The Judas judge kk-5 Page 12

"He was half-loaded and waving a gun around."

  "So, it was robbery."

  "No, and it was never reported to the police. Vernon talked Eric into putting the gun away."

  "What kind of gun was it?"

  "I don't know. A revolver of some sort."

  "What did Eric leave with?"

  "Everything on his list. Some of his mother's jewelry, his father's handguns, Arthur's coin collection, and Eric's stamp album. All of it quite valuable."

  "How valuable?"

  "Eighty, a hundred fifty thousand dollars. In that range, at least."

  "That's quite a haul. And the judge just handed everything over?"

  "Yes."

  "Why would he do that?"

  "To get him out of the house, I would imagine."

  "Did Eric want anything that had belonged to his sister?"

  "I don't think so."

  "Did the judge discuss Eric's visit with you afterwards?"

  "No."

  "Did Eric ever come back here after that visit?"

  Kerney took his hand off the front door. "I need a list of the handguns the judge gave Eric."

  "I wouldn't know where to look," Kay Murray said. "Go find the killer, Mr. Kerney, and stop wasting your time butting into other people's personal lives." She slammed the door shut in Kerney's face.

  Driven by southerly winds, a brown haze of dust and pollution settled over Roswell. The sky was low and dreary, and the mountains to the west were a trivial outline against the horizon. The exquisite, radiant light and the vast conjunction of earth and sky, once so familiar and appealing, were fast becoming a rarity as industry along the Mexican border belched smog that drifted onto the high plains.

  Middle-class retirees seeking the warmth of the Sun Belt added to the problem, as did the traditional dryness of a New Mexico desert autumn.

  As Kerney wheeled into Linda Langsford's driveway, the sour feeling in his gut intensified. Not because the sky was less beautiful. Other things were piling up on him. Sara was hundreds of miles away, and he didn't get to see her enough. Clayton viewed him with hostility. And to top it off, he worried that his dream of ranching was nothing more than an overblown, forty-year-old fantasy.

  Modern ranching was far more complex than Kerney's childhood experiences on the Tularosa. Could he do it? Did he even know how to do it? Was he too old to try? Even the thought of the heap of money he stood to get from the sale of the land Erma Fergurson had left him didn't soothe his unsettled feelings.

  His parents had raised him to work hard, enjoy what life brings, and never waste anything. What would they have said about his good fortune?

  Certainly they would have expected him to put the money to good use and to spend it wisely. They would have wanted him to build something of enduring value. But figuring out how to do that was starting to get harder than Kerney had ever imagined possible.

  He shut the car door and stared at the stark architectural lines of Linda Langsford's house, which now seemed incongruous in comparison to the nearby farms, pastures, and fields. The house said something about Langsford, but Kerney wasn't sure what it might be.

  He tried to get his head straight, but the lousy mood persisted. The most important case of his career was filled with contradictions and going nowhere. As he walked up the pathway, the appearance of the house ate at him along with everything else bouncing around in his head. under the close watch of a surveillance officer, Linda Langsford was at a funeral parlor making arrangements for her father's services.

  Eric answered Kerney's knock, looking scrawny and undernourished in what appeared to be some of Drew Randolph's clothes. His eyebrows twitched as he stared at Kerney.

  "I'm not talking to you," he said from behind the screen door. "You'd rather go back to jail," Kerney countered. "For what?"

  "I'll think of something."

  "I didn't murder my father or any of those other people."

  "That should make talking to me a whole lot easier."

  "Okay, come in."

  Kerney stepped through the door. "Now, you're absolutely sure you didn't kill your father?"

  Eric nodded as he padded barefoot into the living room and sat on the couch. "That's right. Do you know my bitch sister doesn't have any uppers or downers in the house? Not even a Valium prescription.

  There's not a damn thing to get high on except booze."

  "You don't seem to like your sister very much."

  "We're not that close. Never have been."

  "She had Randolph bail you out."

