Everyone Dies Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Teaser chapter

  Praise for Everyone Dies

  “A former police investigator, [McGarrity] infuses his fiction with a wealth of authentic details.”

  —Roanoke Times & World-News (VA)

  “Readers familiar with the series will be happy to settle back with the chief, his complicated family, and the men and women of the department for another enjoyable installment.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  Praise for The Big Gamble

  “Michael McGarrity delivers a breathless urgency to his seventh mystery, in which the intricacies of police investigation are as important as the dynamics between an estranged father and son.”

  —Chicago Tribune

  “McGarrity shines as he portrays the details of a finely wrought murder investigation, bringing to the table his experience on the ‘job.’ . . . There are no stereotypes, just living, breathing people. The Big Gamble brings into play greed, evil, power, and the lives of those who strive to control and manipulate others for their own pleasure and profit. This is a gripping tale told with intensity and skill.”

  —The Denver Post

  “There are times when all the lush prose and psychological insight in the world can’t beat a straightforward, well-written police procedural. Such is the case with Michael McGarrity’s The Big Gamble . . . a compelling portrait of a simple investigation that unexpectedly mushrooms into a multiagency task force of complex proportions . . . will keep you turning the pages. The action . . . is brisk and nonstop.”

  —The Washington Post Book World

  “A series standout . . . smartly detailed police work . . . keep[s] you turning the pages.”

  —Los Angeles Times

  “Michael McGarrity . . . closely resembles Tony Hillerman. Both authors possess a knowledge of and love for the vast desert of the American Southwest and its peculiar peoples. And both men excel at weaving compelling stories that spring naturally from the harsh and haunting landscape. . . . McGarrity has constructed a taut and suspenseful tale, authentic in its portrayal of police procedure, and perceptive in its take on human emotions.”

  —The San Diego Union-Tribune

  “McGarrity can sustain suspense and a strong narrative pace while he gives us a detailed and fascinating inside look at the techniques of various investigators and at the rivalries and cooperative efforts of the organizations they work for. And that’s what police procedurals are supposed to do. The odds are you’ll find this one a good bet for your summer reading.”

  —Pittsburgh Post-Gazette

  “In his trademark style of believable characters and narrative, Michael McGarrity again demonstrates his unequaled grasp of the Southwest landscape both physically and culturally. His sense of place, inhabitants and police procedure is meticulous and a must read for mystery fans.”

  —Tulsa World

  “Smooth writing, well-drawn characters, and several neat plot twists. . . . Never losing sight of his people in the forensic detail, the author skillfully makes us want to know what happens next without unnecessary violence or contrivance. . . . This is an exceptionally intelligent, humane mystery in a series that deserves a wide readership.”

  —Publishers Weekly (starred review)

  “A convincing story. . . . The reader becomes engaged in the mental gymnastics it sometimes takes to catch a killer. . . . McGarrity offers insight into how solid police work really happens.”

  —The Colorado Springs Gazette

  “Will inevitably draw comparisons to Tony Hillerman’s crime novels . . . but McGarrity is very much his own writer. . . . What really sets McGarrity’s work apart is its accuracy and believability. He knows his stuff. . . . This is a great book for a weekend at the beach or a long plane ride.”

  —The Baton Rouge Advocate

  “Stealthily, meticulously McGarrity stalks his prey, unearthing a wonderfully sordid tale . . . a full-blown scandal that rocks all of New Mexico.”

  —The Providence Journal-Bulletin

  “McGarrity [and] fellow New Mexican Tony Hillerman share admirable strengths: convincing details, complex characters, clean writing, and compelling settings. That crime thrives in the Southwest is no blessing; but that such perceptive storytellers tell the tales is pure delight.”

  —The Seattle Times

  “A former deputy sheriff for Santa Fe County, McGarrity brings remarkable verisimilitude to his re-creation of police procedures. In fact, this series has come to have an almost-documentary feel to it, something like the television series Cops . . . as fresh and carefully prepared as ever.”

  —Booklist

  “Like Tony Hillerman before him, Michael McGarrity puts the state of New Mexico on the map. His style is smooth, subtle, and his storytelling abilities keep the reader in thrall, wondering what will happen next. The Big Gamble is no gamble at all for readers; it is a surefire winner for anyone who likes a fascinating police procedural.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  “Satisfying adventure . . . deft, tidy, and character-driven. . . . No one does the small-city police procedural more authoritatively than McGarrity.”

