by Don Travis
“By the way,” Marc said. “We had another intruder. Parson worked in the winery late the other night, and when he left the building, he saw someone step over the wall and walk into the woods. Is that Diego fellow still in custody?”
“Been out of town for a couple of days, so I’ll have to check. Did Parson describe the man?”
“Too dark,” Marc said. “Just caught movement out of the corner of his eye. But I checked the next morning and found some footsteps. Hugged the wall of the winery.”
“Did you report it?” I asked.
Ariel answered for him. “I was afraid it was Diego and didn’t want to cause him trouble.”
I shook my head. “Wouldn’t be him. If the trail went all around the winery building, it was someone else. Report it to Sgt. Roma Muñoz at SCSO. Paul and I will take a look around before we go.”
The mountain breezes had pretty well scrubbed away the tracks Marc told us about, but in some sheltered places, we found a faint footprint or two.
“That’s a military boot,” Paul noted.
“Natander or Pastis, no doubt. They know Diego’s in custody but hope he’s hidden the statuette somewhere in the winery. Probably giving it one last try before they go on the lam.”
On the other side of the wall, one visible bootprint seemed to indicate the intruder had escaped into the woods, just as Parson had reported. On impulse, I walked to the ruined cabin and noticed the same prints in the sandy spot before the collapsed front of the place. As I opened the trapdoor that gave access to the hidden chamber, Paul peered over my shoulder.
“So this is it, huh? The way to Diego’s hideout.”
“There’s another entry through the wine cellar,” I said, examining the underside of the trapdoor. “Diego said there’s a way to bar access from the inside. I probably should lock it. You wanna see where Diego hid out?”
Paul backed away. “It’s pitch-black down there, man.”
“I’ve got a flashlight on my keyring.”
“That dinky thing? That wouldn’t light your way to the bathroom.”
“You’d be surprised. Enough light to get to the lantern inside with no problem.”
“Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll meet you back at the car.”
“Shouldn’t take me long. Might even beat you there.”
He held up the wooden slab as I felt my way down the ladder. After turning on the small but powerful flash, I caught a glimpse of his handsome face twisted into a worried frown as I reached up for the trapdoor.
“See you in a few minutes.”
The tunnel got considerably darker as the trapdoor closed. I used the beam of the flash to locate the lever Diego said secured the hatch. The place did seem sort of creepy then. I felt my way to the bottom of the ladder step after careful step until I hit solid earth. The focused beam of my light shot straight ahead, stabbing the darkness but not defeating it.
I had no trouble with the second ladder that brought me back up to the floor of the chamber, which I judged to be on a level with the ruined cabin. Maneuvering the short tunnel, I emerged into the larger chamber of the hidden room. The chilled temperature now probably matched that of the wine cellar on the other side of the rock wall. A small, indistinct rosy glow caught my attention. After focusing the light on the area, I saw the wick on Diego’s candle slowly dimming away.
I swept the area with my pitiful light and stopped as it fell on a pair of camo pants. As I started to move it up, a harsh voice broke the eerie silence.
“Turn it off, man. Now!”
I happily complied. Darkness might prove to be my savior now. But my light no sooner died than a larger, stronger beam blinded me. I resisted the urge to shield my eyes and steadied my voice.
“There’s nothing to find here, Natander,” I said, assuming it was the sniper and not his buddy. “Where’s Pastis?”
“You right. There ain’t nothing I want here.” The light shifted so I was still illuminated but not blinded. “You the guy that turned Diego in to the cops. Vinson, right?”
“Surprised you know my name. Resourceful.”
“Damned right. I’m trained for this stuff. Wasn’t hard. Followed you back to Albuquerque once and let Pastis out of the car. He followed you into your building and watched to see what office you went into. Nice of them to leave the center of the building hollow like that.”
My building was built around an atrium that soared up all five floors, with landings providing access to the offices lining the outside walls. All Pastis would have to do was stand in the middle of the ground floor and watch.
