In the small town of Columbus, New Mexico there are all of two restaurants and they are across the street from each other. There's a taco truck, too, of course and those in the know say it is the source of the best food in town. Of course, rumor has it that the meat in those tacos may or may not be something other than beef. Some would say road kill. Kathy might raise an eyebrow and mention that she is very seldom called out for stray or feral cats.
Two days after the bodies were discovered, all three food sources were doing a roaring business thanks to the presence of law officers, evidence technicians, and reporters.
Of the two restaurants, La Llorna was bigger, brighter, and kitschy-er. Housed in a large adobe building on the south side of Main Street, the front was painted bright yellow with murals of local scenery and Southwestern themes such as coyotes, kokopelli, and cacti. Inside distressed wood tables stood on Saltillo tile and more murals and mosaic tile decorated the walls. Artwork by local artists hung above each table (with discreet small price labels) and waitresses wore costumes based on traditional Mexican festival dresses. The entire staff cordially hated their split shift schedule, made necessary by the restaurants hours – open only from noon to 2 for lunch, and from 6 pm to 10 pm for dinner. The owners were universally disrespected and lived 100 miles away in Las Cruces. Once a week or so they dropped by and picked up the bank deposits and strutted around like their opinion mattered. By contrast, the manager – known naturally as Mamacita - was universally loved. Mamacita wore a real, traditional Mexican dress over her vast earth mother bulk that set off beautifully her sparkling dark eyes, waist length shining black hair and warm, smooth brown skin. Her greatest talent was smiling constantly and making everyone feel welcome, whether they were a regular she had seen a thousand times, or a tourist making their very first visit.
Business varied considerably depending on the season and various nearby celebrations ranging from car shows and biker rallies to Boy Scout jamborees and the annual Pancho Villa Days. This particular day most of the tables had been taken over by reporters, government officials including both senators, and "the feds" – officers and evidence crews from the FBI and Homeland Security. Every chair in the place was in use and there was a line out the door. Mamacita had warned the staff that she intended to stay open until everyone was fed. Everyone was pleased due to the fact that most of the governmental types were tipping big and tips were pooled and split at La Lorna.
Both sides of Main street Columbus looked like they had stepped out of an old western movie, with wooden sidewalks and tall false fronts, even though they now housed thoroughly modern little shops, each front painted a different color. The aqua blue place with red trimmed windows on the north side of the street was Maria's. Maria's Place opened at 6 am, so the farmers could get their coffee and breakfast burritos between feeding livestock and going to market. She stayed open only until 7 pm, because she was tired by then, and most of her patrons were home and well on their way to bed. The prices were lower, the selection was humble, and the staff was all related to Maria one way or another. You could sit at an old-fashioned booth with much repaired vinyl benches, or at one of the square tables with a red vinyl tablecloth. For a big group you could push several of them together, Maria didn't mind. Some extra chairs stood along the wall by the kitchen door, too, in case you needed them, along with the booster chairs and two high chairs.
Two days after the bodies were found the local cops of all stripes gathered at Maria's. New Mexico is one of the poorest states in the U.S. and it is reflected in the salaries and expense accounts allotted to their law enforcement officers. The Staties, detectives, evidence crews, and officers, along with the Border Patrol officers and investigators who could afford better, but who were familiar with the town and had settled on Maria's as "their spot" had packed themselves onto benches and booths. By noon even the folding chairs and tables Maria kept in back for catering special events like weddings had been brought out, some even spilling over to the sidewalk outside.
Deputy Dawg sulked at a table in the back, crushed between an enormous black deputy he didn't know well, and trying to keep what he considered a decent distance from a tall, slender whipcord hard female deputy who had been recently hired and whom he did not know or like. The Sheriff himself lorded it over the other side of the booth. Strictly speaking, it wasn't necessary for the Sheriff's officers to be there at all – having had jurisdiction passed over their heads to the New Mexico State Police. Which is mainly why Sheriff Carlos Baca was there, loudly shouting out to every acquaintance that passed and making it abundantly clear how well he knew all the locals. He was very much of the opinion that the investigation could use his services, and the services of his department with their local knowledge, and considerably piqued that they had been passed over.
