“I think you must have influence in that DNA lab. I’ve never seen test results come back so quickly. Who are you sleeping with over there, anyway?”
She smiled as she slugged me in the arm. “I do get around.”
“Seriously, I think it’s time to kick ass and take names. I’m getting bored to tears with all this damn surveillance,” I said.
“Me, too,” said Kate. “But let’s talk about it for a minute. I think we’ve got more than enough evidence to bring charges against Anthony Barnes and Steven Ambrose, but what about Plow?”
I shrugged. “Well, that’s easy enough. We haven’t got shit on Rodney other than his phone call to Barnes’ cell. That after denying he even knew Barnes. We might be able to prove motive considering the ongoing sexual relationship between Ambrose and Rodney, but that’s about it.”
Kate shook her head. “I don’t think we’ve even got that. The affair might go to prove motive on Ambrose’s part, but not Rodney, unless we can connect him in some other way. He’s already acknowledged the affair but described it as little more than a fling that didn’t mean much. That’s what he’d say in court, too.”
“You’re probably right. If we bust the other two, there’s a good chance we’d get a confession from one or both. Maybe the DA cuts somebody a deal for testimony against Rodney.”
“Possible, but I still think we need something more if we’re going to hang a conspiracy rap on him. Let’s stay with our surveillance of Barnes for just a little longer. If something doesn’t break in the next day or so, we try something else.”
“And that would be?”
“We get warrants for Barnes and Ambrose. We bring them in and turn their homes inside out. And then we squeeze their testicles until we get them talking.”
“I like it, but I’ll leave the squeezing of the testicles to you.”
Kate nodded.
I asked, “What about the house on Ninth South that Barnes has been staying at. Have you had time to figure out who lives there?”
“I have. The utilities and property taxes are paid by an elderly woman named Rosemary Tafoya. It turns out that she’s Anthony’s aunt. Tafoya’s clean by the way—no criminal history.”
“Let’s go talk to her. What have we got to lose? Anthony’s already spooked. He’s going to be looking over his shoulder from now on anyway. A conversation with his aunt might even be beneficial.”
Kate considered that for a moment. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
Barnes’ SUV wasn’t around when we arrived at Rosemary Tafoya’s residence. We found her in the backyard raking leaves from the aspen trees scattered about the property. This annual autumn ritual was a harbinger of the Rocky Mountain winter soon to follow.
Tafoya was a matronly looking woman, a little on the plump side, wearing no makeup, and with snow white hair wrapped in a blue and white bandana. She invited us inside and offered tea and fresh-baked zucchini bread. Kate declined. Not having had lunch, I jumped on the offer. She disappeared into the kitchen only to reappear minutes later carrying a silver serving tray with sliced zucchini bread on it, and two cups of black tea in delicate, bone china cups. A very nice presentation I thought.
Once settled, she said, “I almost dread asking what brings you to see me.”
“Why is that?” asked Kate.
“I fear that it probably has something to do with my nephew, Tony. He’s my late sister’s boy. He’s the only family I’ve got left. And he’s a troubled young man with a checkered past.”
“Unfortunately, Ms. Tafoya, it is about Anthony. You describe his life as troubled. Could you explain?”
She sighed. “Please call me Rosy, that’s what everybody does.”
“Sure, Rosy.”
“Tony has had long standing problems in his life with depression. And it’s proven nearly impossible to keep him on his meds. He just won’t take them on a consistent basis. Add to that his sexual identity problems and it’s made for a troubled life.”
“What kind of sexual identity problems?” I asked.
“He’d very much like to be a straight male, get married, have children—all the things normal people do. But he’s not. He’s attracted primarily to men. I don’t know whether he’s gay or bisexual. He’s had girlfriends from time-to-time but never anything stable or long-term. He doesn’t seem capable of forming the attachments.”
Kate asked, “And what kind of problems has this produced in his life?”