“I’m impressed.”
“You not much of a private dick. You never tumbled to us following you.”
“How did you find Diego’s hiding place?”
“I’ve checked out every inch of this winery property. I’ve been in that falling-down cabin a dozen times. Today was the first time I put my hand to that big board out there.”
“And found it was covered with camouflaged burlap,” I said.
“After that, it was just poking and thumping around till I found the nail that tripped the false floor.”
“So now that you found his hidey-hole and determined what you’re looking for isn’t here, you can leave.”
“So you can tackle me, huh?”
“Why would I do that? I’ll just let the police pick you up later.”
“Ain’t the way it’s gonna work. You turned Diego in. You know where the statue is. So you’re gonna take me to it.”
“Be happy to. Like as not Diego’s attorney has turned it over to the feds. So let’s go. By the way, that lawyer’s pissed at you for shooting out the windows of his car.”
“The blond dude, huh? Tell him he oughta thank me. Woulda been easier to shoot him in the head and then pick off everyone that survived the wreck.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Too messy. But that’s probably what I oughta done.”
“Glad we cleared that up. I’m going to leave now.”
A raspy laugh froze me in place. “Wonder how long it’ll take them to find your body down here? You think they’ll ever—”
I relaxed my muscles and simply dropped to the ground. Natander’s pistol roared and spit fire. The bullet whistled over my head. But his reaction time was good. The flashlight died as I rolled twice to my left. My S&W 9mm was out and ready when he fired blindly again. A projectile thunked into the earth right beside me before he swung the opposite direction. The next time he fired, I pulled the trigger twice. He grunted and fell.
I’d lost my keyring when Natander surprised me, so I fumbled my phone from my pocket and used the even smaller light to locate the keyring. Holding my flashlight off to my right, I clicked it on and swept the area. I saw his boots first. Military. Parallel to the ground. I traced the line of Natander’s prone body until I reached his face. He was still alive, but from the blood leaking from his chest, at least one of my bullets had found him—probably fatally. I scrambled to his side and took a heavy semiautomatic from his limp fingers. By the feeble light, I saw him trying to focus on me.
I stripped off my shirt and stuffed it against his wound to staunch the flow of blood before clawing my digital voice recorder from my belt and holding it close. “Natander, you’re dying. But you need to tell me one thing.”
His eyes flickered, but there was still life in them. “Wha….”
“Did you or Pastis kill a man in front of the winery?”
“Naw….” He shuddered. “Killed priest… in Iraq.”
“But did you kill Bascomb Zuniga thinking it was Diego?”
“Uh-uh. B-but… was there. Saw it. Somebody talking… to him. He walk… away. Shoot’m… in b-back.”
“You didn’t try to help the guy?”
He sighed heavily and then between labored breaths said they’d checked the victim because they thought it was Diego. Took a minute to figure out it wasn’t the right man; the resemblance was so strong.
Tremors started i
n his legs and worked their way up to possess him. He groaned but was still there. Barely.
“Did you recognize the shooter? See where he came from or went afterward? Was there a car?”
He gave a peculiar whining sound for a moment. Then: “N-no car. Went… to p-pines.”
Spider Natander’s eyes lost their light. He stopped shivering. Stopped moving at all. He was gone.
“Pines?” I mumbled aloud. Was that pines as in trees or Pines as in winery?
After that, I clicked off the recorder.
Chapter 21
A NOISE behind me and a sudden light penetrating the darkness sent me whirling around. My heart almost stopped when I found myself pointing a pistol at Paul. I dropped it in the dirt.
“Vince! Are you all right?” Gonda stood behind Paul in the wine cellar, his eyes as round as Little Orphan Annie’s.
I took a deep breath and dragged myself up out of the dirt, snagging my weapon as I did. Waving it vaguely behind me, I said, “Natander. He’s dead. We need to call the cops.”
