probe of the sheriff's department. Reporters called wanting interviews. Hewitt put them off.
The only good news was Artie Gundersen's telephone report that the bloodstain on Ulibarri's boot, which Clayton had fished out of the dumpster behind the western-wear store, was a match to Humphrey's, as were the traces of blood on the knife found in cabin three. Additionally, Ulibarri's latents were all over the blade handle, and the murder weapon conformed nicely to the entry wound in Humphrey's chest.
Hewitt called the reporters back and issued a statement: forensic analysis of the evidence gathered by lead investigator Deputy Clayton Istee and state police crime technicians proved beyond a reasonable doubt that Ulibarri was Humphrey's killer, and the case had been closed. He gave specifics, brushed aside questions about the ongoing Montoya and Ulibarri investigations, hung up, and wrote a quick note for Clayton Istee telling him about Gundersen's findings.
He wondered what was bothering Clayton Istee. Over the last several days, he'd seemed wary and constrained in his dealings with others, including Dillingham and Quinones. Were his slipups troubling him? There were all kinds of judgment errors that could occur during a major felony investigation, and no cop was immune to them. But getting bogged down by becoming overly cautious or trying to be perfect could quickly derail an investigation, especially a homicide case where time was of the essence.
He decided to keep a close eye on his deputy, and went off to meet with the DA, wondering how hard it would be to get his butt out of the crack it was in. Fortunately, the DA was an old friend, a hunting buddy, and a member of the same political party. They actively supported each other in their races for office in every election. If necessary, he would call in every personal and political chit he possessed to make the problem go away.
The sheriff's note about the blood match on the knife and Ulibarri's boot didn't make Clayton feel any better about himself. If he had thought to search the resort parking lot for Humphrey's car, Ulibarri might still be alive and in custody, charged with murder one.
He started the day doing paperwork and writing reports. Assembling a homicide casebook was no simple task, and he worked hard to make it thorough, thinking he could at least put together a comprehensive file without screwing it up.
He filled out an offense report, his supplemental reports, the investigation worksheets, and a crime scene worksheet, and completed the last of his canvass field notes. He redrew his crime scene sketches, compiled a witness list, labeled and arranged in sequence all crime scene photographs he and the rest of the team had taken, and updated his investigative narrative. He played back the taped interview with Harry Staggs and decided he needed a better, more detailed description of Johnny Jackson.
He called Harry Staggs on the phone and got him to answer specific questions about Johnny Jackson's physical characteristics. He recorded each response Staggs made on a blank piece of paper. Physical Description of Johnny Jackson Head-long amp; round in shape Eyes-maybe brown, oval, with small pupils Brows-straight, possibly thin Nose-narrow, not too large Mouth amp; upper lip-small or average Chin-square, no dimple noted, but possible Forehead-wide Hair-black, curly, full, cut short, with short sideburns, amp; no graying Facial hair-none Mole-small, possibly located just below right cheekbone Build-slim, weight about 140 to 145 Complexion-light skinned amp; tanned Other scars, tattoos, marks-none noted Age-Approx. 40 Height-5'6' to 5'7'
He placed the telephone in the cradle thinking that for somebody who'd repeatedly denied knowing Jackson personally, Staggs either had a remarkable memory for details or was lying through his teeth.
Clayton suspected the latter. He wondered if Staggs was leading him astray with a false description. Maybe the name was phony, too. If he could come up with an eyewitness who put Staggs and Jackson together, socially or otherwise, he might be able to break Staggs down and discover why he seemed so scared of a pimp, even a high- class one.
He worked up a wanted-for-questioning bulletin on Jackson, did the violent-crime analysis report for the FBI, called the Bureau to ask for an expedited comparison to any similar crime scenes, and left the completed paperwork with the sheriff's secretary, who started faxing it right away.
With the more detailed description Staggs had provided, Clayton used a computer program to create a composite likeness of Johnny Jackson's face. He printed it, made copies, gave some to Quinones and Dillingham, and asked them to start looking for Jackson.
Outside, the wind was blowing hard in an angry gray sky and snow clouds masked Carrizo Mountain. The bleak morning completely matched Clayton's gloomy mood.
He headed back to the Mescalero Reservation and the resort to begin his own search for the mysterious Johnny Jackson, thinking that if he turned out to be a figment of Staggs's imagination there would be hell to pay.
Paul Hewitt had a theory about how people became lawyers, and it had to do with the names parents gave their children. Hang a couple of colorful monikers on a newborn and it was a lead pipe cinch that another budding lawyer would eventually be launched into the world. In the DA's case, the name was Roland Hatley Moore, Hat to all his friends.
Hewitt sipped his coffee at a back table in the Dugout Bar amp; Grill, waiting patiently for Hat to make his appearance. The Dugout opened early for breakfast, which could consist of either the house special of home fries, eggs smothered in green chile with a side of bacon, or a double shot of whiskey for those who drank their meals.
A favorite local hangout, it also drew travelers passing through town. Bison, moose, and elk heads hung on the dark paneled walls, along with framed posters crusted yellow from nicotine smoke. Mismatched tables and chairs filled the dining area, and two pool tables were crammed into a small adjacent space next to some windows.
A see-through partition separated the dining area from the bar, which was festooned with old six-shooters and rifles. Fortunately, none worked, although the butt of one pistol recently had been used to quiet a rowdy customer.
With the town fathers and local real estate agents now touting Carrizozo as an arts and crafts community- which it really wasn't-a small group of newcomers had moved in. Most were retired baby boomers or senior citizens, pursuing their hobbies or artistic dreams and making a few bucks from the sale of their work.
Down the street a new restaurant had recently opened where you could get a gourmet sandwich with sprouts, a veggie burrito, a fancy pastry, lemon-flavored bottled water, an all-natural juice drink, or a decaffeinated latte, all while surfing the Internet.
In the year the place had been open, Hewitt had never seen one cowboy, rancher, or blue-collar worker cross the threshold.
Hat arrived, spotted Hewitt in the back of the room, and sat himself down at the table.
'What in the hell were you thinking?' he said as he unbuttoned his western-cut sport coat.
'I think you're getting a little thick around the middle, Hat. It's time for you to join the gym I go to in Ruidoso. We can work out together. It opens at six in the morning.'
'I'm not even alive at six in the morning,' Hat replied, leaning across the table to look Hewitt dead in the eye. 'For chrissake, you can't let a felony suspect walk. That's not your prerogative. Do you know how many reporters have called me asking why I wasn't filing charges against Staggs?'
'How many?'
'Too many.'
'Got any suggestions?'
'Arrest Staggs, discipline your deputy, and let me deal with Tredwell. Maybe I'll agree to a plea bargain.'
'Can't do that. It was a false arrest to begin with. No exigent circumstances, no probable cause. Tredwell threatened a civil rights suit if we refused to cut Staggs loose, so we agreed that Deputy Istee had simply held Staggs in protective custody during a potentially dangerous felony arrest.'
'Jesus, you're kidding me. That's not what the news reports said.'
'Consider the source.'
'You've got to stop squabbling with the Ruidoso police chief.'
'I will, as soon as he goes back to Houston, or wherever the hell he came from.' Hewitt waited for the waitress to pour Hat a cup of coffee and move off. 'Are you gonna help me out here?'
'I'm not going to lie for you, Paul.'
'I'm not asking you to. Just say that you agree there was insufficient probable cause to warrant an arrest of Staggs by Deputy Istee.'
