Joe Valdez, armed with a special search warrant, had seized Watson's electronic mail and computer files. He had several technical specialists running programs to break Bucky's privacy codes and locate any off-site network terminals. Valdez was digging into Watson's hard copies, looking for the money trail and the drug distribution network.
If all went well, Kerney planned to be Bucky's final interrogator of the day. He wanted to have the pleasure of cracking Bucky open.
Noontime passed before he could get away from the office. A contractor's truck was parked in Pletcher's driveway. He found the man inspecting the damaged front door, while the patrol officer assigned to watch over Pletcher's house looked on. Kerney introduced himself and showed the contractor around.
When the inspection concluded, the man consulted his clipboard notes, did some quick calculations, and stuck a pendl behind an ear. He had dark curly hair, a skinny neck, and a large Adam's apple.
"It must have been one hell of a gunfight," the man said.
"The newspaper said four people were killed. I thought shit like that only happened in the movies."
Kerney had no desire to chitchat about the shootout.
"I want everything put back in its original condition."
The contractor caught the tone in Kerney's voice and changed the subject.
"Will insurance pay for it?"
"Probably."
"Is it a full-replacement policy?"
"I don't know."
"The front door alone is going to cost plenty to reproduce. It was hand-carved from old oak. I'll have to subcontract it out."
"That's fine," Kerney said.
"When can you start?"
"In the morning."
"How long will it take?"
"A week, but I can't guarantee you'll have the new front door by then.
What's the deductible on the insurance policy?"
"I don't know."
"Isn't this your house?"
"No, I'm acting on the owner's behalf," Kerney said as he wrote out a check that dug a hole in his savings and gave it to the man.
"This should get you started. If it doesn't, let me know."
The man looked at the amount, smiled, and nodded.
"I've got some scrap plywood in my truck. I'll board everything up and be back tomorrow with my crew."
"I'll let the owner know you'll be here," Kerney said.
He shook the man's hand and left.
He hoped that arranging to have the house restored would ease some of Fletcher's pain. The way Kerney saw it, he'd been the houseguest from hell. gary dalquist's law office was in an old brick cottage across the street from the county judicial building. The front room served as a reception and waiting area. It had a tongue-and-groove oak floor, and a hand-stenciled fruit-and-floral motif that ran at the top of the walls next to the high plaster ceiling. Dalquist was leaning over a desk at the back of the room, talking to a secretary, when Kerney walked in.
He looked up and stepped across the room.
" I thought I might be hearing from you," he said.
"Nita told me you took a statement from Addie."
Kerney held out the transcript.
"I did. Here's your copy" "It's not often an arresting officer in a murder case is so helpful to the defense."
"You're not the only lawyer who's made that observation recently,"
Kerney said.
"But Wesley Marshall didn't put it quite so nicely."
Dalquist chuckled.
"I'm sure he didn't. I have a message for you. Robert is being discharged from the hospital today. He'll be staying with Nita for a while.
She wanted to make sure that you knew where he would be."
"Is he well enough to be discharged?"
Dalquist shrugged.
"He's a welfare case. Hospitals push indigent people out the door as quickly as possible."
"I hope Ms. Lassiter knows what she's doing. Robert isn't easy to manage."
"I said about the same thing to her, but she wouldn't be swayed. It may work out; Robert is back on his medications and seems fairly stable."
"He's acting okay?"
"He seems to be, according to Nita."
"When will you go to trial?" Kerney asked.
"Not soon, that's for sure," Dalquist replied.
"But when we do, I plan to mount a defense that won't leave a dry eye in the courtroom." Dalquist tapped the papers in his hand.
"Thanks for dropping Addie's statement by."
"You're welcome."
Outside, Kerney watched two deputies march shackled prisoners out the back door of the courthouse and into a waiting sheriff's van. The new officer uniforms, off-blue and gray in color, had been selected by the county sheriff in an attempt to professionalize the appearance of his deputies. To Kerney's eye, it made the cops look like valet parking attendants with sidearms.
He called Andy from his unit and said he was on his way back to the office.
"I'll meet you in the parking lot," Andy replied.
"What's up?"
"We're going to take a tour of De Leon Rancho Caballo house."
"Okay, I'll bite: How did you arrange it?"
"By using the prestige of my high office."
"Will De Leon be there to give us a tour?"
"Unfortunately, no. He left last night."
"How do you know that?"
"He informed Rancho Caballo security that he was leaving." andy had the key to De Leon house and the access code to the security gate that barred the road.
"Amazing," Kerney said in mock wonderment as Andy punched in the numbers on the keypad and the gate swung open.
"How did you get the code?"
"Rancho Caballo keeps all the access codes on file, so they can shut off systems when there's a false alarm and the owners are away."
"Park off the road so we can approach the house on foot," Kerney suggested.
"I don't need a lesson in tactics," Andy said as he coasted to a stop.
They scrambled up the hill, Kerney taking the front while Andy looped around the back. He finished his sweep just as Andy joined him on me veranda.
"Looks quiet," Kerney said.
