“Okay, okay. I have nothing better to do than chase down desert devils, do I? If you and Betsy are right, and the Cleaner Man’s been preying on homeless men like Xavier Oliver, he made a mistake when he killed Sacramento Lugo. He was a well-connected member of one of the richest tribes in the area.”
“It was a mistake for him, but a break for law enforcement. As preposterous as Agnes’ claim seems, Mr. Oliver’s independent account of a killer called the Cleaner Man adds credibility to her story. Let’s hope Xavier Oliver can tell you more about him.”
“He’d better have something concrete because Mr. Oliver’s word alone won’t help much,” George groused. “A second sighting of the so-called Cleaner Man does make it harder to write off Auntie Agnes as an old woman who’s out of her mind with grief and has more money than she knows what to do with.”
“The killer’s more likely than Auntie Agnes or Xavier Oliver to be the delusional one. How else could he believe he’s a self-appointed Angel of Death on a mission to rid the desert of drifters who don’t clean up their act? There’s no reason to believe he’s done killing. Someone needs to stop him.”
“I get it, Jessica. I’ll check it out. Not that I expect to learn anything to help you get Louie Jacobs’ conviction overturned. He was caught red-handed, standing over Sacramento’s body with the knife in his hand, and no Cleaner Man was in sight.”
“Who said Louie Jacobs was caught standing over the body?” I asked. That’s not what I read in the police report.”
“One of my officers told me that’s what one of the tribal officers told him. Don’t listen to me if you’ve read otherwise.”
“Who knows what was misstated or overlooked in the process since Louie became the one and only suspect in the murder of Sacramento Lugo so fast,” I argued.
“The pressure was on I’ll give you that,” George commented. “People in both the Anglo and tribal communities were calling for the murder to be solved quickly—for different reasons. Does Betsy want to meet me at the shelter in case Xavier Oliver needs her to hold his hand?”
“Why don’t I let you speak to her?” I handed my phone to Betsy, explaining what George wanted to know.
Detective George Hernandez is with the Cathedral City Police Department and is a good cop. If he gets on board, he’ll be a great ally in rounding up a sly killer. If Xavier Oliver’s correct, he’s been around for a while. He must be clever as well as devious to have evaded authorities—until now.
2 The Wrong Man
That the pressure was on to find Sacramento Lugo’s killer was an understatement. Unlike the desert vagabonds whose deaths may or may not even be discovered, the demise of an affluent local tribe member created an uproar. Wealthy members of the business community didn’t like it that someone had killed a rich young resident of the valley. Tribal members continue to be sensitive about the fact that the murder of young Native Americans often receives less attention than the killing of Anglo youth.
Some bands of local indigenous tribes have become very well off by leasing property on their reservations, earning revenue from opening hotels and casinos, or selling handmade products, but there are still lots of poor tribe members. They received the same kind of justice meted out to those who don’t have the money to hire high-priced lawyers. Louie Jacobs’ conviction was an oddly ironic resolution to the conflict. He’s also Native American, but a member of a less prosperous tribal community. If Sacramento’s aunt was correct, Louie Jacobs was the wrong man.
In minutes, Betsy and George had arranged to meet at the shelter. The detective’s office is in Cathedral City, so he was much closer than Betsy is. She stood to leave as I got out of my chair and walked around my desk to give her a hug.
“Thanks, Betsy.”
“What choice did I have?” Betsy asked as she rubbed her head with both hands.
“Did Xavier Oliver’s story trigger one of your spells?” I asked as I stepped closer to check on her.
“Unfortunately, yes.” She embraced me in a big bear hug. “Big-time!”
“Would you prefer that Kim or someone else met with George and Mr. Oliver?”
“No. I want to stick it out and learn as much as I can. Even if George doesn’t follow up, we must.”
I nodded in agreement with Betsy. The telltale twist in my gut responded before I could speak. My “gut feelings” weren’t that different from Betsy’s “spells.” However, the sensations she experienced were more vivid—like visions—and the pain they caused could be debilitating.
