Scratchgravel Road: A Mystery

by Tricia Fields

“I’m coming home early. I miss you.”

  “You’re coming home because you miss me, or because the conference sucks?”

  “You should learn to accept a compliment at face value. I’m also coming home because today’s lectures don’t apply to me. It’s corporate accounting. Not exactly my thing.”

  She smiled, happy just to hear his voice. “No, Artemis doesn’t really qualify as a corporate kind of town.” Josie waved good-bye to Maria, who buzzed her out into the lobby area of the jail. “Want to meet at the Tamale for supper?” She walked outside, stood under the awning, and saw she wouldn’t need her umbrella.

  He groaned. “I was hoping for a home-cooked meal.”

  “Ramen soup?”

  “Sounds delicious.”

  “I’ll see you about six at my place,” she said.

  “Perfect.”

  “Hey,” she said before they hung up. “I miss you too.”

  The downpour that she had walked through upon arriving at the jail had turned into a sprinkle. The sun was still buried in thick gray clouds, but a reprieve from the rain would be nice. She decided it was time to have a talk with Enrico Gomez.

  SEVEN

  Josie drove south of the courthouse to the San Salba Pawn Shop, located between the Family Value Store and the Pay-Day Quick Loans. San Salba was owned by Carlos Gomez, but his grandson, Enrico Gomez, ran the business. Josie could forget most of what she saw as a police officer, but crimes committed against old people and kids stayed with her. A year ago, after a two-day party in the living quarters behind the pawn shop got out of control and turned violent, Enrico’s grandfather arrived to restore order. Enrico shoved his grandfather, an eighty-year-old man, down a short flight of steps, causing him to be sent to the hospital. Mr. Gomez had refused to press charges. Josie had worked the case and watched Enrico walk out of the police department with the same arrogance as when he entered.

  The rain had ended by the time Josie pulled her jeep in front of the pawn shop. The street was slick with streams of thin mud running across the road. Puddles of water covered the ground around the storefronts, but she knew that with the next deluge the puddles would turn into wide swaths of running water flowing over the already saturated ground. The depth of the running water in the arroyos was deceptive and could carry a car away in a matter of seconds. She made a mental note to check in with the sheriff on the current conditions of the county roads after she was finished with Enrico.

  Josie saw the old man standing beside a burro in front of the pawn shop. Several men still rode burros through town rather than walking or driving. Josie liked the nod to the past, although some of the townspeople found the animals annoying and the occasional mess they deposited usually led to a rant in a letter to the editor in the local weekly newspaper.

  Mr. Gomez was feeding slices of apple to the burro, his hands holding the animal’s reins loosely, his head turned to the store. Despair settled around the old Mexican like a wool blanket. Josie had talked with him at length about his safety, about the need to lock the boy up before he spun completely out of control, but Mr. Gomez refused to listen. It wasn’t fear that kept him from pressing charges; the fear had been worn out of him long ago. It appeared to be misguided loyalty to his grandson that kept the man silent. And Marta’s daughter thought she was in love with this kid. Josie wondered again at the wisdom of having kids of her own.

  Still sitting in her jeep, she looked up the unpaved street, at the burro and the wrinkled old man beside him, at the overcast sky and ratty storefronts, and the picture appeared like a gray smudge from sky to earth with no visible horizon line. She wondered how the same characteristics that gave the desert its beauty could also tear your heart apart.

  She radioed her location to dispatch, slipped the portable into her gun belt, and laid a hand on the grip of the Smith & Wesson at her side, a heavy reassurance. As she approached the San Salba, the old man turned, his suspicious eyes never changing expression, the skin around them wrinkled like cross-hatching.

  “How’s it going, Mr. Gomez?”

  “It’s going okay. How’s it going with you?” he asked. His words were slow and deliberate, as if the act of speaking took a great deal of effort.

  “Is Enrico inside?”

  He nodded yes and patted the burro on the right side of his neck to turn him toward Josie. The burro shifted, slowly lifting one foot, then the next, a perfect companion for the old man.

