The police force was decimated and couldn’t be there, so they pretty much raped and pillaged without consequence.
People tended to lock themselves in their homes unless they were forced out to get their own supplies.
These days, though, the marauders and bands of looters were mostly gone.
It was safe to come out.
And since the power was still out, it was a lot easier to read or to play checkers beneath a shade tree than in a darkened hotel room or condo.
John couldn’t help but think that was the only good thing the blackout had done for society.
It forced people to rethink their ways of living. To become comfortable with the simpler things in life.
To reconnect with the old ways, the old things, the neighbors they never knew.
He looked at the planter boxes at his feet.
The plants looked very similar to the cucumber plants he’d seen. The leaves were large and shaped almost the same, and they were the same rich green color.
But these weren’t cucumbers. These were watermelons.
John’s mouth instantly watered. He hadn’t seen a watermelon in two years.
Most people didn’t grow them now because they required so much water.
And water, in most neighborhoods, was in short supply.
Most neighborhoods didn’t have a river ninety feet below their windows.
John was in a blissful moment, enjoying memories of cutting open ripe watermelons with his daughters.
Of slicing off slabs for their girls to eat in the back yard, and laughing as he watched them spit the seeds at one another.
His blissful moment didn’t last long, as he heard an unmistakable click behind him.
It was the click of a hammer being cocked.
In this case it was a Ruger Vaquero single action .45 caliber revolver.
And it was aimed at the back of John’s head.
-9-
John wasn’t told to, but he raised his hands.
He slowly turned around and was staring into the eyes of a craggy-faced little man who appeared none too happy someone had invaded his space.
He was standing in the doorway between the balcony and the hotel room.
“Hello,” John said.
“Why in hell are you here? Are you stealing my melons?”
“No, sir. My name is John Castro. I’m the deputy chief of police. I can show you my badge if you’ll promise not to shoot me.”
“I don’t care who the hell you are. Get away from my melons.”
“I can’t.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Um… because you’re standing in the doorway. I can’t get past you.”
“You ain’t welcome in my room. You can go over the balcony.”
“You want me to jump off the ninth floor?”
“No, you big dummy. You see the rope, don’t you? You can climb down the rope.”
“I’m not going to climb down the rope.”
He waved the weapon back and forth, as if to remind John he had it.
Like John would have forgotten.
Still, John wasn’t convinced he’d use it.
Julio was apparently good at reading minds.
“Don’t think I won’t shoot you,” he said. “I’d be within my legal rights. This is my hotel and you’re a trespasser.”
Despite the old man’s words John wasn’t convinced he was in any danger.
“I don’t think you’ll shoot me, Julio. And I don’t think you own this hotel, either.”
Julio was intrigued.
“How did you know my name?”
“One of the women on the river told me. I tied your rope to your coolers the other day.”
Julio paused.
“I thought you looked a little familiar.
“As for not owning the hotel, you’re right. I don’t. But I’m the last employee. The rest have all gone, including all the high-fallutin’ management types. I’m all that’s left, so I’m in charge. And I have a right to shoot a trespasser.”
“Look, Julio. The last thing I want to do is argue with a man who’s pointing a .45 at my face. But legally, you can’t shoot a trespasser unless you’re the property owner and you’ve posted warning signs.”
“I can’t?”
“No. You can’t.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Damn!”
He lowered the gun and released the hammer.
John breathed a sigh of relief and Julio muttered to himself.
“I knew I should have made some damn no trespassing signs…”
“Sorry to disappoint you, Julio. You look like you were in the mood to shoot somebody. But to be honest with you, I’m kinda glad it’s not gonna be me.”
“How in hell do you know my name?”
“I already told you that.”
“Then tell me again.”
“Some women at the river told me your name. They said your name was Loco Julio.”
The old man cackled.
“Are you loco, Julio?”
“No. At least I don’t reckon so. But that’s what they call me, yes sir. And I don’t mind it, neither. I figure if folks think I’m crazy they’ll stay the hell away from me.”
“Does it work? Do they stay away from you?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“Of course, that may be because you pull a .45 on them. I would think that might tend to keep them away too.”
“Like I told you, you young snot. I only pull a gun to protect my property and my hotel.”
“Are you the only one who lives here?”
“Nope. There’s a lot of folks who live on the first and second floors. I got tired of chasin’ ‘em off, only to have others come to replace ‘em.
“There’s one fella lives on the fourth floor. That was as far as he could climb. Course he’s lost lots of weight since he’s been here. Everybody has, I reckon.”
John leaned over to take a closer look at the identification badge Julio wore on a lanyard around his neck.
Palacio Del Rio Hotel
Pride of the Alamo City
JULIO ARISMENDEZ
Chief of Maintenance
“You look much younger in your picture,” John commented.
“Yeah, well, this damn blackout ain’t been kind to any of us, whippersnapper. You done aged yourself, so don’t be doggin’ on me about it.”
