“Anybody in the mood for Italian?” Chris asked. “I spotted an Oregano’s at Oracle and Orange Grove the other day. There’s one in Flagstaff also and it’s one of Marla’s and my favorite spots. The pasta is great but they also have good pizza. Great salads also, if you don’t want anything too starchy.”
They went directly there, deciding that they didn’t need to go home first. Even though the hour was early, there were lots of folks there. They were able to get a table on the side porch where misters created a cool spot to enjoy while dining outside. Lin always found it surprising that one could sit outdoors with water misting above and not get wet. Even though the monsoon season brought higher humidity, it was still dry enough to cause the moisture to evaporate before it reached you. They ordered large margaritas to enjoy before dinner.
After enjoying a delicious meal, they sat back to have some coffee and began to reflect on all that had happened. “I’m just so grateful to be getting finished and away from here,” Chris shook his head. “I still find it hard to believe that a simple archeology gig could turn into such a harrowing experience. I may never want to work here again!”
“I can understand how you must feel after all you’ve been through,” Neal responded, “but sometimes things happen that are beyond our control. At least now the authorities think they have an answer and are no longer focusing on you.”
Lin spoke up. “That part is good, but let’s not forget that their answer has a lot of holes in it. No one has laid out a clear-cut, believable case against anyone as yet, at least that’s my opinion. First they arrest Sam Stevens—now he’s been released and they aren’t looking at him any more; they detained Chris on purely circumstantial evidence and, of course, had to release him. They arrested Doug Davison who, while he is apparently something of a troublemaker, still has not been definitively linked to these murders—at least not by any evidence that I’ve seen or heard. Who knows, maybe he is guilty, but it seems to me that the case should be clearly spelled out so that anyone could see that evidence supports his guilt. Think about poor Susan and their child, they shouldn’t have to move forward with their lives thinking that Doug was a murderer unless he actually was such. They deserve better and…”
Neal interrupted, “I don’t disagree, but I’m not sure that the evidence will be easy to come by and I do think searching for it could be dangerous for those involved.” This was said with a note of caution that Lin easily picked up on.
“That’s why I want to see if Sgt. Montoya and the tribal police could get involved. Could at least explore connections on the reservation where Davison lived and worked and, supposedly, had some troublesome contacts. Remember, Mark’s mother originally thought that Jose Mendoza, the drug kingpin, was behind Mark’s murder so maybe Montoya can find some information from that angle. Even if Doug Davison cannot be cleared, even if he was involved somehow, it could be helpful to Susan to understand the truth about everything that happened. That said, I can’t forget the fact that Doug had wounds on his wrists with no evidence of healing. If these occurred the evening before his death there should be some signs that they’d begun to heal, I would think.”
Neal picked up their check and rose to leave. “Well, I certainly think talking to Sgt. Montoya can’t do any harm and it might be the path to finding the answers to all this. I just wish I could go with you to see him tomorrow. I’m afraid we still have a few loose ends to finish up and we need to review our report for Pete Tedder so…”
“Don’t worry,” Lin insisted. “I know where I’m going and I’m perfectly comfortable with my plans.” She squeezed Neal’s hand to reassure him as they left the restaurant and headed back home.
Chapter 13
By mid-morning on Monday Lin was heading into the Tohono O’Odham tribal police headquarters. The receptionist welcomed her with a smile and an offer of coffee while she waited in the conference room for Sgt. Montoya to appear. Given the fact that the AC in the building seemed to be cranking out cold air at the highest possible level, Lin actually welcomed the hot drink.
When Sgt. Montoya appeared, he had a file with him, “I assumed that you were coming with questions about Doug Davison, maybe Mark Garcia also, so I pulled some information—at least what I could find easily—from our files.”
Lin smiled at the young officer. It was nice to finally meet with someone who seemed ready to actually look into the facts surrounding these people and events. “Your assumption is correct; I had the opportunity to meet with Susan Davison and she shared Doug’s medical report with me. There were some serious questions surrounding his supposed suicide it seemed. In fact, I think Susan is meeting with an attorney in Tucson this morning. She’s going to try to get an investigation opened into Doug’s death.” Lin explained about the wounds and the questions they raised. She could tell from Sgt. Montoya’s expression that the information raised questions for him as well.