"Same in the back," Andy said, positioning himself at the side of the front door with his.357 in his hand.
"Some place," he added.
"Do you like it?" Kerney asked as he took his station on the side of the door, the nine-millimeter in the ready position.
Andy put the key in the lock" Not really." He turned the key slowly.
"Don't get me shot. Connie wouldn't like it."
"Should I call for backup?"
"You arc my backup," Andy said as he pushed the door open.
The burglar alarm went off and they waited a few beats before entering.
They cleared die house room by room with the alarm bleating in their ears. They finished up in the garage and went back to a locked door in the lower hallway. It was protected by a keypad system.
"Well," Kerney said, "aren't you going to open it?"
Andy hit some numbers on the keypad and the alarm shut off. He punched in more numbers and smiled at Kerney.
"Try it."
The doorknob turned freely. Kerney swung the door open and turned on the lights. The stolen paintings were stacked neatly along the walls away from the wine racks, and the antique and pottery pieces were on a tasting table in the center of the room.
"Sweet Jesus," Andy said, his face cracking into a grin.
"I didn't know you were a religious man."
"I am now," Andy replied as he patted Kerney's shoulder and stepped into the room.
"Let's get some techs and people from the museum over here pronto." buck? watson broke off his conversation with his lawyer when the door to the interrogation room opened and Kerney walked in. He leaned back in his chair and sneered at the cop.
"Sorry to keep you waiting, gentlemen," Kerney said.
"Are you the arresting officer?" Earl Buffe
tt asked.
"I am." Kerney smiled in Watson's direction and dragged a chair across the floor to the table. Bucky's sneer remained intact.
"I want this interrogation ended," Buffett said.
"It has gone on much too long."
"Mr. Watson is under arrest," Kerney noted.
"We can keep him here for quite a while," He sat down and carefully stretched out his right leg.
"How are you holding up, Bucky?"
"Better than you," Bucky answered sarcastically, studying Kerney's drawn, exhausted face.
Kerney switched his gaze to Buffett. The man had very little space between the tip of his nose and his upper lip, and a pinched jaw that pulled his lower lip down at the edges.
"Aside from the drugs found in the basement, what other evidence do you have against Mr. Watson?"
Buffett asked.
"Have patience, Mr. Buffett," Kerney counseled.
"Gathering evidence takes time."
"You've had most of the day to search the shop," Bufiett replied.
"Surely it doesn't take that long."
"Bucky's shop is only one of the places we've searched today."
"I assume you had search warrants?"
"Certainly."
"Where else have you been?"
"So far? His house, gallery, and the design studio," Kerney answered.
"Are you ready to do some hard time, Bucky?"
"That's not going to happen," Bucky said.
Buffett shot Bucky a glance to shut him up.
"You have presented us with no proof that my client had knowledge of the drugs stored in the basement."
"Weren't you told?" Kerney asked, feigning surprise.
"Told what?"
"Bucky's fingerprints are all over the kilos of smack and cocaine."
Watson snickered.
"Does that amuse you?" Kerney asked.
"You can plant as much evidence against me as you want," Bucky replied.
"It doesn't mean anything."
Buffett held up a hand to cut Watson off.
"Please, Bucky.
We can deal with the evidence issue later. What else?"
"Skip and Kiko have agreed to testify against your client. Prom what they've told us so far, both have made a number of drug deliveries.
We'll be adding additional charges against you, Bucky."
"Is that the extent of your investigation?" Buffett demanded.
"No. I'm sorry if you haven't been given all the facts," Kerney replied apologetically.
"What facts?" Bucky snapped.
"We were able to access your computer files. That's quite a nice little distribution network you've got going.
We have your shipment records with all the details. It's the next best thing to a confession. Have you told your lawyer about Enrique De Leon Bucky flinched.
"Who?" Buffett said.
"You need to be more forthcoming, Bucky," Kerney chided.
"Mr. Buffett can't help you if you withhold information from him."
"Back up," Buffett said.
"Forget it," Bucky growled, cutting Buffett off.
De Leon is a Mexican drug lord," Kerney explained.
"Probably the biggest smuggler on the border. A very nasty man. Are you sure you don't want to talk to your lawyer about him, Bucky?"
Watson glared and damped his mouth shut.
"Then on to other matters," Kerney said, switching his attention to Buffett.
"We're asking the United States Attorney to prosecute your client under the federal drug trafficking statute."
"That carries an automatic death penalty upon conviction," Buffett said.
"That's why we thought it would be a good idea.
How does that sit with you, Bucky? Will a death penalty be enough of an object lesson for you?"
"Puck you."
Td be angry, too," Kerney said with a shrug.
"You're between a rock and a hard place. If De Leon doesn't kill you, eventually the government will. It's not a pretty picture."
Buffett leaned over and whispered in Bucky's ear.
Bucky gulped, nodded, and whispered something back.
"Can we deal?" Buffett asked, when he broke away.
"Nothing happens without a full confession," Kerney said.
"That's hardly accommodating to my client. What, exactly, do you want?"