“I meant no offense, sir. And I’ve got to say I’m pretty impressed that you’re able to live so high up.”
“Meaning you think I’m too damn old to climb all them stairs?”
Julio wasn’t particularly good at taking a compliment.
“Well, I’m a bit younger than you and I had trouble.”
“That’s ‘cause you’re out of shape, you young snot.”
He just wasn’t going to cut John any slack at all.
-10-
Julio turned his head slightly and gave John a cock-eyed look.
“Did you say you were a cop?”
“Yes, sir. Deputy Chief of Police. John Castro.”
He reached into his back pocket and showed Julio the badge.
The old man looked closely at the photo ID next to the badge.
“You look a lot older than your own picture, smart-ass.”
John smiled.
“Yes, sir. I suppose I do.”
“Your ID says patrolman.”
“Yes, sir. They couldn’t update it because the machine doesn’t work anymore. My badge says Deputy Chief.”
“Yeah, I guess it does.
“Tell me again why you’re in my hotel?”
“I mostly wanted to make sure you were okay. And I guess I was a little bit curious about why you choose to live all the way up here.”
“Should be my business where I live, not yours.”
“Absolutely. You can live wherever you want. I just think it might be hard on you, living up so high, since you’re…”
>
“Since I’m a little guy? Is that why you came up here? To point out you’re taller and stronger than me? ‘Cause I could kick your ass in a fair fight any day of the week, I don’t care big you are.”
“No, sir. That’s not what I was going to say at all…”
“So you think I’m just too damn old, is that it? You came up here to serve me an eviction notice ‘cause you think I’m too old to climb all those steps every day?”
“No sir. I didn’t bring you an eviction notice. I’m not going to kick you out or do anything to disrupt your life.”
“Well then, why exactly did you come here, sonny?”
“I really just came to visit.”
“Oh.”
Once Julio accepted that John was no threat, he warmed just a bit.
A teeny tiny bit.
“Well, in that case, do you want me to show you around?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“Well, let’s get it over with, damn it. Follow me.”
They walked back through the stripped-down hotel room and into the stripped-down hallway.
“What happened to the carpet and furniture?”
“Turned to ashes. Every bit of it. Did you know that wood ash makes good fertilizer?”
“No sir.”
“It’s true. And it helps keep the soil loose too. You can’t grow potatoes and carrots in the natural soil around here. Too damn hard. Way too much clay in the soil. But if you can mix it up with a lot of sand and mulch and ash it loosens up the soil.
“You grow potatoes and carrots?”
“Hell yeah, of course I do. Ya can’t have beef stew unless you have potatoes and carrots, ya big dummy.”
John smiled and ignored the slight. He was getting used to them.
“I grow my own peanuts too, for that matter.”
“Peanuts? In San Antonio? You’re joking.”
“Don’t you call me a liar, you little piss ant. I’ll kick your big dumb ass.”
“Oh no, I’m not calling you a liar. I’m just… surprised. I’ve never heard of anyone growing peanuts in San Antonio, that’s all.”
“Well, maybe if you weren’t dumber than a rock you’d know better. You can grow anything if you have enough water and sunlight and good soil.”
“Where in the world did you get peanut seeds?”
“You don’t grow peanuts from seeds, dummy. You grow peanuts from other peanuts. You must be the dumbest guy on the police force. Don’t they test you guys?”
“I failed the test, but they took me anyway. They said I was too handsome not to take me.”
Julio stopped short and studied John’s face. Then he got the joke and smiled.
John thought maybe the best way to keep the old man from insulting him was to beat him to the punch and insult himself.
“Can I see what else you’re growing?”
“If it’ll help get rid of you, I guess so. Follow me, dummy.”
Actually, they walked side by side down the hallway toward the next group of rooms.
Their doors were missing as well.
“Did you burn the doors as well as the carpet?”
“No. That would have taken me forever. I have to break the wood furniture into small pieces to burn it. Same for the carpet and pad. If it’s not cut into small pieces it’s too big to burn. The balconies ain’t that big. If you were a bit smarter you’d have noticed that.”
“So you cook your food on the balconies?”
“Not on all of them. Just one, you big dummy. If I cooked on all of them I wouldn’t be able to grow my plants.”
“You kinda like calling me names, don’t you?”
He smiled.
“Yeah, I kinda do, dummy. You don’t have a problem with it, do you? ‘Cause if you do I’ll kick your big dumb ass.”
“Oh, no. I don’t have a problem with it. I just love hearing somebody tell me how stupid I am.”
Julio laughed as they walked into another room.
“Here’s my peanuts. Told you I had some.”
John looked out at a balcony full of lush green plants about waist high, covered with tiny blossoms.
“What peanuts? I don’t see any peanuts.”
“They grow under the soil, idiot. Don’t you know anything?”