He opened the file and fingered the short stack of papers that lay within, “Doug Davison was always an interesting character. We never had any clear-cut reason to arrest him; however, his name always came up when other drug related arrests occurred. Frankly, I always felt he might be selling drugs on the side to some of the young adults in our community, but we could never seem to catch him outright.” Lin nodded her understanding as Montoya continued discussing the overall drug situation—the understanding in the community that Jose Mendoza was the man behind this business, generally operating from across the border in Mexico.
“Actually, there is also some indication that Mark Garcia might’ve been a target in some of this, as well,” the young sergeant continued. “I guess you’ve heard about his nephew? He was killed presumably because of failure in his role as a spotter for the Mendoza group. We could never gather enough evidence to make an arrest in that case but…” it was evident that the young officer was pained about that situation. He composed himself and continued, “I know, personally, that Mark Garcia had vowed to do something to avenge his nephew’s death. Mark and I had become friends after he got out of detention. He’d really turned his life around, made great contributions to his community. He was determined that this crime should not go unpunished and, frankly, I think that may have gotten him killed. Of course, neither of these murders occurred on the reservation—meaning they’re outside our jurisdiction…”
Lin jumped in, “…but one of the victims and the person whom the Pima County authorities seem to think was the perpetrator lived here in this community and you might have access to information about them, about things that they were involved in…” she continued, trying to make a case for involvement. “If nothing else, you might be able to help Mark’s family and Susan Davison find some closure—some understanding of what their family members were involved in that might help to explain all that has happened.” Finally, she sat back, waiting for the officer to respond.
Sgt. Montoya appeared thoughtful, finally he spoke, “I do see your point Ms. Hanna. Susan Davison does need some answers both from an investigation into Doug’s death that hopefully she can get in Pima County and maybe from an understanding of her husband’s activities here, but I must warn you, she might not be happy with what information comes out if we pursue such questions.”
“But, at least, she’d have answers,” Lin responded, “even if all the answers are not pleasant ones. She needs to know the truth. So does the Garcia family. They need to understand why Mark was killed. Was it because of his trying to prove what happened to his nephew or was it simply that he was in the way of some business rivalry? ”
Sgt. Montoya smiled, “You’re one persistent lady. What is your interest in all of this? If I may ask.”
Lin smiled, “This whole thing started at the place where my fiancé was working. He and his co-worker found Garcia’s body, in fact. I was the one who discovered Dave Jennings body when he was killed a few days later. We didn’t plan to get involved in such matters when we came here. This was simply a job that Neal was doing. Neal’s co-worker, Ch
ris Dawkins was even detained for a while as a suspect in the Jennings case. The entire incident has been quite traumatic for him, especially. We certainly had no idea that we’d encounter this situation, but we did.”
“Later I happened to meet Mark Garcia’s mother when we went to John Manuel’s office and that led to our talking with her further a few days later. More recently I encountered Susan Davison and she asked for help in understanding the medical report on Doug’s death. I directed her to an attorney who hopefully can help her. So, you see, my involvement and that of my fiancé and friend was something that just happened. I didn’t seek this out, neither did Neal or Chris, nevertheless, I’m not someone who can stand by and watch things just happen. Especially, when it seems so clear that not enough questions are being asked in the right places. Frankly, I think Ben Ramirez simply wants to close the case, to have it done with, whether he gets the best answers or not. I just hate to see that happen—especially to the families of the victims—and I consider Doug Davison a victim also. I’m not certain he did commit suicide—not certain at all but…” she couldn’t think of anything further to add.
Sgt. Montoya was thinking. He remained quiet for a spell, seemingly reviewing all the information Lin had shared, as well as what he had in his own files. Finally he spoke,“I do see your point, Ms. Hanna. Things are fairly quiet around here at the moment, so I could probably spare a few hours to make some inquiries. I’ll try to talk to some people about Mark Garcia and his activities and also Doug Davison. You mentioned leaving soon?”
