by Ted Clifton
What a jerk. Their plan was to do nothing because it involved a killing between two bad guys—the world was a better place with one of them dead.
“Sounds like there won’t be much done by the Albuquerque Police Department.”
“If we have any leads or evidence, we’ll follow up. Without that there’s not a damn thing we can do.”
“Did the FBI share with you anything that Ed did say?”
“Not much. One of the agents mentioned that they thought he might still be high, or maybe just permanently confused. He kept saying something about his mother having all of the facts and once he got out he would fix everything. They had no idea what he was talking about. But you know how the FBI operates—they mostly just ignored us like we smelled bad or something.”
Ray got up, said thanks, and walked out. Tyee lingered a bit. The detective just stared. Tyee got up and left.
“Many cops just as bad as people they chase.”
“Your Indian wisdom nailed that one. What a waste of time. Just a minute, I need to ask the jerk a question.”
Ray stepped back into the detective’s office. He was gone only a minute. “Asked him if he could give me the FBI’s guy name—he said no. Almost said well, I’ll have to send the Indian back in to rough you up some—but decided that was probably an unwise thing to say at police headquarters.”
“White man has Indian wisdom.”
On their way back to the parking garage Ray stopped and asked a young lady carrying files where the Albuquerque office for the FBI was—she said it was in the building next door—she indicated by pointing—and she thought it was on the fourth floor.
They left the car where it was and walked next door. The building was probably thirty or more stories and there was a lot of activity in the lobby, which also hosted a guard. Ray approached him and asked where the FBI offices were. The police officer had been right—it was on the fourth floor. Exiting the elevator, they arrived at another reception area, this time with an attendant behind glass.
“Hi, my name is Ray Pacheco and I’m assisting the Dona Ana County sheriff’s department with a matter that involves a person named Ed Jackson. He was killed here in Albuquerque in the last few days. I have been told by the Albuquerque police that there was an FBI task force that was investigating Mr. Jackson. I was wondering if I could speak to someone who might know about that.”
“I’m not sure, Mr. Pacheco. Would you take a seat and let me see what I can find out?” Ray suspected the answer would be no. Even so, he thought the response would at least be polite. They were made to wait longer than Ray had expected, and Tyee was looking like he was ready to call it quits when the woman returned.
“Mr. Pacheco, Special Agent Myers will be with you in a minute.”
Ray said thanks and sat back down. Tyee looked unimpressed. It had taken her almost fifteen minutes to come back and ask them to wait some more—no telling how long this was going to take. But in just a matter of minutes a tall, distinguished man in his mid-fifties came out and greeted them.
“Well, well, if it’s not Ray Pacheco, famous sheriff. I thought I’d heard you retired.”
In that it’s-a-small-world sort of coincidence, it turned out that Ray knew Myers, though he’d forgotten. Probably twenty years before, this guy had tried to run roughshod over Ray when he was sheriff. Ray didn’t let him get away with it, and they had not been friends. Dona Ana County was under the El Paso FBI office and Ray had had many dealings with them. This guy Myers had come in as a loaner from somewhere and acted like he was the only one who knew anything. He clashed with almost everyone and was soon shipped somewhere else—and Ray had completely forgotten him.
“Agent Myers, long time no see.” Ray winced inwardly. What a stupid thing to say.
The agent showed Ray and Tyee back into his office—a big office. Apparently he was the person in charge. They took the chairs in front of his desk. The desk was way too large to be functional, so it was a power thing. Ray really hated people who played those games.
“Actually Ray, I know you retired and you’re not the sheriff in Dona Ana County anymore, so what’s this bullshit about you assisting them in some matter?”
“Just trying to be a good citizen by helping my law enforcement heroes.”
“Yeah, you’re so full of shit. You’ll never change Ray—big fucking ego.”
“Who gave you permission to be an asshole?” Oops, that was Tyee.
“Get the fuck out of here big chief, and take your fake sheriff with you.”