  —Kirkus Reviews

  “Well-crafted, entertaining, action-packed . . . an intriguing killer.”

  —Lansing State Journal

  “Captivating . . . a satisfying journey that takes readers into the complex workings of clever minds, both criminal and judicial. McGarrity knows whereof he writes, and his professional insights illuminate nearly every page.”

  —Crosswinds Weekly

  “Masterful.”

  —The Sunday Oklahoman

  ALSO BY MICHAEL MCGARRITY

  Tularosa

  Mexican Hat

  Serpent Gate

  Hermit’s Peak

  The Judas Judge

  Under the Color of Law

  The Big Gamble

  ONYX

  Published by New American Library, a division of

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street,

  New York, New York 10014, U.S.A.

  Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand,

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  Penguin Books Australia Ltd, 250 Camberwell Road,

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  Penguin Books Canada Ltd, 10 Alcorn Avenue,

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  Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices:

  80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  Published by Onyx, an imprint of New American Library, a division of Penguin

  Group (USA) Inc. Previously published in a Dutton edition.

  First Onyx Printing, August 2004

  Copyright © Michael McGarrity, 2003

  Excerpt from Slow Kill copyright © Michael McGarrity, 2004

  All rights reserved

  REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the
prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  eISBN : 978-1-101-11875-7

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  For Charmay B. Allred

  Acknowledgments

  Carole Baron, Brian Tart, Lisa Johnson, Kathleen Matthews-Schmidt, Robert Kempe, Anthony Ramondo, Mitch Hoffman, Amy Hughes, Betsy DeJesu, and Anna Cowles are without a doubt the best group of people I’ve had the pleasure to work with as a writer. Thanks for the encouragement, support, and outstanding creativity you have brought to this shared enterprise.

  Chapter 1

  Jack Potter, perhaps the most successful and best known attorney in Santa Fe, had recently attended a gay rights costume ball dressed as Lady Justice. The following morning a photograph of a smiling Potter, wearing a shimmering frock, a curly wig, and holding the scales of justice and a sword, appeared on the front page of the local paper.

  Today Jack Potter wore a tank top, shorts, and a pair of expensive running shoes that looked brand new to Detective Ramona Pino. He was faceup on the sidewalk with a bullet hole in his chest. He’d bled out in front of his office across from the county courthouse early on a warm July morning. From the blood trail on the sidewalk, Pino could tell that Potter had crawled a good fifty feet before turning over on his back to die.

  Ramona was more than slightly pissed at the man who’d discovered Potter. Alfonso Allesandro had spotted the body as he passed by in his newspaper truck, and had called the city editor on a cell phone before dialing the cops to report the crime. As a result a photographer had hurried over from the newspaper offices a few blocks away and walked through the blood trail taking pictures before the first officer arrived.

  Both men were now waiting in the panel truck under the watchful eye of a uniformed officer while Pino worked the cordoned-off crime scene with the techs, searching for shell casings and anything else that looked like evidence.

  Little orange evidence markers were placed at the cigarette butts lying in the gutter, at a broken toothpick found a step away from Potter’s body, and next to the small puddle of fairly fresh crankcase oil in the street. One tech dusted the parking meters for fingerprints, and another worked on the door and front porch to Potter’s office.

  Ramona inspected the small fenced lawn in front of the building looking for any signs that shrubbery and grass had been disturbed or for fibers, threads, or hair that might have been transferred by contact. Finding nothing, she sent a tech who’d finished taking snapshots of the bloody footprints to secure the photographer’s shoes so a comparison could be made. The photographer opened the truck door, pulled off his shoes, and shot Ramona a dirty look as he handed them to the tech.

  Ramona smiled, but not at the photographer. The newspaper’s truck bore an advertising slogan, EVERYONE READS IT, and in black spray paint someone had added:AND WONDERS WHY

  By the time an assistant district attorney, a medical examiner, and Lieutenant Sal Molina showed up, the courthouse was about to open for business. A small crowd of lawyers, clerks, judges, and officers scheduled for court appearances had gathered across the street and were scrutinizing her every move, which made her a little uneasy.

  The ME, a roly-poly man with skinny arms showing below a short-sleeved shirt, went off to declare Potter officially dead. Ramona turned her back on the crowd and briefed Molina and the ADA in a low voice.

