Culley wrote down names and phone numbers, and handed the slip of paper to Matt. “This is becoming rather worrisome, Detective.”
Matt smiled reassuringly. “Rest easy, Mr. Culley. Sometimes the solution to a crime is in the details, so it’s important not to overlook any information that might be helpful.”
Culley’s worried expression cleared. “I absolutely understand.”
“Are you a U.S. citizen, Mr. Culley?”
“No, I am not, and as long as the current incumbent resides in the White House, I’m inclined to remain a British citizen. However, I do have permanent resident status.”
“What brought you to New Mexico?” Matt asked.
“D. H. Lawrence and the promise of blue skies,” Culley replied.
Although intelligent and knowledgeable in his chosen field, Matt was the product of the local school system and one year of study at the area community college. He flipped open his notepad. “Is this Mr. Lawrence a friend of yours?”
Culley repressed a smile and carefully chose his words. “You could say that, Detective Chacon. He was a very famous and controversial writer born in the Midlands of England who lived in northern New Mexico for a time early in the twentieth century. It was through his writing that I first became fascinated with New Mexico.”
Matt appreciated the fact that Culley had shown no condescension about his scant knowledge of modern literature. He closed the notebook and stood. “That should do it for now, but I may need to speak with you again.”
“I am at your disposal, Detective.” Culley rose and came around his desk. “It would be my pleasure to do whatever I can to help advance your inquiries. Whoever did these terrible, murderous acts must be brought to justice.”
The word
“Yes,” Culley replied. “Would you like to see it?”
“Indeed I would,” Matt said, unable to resist the impulse.
The computer repair and service company John Culley used was housed in a small adobe building at the back of an industrial lot tucked near the railroad tracks on Baca Street. A small sign on the outside of the building read “Roadrunner Computer Repair and Service.” Matt entered to find a man sitting at a large workbench in the middle of a room filled with monitors, keyboards, printers, laptops, and CPUs. He looked up, saw Matt, and got to his feet.
“Are you Steve Griego?” Matt showed the man his police credentials.
The man, who looked to be in his late thirties, nodded. “I am. Pardon the mess, but it’s always like this around here.”
“You have a desktop computer belonging to John Culley.” Matt held out Culley’s signed consent. “I’ve come to pick it up.”
Griego read the note and pointed to a desktop computer and assorted paraphernalia in a box on the floor near the door. “There it is. Please take it away and don’t bring it back. I’ve got no use for it.”
“Is it intact?”
“I haven’t cannibalized it if that’s what you mean.”
“That’s what I mean. Culley told me the unit was completely worthless. When you powered it up, what did you find?”
“Nothing. When it crashed, it took all the files and folders with it. I tried system restore and nothing happened. Tried it again, and the same thing—nada. The operating system and software is so outdated on the unit I told Culley he’d be smart to trash it and get something with greater capacity and speed.”
“Did you run any diagnostics?”
“Culley said not to bother, just to build him a new CPU. The old one is an off-the-shelf discounted model that was out-of-date the day he bought it. What do police want with Culley’s old computer?”
“It’s a secret, so I can’t tell you,” Matt replied. “How would you rate Culley’s skills as a computer user?”
Griego laughed. “At the bottom of the barrel along with ninety percent of all the people who own personal computers. He’s the kind of customer who would have his receptionist schedule a service call because the unit was running slow. I’d go out, run the disk cleanup and defragmenter utilities, and that would be it. It didn’t matter how many times I showed them how to do it themselves, they’d forget or just didn’t want to be bothered.”
“So neither Culley nor Denise Riley was computer savvy.”
“Not so far as I saw.”
“Do you have any employees who may have serviced the Culley account?”
“You’re kidding me, right?” Griego said with a hearty laugh.
Griego’s likable personality made Matt smile. “I guess I must have been.” He picked up the box with Culley’s old computer and stood in the doorway. “Thanks for your time.”
“No sweat. Remember to dispose of that CPU properly when you’re done with it. You can’t just throw it in the trash.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Matt replied.
The 4 P.M. meeting with lead investigators and supervisors called by Chief Kerney and Sheriff Hewitt started on time with all present and accounted for and no dillydallying. Kerney and Hewitt impressed Clayton with the way they asked questions, took suggestions, revised task force operations, established targeted goals, gave constructive criticism, and made sure Sheriff Salgado got full credit for putting the new plan in place. Just by watching the two top cops in action, Clayton learned a hell of a lot about the right way to organize a well-functioning major felony interagency task force. The effect on the men and women in the room was palpable. Everybody seemed re- energized, ready to dig in and start over again.
At the tail end of the meeting, Sheriff Hewitt brought the team up to speed on the Lincoln County murder investigation. With significantly less resources and far fewer personnel than the Santa Fe S.O., Lincoln County deputies had pieced together a complete accounting of Riley’s week on and off the job, identified all the persons Riley had come into contact with during his time in Lincoln County, and made substantial headway on Riley’s background check. Information from the air force, including several former commanding officers, Riley’s ex-wife, some old high school mates, and one surviving uncle who resided in an assisted living facility in Dayton, Ohio, seemed to prove that Tim Riley had been exactly whom he professed to be.
After Hewitt finished, Salgado passed out a synopsis of Riley’s known personal history that included updated information. He had entered the air force at the age of eighteen, after graduating from high school. He rose to the rank of master sergeant E-8 and served twenty years and two months before retiring. His service record showed overseas postings to England, Japan, Germany, and Kuwait, where he was stationed during Gulf War One. His last duty assignment was at Holloman Air Force Base adjacent to White Sands Missile Range near the city of Alamogordo, less than an hour’s drive from Lincoln County.
Riley was the father of one child, an eighteen-year-old son named Brian, whereabouts currently unknown, who had stayed with Tim and Denise for a time last summer. While in Santa Fe, Brian worked for a month as a busboy in a downtown restaurant before being fired for tardiness. A National Crime Information Center criminal records check showed no wants and warrants and no arrest record for the boy.
Tim Riley had moved to Santa Fe soon after his retirement and applied for a deputy sheriff vacancy with the Santa Fe Sheriff’s Office. Because of his extensive experience as a noncommissioned military police officer and criminal investigator, he was hired and sent to the New Mexico Law Enforcement Academy to complete an accelerated police officer certification course. Upon his return to the S.O., he was assigned to the patrol division, where he remained until he resigned to accept the Lincoln County job.
A year after arriving in Santa Fe, Riley married Denise Louise Roybal in a civil ceremony performed by a county magistrate. Financial records showed that the couple had lived within their means and neither were deeply in debt nor had unusually large unexplained monetary assets. Riley’s vasectomy had been verified by autopsy, and there was no evidence of surgery to reverse the procedure.
Riley had divorced Eunice, his first wife, ten years ago. Eunice, currently living in North Carolina, had been interviewed by the local police. According to their report, she was employed as a veterinarian’s assistant at a small