Okay, sometimes things don’t work out. Ray decided—and it was a good decision—that the meeting was over, and left with Tyee. He had a strange premonition that Tyee might cause Agent Dickhead some real damage if things progressed any further.
They got on the elevator and headed down. “Are all law enforcement people assholes?”
“Well, Tyee, that’s a reasonable question. I know some that aren’t. But the majority have some kind of control issues. Almost everyone you meet in law enforcement shouldn’t be in law enforcement. The people who should be doing it wouldn’t take the risk involved for the small rewards. So you end up with very flawed people doing very difficult jobs—that’s a bad combination. But you’re instincts are right—most of them have serious problems.”
So that hadn’t been helpful. In short order they had pissed off the local detective and the head of the local FBI office. Pretty good work for only an hour or so. On the other hand, sometimes it’s better to stir up the wasps than to ignore them—he knew they hadn’t heard the last from either man.
They retrieved the Jeep and headed in the direction of Mike’s son’s house. Ray drove and Tyee attentively consulted a map, giving Ray directions. Albuquerque isn’t a huge town and they were soon in the right neighborhood. After a couple of wrong turns, with corrections from Tyee, they arrived in front of the address Mike had given Ray.
With some reluctance, they approached the house. Mike must have been watching for them—before they could even ring the bell, he opened the door and let them inside. Mike didn’t look good. It was hard to tell if his health had declined further or if it was fatigue, but Ray had a bad feeling that Mike was declining fast.
Their meeting didn’t take long since there was so little to report. Ray told Mike that they were going to stay in touch with the police and the FBI in case anything new turned up. He also told Mike that both agencies thought this was a result of Ed’s own poor choices and that his killer was someone associated with his business activities. Mike listened but didn’t seem to take in everything. His son, Luke, was there, but had very little to say. Ray and Tyee left.
“Man this has been one depressing day. Maybe we should go to a bar or something.” Tyee wasn’t completely kidding, but instead they decided to have a quick lunch at a fast food place, then head back to T or C.
They were back at Big Jack’s early in the afternoon and found him and Happy enjoying a cool breeze on the dock. After going over the day’s activities with Big Jack, they all concluded that the trip hadn’t produced anything positive they could work with and had probably been a waste of time.
Ray decided to call Betty Adams. The contact information he’d gotten from Nathan Young for Betty was an address in Dallas and a phone number with a matching area code. There was no answer, so Ray left a voice mail with his information and the phone number at Big Jack’s.
Thursday
Ray had a restless night. Something was bothering him. He knew the scenario involving Monica Jackson, Mrs. Richards, and Ed Jackson was wrong in some way, but he didn’t know how. He wasn’t sure about his previous theories at this point. What he did know was that there were two people dead and at least one missing, and he was sure it was all connected.
It was a drizzly morning and a little bit cool when Ray and Happy headed out to Big Jack’s. He had a feeling Tyee would be pleased with the weather, at least as it related to fishing. Ray had concluded that there was a direct correlation between the lac
k of comfort for the fisherman and the best chance to catch fish. So the best time to go fishing was when it made you the most miserable. Strange humans find weird things to call pleasure—wow, that sounded very Tyee-like inside Ray’s head.
Ray and Happy entered Big Jack’s. Happy was completely at home, finding a corner without clutter to lie down in and continue his morning nap.
“Hey Ray, I’ve got your new phone numbers. They ran the lines yesterday. Tyee has already changed his modem to this one, so I guess the other one’s the line you can use as the business number.”
“Well, how about that. Something went right.”
“Yeah, surprise, surprise. Also one of Clayton’s groupies dropped off this list of events they’ve scheduled. Over the next few weeks they already have ten events, and they wanted you to be at the ones that are checked off. The word from the fishing crowd is that they think Clayton has a good chance of winning—and the only people upset about that are the local business group that thought they ran everything.”
“Sounds encouraging doesn’t it?”