“Sergeant Muñoz is already on her way. Marc called her as you suggested.” Paul started to come inside, but I stopped him with a hand up. “This is a crime scene,” I said. “Nobody can enter. But I’m coming out there to sit on that old couch.”
Paul stepped forward and clutched my arm as if helping an old man to his chair, and I sort of felt that way. I’d killed the man who shot me in the thigh while I was an APD detective, but that didn’t prepare me for killing another human being. At the thought, my old wound throbbed so hard I stumbled. But my man was right there to catch me.
As I settled on the sofa, Roma and two deputies hit the door and entered like a hurricane. Her rash approach caused a few minutes’ delay, but she quickly settled down and asked questions like a seasoned pro—after she scanned my naked chest.
“You shot Natander, Vinson?”
“You can quit looking for him. He’s in that room right over there.” I glanced at Gonda. “He didn’t kill your son, Ariel.”
“How do you know?” Roma asked.
“He told me. Deathbed confession, I guess you’d call it.”
Roma turned and ordered everyone out. Gonda was clearly relieved. This many people in the wine cellar was already disturbing the temperature. Once we were in the winery, she got on her cell to order the county crime-scene unit out to the site. Then she went over everything again while Parson Jones walked to the chateau to get a shirt for me. She satisfied herself that Paul and Gonda had become concerned when I didn’t reappear after entering the secret chamber to secure the outside entrance behind me. Gonda tripped the lever Diego had shown him inside the wine cellar, and they found me sitting beside Natander’s body. She confiscated my weapon, ordered one deputy to remain on site, and hustled me to a county cruiser for a trip to the station. When Paul insisted on coming, she told him to provide his own transportation.
Sergeant Muñoz went up in my estimation over the next two hours. I already recognized her as a competent cop, but she put me on a figurative rack and pulled everything out of me. Even though I was 100 percent cooperative, she treated me like a hostile witness. Until we were finished.
“You were lucky, BJ,” she said, addressing me by the name the rest of the world used. “That was an armed military sniper you faced down in there.”
“I had one advantage.”
“What’s that?”
“He didn’t want to kill me—until he lost control of the situation, that is. He was still looking for the artifact, and I was his last hope of finding it.”
“But you said he—”
“That was a threat to make me cooperate with him. Once I helped him, he might have carried out the threat. What about Pastis? Any sign of him?”
“I’ve got people out scouring the countryside for him, but nobody’s reported spotting the man.”
“He was close by. Probably took off as soon as your patrol cars started showing up.”
We exited the interview room to find Paul fit to be tied. He’d been corralled in another interview room, but it took only a few minutes to get his statement.
“Settle down, sonny,” Roma said, “or I’ll put that black Charger you drove up in on the watch list. You go one mile over the speed limit, and you’ll get a ticket.”
“Yes, Mommy, I’ll be a good boy.”
His retort took her by surprise and almost drew a laugh out of me, but it served its purpose and defused the issue. After that, we were free to leave. Roma held on to my Smith & Wesson until the case was properly disposed of.
MOST PLACES were closed on Monday because of the Fourth on the previous Saturday, but it was a big day at the country club, so Paul was scheduled to work. With nothing better to do, I trailed him to the club and put in an hour of swimming. That was partially so I could admire his nearly naked body as he sat in the lifeguard’s chair and partially as therapy for the gunshot wound in my thigh. I’d become slack about that lately, and as a result, the right leg started to stiffen. After that, I wandered into the card room and got roped into a game of gin rummy.
Hazel and Charlie greeted me at the office Tuesday morning with stares. I’d called Hazel to let her know I was all right, since they’d probably read about the shooting in this morning’s Albuquerque Journal. As we settled down at my conference table, Hazel led the verbal assault.
“You just had to have some fireworks of your own on the Fourth, didn’t you?”
“Technically it was the fifth, Sunday.”
Obviously they needed more, so I recounted the events of my last three days, even though the recorder I slid over to Hazel contained everything in detail, including Natander’s dying statement.
