saw that Potter had crawled a good fifty feet before turning over on his back to die.
Ramona was more than slightly pissed at the man who'd discovered Potter. Alfonso Allesandro had spotted the body as he passed by in his newspaper truck, and called the city editor on a cell phone before dialing the cops to report the crime. As a result, a photographer had hurried over from the newspaper offices a few blocks away and walked through the blood trail to take pictures before the scene was secured.
Both men were now waiting in the panel truck with a uniformed officer while Pino cordoned off the entire block and worked the crime scene with the techs, searching for a shell casing and anything else that looked like evidence.
Dozens of little orange markers were placed at every cigarette butt lying in the gutter along the street, the broken toothpick found a step away from Potter's body, and the small puddle of fairly fresh crankcase oil in a vacant parking space. One tech dusted all the parking meters for fingerprints while another worked on the door and front porch to Potter's office.
Ramona inspected the small lawn in front of the building for any signs that shrubbery and grass had been disturbed or that fibers, threads, or hair had been transferred by contact. Finding nothing, she sent the tech who'd finished taking snapshots of the bloody footprints over to the panel truck to secure the photographer's shoes so a comparison could be made. The man opened the truck door, pulled off his shoes, and shot Ramona a dirty look as he handed them to the tech.
Ramona smiled, but not at the photographer. The newspaper's truck bore an advertising slogan, 'Everyone Reads It,' and in black spray paint someone had added: 'And Wonders Why'
By the time an assistant district attorney, the medical examiner, and Lieutenant Sal Molina showed up, the courthouse was about to open for business. A small crowd of lawyers, clerks, judges, and officers scheduled for court appearances had gathered across the street and were scrutinizing her every move, which made her somewhat uneasy.
The ME, a roly-poly man with skinny arms showing below his short-sleeved shirt, went off to declare Potter officially dead. Ramona turned her back on the crowd and briefed Molina and the ADA in a low voice.
'Potter was shot in the chest at what appears to be close range,' she said. 'We have no witnesses to the crime and so far, no substantial evidence.'
'Was it a drive-by?' Molina asked.
'I don't think so,' Ramona replied. 'Potter took just one bullet, straight on. If the killer had been firing from a moving vehicle, the round would have most likely hit him at an angle. Plus, a drive-by shooter would have probably emptied his weapon at his target.'
'The shooter could have been parked at the curb.'
'Possibly,' Ramona said. 'But if the killer was in a vehicle, I doubt it was a passenger car.'
'Why do you say that?' Molina asked.
'The entry and exit wounds in Potter's chest and back are almost perfectly aligned,' Ramona answered.
Molina nodded in agreement. 'From a car, the killer would have been firing up at Potter. Have you found the bullet?'
'No,' Pino said as she gazed down the street. At least a dozen buildings would have to be checked for the spent round, including an elementary school, an office building, and a resort hotel two blocks away across a major thoroughfare that circled downtown Santa Fe. It would take hours to do the search, probably with no results.
'Maybe we'll get lucky,' Molina said, reading Pino's pessimistic expression. Pino was a pretty young woman with even features and soft brown eyes that often fooled people into thinking she could be easily conned or manipulated.
'What if Potter knew his killer?' Barry Foyt, the ADA, asked.
'That would be great,' Molina said. 'Otherwise we've got either a random shooting or robbery as the possible motive.'
'Was there anything in his pockets?' Foyt asked.
'Just his keys,' Ramona answered, showing the key ring in a plastic bag. 'And he's still wearing his watch, although it's not an expensive one.'
'So maybe we should rule out robbery as a motive as soon as possible,' Foyt said, inclining his head toward the single-story adobe building that housed Potter's offices.
'Are you giving permission to search?' Ramona asked.
'Plain view only, for now,' Foyt said, 'including his car.'
'You got it,' Ramona said.
'Does he have any employees?' Molina asked, looking at the civilians who had congregated at both ends of the street behind the patrol cars that blocked the intersections. Uniformed officers stood by their vehicles holding the crowd back.
'He has one secretary,' Foyt replied. 'I don't see her here yet.'
'ID her for us when she shows,' Molina said, turning his attention to Pino. 'Six detectives are rolling. Let's get the uniforms started identifying onlookers and taking statements. Assign a detective to search Potter's office and put one on Potter's car. Find his wallet. That could help us rule out robbery as a motive. Have the others canvass the neighborhood, and start the techs looking for the bullet.'
'Will do, Lieutenant,' Ramona said. Even with the additional help, it was going to be a busy day. Once a residential neighborhood, the McKenzie District west of the courthouse was now a mixed-use area of professional offices, private dwellings, apartments in converted houses, several bed-and-breakfast inns, retail specialty shops, and some eateries that were popular with locals. A good number of people would need to be canvassed on the assumption that someone might have noticed a suspicious person, seen a suspicious vehicle, or heard the gunshot.
'I wonder if Potter ran every morning before he started work,' Molina said.
Foyt shrugged. 'I know he liked to run, but I don't know if he kept to a set schedule.'
'We'll find out,' Ramona said.
'Have you called Chief Kerney?' Molina asked Pino.
'Negative,' Ramona answered. 'I wanted to secure the crime scene and get an evidence search under way first.'
'I'll call him,' Molina said, turning to Foyt. 'Anything else you want to add, Counselor?'
Barry Foyt glanced ruefully at Potter's body. Foyt had been handling murder cases for the DA's office for the last five years and had been called out to most of the major homicide crime scenes. But this was the first time the victim had been someone he knew and liked.
'Jack was good people,' Foyt said brusquely. 'Let's get a suspect in custody fast, Lieutenant.'
'If only it were that easy,' Molina said, thinking maybe he'd been stupid to let Kerney talk him out of putting in his retirement papers. Potter's murder could turn into a real bitch of a controversy real fast if progress on the case stalled.
If he'd been smart, he could be out on a lake trout fishing without a care in the world, instead of facing the potential indignation of every judge, lawyer, prosecutor, and gay activist in Santa Fe.
Molina scanned the growing crowd before addressing Ramona. 'I know you caught the case, Detective, but I'm taking over as primary on this one.'
'I understand, Lieutenant,' Ramona said.
Molina sent Pino and Foyt off to brief the detectives who were piling out of unmarked units, flipped open his cell phone to call the chief, then hesitated.
Kerney had picked up his pregnant wife at the Albuquerque airport last night before starting a two-week vacation. Their baby was due any day, and on top of that Kerney was having a new house built on some ranch land he'd bought outside the city.
But the chief's policy was clear: No matter where he was or what he was doing, he was to be informed immediately about every homicide or major felony that occurred within the city limits.
Reluctantly, Molina dialed Kerney's number.
Lt. Col. Sara Brannon handed the telephone to Kerney and watched his expression change from consternation to vexation as he listened to Sal Molina. She'd just told him that when her maternity leave ended she would start a tour of duty at the Pentagon in a plum strategic-planning position which would put her on track for promotion to full colonel. He wasn't at all happy about it.