  Josie noticed movement at the San Salba door. Enrico stepped outside wearing black jeans, a white V-neck T-shirt, and several gold chains around his neck.

  “Hey, it’s Josey Wales come to visit. What’s up, man?” Enrico slurred his words and drew them out like a rapper. He was a nice-looking kid if you could get past the gangster arrogance. He wore his black hair buzzed short on the sides, longer on top. He tilted his head and gave her a heavy-lidded, intentionally bored stare.

  Josie didn’t answer and chose to ignore the movie reference. With her hand resting on the butt of her gun, she squinted in Enrico’s direction. She knew he liked meth and didn’t trust his actions straight, let alone jacked up on a two-day buzz. A second man stepped out of the store behind Enrico. He had the slow, measured moves of someone attempting to impress his power upon others. Even at a distance of twenty feet, Josie could see the three tattooed teardrops falling down the left side of his cheek: a prison symbol in which each teardrop represented a murder. He looked to weigh close to three hundred pounds and wore loose-fitting black jeans and a black T-shirt. He carried his weight proudly, as though his size intimidated. His hair was long and greased straight back on his head. Josie wondered what value he added to the world.

  “You looking for something?” asked Enrico. “Maybe a camera or a cell phone? I give you a good deal, cop girl.”

  “I don’t disrespect you, Enrico. Ought to go both ways,” she said.

  His eyes went wide at the suggestion. “Sure, man, lighten up. I ain’t disrespecting nobody.”

  She started walking toward the pawn shop door.

  “Hey! You got business with me?” Enrico asked.

  She walked toward him and up the first step. “You said you want to cut me a deal. Let’s go inside and look around.”

  “Store’s closed, man. We open at eleven o’clock.”

  “Do I need a warrant?”

  “What the hell? What you jumping my ass for?”

  The second man took several steps toward Josie, his gait slow, his eyes hooded. “You got an issue with Enrico we need to discuss?”

  Josie faced the man with the tattoos. “What’s your name?”

  He hesitated. “Jeremy.”

  “Last name?”

  “Smith.”

  She nodded once and wrote his name down in the small black notebook she kept in her breast pocket. “Hope you aren’t lying to me.” She replaced her notebook and pen inside her pocket and faced him directly. “This doesn’t have anything to do with you. I’d suggest minding your own business.”

  He tilted his head and crossed his arms over his massive chest. “You wrong there. If you got a problem with Enrico you got a problem with me. Me and Enrico is partners.”

  Josie was still facing the man on the porch but heard the old man behind her. “We got no problems here. We’re just getting the store open.”

  Enrico laughed. “That’s it, man! We’re just getting the store open. You come back later and I’ll cut you a deal.”

  Josie turned toward Enrico and stepped within a foot of him. In a voice just loud enough for Enrico to hear she said, “The next time I get a call to your house and find your old man lying on the floor? I will find you, at whatever rat hole you’re staying in, and I will drag you out and beat the life out of you. You won’t live to do it again.”

  Satisfied the smirk Enrico wore had at least temporarily been replaced with a degree of anger, if not fear, she said, “One more thing to think about. I better not catch you messing around with little underage girls. I’d love an excuse
to throw your ass in jail.”

  Enrico gave her a doper’s heavy-lidded smile again. “She is anything but little. That girl could teach you a trick or two, Chief Josie.”

  * * *

  Josie got back in her car in a foul mood, and decided to use it on Cassidy’s boyfriend. Leo Monaco lived with Cassidy on River Road, which ran parallel to the Rio Grande. West of town, the road climbed in elevation and the water pushed through five miles of canyon below. Several switchback roads were located along the canyon and held a few houses that clutched the sides of the red rock. Their home sat atop the road, fifty feet from the canyon, next to a row of a dozen other shabby houses. The homes were one-story shacks, built when a small army post had been located nearby, before the camp had left and turned the first Artemis into a ghost town in 1969. The original town had arisen around the outpost, which was constructed to guard a now defunct weapons plant located five miles north. When Macon Drench purchased the land to resettle the town, he’d bought it for an unbelievably cheap price. When cleanup of the plant started a few years later, he feared his experiment might come to a quick end.