Sergeant Morales relaxed at the head of one of the long folding tables that had been hurriedly set up in front of the restaurant. On her left was Officer Dan Patch, who regularly patrolled the area including Columbus, and on her right was Officer Maria Delgado who was a floater – she ran the Columbus area when Dan had a day off. The two of them couldn't have been any more different. Dan was a twenty year veteran who could retire with a full pension, but found his job endlessly entertaining and would have been bored to death without it. Officer Delgado was barely twenty, a recent college graduate with a degree in law enforcement who idolized Sergeant Morales. Secretly Delgado planned to be the first female Chief of the New Mexico State Police. Beside her were two detectives from the Investigation Division of the State Police and across from them, the head of the State Police lab and his assistant.
While the Sheriff was doing his grandstanding and glad handing, Officers Dan and Delgado were quietly reassuring the waitresses of Maria's, a couple of young women they both knew well. When Maria made an excuse to come to the table herself, checking to make sure everyone's food was just right, Sergeant Morales made the effort to let the locals know this was surely a one-time thing, some human coyote passing through no doubt, and really it didn't happen any time recently so there was nothing to worry about. Just enjoy the business and good tips! Maria left with a laugh and little enough information to add to the local gossip mills. Officer Delgado stared at her Sergeant with glistening black eyes and filed away another nugget on "how to handle the public".
Maria's regulars could be found milling in a rather bewildered fashion out in front of the bodega that was a couple of blocks on down Main street. Here the little buildings on either side of the road looked less like western movie sets because they were the authentic old adobe buildings, those that had survived, and some were certainly a little worse for wear. The bodega occupied a long, narrow space in a white washed adobe building. Inside it was lined on both walls with refrigerated cases full of locally sourced meat and vegetables, pop and ice cream. At the register was a case filled with homemade burritos with various fillings. One aisle ran down the middle with dry and canned goods.
On this day you had to turn sideways to get in the door, and then inch along one side keeping your place in line as you went around, down the other side, back up to the register (which was in the back) and then manage to turn around and inch back out the door. There was a conga line, of sorts, and anyone over a certain size was having a time of it. A few folks took one look and handed the money to the kids, letting the little ones squeeze inside to make their purchases. The burritos were hot – because Mama was in the kitchen in the back whipping them up as fast as she could, and they were selling as fast as she could make them.
Outside the locals leaned on the walls, or leaned on the railing set there to tie your horse or lock your bike on to, or sat on the curb to gossip. The number one subject was, of course, the murders and all the police brass and news services in town.
A block to the north of the bodega, the taco truck had set up business. Loud Mexican music blared from loudspeakers on the roof. A handful of folding tables and chairs were set out under an awning that extended from the truck. To
an outsider it might have seemed like part of a fiesta, but it was in fact, the usual. The owners were a smiling couple that loved their truck, loved owning their own business, and loved all their customers equally.
Returning from Deming, Kathy drove down Main Street marveling at all the trucks, cars, and even TV station vans parked on both sides of the street and in every vacant lot. She shook her head at the line formed down the boardwalk from La Llorna and smiled at the folding tables occupied in front of Maria's. Spotting Sergeant Morales she waved, not really expecting the Sergeant to see her and was surprised when the Sergeant stood up and waved her over with a shout and a smile.
Kathy pulled to the side of the road and backed up to meet Morales who paused at the back of the truck to speak to Hero before she walked to the cab to see Kathy.
"How's the old fella doing?" she asked, kindly.
"Vet says he's old, half-starved, still a bit dehydrated. He also told me the dog has been shot."
"Shot?" Morales repeated, a question in her eyes.
Kathy nodded. "Yep. Seems like we were right – he probably saw the whole thing. Got hold of the shooters right arm – gun arm – and the shooter switched hands to shoot the dog. Bullet grazed his back and hip, and then the shooter probably whacked the dog in the head and knocked him out to get him to let go."