“Neal and I are flying back to North Carolina on Wednesday,” she smiled, “We have a wedding to prepare for, the date is a little less than a month away.”
“Congratulations,” Montoya replied, “Suppose I try to make some inquiries around here today. I could call you later, perhaps tonight or tomorrow morning. Hopefully, I can learn some background information that might help provide some answers.”
Lin thanked him, “I really appreciate your help,” she said. “Getting at least some answers should help these families. I’ll look forward to your call.”
She felt much better as she left the tribal police office. While she knew that Montoya couldn’t formally bring charges in the murder cases because of jurisdiction, she felt that information he might gather could help to answer the questions of why these deaths occurred. The families could perhaps get some answers and be able to move forward. Besides, if any really significant evidence happened to be uncovered, maybe the Pima County authorities could use it to further their own investigation—maybe they wouldn’t be so quick to try to close these cases.
Lin had decided that, as she was already on the reservation, she might go back to visit Mrs. Garcia again, at least to pay her respects to the older woman and let her know that she was still asking questions and still trying to uncover the truth. As she arrived at her car, her phone rang.
“Hi Susan,” she said eagerly, happy that the young woman had called. “How did your visit with Rich Lafferty go?”
“It went well,” the young woman responded. Her voice had a new note of hopefulness. “Rich says that the examiner’s report provides sufficient questions to file a request for a full investigation into Doug’s death. Maybe it wasn’t a suicide after all. It’s going to take some time to clear this up, but he’s going to take the steps to do this.”
“I’m so glad to hear this news,” Lin responded, “I’m sure you want to have as many answers as you can get—want to know what happened here.”
“That’s right,” Susan replied, her voice quavered a bit, “It’s bad enough that Doug is gone—we’re going to have to move, find somewhere else to live and I’m not sure how I’m going to support myself and our child. Maybe if the suicide ruling can be overturned, we can at least get some help from the insurance. It’s not much but it could help me get a new start somewhere…”
“I do hope that happens,” Lin agreed. They chatted for a few more moments and then ended the call. Now Lin wanted to get to the Garcia residence before it got too late. There were some clouds gathering on the horizon to the west that promised possible storms before evening.
As she pulled out of the parking lot at the tribal police station, Lin noticed a pick up truck pull out of a space at the end of the lot. It was a fairly nondescript white truck, although the desert dust had given it a reddish, sandy coating. Probably just a local resident in town for personal business she thought as she noticed the truck turn onto the same road she was taking to the Garcia residence. As she drove down the dusty two-lane road, the truck followed behind, maintaining a reasonable distance. Somehow it made Lin feel uneasy.
This is nonsense, Lin told herself. I read too many mysteries. This is just some person heading back home and I’m trying to create suspicions where none exist. Nevertheless, the truck continued to maintain a discreet distance from her vehicle.
Finally, she spotted the Garcia residence and turned into the driveway. She pulled up to park but remained in the car to observe the following truck. As it passed the driveway, she saw that the driver was a native man in a plaid shirt and wearing a wide-brimmed hat. She didn’t see his face clearly, but she was fairly certain she’d never seen this person before. Like she thought, just a neighboring resident.
She spotted Mrs. Garcia waving to her from the front porch and exited her car. The older woman welcomed her warmly and invited her to sit down and have a glass of iced tea.
“I can’t stay long, Mrs. Garcia,” Lin said, “but a nice glass of tea would certainly taste good. I just wanted to stop by and see you again. I’ll be leaving Tucson in a couple of days to return to North Carolina and I wanted to talk to you one more time before I have to go. I wanted to say again how sorry I am about Mark, I know what a loss that is for your family.”
The older woman nodded and reached out to pat Lin’s hand. “Thank you for coming by. Actually, I was hoping I’d see you one more time before you left Arizona. You are a smart, caring woman and I appreciate your interest in what’s happened here. I’ve learned that the sheriff’s men say Doug Davison killed Mark and that other fellow too.” She shook her head as if in disbelief.