  “Potter was shot in the chest at what appears to be close range,” she said. “We have no witnesses to the crime and so far no substantial evidence.”

  “Was it a drive-by?” Molina asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Ramona replied. “Potter took just one bullet. If the killer had been firing from a moving vehicle, he probably would have emptied his weapon at his target.”

  “The shooter could have been parked at the curb.”

  “Possibly,” Ramona said. “But if the killer was in a vehicle, I doubt it was a passenger car.”

  “Why do you say that?” Molina asked.

  “The entry and exit wounds don’t look that much out of alignment,” Ramona answered. “From a car, the shooter would have been firing up at an angle.”

  Molina nodded in agreement. “Have you found the bullet?”

  “No,” Pino said as she gazed down the street. At least a dozen buildings would have to be checked for the spent round, including an elementary school, an office building, and a resort hotel two blocks away across a thoroughfare that circled downtown Santa Fe. It would take hours to do the search, probably with no results.

  “Maybe we’ll get lucky,” Molina said, reading Pino’s pessimistic expression. She was a pretty young woman with even features and soft brown eyes that often fooled people into thinking she could be easily conned or manipulated.

  “What if Potter knew his killer?” Barry Foyt, the ADA, asked.

  “That would be great,” Molina said. “Otherwise we’ve got either a random shooting or robbery as the possible motive.”

  “Was there anything in his pockets?” Foyt asked.

  “Just his keys,” Ramona answered, showing the key ring in a plastic bag, “and he’s still wearing his watch, although it’s not an expensive one.”

  “So maybe we should rule out robbery as a motive as soon as possible,” Foyt said, inclining his head toward the single-story adobe building that housed Potter’s offices.

  “Are you giving permission to search?” Ramona asked.

  “Plain view only, for now,” Foyt said, “including his car.”

  “You got it,” Ramona said.

  “Does he have any employees?” Molina asked, looking at the civilians who had congregated at both ends of the street behind patrol cars blocking the intersections. Uniformed officers stood by their vehicles holding them back.

  “He has one secretary,” Foyt replied. “I don’t see her here yet.”

  “ID her for us when she shows,” Molina said, turning his attention to Pino. “Six detectives are rolling. Let’s get the uniforms started identifying onlookers and taking statements. Assign a detective to search Potter’s office and put one on his car. Find his wallet. That could help us rule out robbery as a motive. Have the others canvass the neighborhood, and start the techs looking for the bullet.”

  “Will do, Lieutenant,” Ramona said. Even with the additional help, it was going to be a busy day. Once a residential neighborhood, the McKenzie District west of the courthouse was now a mixed-use area of professional offices, private dwellings, apartments in converted houses, several bed-and-breakfast inns, retail specialty shops, and some eateries that were popular with locals. A lot of people would need to be canvassed on the assumption that someone might have noticed a suspicious person, seen a vehicle, or heard the gunshot.

  “I wonder if Potter ran every morning before he started work,” Molina said.

  Foyt shrugged. “I know he liked to run, but I don’t know if he kept to a set schedule.”

  “We’ll find out,” Ramona said.

  “Have you called Chief Kerney?” Molina asked Pino.

  “Negative,” Ramona answered. “I wanted to secure the crime scene and get an evidence searc
h under way first.”

  “I’ll call him,” Molina said, turning to Foyt. “Anything else you want to add, counselor?”

  Barry Foyt glanced ruefully at Potter’s body. He’d been handling murder cases for the DA’s office for the last five years and had been called out to most of the major homicide crime scenes. But this was the first time the victim had been someone he knew and liked.

  “Jack was good people,” Foyt said brusquely. “Let’s get a suspect in custody fast, Lieutenant.”

  “If only it were that easy,” Molina said, thinking maybe he’d been stupid to let Kerney talk him out of putting in his retirement papers. Potter’s murder could turn into a real bitch of a controversy real fast if progress on the case stalled.

  If he’d been smart, he could have been out on a lake trout fishing without a care in the world, instead of facing the potential indignation of every judge, lawyer, prosecutor, and gay activist in Santa Fe.

  Molina scanned the growing crowd before addressing Ramona. “I know you caught the case, Detective, but I’m taking over as primary on this one.”

  “I understand, Lieutenant,” Ramona said.

  He sent Pino and Foyt off to brief the detectives who were piling out of unmarked units, flipped open his cell phone to call the chief, and hesitated.