“Well, aside from relationship problems, he got kicked out of the military for reasons I’m uncertain about. I suspect he couldn’t adjust to military life. He’s had some drug and alcohol problems which led to some scrapes with the law. He doesn’t have much by way of job skills. He works as a bartender in a gay night club.”
“That would be the Lucky Gent?”
“Yes. Now it’s my turn to ask a question,” she said. “This isn’t a social call. What is it you think Tony’s gotten himself involved in?”
Kate and I glanced at each other. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this,” Kate said, “but I’m afraid that Anthony is a suspect in a murder case.”
“Oh, dear God, no,” Tafoya said, putting her face in her hands. When she regained her composure, Kate went on.
“Does Anthony live here with you?”
“Not really. He inherited my sister’s house in Ogden, but it’s such a long drive back-and-forth to the bar that he sometimes stays over with me. I’m alone, and frankly, it’s nice to have the company.”
“He’s got the Ogden house up for sale,” said Kate.
“Tony’s got the house up for sale,” Tafoya said, a look of surprise on her face. “He hasn’t mentioned that to me, but why would he? I know he’s been trying to save money.”
“What for?” I asked.
“Says he’s gonna buy the Lucky Gent.”
“Does he have a bedroom that he uses when he stays over?”
“Yes. I’ve got a bedroom and bath in the basement that I let him use.”
“Does he pay you rent?” I asked.
That question seemed to catch her off-guard. “Why, no, why do you ask that?”
“Because we’d like your permission to search it, and if he was paying rent, you might not be able to give us consent—expectation of privacy and all that stuff.”
“I see. Yes, you have my permission to search anyplace you need to search. Is it all right if I observe?”
“No problem,” said Kate. “We really appreciate your cooperation and insights into Anthony’s life.”
Tafoya led us into the basement and showed us the bedroom and bathroom used by her nephew. Kate searched the bedroom while I looked around in the bathroom. We both came up empty. Barnes kept a few clothes in the closet and a shaving kit in the bathroom. Other than the personal items, there was nothing.
Rosy Tafoya walked us to our car. She had been more than cooperative and we thanked her for it. I had one last question. “Over the past several days, has Anthony acted or behaved at all differently?”
She paused for a moment. Finally, she said, “No, not really. You have to remember that because of Tony’s depression, his moods can change from moment to moment. And sometimes, they do. He can be up and down like a yo-yo.”
We thanked her again and got into our car. Before we could back out of the driveway, Tafoya approached my side and motioned me to unroll my window.
“I just remembered something that happened today when Tony left. It seemed a little out of the ordinary, but I guess I just dismissed it.”
“What was it?”
“I was raking leaves when I saw him come out of the garage carrying a pick and shovel.”
“What did he do with em’?”
“He put them in the back of his SUV and then took off.”
“Do you have any idea what he wanted with a pick and shovel?”
“None, whatsoever. He didn’t talk to me about it. I just assumed he needed them
for work.”
“Do you know where he went?”
“I think he went to work. The Lucky Gent doesn’t open until five, but he often goes in during the afternoon.”
We thanked her again and took off for the Lucky Gent.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Anthony Barnes sat in a booth in the deserted confines of the Lucky Gent nursing his fourth Budweiser. A lone janitor and the hum of the overhead ceiling fans were the only sounds disturbing the quiet. From five in the evening until closing, the Lucky Gent buzzed with the raucous sound of the jukebox and the incessant chatter of bar patrons. Barnes needed the quiet time, especially on a day like today when he needed to think.
Things had suddenly become complicated and now he was in jeopardy. It was time to act, to take control of his destiny. Barnes removed the 22 caliber Colt revolver from the waistband of his pants, opened the cylinder, and checked the loads. It was a good gun when there was work to do up close; it was easily concealed and relatively quiet when discharged. He finished the beer and grabbed a fresh six pack from the cooler before heading to his SUV. He had work to do.
