'I've been paid through the end of the month, so I'm at your disposal.'
'Will you be in town from now until the end of the month?'
'Yes.'
'Can I see your driver's license?'
'What for?'
'Information for my report.'
She searched her purse, found her wallet, and extracted the license.
Kerney wrote down the information, verified Murray's home address, and got her telephone number. 'I'm going to ask a judge for a search warrant, Ms. Murray. There may be information in the judge's papers that could be helpful to the investigation. It will probably be issued today. If I can use the telephone, I'd like to call and have a city police officer come and stay here until the warrant is executed.'
Murray's expression turned guarded. 'Why do you need to do that?'
'I don't need to do it, Ms. Murray. But it's in your best interest that I do. With an officer on site, there will be no question about the loss or removal of anything from the house while you're here.'
'I wouldn't take anything.'
'I don't doubt you.'
Kay Murray's cautious expression cleared. 'I suppose it would be a good idea. I hate to think I'd be considered a suspect.'
'We can get that issue off the table very quickly, if you'll give me the names and phone numbers of the people you were with and the places you went during your two days in Albuquerque.'
'You're asking for an alibi, aren't you?'
'Yes, I am.'
'I'll write it all down for you,' she said, reaching for her daily planner.
'And if you have it, Penelope Gibben's home and work addresses would be helpful.'
Murray paused. I'll get them for you.'
'I have the feeling Judge Langsford was a very private man.'
'Vernon was extremely private.'
'Yet he confided a great deal in you.'
'We were friends, Mr. Kerney,' Murray said tightly. 'Is that a crime?'
'Not at all.'
The Ruidoso patrol officer, a woman in her twenties, arrived within ten minutes. Kerney briefed her on the assignment, thanked Kay Murray for her cooperation, went to his unit, called Lee Sedillo, and filled him in on what he'd learned.
'I'll run a records check on Eric Langsford,' Sedillo said, 'and get the search warrant paperwork started.'
'Make the search warrant as inclusive as possible,' Kerney said. 'But have the agent who serves it concentrate on Langsford's financial and personal papers. I need to know ASAP what corporations Langsford owns or has an interest in, and the state of their financial health.'
'Do you have some specific reason to follow the money, Chief?'
'There's a lot of it, Lee. That's reason enough. We'll work this angle and the theory that the prior attempt against Langsford came because of his ruling against tribal gambling.'
'Two motives for murder are better than one,' Lee said.
'Hang on a minute,' Kerney said, as Kay Murray came out the front door of Langsford's house. She'd removed her wool sweater, and the body-hugging tee shirt she wore made her look even more lissome. She walked to Kerney's unit and held out a key. 'Am I free to go?'
'Of course.'
'Then I'd rather not stay. Having that police officer inside makes me feel that I'm under arrest.'
'That's not the case.'
'I know, but that's the way I feel. Take the key.'
'It would be' better if you came back after the search is finished and locked up. That way, there will be no question that anything has been unnecessarily damaged.'
'What kind of unnecessary damage?' Murray said, putting the key in her pocket.
'Opening a locked desk or a safe. Does Langsford have a safe?'
'There's a floor panel in the study closet that lifts out. Under the panel you'll find a small safe embedded in concrete. His desk key is in the pot on the fireplace mantle in the study.'
'Do you have the combination to the safe? Is anything else locked?'
'No. Can I leave now?'
'Yes.'
'I'll get my things.'
'Lee?' Kerney said, as Kay Murray moved away.
'I'm here, Chief.'
Kerney read off Murray's home address, social security number, date of birth, the license plate number to the Ford Explorer, and the name of the car dealer's tag on the back of the car. 'Do the usual check on Murray, and call the dealership. I want to know if it was Langsford or Murray who bought the car.'
'You got a hunch, Chief?'
'I think Murray's relationship with Langsford may have been more than meets the eye. It could mean nothing, but then again…'
'I'll get back to you,' Sedillo said.
'There's more,' Kerney said. 'Murray said she spent the last two days in Albuquerque. Have an agent verify that.'
'You got places and names, Chief?'
'Affirmative,' Kerney said. 'You ready?'
'Read it off.'
The morning drive into Ruidoso had been pleasant. The east-west highway through the high mountains of the Mescalero Apache Reservation provided beautiful scenery and wonderful views. But from the Ruidoso city limits on, along a long stretch of road that wound down the Hondo Valley, there was nothing but the ugly commercial strip that seemed to be so typical of every Western city.
In Spanish, Ruidoso means noisy. The name came from the fast running river that coursed through the narrow valley where the town sprang up. Once a hotbed of gambling, prostitution, and boot legging during the Depression, Ruidoso now catered to flatlanders from Texas and Mexico who came to escape the desert heat and for the horse racing, the reservation casino gaming, high-end shopping, the trendy resorts, and the golf courses.
Kerney drove the highway trying to remain immune to all the bill boards and businesses that made the mountain pass look so tacky. In his boyhood Ruidoso had been nothing more than a sleepy village.
The investigation was beginning to get complex, and Kerney liked having his attention fully engaged. It pushed shooting Shockley out of the forefront of his mind. But the image of Shockley resurfaced, and with it came an automatic gag reflex that Kerney fought down.
Kerney knew his reaction was purely tribal. The vivid memory of Shockley's bloodstained uniform and the common bond of belonging it represented had slammed into Kerney's psyche far more deeply than the actual shooting itself. He wondered if he would ever shake it from his mind.
Roswell was on the eastern plains, an hour or so down the road. He looked forward to talking with Langsford's ex-lover, Penelope Gibben, and started framing questions he would put to her when they met.
Home of the famous UFO Incident allegedly covered up by the military shortly after the end of World War II, Roswell traded on its notoriety, spurred on by several recent television shows. The old Main Street movie house had been converted into a UFO museum and gift shop, several companies conducted tours of the UFO crash site, and