“Do you need to sit down for a few more minutes? Can I get you an aspirin?” I asked, worried about the woman who had winced in pain before she’d embraced me. She gazed at me with a spark in her dark eyes.
“You don’t take aspirin. It would mess with the truth you read in your belly,” Betsy said with a knowing look in her eyes.
“I can’t be certain about reading the truth, but aspirin does tear up my stomach. I have aspirin even if I don’t take it—other options too.” Then I shook my head. “You know that. I’m glad you feel well enough to tease me.”
It was as if she had read my mind, and teasing me about my “gut feelings” was a small joke. The woman is remarkably perceptive even when she’s not having one of her spells. A grin spread across Betsy’s broad face, accentuating the beautiful high cheekbones that could have been a gift from her Cahuillan grandmother or her Mestizo mother. Her height and the curl in her thick black hair must have come from her Anglo father. Beyond that, he hadn’t given her much other than his last name.
“I’ll go now and see what other secrets Mr. Oliver has to reveal to us.” As she stepped away, I felt as if I’d lost the welcome shelter of a shady tree on a hot day. When Betsy opened the door to leave, Kim Reed, my legal assistant, stepped into my office.
“I’ve got a little news before we leave to meet with Louie Jacobs,” Kim said and smiled. “Hello, Betsy.”
Standing next to Kim who’s petite, Betsy appeared to be a giant. With her thick dark unruly hair pulled back, and the muscles bulging in arms exposed by the sleeveless sheath she wore, Betsy evoked the mythical figure of an Amazonian warrior. By contrast, Kim Reed was a Ninja, or maybe one of the legendary Onna-bugeisha Samurai women. Not that Kim’s of Asian descent. Kim Reed knew even less about her family of origin than Betsy did. They share a fierceness as well as a capacity for resourcefulness and courage, which is why they both survived long enough to become my friends. Thank goodness, because I’ve gained so much from those friendships.
“Are you and Peter coming to dinner tonight?” Kim asked Betsy. It’s no wonder Peter March, the real warrior in our group of sleuthing friends, had fallen hard for Betsy. The ex-member of Special Forces, who runs a high-end security firm here in the desert, towers over Betsy at six-seven or six-eight. It’s her spirit, I’m sure, that had conquered Peter.
“We’ll be there. Jessica will fill you in about Xavier Oliver, our new witness to the existence of the Cleaner Man. I’ll tell you both if Mr. Oliver remembers anything useful to Louie Jacobs’ case, and what George decides we should do with him when we get together for dinner.”
“Good! I hope we’ll have something to share with you after we meet with Louie Jacobs. If you learn anything that can’t wait, call me before dinner. Good luck with our ‘Doubting Thomas,’” I added as Kim stepped away from the doorway so Betsy could leave. Betsy waited another minute as I quickly explained what was going on to Kim.
“George Hernandez is convinced we’re chasing a phantom. Even after another person has come forward, claiming a guy called the Cleaner Man is killing people—homeless people in the desert.” I went over the story I’d just told the detective to bring Kim up to speed on events. “George has agreed to speak to Xavier Oliver if he’s willing to answer the detective’s questions. Betsy says Xavier is terrified, and all he wants to do is get out of town.”
“Then he may not have much to say to George,” Kim responded. “From what you just told me, it’s almost as
if Mr. Oliver believes the Cleaner Man is superhuman or not human at all. Is that why he’s so scared? Or is he running because he’s knows something that can get him killed by an all too human killer?”
“Those are excellent questions,” Betsy responded. “I’ll ask Mr. Oliver, although the last thing our detective friend needs to hear is that Mr. Oliver believes he’s being chased by a demon.” Betsy rubbed her head again as she spoke.
“If that happens, George will get to have one of his ‘I told you so’ moments that he loves so much. Part of George’s skepticism stems from the fact that, at times, Auntie Agnes has also spoken as if the Cleaner Man is a spirit creature—or possessed by one.”
