by Don Travis
“And if he doesn’t get his way?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’m going to stay here until tomorrow morning. I want to be at the track to make certain Acosta doesn’t try to present a ringer and claim you defaulted. After that I’m heading back to the ranch. Can Bert pick us up in Las Cruces?”
“Paul’s not getting much of a vacation, is he?”
“That’s all right, he understands.” I glanced across the room to where he listened to my end of the conversation. He gave a smile and a shrug.
“It’s kind of busy here,” Millicent said. “We’ll start the fall gathering in a few weeks, and there’s work to be done before that. But you just tell us when, and he’ll pick you up.”
After I closed the call, Paul and I tried to salvage what we could of our remaining time in Miami. We caught a late dinner and the tail end of a comedy routine at the famous Improv on North Bayshore Drive. After that we returned to the Ritz, turned the car over to the doorman, and walked over to Biscayne Bay for a stroll along the shore.
Chapter 29
PAUL AND I were arguing when the airliner landed at the airport in Las Cruces late the next afternoon. I wanted him to take a flight home, but he insisted on coming with me to the Lazy M. He was having too much fun watching this adventure unfold to let it go now. He stood right beside me when Bert met us at the terminal in a pickup he’d commandeered from his flying service. By the time we arrived on the far side of the field, his bird had been serviced and was ready to go. We had little time for conversation until we were in the air. After chatting with the tower for a minute, he motioned to earphones. They made communication easier.
“Sorry to rush,” he apologized, “but Mud called to tell me Paco showed up right after I left.”
“Who’s watching your mother’s back?”
“Linus is sticking close with his trusty Winchester. He’s been briefed and is on the prod. He’s never liked Paco much anyway. O’Brien from the sheriff’s office is at the ranch too.”
“Bert, you’ve got a reputation for flying off the handle. I know you’re hurt because Paco lined up with the other side, but you have to keep things under control.”
“I want to see how the son of a bitch tries to spin it. And if I don’t like it… well, no promises.” He adjusted the mike in front of his lips. “Is it really over? I mean, is the bet thing settled?”
“Paul and I were at the duck track this morning, and the only people who showed up were Hammond and the police detective who caught the attempt on Hammond’s life. The race didn’t take place, so the bet was moot. The cancellation agreement Hammond signed is in my attorney’s office in Albuquerque. So all the bases are covered.”
“Thank God! Man, that’s a load off our backs.”
“I hope your mother made it clear the danger isn’t over yet.”
“Yeah, she did. But we can take care of ourselves now.”
“Don’t get overconfident. You almost got your wings clipped once.” I glanced at the ground rushing below us. “How illegal would it be to fly over the Lightning Ranch?”
“I do it all the time.”
“I don’t mean skirt the corner. I mean fly over the ranch headquarters before heading to your place.”
“I could lose my license if they catch us.” He shrugged. “But if we stay below the radar, we oughta be okay. What the hell, let’s go for it.”
“Can you make it without stopping for fuel along the way?”
Bert tapped the instrument panel. “This is a Bell 47G-3B. It’s got a maximum range of about 214 nautical miles. That’s 250 road miles, give or take. Yeah, I can make it. Help me watch for the Mexican air patrol.”
That remark set our heads to swiveling constantly.
A few minutes later, Bert dropped the bird’s nose, and Interstate 10 meandered off to our right. He took us south of Palomas and then circled back to the north.
“You want to go in low?” he asked.
“No, I don’t want to alert anyone. How high will this thing go?”
“Record’s 18,550 feet. A Bell 47G was the first bird to cross the Alps back in ’50.”
“We don’t need to go that high, but get us high enough so they might not notice us. You have a pair of binoculars?”
“On a harness back where Paul is.”
Paul handed them up, and I adjusted them to my eyes.
“Here we go.”