Actually John knew perfectly well that peanuts grew beneath the soil.
He was just egging the abusive little man on.
-11-
Sara sounded her horn as she pulled into the yard at 2315 Martin Road to let Tom know she was back.
Tom met them in the yard. He needed to get some fresh air anyway.
Charlie Sikes stepped out of the truck and said, “Hello, boss. I understand I’ve got a new partner.”
“Just temporarily, Charlie. Sarah’s the only one who’s seen this guy. They locked eyes, and he knows she’s a peace officer. That makes her a big target.”
“You think this guy will go after her?”
“Most guys wouldn’t. Most guys would run. But this isn’t a normal killer. A man who was capable of this carnage is capable of doing anything.”
Sara walked around the pickup and joined them.
“So where do we go from here, Sheriff?”
“I want the two of you to visit Dottie McMurphy.”
Sara was puzzled.
“Who or what is a Dottie McMurphy?”
“She was an art teacher at Kerrville High School before it closed down. She’s also a friend of mine. She lives in Kerrville. I’m not sure of the address, but it’s at the intersection of Bentley and Maple.
“On the southeast corner.”
“And why are we visiting her, exactly?”
“Because she’s probably the best artist in Kerr County. She used to sketch each of the students as they worked in her class and at the end of each school year she’d frame the sketches and present them to each student.
“That was one of the reasons she was named teacher of the year for three years in a row.”
At that point he clammed up. But Sara got the sense he’d left a lot of information out.
Normally Sara wasn’t one who asked dumb questions.
But today wasn’t a normal day. She still felt queasy about what she’d seen in Katie’s house earlier, and her mind was still in a bit of a spin.
“What do we do when we find her? Do you want to talk to her? Should we bring her to you?”
Tom looked at her and smiled.
Ordinarily he’d have made a smart-aleck comment at something she should have been able to figure out for herself.
But he was patient. He was well aware she’d been through a lot already and was having an absolutely dreadful day.
“No. I want you to describe to her exactly what our suspect looked like.”
The assignment finally clicked in her mind.
“Oh. Is she also a forensic artist?”
“No. But she’s quite capable and she’s all we have. She’s also a very patient woman. She’ll work with you. Just describe as best you can his facial features. And don’t be afraid to ask her to make corrections. If she doesn’t get the nose or eyes right, tell her. She won’t be upset.
“Spend as much time with her as you need to until you have a good likeness of the suspect on paper. Something we can show around.”
“Then what?”
“Then I want the two of you to do a door to door search. Start in this neighborhood and fan out from there. Show the sketch to everyone and ask if anyone has seen the man or knows who he is.
“While y’all are doing that I’ll finish up here and then dispose of the rest of the body. I’ll search the area and see if I can find anything else to help us.”
Charlie asked, “Since he was on foot, should we assume he lives close by?”
“Maybe. But not necessarily. A man can cover a lot of ground in this county just by getting off the roads and going overland.
“It’s also possible he had a bicycle or a horse hidden in the woods somewhere and walke
d in and out so he wouldn’t be so conspicuous.
“I’d say odds are probably fifty-fifty. Fifty that he lives close, fifty that he doesn’t.”
“You’re no real help.”
“Hey, it is what it is. Right now we’ve got a handful of stuff we know and a dump truck full of stuff we don’t.
“Keep track of which houses you visit and what you’re told. If you come to a house and don’t get an answer, make note of it.
“We’ll keep going back until we get somebody to answer, or determine the house has been abandoned. I don’t want to pass him by just because he doesn’t want to answer the door for us.
“Any questions?”
“No sir.”
“Then what are you two waiting for? Get going.”
As the pair drove off, Tom went back into the house and finished his note-taking.
It was almost dusk by the time he finished digging a hole in the back yard and placed the limbs inside it.
He held his breath and rolled the burned torso in atop the limbs.
He was still sickened, even though he didn’t smell the charred remains.
Sickened by the feel of his bare hands against the burned flesh, for he’d forgotten to bring any gloves.
He’d looked in the house for gloves and found several pairs.
But Katie’s tiny hands were half the size of his.
He handled her head with special care, wrapping it in a bed sheet and carrying it as tenderly as a carton of eggs.
He got down on his stomach and placed it gently atop the torso.
He’d never met Katie, but felt the need to say a short prayer over her.
Then he tossed dirt atop her remains and vowed he’d find the animal who’d done this to her.
It was dark then.
Not completely. But enough so that he had to stop for the night.
In the morning he’d return and finish his search of the house. Then he’d do a grid search of the area, square by square, searching for anything and everything that might help him solve the case.
And solve the case he would.
For even though he’d never met young Katie, she was a resident of Kerr County.
And he was sworn to protect and serve the residents of Kerr County.
He strongly felt he’d let young Katie down.
A Troubling Turn of Events Page 4