“And not a good one,” Kim remarked. “That can’t be all there is to it. What good does it do for Mr. Oliver to run if an evil spirit is chasing him? Or, for that matter, why would Auntie Agnes want us to challenge Louie Jacobs’ conviction for murder if the real killer is not of this realm?”
“Auntie Agnes believes the Cleaner Man is human,” Betsy argued. “I admit that she’s also concerned that Louie and Sacramento disturbed the banished spirit of the demon that’s resided in the Tahquitz Canyon for centuries. She’s not talking about possession, but she is concerned Louie Jacobs and Sacramento Lugo may be paying for their ignorance and lack of respect for the old ways.”
“Sacramento wasn’t murdered in Tahquitz Canyon. Had they been there before her nephew was killed?” I asked. I’d heard about the Tahquitz legend. There had been problems in that canyon, which included mysterious deaths. “Never mind. I suppose that’s a question for Louie Jacobs, isn’t it? I’m not concerned that the spirit of Tahquitz inspires the Cleaner Man’s murderous vengeance, but I would like to know if that’s where Louie and her nephew encountered him.”
“Let’s hope Mr. Oliver’s had time to rest, eat, and calm down so he’ll be more forthcoming about exactly where he’s been hanging out and where he met the man who has him so terrified that he’s on the run. If he mentions Tahquitz Canyon, I’ll be surprised. After being closed for thirty years, the canyon hasn’t been the problem it once was. That’s still true since the Visitor Center opened, and people are allowed in again. With all the hikers and locals traipsing through there now, plenty of people could have disturbed Tahquitz.” Then Betsy smirked. “If the Cleaner Man was a soul-stealing cannibal, it might be easier to believe he’s imbued with the spirit of the demon Tahquitz.”
“Thanks for making that creepy clarification for us,” I responded.
“There are also those who believe Tahquitz was vanquished by a legendary chief who turned him into the huge granite rock that bears Tahquitz’s name. Anyway, the canyon’s no longer a place for friends like Louie and Sacramento to hide from prying eyes or for people to hang out who are up to no good. I don’t believe that’s where we’ll find the Cleaner Man.” With that, Betsy left. When Kim sat down, I began to worry once more about Xavier Oliver’s terror.
“Will you remind me to ask Peter if we ought to take precautions with Auntie Agnes? She’s been so outspoken about the Cleaner Man. If he threatened Xavier Oliver, maybe he’s a danger to Auntie Agnes too.”
“I’m sure Peter can do something if you and Betsy can get Agnes Lugo to accept the help,” Kim said.
“Betsy can be very persuasive. If necessary, she can go over Agnes’ head to Auntie Rosie.”
Auntie Rosie is the most senior member of one of the many bands of Mission Indians; in this case, the one to which she, Auntie Agnes, and the other Lugos belong. They have reservation land in both the high desert near Twentynine Palms and Indio.
“Rosie’s opinion carries great weight. She’s such a kind woman, skilled at the healing arts, and even more well-spoken and persuasive than Betsy. I’m grateful she never took up the law. I’d hate to go up against her in a trial.”
My comment evoked a smile from Kim. When my assistant first joined our happy group less than a year ago, she rarely showed emotion. Kim smiled more quickly these days, and I’m quite sure that has plenty to do with a handsome young friend of ours who has fallen head over heels in love with her. Since Brien Williams recently asked me what I thought about an engagement ring he’d bought, I assume he believes Kim shares his feelings. At least they’d stopped pretending they weren’t dating. That had worked for about two weeks before the rest of us figured it out.
I glanced at the engagement ring on my finger. Cupid had been quite the marksman around here in the past year or so. If Kim and Brien announced they were engaged, they’d be the third couple to find love amid murder and mayhem. That’s not counting Peter and Betsy, who were made for each other if such a thing is possible. So far, only Tommy and Jerry had tied the knot. I sighed, forcing myself to turn from the mystery of love to consider unbridled hatred or some other equally inexplicable motive for murder.