The bird lurched upward, leaving my stomach somewhere below. When Bert leveled off, he pointed dead ahead. The Rayo headquarters made quite a spread. Don Hector was at home—at least, his two Piper aircraft sat on a small strip. The main house—actually, it looked more like my idea of a gleaming white Moroccan royal palace—was flanked by rows of what appeared to be accommodations for the ranch’s vaqueros. Almost every building sported antennae of some sort. I likewise saw what looked suspiciously like a radar dish but was probably only a TV satellite receiver. The entire place appeared to be deserted.
Ten miles to the west, we found the center of activity. A couple of dump trucks hauling loads of something covered by tarps bounced along rough ranch roads heading south.
“Does Acosta do any mining on the ranch?” I asked.
“Not that I know of.”
A couple of miles farther, we saw a number of men and machines congregated at the foot of what appeared to be a small bluff.
“What the hell are they doing?” I handed Bert the glasses.
After studying the scene for a moment, he shook his head. “I don’t know. That’s not any ranch activity I recognize.”
“Can I see?” Paul asked. Bert handed the glasses over his shoulder. “Could they be drilling for water?”
“I don’t see a drill, just earth-moving equipment,” Bert replied.
I made a circling motion with my left hand. “Make a run back over. I want to see if my phone camera will take a decent picture.”
“Uh-oh,” Paul said. “Aircraft coming in from the northeast. About five o’clock.”
“Get us out of here, Bert, but don’t go straight to the ranch.” I snapped as many pictures as possible, although they probably wouldn’t show any meaningful detail. “How fast will this baby go?”
“Cruising speed’s seventy-three knots. Max is ninety-one. That about 105 mph. But that’s not enough to outrun any fixed-wing craft I know of.”
Paul and I kept eyes on the distant plane while Bert laid down the hammer. The other craft didn’t seem to make a serious effort to catch us. The plane lagged far behind by the time we crossed the border.
“I’m going for the Hachitas Range and circle back to the ranch,” Bert said.
“How are we on petrol?”
“Doing okay. We’ll make it home with no sweat.”
Bert headed west-southwest, riding the contour of the terrain below us. My stomach dropped again as he buzzed up the side of a mountain. He laughed at my reaction.
“Don’t worry. This thing can climb at a rate of 860 feet a minute. I’ve hopped the Hachitas lots of times.”
We topped Big Hatchet and dropped quickly down the other side. We hadn’t seen the other aircraft in several minutes, so Bert turned north and circled around to approach the ranch as if coming from Deming. A quarter of an hour later, we dropped down onto the helipad at the ranch.
As we got out of the craft, Paco strode across the grass, heading in our direction with a big smile creasing his lips. His arm hung free of the sling he’d worn the last time I saw him.
“Bert,” I said in a low, warning voice.
“Don’t push me.”
Millicent stepped through her office door onto the patio. Linus, his rifle cradled in his arms, uncoiled from a chair nearby. Maria emerged from the great room still wiping her hands on a white apron. Luis Rael came in from the barn area.
“Paco, you son of a bitch, you’ve got some nerve!” Bert yelled. “What’re you doing here?”
Paco halted in his tracks. The grin slid from his lips.
/> Chapter 30
PACO RAEL’S face shut down. “Hell of a way to greet a buddy.”
“You’ve got some explaining to do.”
As Bert advanced on him, Paco spread his legs and set his stance.
“Why’d you turn on us?”
Paco’s complexion went darker, but his eyes were neutral. “What do you mean?”
“Did you kill Liver Lips?”
This was more than Maria could stand. With a cry, she retreated into the house. Moving slowly, Luis made for the front of the building. I elbowed Paul. He followed my eyes, grunted, and moved to intercept the man.
“Why would I kill that guy? He was a nothing, a nobody. He didn’t mean any more to me than he did to you. Did you kill him?”
“Did you try to take me out at the City?” Bert halted five feet in front of Paco, balled fists on his hips. I moved up beside them.
“How can you ask me that? You’re my best friend. Mi compadre.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Fuck no, I didn’t try to shoot you. If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead. You know me well enough to know that.”