The Sergeant stepped back from the truck and looked at the big dog with admiration. The old dog stood, now that the truck was still, and stared back. His look was good, direct and honest. He even waved his tail a few times, but Morales had no doubts that if she reached for the gun on her hip all that friendliness would vanish. Morales nodded towards the table where she had been sitting.
"Both of the state detectives are sitting right here with me at that table. Why don't you park the truck and walk on over with me, tell them what you just told me. The forensic guys are there, too. They might have some questions for you."
Kathy thought about it. "I can't stay too long. Hero's been in the back of the truck for an hour. He probably needs a drink of water at least."
"Hero." Sgt. Morales smiled. "Suits him. Sure wish he could talk." She sighed and looked around. "Just back up a bit more and pull in. You'll be double parked but you have the permission of a State Police officer so it's okay." The dimple appeared as she grinned and walked back to her table.
A few moments later Kathy joined the State Police. In the process of getting another chair pulled up to the table, a waitress came by for her order. Before it was all over with the waitress as well as the other officers, detectives, and the head of the State Police Lab had heard the story of the Hero dog who had witnessed the crime, and done his best to save the victims – taking a bullet in the process. Soon Hero had a big metal bowl full of fresh cold water from the kitchen, as well as his very own custom made no spices but lots of ground beef and meat juices burrito on a pile of beans and rice. An audience of half a dozen looked on as he refused to eat until Kathy told him it was okay, big boy, it's okay.
Hero inspected the food minutely with his nose before taking a tentative lick. When he dived in with a heart felt moan of pleasure all three waitresses and Maria – who had come out to make sure he liked her cooking – squealed with joy and laughter and the customers sitting outside applauded. Finally everyone drifted away and Kathy was able to sit down and enjoy her own favorite meal (which had appeared magically in front of her chair while she was off with the dog) between telling the doctor and detectives every detail of what little she knew. It might have been annoying if she had not been thoroughly enjoying the meal. Especially after Maria appeared and whispered to her that it was on the house, and thanks for taking care of that good dog.
While the officers were chatting and exchanging notes a customer from the taco truck made his way down to Main Street. He was a big man with a big nose, pockmarked from a childhood case of measles. The way he strutted made him seem even bigger, his thick chest thrust out before him, heavy jaw set and framed by a beard and mustache both thick and black like the brows over his deep set eyes with their perpetual squint. A large black cowboy hat with a wide brim obscured his features, but did nothing to conceal the kind of man he was.
He was the kind of man that made the locals go quiet as he passed the Bodega. Several of the Mexican laborers seemingly melted away as he approached and did not return.
As he strutted down Main Street he chuckled and hummed to himself with pleasure and superiority as he passed cop cars and evidence vans and reporters. So busy was he with the fantasies in his mind that he never noticed when a certain sizeable German Shepard dog sat sharply up from a sated nap.
Hero's nostrils flared and his eyes grew bright. His big ears stood tall and rotated like radar dishes as he focused on that scent – one he remembered very well – and located the source of it. Slowly the big dog rose to a crouch, a growl rumbling deep in his chest. His jaws opened, the growl growing louder, and lips curled back to expose long yellowed canines – one broken, one whole. Every hair on his body stood on end, making him appear as big and muscular as he once must have been.
The man walked on, nonchalant, sneering at the people around him that he considered beneath him. He never noticed a big dog in a big cage in the back of an official truck. But the dog noticed him.
Surrounded by the noise of people talking and eating, Kathy picked up on a low rumble that she instantly recognized as a growl. Not wanting to alarm anyone, she went quiet and then excused herself. Standing she looked over at Hero.
Sergeant Morales looked at Kathy and immediately recognized the alertness in her stance, in spite of the Animal Control officer’s effort to look casual. Morales was an observer of people, as much as Kathy was an observer of animals.