  "That was for appearances, man. We've got to grieve together publicly now that the old man's been iced. Linda's big on shit like that."

  "Four years ago, you ripped your father off."

  Eric smiled gleefully. "You heard about that? I held him up at gunpoint, man. It gave me a big charge. What a rush."

  "Why didn't you just take his money?"

  "I wanted things that mattered to him. Stuff he wouldn't want to give me. Money would've been too easy. That's all he ever offered."

  "You took Arthur's coin collection, your mother's jewelry, and your own stamp album."

  "That's right."

  "Things with a sentimental value."

  "Bullshit, sentimental," Eric snorted. "He was a control freak.

  Nothing ever really belonged to us. He picked out every coin, stamp, and piece of expensive jewelry and kept it all locked in his safe. My mother had to ask him when she wanted to wear any of the good jewelry he bought for her. Can you believe that crap?"

  "What did he buy for Linda?"

  "Daddy's darling girl got money."

  "What for?"

  "Anything she wanted. Clothes, shoes, trips to Europe, dancing lessons, shopping sprees, cars-whatever."

  "When I talked to Dr. Joyce she said the whole family needed therapy."

  "Family therapy was her thing, man. To hear her talk, everybody needed it. Seeing her was a total waste of time."

  "She must have had her reasons."

  "I don't want to talk about it."

  "What did you do with the guns you took from your father?"

  "I sold them, along with everything else."

  "You didn't keep any?"

  "Nope."

  "What kind of gun did you take to your father's house?"

  "It was a Saturday night special." Eric spread his thumb and fore finger. "A. 25 caliber semiautomatic."

  "Kay Murray said it was a revolver."

  "She's wrong."

  "Where is the gun now?"

  "I traded it to get high. Is that the kind of gun that was used to kill my father?"

  "No."

  "Have you checked out my alibi yet?"

  "You lied to me, Eric."

  "About what?"

  "You said you hadn't seen or visited your father in six years."

  "I forget a lot of things when I'm stoned."

  "You weren't high when you said it."

  "So I lied."

  "Did you use pay phones to telephone Linda last week?"

  "What for?"

  "You tell me."

  "No, I didn't call her."

  "Did you see your father last week?"

  "Talk to him on the phone?"

  "Hire someone to kill him?"

  Eric grinned. "That's always been my favorite fantasy."

  "Did you?"

  Eric shook his head.

  "Why did you hate him so?"

  There were footsteps on the porch, and a voice snapped out. "That's enough!"

  Linda Langsford stormed up to Kerney, her face crimson red. "Why are you here again?" she demanded.

  "To return your receipts," Kerney answered calmly, holding out the credit card slips. "I made copies."

  She disregarded the papers and gave her brother a scathing look. "What has he been asking you?"

  "If I robbed the Judas Judge," Eric said.

  Kerney dropped the credit card slips on the coffee table.

  "Don't call him that," Linda snapped
.

  "Fuck you. I can say what I want."

  Linda's body tensed. "You're a mess, Eric." She swung to face Kerney.

  "Don't come back here without calling in advance, and don't talk to Eric again until he has legal counsel."

  "As you wish," Kerney said.

  "Go," she said flatly.

  "We'll need to talk again, Ms. Langsford."

  Linda smiled belligerently. "I'll be the judge of that."

  Crammed into the command trailer with Lee Sedillo and the agents working the case, Kerney listened to progress reports. Days of intense legwork without any headway had dampened everyone's spirits. Kerney masked his own disappointment by focusing on the details of each agent's assignment.

  After the last agent's briefing, Kerney met with Lee in the small office. "What's pending?" he asked.

  Sedillo sat at the desk and rubbed the back of his neck. "Two things: Eric Langsford's whereabouts at the time of the murders, and the verification of his sister's vacation itinerary. I had to pull Duran off the vandalism investigation to do the legwork on Eric."

  "Where is he?"

  Kerney asked.