  Josie turned into a short driveway beside a mailbox with the number 110 hand-painted in red. A patch of brown grass out front managed to look dry even under two inches of water. No wonder Cassidy went searching the desert for a place to walk.

  Josie parked her jeep, picked up her notebook off the passenger seat, holstered her gun, and locked the door. She slid her keys in her front pocket and walked along a narrow gravel path, sidestepping puddles along the way. Two wood steps sagged as she walked up them onto a four-foot-deep front porch that shaded the front of the house from the normally blistering sun.

  She heard a TV blaring. Behind a screen door, the front door was open. The inside of the front room was dimly lit. Blackout curtains were pulled shut against the front window, effectively keeping what little sun there was outdoors. When Josie knocked on the wooden screen door it banged against the door frame, frightening the person lying on the couch into a sitting position. When he sat up, Josie recognized Leo in the dim light of the room.

  “Cassidy’s at work,” he said, his voice groggy and irritated.

  Josie held her badge up to the door. “Mr. Monaco, my name is Josie Gray. I’m chief of police with Artemis Police Department.”

  He raised a hand and waved her off, indicating he’d heard enough.

  “I’m here to speak with you. Mind if I come in a minute?”

  He tilted his head back, obviously put out, then stood and approached the door where he unlatched a lock and pushed it open. His chest was bare and he wore baggy, faded jeans that hung low on his hips. His body was pale and hairless except for a patch of black hair below his navel. The long beard Josie had last seen him with had been shaved, but stubble grew on his chin and cheeks.

  She entered a living room with a couch pushed up against the wall, and a TV on a low stand under the front window. A small brown recliner was located on the other side of the TV and Josie pointed to it. “May I?”

  He gestured a hand toward it and picked up a T-shirt off the arm of the couch. As he pulled it over his head Josie did a cursory look over the house. The living room was picked up. No clutter. Green, threadbare carpet led to the left, down a short hallway, and to the right into a small combined kitchen and dining room. From what she could see, the kitchen was clean, no dishes on the counter or table. All of the rooms had lined curtains drawn against the gray rainy weather outside.

  “How’s Cassidy feeling today?” Josie asked.

  “Fine. She’s fine. No problems.” He sat on the couch and pushed his hands through messy dark hair very much in need of a shampoo. The house may have been clean but Josie detected sour body odor.

  “I tried to understand why Cassidy had gone into the desert on such a hot day but couldn’t get a straight answer from her yesterday. Can you help me with that one?” she asked.

  He rolled his eyes. “She worked for you. You know she talks in circles.”

  “Talking in circles wasn’t the issue. She just didn’t have an answer.”

  “If Cassidy can’t explain it, I don’t know how I could do any better.”

  “I want to know how she stumbled onto a dead body, almost a quarter mile from the road, on a day that hit 104 degrees.”

  Leo interrupted her with laughter. “Don’t you get it? If anyone could stumble over a dead body, it’s her. Nobody has luck like her. Or lack of it.” He smiled and leaned back into the couch, relaxing into the conversation. He had a rich, baritone voice and Josie figured he liked to hear himself talk. “She calls me her good-luck charm. If I’d been with her she’d have never been out in that heat.”

  “Where were you yesterday when she found the body?”

  “Out of town.”

  “Where?”

  “I was at the library.”

  “What library?”

  He tilted his head to the side as if considering his answer. He finally stood, walked into the kitchen where four books were stacked on top of a microwave on a rolling cart. He pulled a piece of paper out of the first book on the pile. He walked back into the living room and handed it to Josie.

  “I was at the library in Presidio. There’s my library receipt.”

  “Is that a regular visit for you? To the Presidio library?”

  “I don’t get the connection between my reading interests and Cassidy’s ordeal.”

  “Humor me,” she said.