Following Kathy's gaze, Morales looked over her own shoulder and saw Hero in a low crouch in the back of the cage truck. His jaws gaped open slightly, his lips open in a snaggle-toothed snarl. Kathy had begun to walk toward him and as she passed Sergeant Morales, the policewoman pushed back from the table and quietly joined her. Ever aware and watchful of her idol, Officer Delgado noticed when the Sergeant stood and watched her as she joined the Animal Control Officer beside the cage truck.
Standing beside the truck, Sergeant Morales asked Kathy in a low voice, "What do you suppose he is growling at?"
"Not what. Who." Kathy answered equally quietly, watching the big dog as he watched someone in the crowd down the street. "And you know as well as I do who he would react to like that."
"Right here. Walking down the middle of the street lined on either side by officers who would love to nail him." Morales almost growled herself.
"Looks that way.”
Sergeant Morales narrowed her eyes and scanned the crowd with a police officer's eye. Kathy looked at Hero. He was doing what any soldier would call a "stand down". He quieted. His fur went flat except for the ruff over the back of his neck and shoulders. Slowly, he relaxed from his crouch into a laying down position. His nose wiggled, almost comically, and he sighed.
Sergeant Morales sighed as well. "I suppose it would be a bad idea to turn him loose. Let him point the asshole out for me."
"As much as I am sure Hero knows what he knows, I suspect you might have a problem explaining that you arrested someone because the dog pointed him out. And there's always the possibility that he is armed, and that he might hurt Hero again – if not a few other people as well."
This time Sergeant Morales did growl.
"I think maybe I will take a walk." Officer Delgado said, from behind the other two women. Both of them jumped, unaware the young officer had joined them. She went on, "I know quite a few of the locals, as well as most of the usual suspects in this area. I could take Hero with me?"
"I hate to say this" Kathy broke in, "but we know that Hero has some training, but not what kind or how much. We don't know how to call him off, for one thing. Which is a pretty big thing. I do know that he has been taught not to respond to anyone but his master – obvious since he's been taught to o
nly accept food with permission. So far he behaves for me and my husband, but I'm not sure what he might do with someone else. He might even bite you, Officer Delgado – he's clearly been taught to alert to anyone with a gun. And you know, the old boy is not in good shape."
As if to agree with her, Hero moaned and stretched out on his side, rolling his eyes up to give the women a thoroughly pathetic look which was received with much laughter. Officer Dan Patch and the two detectives walked up and joined the women just then – all clearly quite unaware of what had happened. A silent look passed between Kathy, Morales and Delgado and a pact was made to keep it to themselves. For now.
For most of the people of Columbus, NM the murders turned into the proverbial nine-day wonder. The forensic experts packed up shop and left after a week of enjoying the local cuisine. The Detectives talked to just about everyone in town eventually. The Border Patrol helped out by terrorizing the local workers – mostly perfectly legal guest workers on nearby farms but it's sure that anyone who was illegal kept a very low profile for a couple of weeks.
Because it was an election year there was a bit of speechifying. The governor – running for reelection and Hispanic herself, made a trip down and had a little town meeting at the library to make sure everyone knew that she would not let the victims be forgotten, and that the culprit when found would be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. She ate at La Llorona surrounded by local bigwigs. Sergeant Morales was bemused at being included, and took the opportunity to tell the Governor about Hero. Sheriff Baca was not included, and was not happy about it. He was even more incensed when he was told that the Governor visited Hero the dog – and by extension Kathy the humble Animal Control Officer and her husband Craig. It was almost like people didn't know who was really in charge in this county!
A few other politicos's dropped by for photo ops and sound bites ranging from "save the exploited Mexican workers/women/children" to "If we built a wall we would keep all this violence out". The local City Council enjoyed rubbing shoulders with "important people" and La Llorona experienced a spike in income. While all that was going on, the Staties quietly went about investigating the crime and Kathy went back to chasing stray dogs and measuring grass.
Serendipity (Animal Heros From The Land Of Manyana Book 1) Page 5