"Pull disclosure on De Leon money laundering scheme and his drug distribution network."
"Forget it," Bucky said. He would rather make a seven-figure cash bond and disappear with his considerable nest egg as soon as the judge released him.
De Leon knows you've been skimming money from him," Kerney said.
"Get real," Bucky said.
"I faxed the information to him myself." Kerney had taken no such action, and had no proof that his accusaon was true, but the thought of De Leon retaliation might make Watson reconsider his position.
Bucky reacted by rubbing his nose, putting both elbows on the table, and crossing his legs-sure signs of stress and guilt.
"I know De Leon Bucky. And I guarantee that he'll have you killed before you can leave town. Tell me I'm wrong."
"If you know De Leon so well, how did you contact him?" Bucky asked.
"The information went to his hacienda and to the Little Turtle Casino in Juarez. You're going to need to be someplace safe for a while. De Leon has a long reach."
The smug look on Bucky's face vanished and he swallowed hard.
"Just where the fuck is that?"
"I can get you into a special federal prison under a new identity. I understand it's quite a nice place, as prisons go. We can hold you there until your trial."
"Would you be willing to have my client tried in state court?" Buffett asked. A state court trial would keep Bucky off death row, if he was convicted.
"That might be arranged."
"I want more than that," Bucky said.
"If I talk, some important people in this state are going to fall hard."
"First you talk and then we deal," Kerney countered.
"But the DA might be willing to reduce the charges. It would mean less hard time. A lot less, perhaps."
Bucky thought about his options, and decided he had none. Everything he'd built up was crashing down around his ears.
"Okay," he said weakly.
"I'll send the team back in," Kerney said.
"Give them your statement." He looked at the lawyer.
"Don't let your client change his mind, Mr. Buffett. This is a onetime offer."
Buffett made no response.
"By the way, Bucky, did you know that De Leon masterminded the art theft and killed Amanda Talley?"
"That's absurd," Bucky said.
"Did Amanda leave with De Leon after the O'Keeffe benefit?"
Bucky's eyes widened.
"They both left about the same time." kbrney caught a night's sleep at a Cerrillos Road budget motel. In the morning, he found the construction crew working on Fletcher's house. A laborer scrubbed away at the bloodstains in the garage. The ruined dining room carpet had been pulled up and dumped on the porch, where a workman was hanging a temporary front door.
The man nodded and stepped aside to let Kerney pass. He found Fletcher on his knees cleaning out the kitchen pantry. Many of the cans, bottles, and containers had been raked by gunfire, resulting in a gummy mess.
Pletcher dumped a gooey container in a wastebasket, wiped his sticky hands on his trousers, and got to his feet.
"You came back," Kerney said.
"Better to face what happened than hide from it," Pletcher said.
"I'm glad you feel that way."
"I didn't expect to find my home already under repair. Thank you for arranging it."
"It was the least I could do."
"You gave the contractor a sizable deposit. I want to reimburse you."
"We can talk about that later."
"Let me show you something," Fletcher said. He went to the k
itchen counter, where the Peter Hurd lithographs, removed from their shattered frames, were laid out.
Kerney stepped over and looked. The lithographs were heavily damaged, peppered with holes from Rasmussen's shotgun blast. They appeared un salvageable "Can they be repaired?" Kerney asked.
"I don't think so, but that's not the point," Fletcher said.
"Once, I valued these inordinately. Art can enlarge life, but it can't replace it. I'm just happy to be alive. The loss of the lithographs pales in comparison. I must find a way to thank that young officer for saving my life."
"I'm sure you'll think of something unique."
"Have you gone to visit her?"
"Not yet, but she's going to be fine."
He scrutinized Kerney carefully.
"You have a dangerous look about you, Kevin."
"I'm not in a very good mood."
"There's more to it than that," Fletcher said.
Kerney nodded his head in the direction of the pantry.
"I guess we each have our messes to clean up."
"Let me write you a check and pay you back for the deposit. My insurance is going to cover everything."
"No, Fletcher, I don't want the money. Use it, if you like, to replace one of the Hurd lithographs."
"As you wish," Pletcher said.
"The door to the guest quarters has been replaced. I'll expect you back after work. We'll have a nice dinner together."
"I'd like that."
"I need the company," Fletcher added.
"I still can't stop thinking about Gilbert."
"I can't either," Kerney said. the governor's receptionist announced Andy's arrival, and Vance Howell came out of the inner sanctum to escort him to Springer's office. Other than a greeting, Howell had nothing more to say. In the hallway, workers on ladders strung wires for a new closed circuit television security system.
Another example of locking the barn door after the horses got out, Andy thought glumly.
Howell left, and Andy knocked and entered to find Harper Springer at his desk conferring with his chief of staff. The man glanced at Andy, gave him a tight smile, whispered something to Springer, and retired through the side door to his office.
New paintings had been hung on the walls, and the glass display cases on either side of Springer's desk held Indian pots and some small cowboy sculptures. Fewer pieces of lesser value had been used to redecorate the office.
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