  "El Paso. He hasn't checked in yet, so I'm assuming he hasn't got anything, and the bed and breakfast where Linda Langsford spent the first two nights of her vacation has shut down for the season."

  "Where's that?" Kerney asked.

  "Creede, Colorado, in Mineral County-wherever that is. I've got a call in to the sheriff, asking him to locate the owners and have them contact us. A husband and wife run the place."

  "I've been there," Kerney said.

  "It's a small old mining town in the Rockies, northeast of Alamosa. There are a lot of summer vacation homes but not too many year-round residents. It shouldn't be hard to run down the B and B owners."

  Lee nodded. "I hope so. About the only thing we've done so far is wipe out the overtime budget for the year."

  "I want the team to go back over everything again one more time. All of it-the parks, motels, eateries, gas stations, convenience stores-the works. This time, have them concentrate on Penelope Gibben, Kay Murray, Eric Langsford, and his sister. They are the only ones who stand to profit from Langsford's murder."

  "Gibben and Murray have solid alibis, Chief," Lee said.

  "Seemingly solid alibis," Kerney replied.

  "We'll work it again," Lee said without much enthusiasm.

  "Let's take a closer look at the Langsford family." Kerney handed Lee a copy of the names Colby Trumble, the high school principal, had provided. "Friends, neighbors, school chums, relatives, teachers, business associates-whoever knew them. Let's see if we can turn up any more private family scandals. You know the routine."

  "You still think this wasn't a spree killing?" Lee asked.

  "Give me the killer's motive that triggered the event," Kerney said.

  "Was it simple robbery? If we had one confirmed report that a victim's credit card had been used, any stolen items had been pawned or sold, or a check had been forged, maybe I'd buy it. But even that wouldn't explain why the perp used two bullets on Langsford and one with everybody else.

  "Aside from all of that," Kerney continued, "we may have a murderer who is systematically wiping out the Langsford family. Changing his MO with each crime. Up to now, the killings have been widely spaced apart. But that could change."

  "You think he's going after Linda Langsford?"

  "The phone calls made to her residence on the night of the murders bother me. Spree killers get off on bloodletting, so why stop to make the phone calls unless there's a reason? With this type of killer, you'd expect him to be spraying bullets around, pumping round after round into his victims. That didn't happen."

  "Good points," Lee said.

  "Let's assume the killer had some firearms training. Contact every gun dealer, weapons instructor, and shooting range in the state. Find out if any of our possible suspects have experience with handguns."

  "Including Linda Langsford?" Lee asked. Kerney shrugged. "Why not?"

  "You want gun sales records searched also?"

  "You bet. Start with Brady Bill felony checks."

  The phone rang and Lee grabbed the receiver. He listened, gave a terse thanks, and hung up.

  "That was the Roswell district commander. Eric Langsford took five hundred dollars out of his sister's purse and split. Surveillance didn't even know he was gone. He left out the back door."

  "When?" Kerney asked.

  "No more than an hour ago. Linda Langsford just called it in."

  "Find him."

  The message light on the motel telephone blinked at Kerney. He called the front desk, and the clerk told him Kay Murray was in the lobby waiting to speak to him.

  She rose quickly from the chair when Kerney entered the lobby. Her long brown hair fell in soft curls around her face, and she wore tight-fitting, faded blue jeans and expensive high-heeled boots that made her look alluring and provocative.

  With apprehensive eyes, she smiled shyly as Kerney approached.

  "I've treated you badly and I've come to apologize," she said.

  "There's no need for that."

  "At least let me buy you a drink to make amends."

  Kerney nodded in the direction of the motel restaurant, and her expression lightened.

  They settled at a table in the almost empty lounge, where the smell of alcohol and cigarettes blended with the aroma of greasy restaurant food.

  With cheap paneling, mass-produced seafaring prints on the walls, a fishing net hung from the ceiling, and low-end captain's chairs and tables, the decor matched the menu.

  "I know you have a job to do," Kay said, after the bartender brought the drinks. "But I'm very protective of my personal life." Kerney said nothing. "Does that make any sense?"