“Somebody tried to shoot BJ and Paul out there the other day. Was that you? Were you leading that gang?”
“Come on, man—”
“BJ winged the leader, and the next day you ended up crippled.” Bert’s hand shot out so quickly, we were all taken by surprise—even Paco, who was prepared for some sort of physical confrontation. Bert practically tore the man’s shirt from his shoulders. Paco gave a grunt but otherwise didn’t flinch.
If Bert had hoped to expose a gunshot wound, it didn’t work. White bandages wound so tightly they appeared to cut the flesh covered Paco’s brown chest. Appropriate treatment for cracked bones, but the tape not only circled his torso, it also snaked up over his left shoulder, effectively hiding any puncture—such as a bullet wound.
Bert wasn’t fazed. “Take off the bandage.”
“What?”
“Take it off, or I’ll cut it off.”
Millicent stepped forward quickly. “Now, Bert, this has gone far enough. Think of his mother.”
“I’m thinking of mine.” There was a bite to his voice. “Where’s O’Brien?”
“I sent him home an hour ago. Paco’s just here to let his parents know his wedding’s been rescheduled.”
“He coulda told them that on the telephone.” Bert glared into Paco’s eyes.
Paul stepped out of the great room onto the patio with a long-barreled pistol dangling from his hand. I motioned him back inside. That house held more than one gun.
“Guess I better be going now.” Pain tinged Paco’s soft baritone. “I don’t hang around where I’m not welcome.”
“You’re not going anywhere until I get some answers.”
“What brought this on, man?”
“Why did you and Acosta run out of here the other day before BJ got a look at Madelena? I’ll tell you why. Because you knew he’d recognize her as the woman he met at Liver’s house the day he died.”
“That’s loco. She’s never been to Liver’s place. She wouldn’t dirty her shoes in that shack.”
“Paco,” I said. “I’m sure you have a photo of your intended in your wallet. Why don’t you show it to me?”
He shifted to face me. “Why? So you can tell more lies about us? So you can say she was there that day when she wasn’t?”
“You seem to think I lie rather easily. What lies have I told?”
“Lies about Don Hector. Every time you come down here, you stir up trouble. Bert, you know me better’n you know this gringo. How come you take his word over mine?”
“Stop pussyfooting, Paco. Show him the picture. Show him, or by God, I’ll whip your ass and take it off you.”
Paco lifted his half-naked shoulder. “Don’t let this fool you. You come for me, you’ll have your hands full.”
“Nobody’s going to come for anyone.” Millicent moved between them. “Everyone just cool down. BJ, did you tell the police about the woman?”
“Yes.”
“Did they investigate? Try to identify or find her?”
“I don’t know, Millicent, but I’m going to find out.”
“Good. Maybe they got fingerprints or something from Liver’s house.”
Let her think what she wanted, but Bill Garza probably hadn’t gone to that extreme. At the time I spoke to him, he still believed Liver Lips had died in an accident. And right after that, Lopez’s murder would have claimed his full attention. But I had also told Detective Montoya about the mystery woman. Perhaps he had been more thorough.
“Maybe they got something,” Paco said. “Hope so, so we can put this shit behind us. But, Bert, this is gonna be hard to forget.” He pulled his torn shirt up over his shoulder. “I’ll get my things and be out of here in five minutes. Any objections?” He turned his back on us and walked away. Millicent, trailed by Linus, followed him inside.
Bert slapped his hat against his leg and shook his head. “Are we just going to let him walk out of here like that?” he asked.
“Not if you have some proof?”
“Hell, the proof’s under that bandage.”
“You were the one claiming your friend wouldn’t betray you. Now all of a sudden you’re convinced he did. What changed?”
“Paco changed.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’d have to know him like I do. Back when we were kids, if you accused Paco of something, he’d react one of two ways. He’d either get his dander up and explode, or else he’d start giving you reasons why it wasn’t him.”
“And if he blew up, it meant—”
“He hadn’t done it. But if he went logical on you, then you could bet your bottom dollar he had a hand in it.”