“Let’s just hope Clayton doesn’t suddenly become an asshole and start saying negative things about his opponent and his opponent’s supporters. If he can run a positive race a lot of those business people will support him after he wins. They’re only supporting Martinez because of his dad, and I bet a bunch of them are sick and tired of being controlled by the Mayor and his son.”
“Good point, Big Jack. I’ll mention that to Clayton—he has to stay positive. I think he’s the kind of guy who would do that anyway, but it’ll be good to reinforce it.”
Ray found Tyee out on the dock getting ready to go. He helped finish loading and they were off. Tyee took them only a short distance from Big Jack’s, pulling into a small cove.
Tyee explained that this type of cove would be the best area to fish in, due to the depth and rocky condition of the lake bottom. What he wanted Ray to work on was not getting hung up in the overhanging trees and the junk on the bottom of the lake. Ray listened and then began to practice his casting. Within minutes he was hung up on something close to the shore. After some effort, Tyee cut the line and he started over. Tyee was giving him the you-really-don’t-know-how-to-do-this look that Ray had seen many times by now.
They stayed in the same cove for hours. Ray would cast and reel in, then cast again. He began to get a feel for how to get close to the shore but not get caught up in the trees or various things in the lake. Soon he was casting and reeling without any hang-ups. Now Tyee was giving him nods of approval.
Tyee pulled up anchor and moved the boat down several yards to the next cove. While the same basic conditions were present, the details were a little different. Ray now knew what to look for and how to control his casting. He began casting and reeling in without any trouble. Soon he got a strike. He was impressed—it was just as Tyee had said. He’d followed Tyee’s instructions on lure and bait and had hit his spot exactly—and presto, he had a bite. Maybe Tyee really was best damn fishing guide in whole damn country.
They moved on to other coves, and Ray continued to have success. It really felt like he was getting the hang of what he was supposed to do. Maybe the fishing tournament wouldn’t be a disaster after all. The only problem Ray saw was that Tyee wouldn’t be in the boat on the day of the tournament—that worried him.
Tyee said that Ray was now an official graduate of the Chino School of Fishing, and that his degree would be in the mail. Knowing full well Tyee was bullshitting him, Ray still felt a sense of accomplishment. He may not win the tournament, but he now knew he could go out and fish and enjoy himself.
They headed back to Big Jack’s dock. Ray helped Tyee unload anything that wasn’t going to stay in the boat, and then Ray went into the store. Big Jack was on the phone, but handed Ray a piece of paper. Ray had received a call from a Jane Adams about her mother, Betty Adams. Ray went into the storeroom—now the computer room, he supposed—and called the number.
“Hello.”
“Hi, this is Ray Pacheco and I’m returning your call.”
“Oh yes. I’m so glad you called. We’re very worried about my mother—she’s been missing for days. The police haven’t helped at all. It’s just horrible. My husband and I don’t know what to do. When I was at her house, I checked the messages and heard yours. Do you know anything about where she is?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know your mother was missing. My call was to ask your mother about a lady she knows through the dog shows who’s disappeared. Her name is Monica Jackson. She disappeared from T or C, New Mexico, Saturday a week ago. This is very troubling to learn that your mother’s missing too. When did she disappear?”
There was silence on the line. She hadn’t hung up. Ray was concerned she might have just walked away from the phone.
“Jane, are you okay?”
“I’m sorry, just a minute.” Her voice was shaking and Ray could hear her crying—he waited.
“Jane, do you need to call me back?”
“No. I’m okay now. I’m sorry. Yes, I know who Monica is—she’s my mother’s friend from the dog shows. I can’t believe this—are you saying something has happened to them? Like an accident or something? But you said that Monica disappeared on Saturday. They must not be together because I talked to my mother on Sunday—she was in El Paso. Then on Thursday she left me a message that she was going on a little trip and would call me in a couple of days. I haven’t heard from her since. Do you think they’re together?”