“Sacramento should have sought the advice of his elders,” Kim remarked. “Either auntie could have helped resolve whatever problems he had with Louie before they made a public spectacle of themselves. That didn’t help Louie. It didn’t take much to make him appear guilty. If the police report is true, tribal police officers found Louie Jacobs with a bloody knife in his hand. The same knife that was used to kill his friend.”
“That’s true, according to the report, although George just gave me a slight variation on the story,” I said in response to Kim’s point and explained what he’d said. “You’re also right about the fight, although Auntie Agnes says they were too drunk to do much except roll around in the dirt until they were both exhausted.”
“Even though no one was hurt, it doesn’t help Louie that they’d been drinking, smoking marijuana, and using ecstasy. All three substances were found in his system when he was tested at the county jail in Indio. That makes it easier to argue that he lost control of himself and killed his friend in a drunken rage or while he was stoned on drugs,” Kim suggested.
“By the next morning, when Louie was taken into custody, he wasn’t drunk, but because he was only seventeen, it did give the police a reason to charge him with underage drinking. They also filed charges for drug possession based on small amounts of drugs found at the scene,” I added and then sighed. “You’re right that it wasn’t much of a stretch to imagine that the two boys seen arguing earlier had more to drink, got stoned, and fought it out. This time, there’s a ‘winner’ who became an instant loser when he was caught with the murder weapon in his hand. End of story, even before Louie ‘confessed’ to the murder.”
“It doesn’t surprise me Louie agreed to a plea deal to avoid ending up on death row,” Kim said. “Talk about an open-and-shut case.”
“If Agnes Lugo hadn’t insisted that someone else killed her nephew, I doubt anyone would have thought twice about Louie’s fate. What bothers me is how fast it was all wrapped up. His lawyer could have asked for more time to investigate the crime. Paul also assures me that, if his lawyer had done his job, Louie’s so-called confession would never have been admitted into evidence—even if the case had gone to trial. Because there were drugs at the scene, it didn’t mean they belonged to Louie. You know how savvy our boss is. Paul only considered his case for a few minutes before he concluded Louie Jacobs got short-changed by his defense attorney.”
“Paul Worthington is one of the best, that’s for sure,” Kim said. “Will he take Louie’s case if you get his conviction overturned?”
“He or one of the defense attorneys he trained will do it. I offered to pay for the legal fees, but Paul said no. They do a certain amount of pro bono cases each year, and this is an interesting one. If we can offer the court convincing evidence that someone else committed the crime, I can handle the paperwork needed to get Louie released. Other procedural errors were made by the police that could have been used to get Louie a better deal or would have helped his defense if his case had gone to trial. I don’t know how much of the report you’ve read, but the chain of custody appears to have been compromised. According to the evidence log, the knife Louie
was alleged to have been holding wasn’t among the items initially turned over to the Riverside County authorities.”
“How did that happen?” Kim asked.
“I asked Frank what he makes of it. He said it wouldn’t be the first time that a valuable piece of evidence was left behind at the crime scene or wrapped up in rags, placed in someone’s trunk, and overlooked until the next morning. He’s going to look into it once he finds out which of his colleagues were assigned to the case by the Sheriff’s Department.”
Frank’s smiling face flooded into my mind. After the ordeal he’d been through, I was grateful for more than the fact that he was still alive. His physical injuries had healed more quickly than the wounds to his confidence in his ability to handle the world around him. On occasion, I glimpsed a shadow in his eyes that unsettled me. If he noticed I was watching him, he’d pull me close, hold me, and the shadow would pass.
“I didn’t see an autopsy report, did you?” Kim asked, interrupting my ruminating about Frank.
“No. Even though Sacramento Lugo was murdered, the body was found on reservation land, and some members of Sacramento Lugo’s tribe are opposed to autopsies. Auntie Agnes isn’t sure if Sacramento’s parents were even asked about conducting an autopsy, although his body was transported from the crime scene to the county morgue.”
“Under the circumstances, I suppose that’s understandable. Why do an autopsy if the killer has already confessed? What makes you believe Louie Jacobs is interested in challenging his conviction if he decided not to put up a defense when he was arrested and charged?”
A Dead Nephew Page 2