***
“What the hell do you think the pick and shovel thing is all about?” Kate asked.
“It’s hard to say, but I’ve got a pretty good idea what it’s not. You can bet that he doesn’t have a gardening project going on at the Lucky Gent.”
“Maybe he needs the tools at his Ogden house.”
“Maybe.”
As we approached the Lucky Gent, Anthony Barnes pulled out of the parking lot and shot past us going in the opposite direction. “Christ, do you think he saw us?” I said.
“Hard to tell,” said Kate, as she hung a U-ball and punched the accelerator on the Dodge. We closed ground quickly on Barnes but tried to keep several cars between us to avoid detection. He meandered through town and eventually headed up Emigration Canyon.
“What do you think he’s up to?” Kate said.
“I wish I knew, but I’ve got a bad feeling that he’s up to no good.”
We continued to climb until we reached an elevation that put us above the multi-million dollar homes that dotted the hillsides and the businesses that occupied the canyon floor. At this elevation, the canyon resembled remote wilderness. We stayed well back giving Barnes plenty of room. Eventually, his brake lights came on and he turned on to a narrow dirt road and disappeared into a grove of aspen trees. We didn’t dare follow with the car, so I took Kate’s hand-held radio, jumped out, and followed on foot. Kate took up a stationary position a little further up the road and waited for my call.
I’d hiked parts of Emigration Canyon in the past but I’d never been in this area before. I crept down the winding road with as much stealth as I could manage considering I was dressed in slick-soled Nordstrom’s penny-loafers—hardly ideal for back-country hiking. The road dropped gradually until it abruptly came to a dead-end about two hundred yards from the highway. The Explorer was parked at the end of the road. Barnes was nowhere in sight.
I had only one good option. I could see a rocky outcrop above the road where I could stay out of sight and wait for Barnes to return. I nearly killed myself climbing up there in my penny-loafers. I had no idea where he’d gone, and to do anything else seemed foolhardy. I radioed Kate and then settled down to wait. I sat for over an hour before Barnes emerged from what looked like an old game trail. He was drinking a beer and carrying the pick and shovel that his aunt, Rosy Tafoya, had told us about. He put the tools away, tossed the beer can, and climbed into the Explorer. The dirt road was so narrow that he had to back out to the highway.
I used the radio and alerted Kate. We agreed that she would follow Barnes while I went in search of the dig site. I figured that he couldn’t have hiked in too far. I followed the game trail a short distance taking frequent detours off the trail into places that looked flat enough to allow digging. I spotted a tall mound of what looked like freshly turned dirt.
I approached tentatively, unsure of what I might find. What I saw shocked me. I muttered to myself, “Holy shit,” as I reached for the hand-held radio. Kate asked me to switch to a secure channel before transmitting, one that couldn’t be monitored by the press or the general public.
“What have you got, Sam?”
“You know those garden tools we were wondering about? Well, he put them to good use. He’s dug a grave up here. The only thing missing is an occupant. My guess is that he’s already killed somebody and needs to bury the body, or he’s about to kill somebody. Are you still with him?”
“Yeah, I followed him down the canyon about two miles. He stopped at a little joint on the south side of the highway called This is the Place Bar & Grill. He got out of the Explorer and was talking on his cell for awhile, and then went inside.”
“What do you think he’s up to?”
“My guess is that he’s waiting for somebody.”
She was probably right. And I could take a pretty good guess at who that somebody might be. “We’re going to need backup up here right away,” I said. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but I’ve got a feeling that things are about to get dicey. I’d keep the uniforms away. I suspect these guys will spook easily.”
“I’m a step ahead of you,” she said. “I’ll have Vince and his new partner here momentarily. Then I’ll come and get you.” The Vince she was referring to was Vince Turner, her former partner. Turner had recently been assigned a new partner who he was breaking into the homicide division.