“Jane, nobody knows right now.” Ray went on to relate the circumstances of Monica’s disappearance. He told her that he had no idea how any of this was connected, but it seemed likely that it was. He also felt he had to tell her about Monica’s son, and understandably she became even more upset. Ray wished they could’ve had the conversation in person. He hadn’t told her about Mrs. Richards, mostly because Ray didn’t see how that had anything to do with Betty, but also because he didn’t want to add to Jane’s worry.
“Jane, when your mother left the message on Thursday, did she say she was still in El Paso?”
“Not in the message, but the phone shows the number of the caller. It was the same El Paso number she’d called from before—I believe it’s the hotel number.”
“Jane, you have my number. Please call me any time if something comes up or if you have a question. If I learn anything, I’ll call you. I know you’re worried, but based on what you’ve told me today I think your mother and Monica may be hiding out because Monica is afraid she’s in danger. I’m going to El Paso tomorrow, and if I learn anything I’ll call you.”
Ray found Tyee and Big Jack and told them what he’d learned.
“So, it looks like a week ago Monica and Betty were still in El Paso at the same hotel as the dog show. They may have just moved to a different room under different names. My guess is that they left the hotel on Thursday—I think that’s why Betty called her daughter—and then they went somewhere. Why they did that, or where they went, I don’t know. I’m going to go to El Paso tomorrow to the hotel and see if I can learn anything. I’ll also go by the FBI office—anybody want to ride along?”
As it turned out Tyee and Big Jack had other things to handle. Tyee was helping with one of the campaign events the next evening and needed to print off registration forms along with new flyers. Big Jack had Big Jack stuff to do, but he agreed that Happy could hang out at the store. Ray’s plan was to be back by early afternoon.
Before Ray left he called Mike and told him the latest news. Mike didn’t seem to understand the importance of it, but Ray told him he thought this could mean that Monica was hiding out with Betty and that they were safe. That seemed to cheer Mike some, but even over the phone Ray could sense that he was drifting. He told Mike that as soon as he learned anything for sure, he would call.
Ray attended one of the smaller campaign events and was pleased to see a good crowd. He gave his now refined endorsement speech and received a good round of applause. Th
ere was no free beer at this event, so the response was a little calmer, but the crowd was still enthusiastic. It was a surprise to Ray that Sue was there. She said the host was a good customer at the Lone Post, and he and his wife had invited her. Ray’s ego thought maybe she was there to see him.
Ray and Sue talked for quite a while before she said that she needed to get home. She gave Ray a peck on the cheek and headed out. Ray and Happy went home, alone.
Friday
Ray dropped Happy off at Big Jack’s on his way to El Paso, about a two hour drive with very little traffic. He had made the trip there from Las Cruces many times, so it felt very familiar. As sheriff of Dona Ana County, he’d had many dealings with the FBI and the Border Patrol. Dona Ana County bordered Texas and Mexico. Ray was known for standing his ground regarding jurisdictional issues, but also had a reputation for being cooperative and professional.
Traveling along I-10, Ray crossed over into Texas at Anthony, New Mexico. The border between Texas and New Mexico shifted to the Rio Grande River a little way to the West. The culture in this area was much more Mexican than it was Texan or New Mexican. There were still many families in this part of the country that had grandparents who remembered when the area was part of Mexico, not Texas or New Mexico. There were also many families that resented the U.S. for its expansion into the territory. Ray had been surprised when he moved to the area to find that there was still tension just below the surface arising from the hostility between the two countries, and that people still often took one side or the other.
The downtown exit took Ray into El Paso very quickly. The Camino Real Hotel was just off of I-10, on South El Paso Street. Originally opened in 1912, it was a very impressive structure and considered a landmark. Extensive renovations had created a first class, impressive building. And it was next to the convention center, so many events used the hotel as their headquarters. Ray had attended numerous law enforcement meetings and events here over the years.
