keeping him company, Mr. Kerney. Older people are sometimes willing to pay for that. It's been a perfect job for me. I'm a weaver. I design shawls, wraps, and textiles. Vernon lets me work on my craft here, when I'm not busy with any of the odds and ends that need looking after to keep things in order. I have a loom in the spare bedroom that I use as an office and studio.'
'That was very generous of the judge.'
'You've noticed the security system?'
'I have.'
'Judge Langsford was more concerned for his safety than he was about my personal convenience. He felt my physical presence here, on a regular basis, acted as a deterrent. After all, someone once wanted to kill him.'
'He felt safe in his motor home?'
'As a camp host, he did. He was always surrounded by others, all of them people who had no idea who he was or what he'd been.' Murray put her hand to her mouth again. 'He was murdered by that spree killer, wasn't he? I heard reports on the radio while I was driving home.'
'How awful.'
'When was the last time you spoke to Langsford?'
'Three days ago. He would always call in once a week to see if anything needed his attention.'
'Such as?'
'Judge Langsford had two consuming interests, golf and investments. He'd call me weekly to get an update on his portfolio, or to ask me if some board minutes or prospectus from a company had arrived.'
'Would you characterize him as well-off?'
'More than that,' Murray said.
'He was the only child of a man who was once the biggest natural gas producer in the state. He inherited millions of dollars before he was appointed to the bench. He owns partial or controlling interest in three companies.'
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. 'I'm sorry. I just can't stop thinking about him as still alive.'
'That's understandable. What will you do, now that you're out of a job?'
'I'll be fine,' Murray said. 'I'm showing in three galleries: one here, one in Albuquerque, and one in Santa Fe. I've been socking away the money I've made as a weaver and living off my salary. I won't be homeless, Mr. Kerney.'
'How long will you be here this week?'