  "Of course it does."

  "I'm a private person. It's the way I survive."

  "You don't have to explain yourself to me, Ms. Murray," Kerney said, hoping she would.

  "Please, call me Kay. I know I've been impossible with you, and I want you to understand why. I'm not conventional in the way I live, and I stay away from those who are quick to judge."

  She reached out and touched Kerney's hand. "I know you weren't doing that. But your questions made me feel that way. I had to settle myself down and get it clear in my mind that you were just doing your job. Will you forgive me?"

  Kerney felt an unexpected arousal at her touch. He pulled his hand back and picked up his drink. "Of course."

  "So now what?"

  "Excuse me?"

  "Now that you know all my secrets, are they safe with you?"

  "I doubt I know all of your secrets," Kerney said.

  Murray laughed. "No, you don't."

  Kerney switched the wineglass to his left hand so she could clearly see his wedding band. She didn't seem to notice. "Would you mind a few questions?" he asked.

  "About?"

  "Judge Langsford."

  "Go ahead."

  "Eric characterized his father as cruel, heartless, and controlling."

  "That's unfair. Eric and his father were as different as night and day.

  Vernon was vigorous and virile-very charming with women. Eric has almost no sexuality at all. There's no spark to him. He's virtually a eunuch. At the most, sexually amorphous."

  "Did Vernon favor Linda?"

  "He doted on her. She was his only daughter."

  "Why did you become Vernon's lover?" Kerney asked.

  The question brought an amused smile to Kay's face. "You change subjects neatly. He always interested me sexually. I particularly liked the way he treated Penelope. I got to see them together a lot when I lived with her."

  "What drew him to you?"

  "I was his type."

  "What type is that?"

  "You could say a younger version of Penelope." Kay smiled as she leaned forward. "See? Now you know another secret about me. I like men. Do you know what a single woman really needs?"

  "What's that?"
>
  "A good mechanic and a great lover."

  Kerney smiled. "I hope you've found both."

  "I keep my antennae up for likely prospects," she said with a lilt.

  "Did you get to know the judge's family while you lived with Penelope?"

  "Only through her. Vernon was very good at compartmentalizing his life, if you know what I mean. And Penelope was, in some ways, a throwback."

  "How so?"

  "She was more a courtesan than a mistress, and very honest about her needs. She had all the freedom she wanted, none of the burdens of a wife, and a reliable lover who wasn't overly intrusive. I came to appreciate her view of life."

  "So did Vernon, apparently."

  Kay leaned back and searched Kerney's face with her eyes. "You mean the money he left us in his will. You make it sound almost immoral. Would you be more approving of us if Vernon hadn't been a rich, generous man?"

  "I only note it."

  "Why bring it up at all? You know I am clearly not a suspect."

  "You do have a good alibi. I wasn't accusing you."

  "There isn't one person you're investigating who had a dire need for Vernon's money."

  "Except Eric."

  "Vernon would have provided for him even more than he did. All Eric needed to do was get off drugs and clean himself up."

  "Which, if my reading of Eric is correct, would have meant caving in to his father's wishes. That's something I don't think he was willing to do."

  Kay gave Kerney a weighty look. "That's an interesting concept."

  "Maybe the family liked having Eric be the oddball, to keep things in a crazy kind of balance."

  "What benefit would Eric possibly get out of that?"

  "Attention."

  "Did you come up with this theory all by yourself?" Her tone was playfully mocking, as though she was talking to a misinformed child.

  "No. Eric's former therapist reminded me of the concept." Kerney switched gears. "No one seems to want to talk about Arthur. Penelope told me his death devastated Marsha Langsford, and that Vernon was about to leave her when she was killed."

  "Arthur was her firstborn."

  "A hard loss, certainly. New Mexico is a community property state. Would Vernon have been willing to give her half of his considerable assets in a divorce settlement?"

  "Are you suggesting Vernon may have killed his wife?"