“Hazel, I can’t even count all the legal jurisdictions that are going to want Natander’s confession, statement… whatever you want to call it. Better make some copies. Get Gene’s to him first.”
Charlie’s methodical mind started the process of reordering our priorities. “Our contract with Gonda oughta be complete. Diego C de Baca was the intruder, and he’s in custody.”
“Ariel wants us to continue. Another contract, I suppose. He wants us to find his son’s killer.”
Hazel snorted in a ladylike manner. “The state police and the county deputies aren’t enough for him?”
“Apparently not. I pointed that out to him and offered to monitor their progress, but he wants us to actively pursue the case.” I tugged the slips I used to record time and expenses from my attaché case and handed them to Hazel. “These are for the Carlsbad trip. Include them in the final bill. Send it to him and include another contract for his signature on the murder case. Don’t request a retainer. Specify that we are to assist the appropriate authorities in investigating the death of Bascomb Zuniga.”
The admittance bell on the door to our suite of offices pealed, pulling Hazel out of the meeting. She appeared at the door a moment later with a disturbed look on her face.
“There’s a man out here who wants to talk to you, BJ. He claims his name’s Pastis.”
Charlie and I came to our feet as one. I felt for the S&W that wasn’t there, and I hadn’t dug out my Ruger backup. Charlie understood my reaction and showed me the S&W .38 he’d carried since his days as an APD policeman. I nodded. He followed me out into the reception area, where we confronted a stocky brown man about five nine. When I said brown, I meant brown. Smooth brown skin, hair tending toward ebony, and chocolate eyes. He stood with his eyes flicking back and forth between Charlie and me. But he ultimately concentrated his stare on me.
“You Mr. Vinson?”
“And my guess is that you’re Sgt. Hugo Pastis, presently AWOL from your unit in Fort Bliss, Texas.”
“You got it. What happened to Spider? I saw all the cops and the ambulance.”
Charlie’s hand went to the pocket where he carried his .38 as I answered. “I’m afraid your buddy’s gone. He objected to me walking in on him in Diego’s hideaway. We exchanged gunfire. I defended myself.”
<
br /> “You shot him?”
“He had no choice in the matter,” Charlie said.
Pastis sighed. “You don’t need that weapon you’re fingering in your pocket, mister. I ain’t carrying. Besides, I got nothing to gain from taking you two on.”
His face was clear, no frown, no tightening of the eyes. He seemed to accept his friend’s death.
Pastis apparently read my mind. “It was gonna happen sooner or later. Spider didn’t cut nobody no slack. Always pushing. But you’re lucky. He was fast, and he was accurate.”
“But in a pitch-black hole, you don’t go shooting off rounds and giving away your position.”
“He was smarter than that, but he was getting awful tired of all this bullshit. Maybe he was ready to go.”
“Suicide by private investigator?” Charlie asked.
“Maybe.”
“I just have one question for you,” I said. “Why did you kill that young man in front of the winery? Did you mistake him for Diego?”
His head jerked back. “That kid that got whacked in the middle of the night?” I nodded. “Hell, we didn’t kill him. We didn’t kill nobody.”
“Except the priest in Iraq you took the Lady of the Euphrates from.”
“That was Natander. I was with Diego when that happened. That was on Spider’s back.”
“He admitted that to me before he died,” I said. “Knew he was dying, so it was a deathbed confession.”
Something cleared from Pastis’s face. “You’ll tell the feds that?”
“I will, just as soon as anyone asks me. You ready to turn yourself in?”
“I ain’t gonna run for the rest of my life. I’m guessing you turned the statue over to the feds, so that takes some of the sting outta the situation.” He shrugged. “If you’ll take me to them, I’ll surrender without no trouble.”
“First there’s a lady sergeant in the Sandoval County Sheriff’s Office who wants a piece of you.”
“The ambush, huh? Well, nobody got hurt.”
“She’s pretty stubborn, but I think I can get her to drop the charges if she turns you over to the feds.”