I walked back to the paved road and waited. Kate arrived momentarily. It was starting to get cold and dark. I figured we had less than an hour of daylight. I didn’t fancy the idea of spooking around Emigration Canyon when I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. But at least I had an idea about how we might manage the situation.
“You still mount shotguns in the trunks of these cars?”
“Sure do.” Kate popped the trunk lid and I retrieved the shotgun.
“Why don’t I take the shotgun and return to where Barnes parked the Explorer. I’d say that it’s about thirty yards from there to the gravesite. I’ll take a position of concealment and wait. You guys follow Barnes no matter where he goes. If he doesn’t come back here, you forget about me and stick with him. We can’t afford to lose him. If necessary, I can use the hand-held to call dispatch and have somebody pick me up.”
“Okay,” said Kate. “I’ll call you on the radio the minute he moves. And if he does return here, we’ll come in on foot behind him.”
“Don’t spook him. Give him enough room.” I grabbed a light jacket I’d left in the car and started back down the dirt road.
“Hey,” said Kate. “I gotta future planned with you. Watch yourself out there. And don’t cut loose with that shotgun on us.”
“Hell, I might be able to start a whole new trend in body piercing.”
She smiled and drove away.
I walked down the road to the dead end. A little ways further, I found a new hiding place near the gravesite. If they returned, I would have a ring-side seat for the evening’s entertainment. If there was any gun play, it would happen at close range. I waited for about a half hour before the radio cracked.
“Sam, Plow and Ambrose just picked up Anthony. They’re in Rodney’s car and they’re headed your way.”
Chapter Forty-nine
It was nearly dark when I heard the sound of an approaching car. The autumn sun had long since disappeared from this ravine. I was cold, yet my hands were sweating as I gripped the 12-gauge shotgun. I jacked a round into the chamber. Strange, that at a time like this, I’d remember a line from an old John Belushi movie where he said, “It’s so quiet up here you can hear a mouse get a hard on.” That’s how this place felt. I remained hidden as I heard the car slowly roll to a stop. I heard car doors slam and the faint sound of voices.
***
“I don’t know why the hell we had to come way out here in the middle of bumfuck,” said Ambrose
.
“Relax, Stevie,” said Plow. “We can’t afford to be seen together in public, you know that. This place gives us lots of privacy.”
“Let’s get it over with so we can get the hell out of here,” said Barnes.
“Get what over with?” said Ambrose, a note of alarm in his voice.
“I’ve been thinking, Stevie,” said Plow. “And it occurs to me that your usefulness has come to an abrupt end. You’re, how can I say it gently, no longer relevant.”
“What do you mean? What about us,” pled Ambrose.
“There isn’t any us, Stevie. In fact, there never was. Only in your mind, I’m afraid. I believe Tony has a little spot over in the trees he’d like to show you.” Barnes pointed the twenty-two at Ambrose and motioned for him to start walking down the narrow game trail. Barnes followed, and Plow brought up the rear. By the time they reached the gravesite, I could distinctly hear Ambrose crying and pleading with Rodney to spare his life.
“Stop groveling, Stevie,” said Plow. “For once in your life, show a little class for Christ’s sake.”
I stuck my head up just high enough to see what was going on. I could see Barnes pointing a small handgun at Ambrose. Rodney was standing next to Barnes but slightly behind him. There was no way I would allow this exchange to end with Barnes summarily executing Steven Ambrose.
“Ya’ know, boys,” said Plow, “there’s an old maxim—can’t remember who said it, but that’s not really important. It says three people can keep a secret as long as two of them are dead.”
Suddenly, Plow pulled his own handgun and fired twice, striking Barnes in the upper torso. Barnes staggered back a step or two and then fell. Ambrose cried out like a dog that had just had his tail slammed in a car door.
I jumped up leveling the shotgun, and yelled, “Drop it, Rodney.”
He turned to face me.
“Don’t even think about it. I’ll plaster you all over this canyon.”
He thought about it for an instant. Then he dropped the gun.
Silent Witness Page 25