  “They have several periodicals related to my profession. I actually visit several area libraries frequently.”

  “I didn’t think you had a job.”

  He grinned slightly, as if amused at her offensive question. “I conduct research as a part-time job. I’m post-secondary science. How many professorships do you suppose there are in West Texas?”

  “So why stay?”

  His smile remained. “Must be the great weather and all the friendly people.”

  “How did you find out Cassidy was in the hospital?”

  “She called me.”

  “When?” Josie asked.

  He sighed, finally frustrated. “She said she’d be home when I got back into town. When I got home and she wasn’t here, I called and left a message on her cell phone. She finally called from the hospital and told me what happened. She said her cell phone was in her car, which I gather you still have.”

  “You didn’t visit her? Check on her after she left you a message?”

  “Why don’t you tell me where all this is going? I’m not seeing a point to your questions.”

  Josie shifted in the seat, turned her body more toward him. “When you asked her why she was in the desert? What did she tell you?”

  He frowned and leaned forward, picked up a plastic cup from the coffee table and sipped. “Nothing. She just wanted to hike, to get outside.”

  “Has she ever hiked before?” Josie had worked with Cassidy long enough to know the answer. She was not a physical person, not athletic, and she complained about the heat frequently.

  “Sure. She spends time outside.”

  “Hiking?”

  He offered a humorless smile. “Got to start sometime.”

  Getting nowhere with the interview, Josie looked at her watch and stood abruptly. She left him her business card, and said she would be in touch. At the last minute, Josie had changed her mind and not questioned Leo about the wallet. She had a hunch that Cassidy hadn’t told him about the dead man’s effects that were found in her car. Josie wanted to know why Cassidy was holding back information from her boyfriend.

  Josie drove to town and parked on the street in front of the Family Value store. Only two other cars were parked along the street. As she walked up to the front door she saw Cassidy leaning against the empty checkout counter in front of the lone cash register. She wore jeans and a bright green smock with the words FAMILY VALUE in large yellow block letters on her back. Her long red ringlets fell down her back and she looked as if she had recovered. When Jos
ie entered, Cassidy turned, and in a split second, her expression changed from heavy-lidded bored to frightened.

  Josie looked around the store, glad to see it appeared free of customers. “How are you feeling?”

  Cassidy stretched her arms out in front of her and looked at the deep red sunburn. “The sunburn’s the only thing. Even my freckles hurt.”

  Josie smiled. “You gave me a scare.”

  Cassidy leaned down, reached under her register, and pulled out a tattered canvas purse, which she placed on the counter. She unzipped a side pocket and handed Josie a folded piece of paper.

  Josie unfolded it and found a chart, with lines drawn with a ruler and a green marker. The boxes had been carefully filled in with a blue pen in neat cursive writing, detailing her whereabouts for the past week.

  “I know I didn’t answer your questions very good yesterday. I was so freaked out by the whole day I wasn’t thinking right.” She gave Josie an imploring look. “I swear, I didn’t have anything to do with that dead man. I don’t know him, and I don’t know why he’s there. I really did just find him. I know it sounds crazy, but that’s the truth.”

  Josie scanned the chart and noticed that aside from yesterday, for the past four days, Cassidy had done nothing more than leave the house to work, other than a trip to the grocery for fifteen minutes on her way home from work on Saturday evening.

  An older woman dressed in a bright pink cotton sweat suit stepped up to the register and began placing dozens of cans of cat food on the counter. Cassidy turned and rang her up, then helped her count out the right number of dollar bills and change in her wallet. The woman apologized, saying she forgot her glasses.

  When she left the store Cassidy turned back to Josie. “She can’t read or write or count. Just hands her wallet over to whoever waits on her.”

  “Somebody’s always got it worse than you.”

  Cassidy tipped her head. “I guess.”

  “I just left your house. I talked to Leo.” Josie couldn’t decide if the wide-eyed change in Cassidy’s expression was fear or something else. Dread, maybe.

  “What did he say?”