“That’s what they’re saying,” Lin responded, “but I think there are still some questions.” She explained to Mrs. Garcia that Susan Davison was going to get an investigation into Doug’s death. “It might not’ve been a suicide,” she told her, “and if it wasn’t, maybe he didn’t kill Mark or Dave Jennings. Of course, the investigation can’t prove that one way or the other but…”
Mrs. Garcia looked at Lin with tear-glazed eyes, “No. It can’t, but it could help that poor widow and her child to know the truth about her husband’s death. Maybe answer some questions about his behavior for her but…I know Doug Davison didn’t kill Mark. I know Mark’s death was the fault of Jose Mendoza. I blame him. He didn’t pull the trigger, but he was responsible. Mark knew too much about this drug business. Sooner or later he was going to prove that Mendoza had my grandson killed—that he was behind all this trouble. Mark was killed to keep him quiet, to end his search for the truth. I know that to be true.” She sat back with assurance. “Someday everyone will know the truth.” She said this with quiet certainty.
Lin rested with her for a few more moments and then got up to leave. Just at that moment the dusty white pick up truck passed by again, heading back toward the main road to Sells. Lin turned to Mrs. Garcia, “Do you know who that person is? Does he live nearby?”
Mrs. Garcia shook her head, “I couldn’t see the driver, but I don’t recognize that truck. It doesn’t belong to any of my neighbors. Must be someone from town come out to see someone.”
“Must be,” Lin replied, but her uneasy feeling returned.
***
After taking leave of Mrs. Garcia, Lin drove back toward the main highway. There was no sign of the white truck. She watched carefully all the way back to Sells, noticing vehicles on the road ahead of her as well as parked in driveways along the way—no sign of any so
rt of dirty white truck. As she drove through Sells and started back toward Tucson she began to relax once more. The person must’ve turned off in Sells, perhaps returning to their own home after calling on one of the folks who lived on Mrs. Garcia’s road. She had to quit being so jumpy.
Lin spent the remainder of the drive toward Tucson thinking over all that had transpired. She had high hopes that Sgt. Montoya would be able to uncover some background information that might prove helpful. If that were the case, perhaps the Pima County authorizes would consider looking more deeply before closing the two murders. At least, Susan Davidson might be able to understand more about the obvious troubles that her husband had gotten himself into and how he came to die. Lin still felt dissatisfied that there still were no clear-cut answers but just maybe things could change in that department.
She was still thinking about these things as she came into the city along Ajo Way. The clouds were growing more dense now and the sky was overcast, although it was still quite hot outside. She was hungry, having skipped lunch, so she decided to pull into a McDonalds just ahead and get a sandwich to go. Breakfast was long gone and she really wasn’t sure what dinner plans would be. Most of the food at the casita had already been consumed and there’d been no point in replenishing groceries as they were leaving day after tomorrow. She went inside and used the restroom, then ordered a chicken wrap to go and a soft drink. She paid for her food and then filled her drink cup at the nearby machine before heading out to her car. Just as she turned for the door she spotted the truck once again. It was parked just around the corner from her vehicle and, this time, she had a clear view of the driver. He was just sitting there as if waiting for someone or something.
Lin realized that she was staring at him and he was eyeing her as well. He was a small man, either native or Hispanic in appearance. When he broke what seemed like a wicked grin to Lin, she observed that he was missing his two front teeth. Lin hastily averted her eyes, but she realized that he knew she had noticed him. She took an extra moment at the counter, picking up an extra straw and napkin, as she tried to avoid the man’s looks. Finally, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the truck pull out of the parking spot. Lin exited the restaurant on the side opposite where she’d parked, hoping that the man would be gone by the time she walked around the front of the building, and sure enough, she couldn’t see him anywhere as she rounded the corner. Somewhat relieved but still wary, she got into the car and started the engine. As she pulled out into the traffic, the light at the next intersection turned red; she was forced to stop. While she was waiting for the light to change, she glanced back through the line of traffic. There he was, just two cars back. She could clearly see the gap-toothed grin of the driver. He must’ve waited behind the McDonalds for her to leave.
Sonoran Sun Page 17