“So when you got out of the chopper and confronted him—”
“He went oily. He came back to see how we’d react to him. Mud tried not to let her suspicions show, but I guess I let the cat out of the bag. Hope I didn’t mess everything up, but I needed to know.”
“That’s okay. When I went to Florida and laid everything out for Hammond, I knew he’d contact Acosta. But sometimes when a case isn’t moving along, you have to stir things up. That’s what I intended to do in Miami, and that’s exactly what you did here.”
As often happens, this one had unintended consequences. We went inside to find Millicent practically in tears.
“What is it?” Bert asked.
“It’s Maria… and Luis. She’s packing their things. They’re leaving.”
Understandable. If they’d thrown Paul off the ranch, I’d have gone too. And Paco was their son, after all. This wasn’t the time for reasoning with her, but I couldn’t help feeling she’d be better off with them gone.
Paul walked over and handed a pistol to Bert. “Luis got it out of a drawer while you were out there facing down Paco.”
“You think he’d use it?”
Paul shrugged. “I just think he was afraid for Paco. But if a ruckus had started, who knows what he’d have done? He kept saying Paco was hurt. Guess he thought it wouldn’t be a fair fight.”
“Where’s Linus?” I asked.
“Back in the bedroom area, keeping an eye on Paco,” Paul said.
“Bert, why don’t you take your mother to the office and calm her down. Paul and Linus and I will keep an eye on things in the meantime.”
After the door closed behind mother and son, I headed for the front of the house to see what kind of car Paco had arrived in. I was mildly disappointed to see his Duster parked between Bert’s Corvette and Millicent’s Lincoln. Of course, he was too smart to show up in a black Firebird.
Remaining outside where I had some privacy, I called Hazel and asked her to contact both Officer Garza of the Deming Police Department and Sgt. Manny Montoya of the state police to see if either had searched Liver Lips Martinson’s shack for forensic evidence. She promised to get on it right away.
She
hadn’t called back by the time the Raels came through the front door, lugging several pieces of luggage. Millicent and Bert trailed along behind.
“I’ll send the rest of your things to the Rayo, Maria. But this is totally unnecessary. You are welcome to stay. You know how much I depend on you here in the house and on Luis in the pens.”
Maria, diminutive and dignified, turned to face her employer. “You have been good to us, Doña Millicent, but I cannot do my job when things are like this between our families. And Luis can’t either. Lo siento. I am sorry. Perdóneme.”
“Very well, but you are welcome here at any time. I don’t intend to tell anyone you’ve left, so you’ll be free to come back any time you wish.”
“Gracias.”
We watched Paco’s Duster and his parents’ Ford pickup disappear down the long drive to the highway. Once they were no more than a distant trail of dust, Millicent turned and swept us with a hard glint in her eyes as she stomped into the house. “I hope you two are happy!”
Bert stood with a wounded look on his face.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “She’ll transfer her animosity to me until she thinks things through a little better. And then she’ll forgive us both.”
“You saved her ranch but cost her two friends and companions. And right now that cuts deeper.” Then he showed a crack in his armor. “We are right about this thing, aren’t we?”
“I don’t have any doubts. Do you?”
“I guess not.”
“Look, I’m not very popular here right now, so I think Paul and I had better leave. But you have to be very careful for the next few days. Acosta is going to have to think things through and plan his next move. Keep in touch.”
“I’ll take you to Las Cruces.”
“No, you stay close to home as much as you can. I’ll call Jim Gray to pick us up in the Cessna tomorrow morning. You mother will have to put up with us until then.”
THE REST of the ranch hands came in bellyaching about being shorthanded because both Bert and Linus hadn’t been out in the pastures, but they really fired up the trash talk when they discovered Maria gone and their supper prepared by Linus. Frankly, I thought the home-butchered pork chops and fried potatoes were pretty good. Paul polished off two plates before heading off to the bunkhouse with the cowboys for a round of poker.
