Under the Color of Law Read online

  She could retire at any time on a full pension, but chose not to do so. Kerney was delighted to have her running the office.

  "You always give me such good advice," he said.

  "Which, if I recall correctly, you usually need," Helen replied.

  "Probably. Find the order requiring the chief's approval to assign additional detectives to a major crime investigation and type up a memo rescinding it for my signature."

  "That will make Sal Molina happy. Have you decided to stop rubbernecking and start driving?"

  "You have an insubordinate personality, Mrs. Muiz."

  "Isn't that why you're glad I'm here?"

  "No comment," Kerney said lightheartedly. "Don't bother to get the city manager on the line. I'll call him myself."

  "How egalitarian of you," Helen said with a laugh. "Shall I prepare another memo directing senior staff to answer their own phones and place their own calls whenever possible?"

  "Why not?"

  Helen's smile broadened. "I knew having you as the chief would be fun."

  "I'm glad I've made at least one employee happy," Kerney replied.

  ***

  Through the one-way observation window Kerney watched Santiago Terjo as he sat alone in the interrogation room. Neatly dressed in jeans, work boots, and a heavy cotton shirt, Terjo was clean shaven and had dark curly hair that drooped over his forehead.

  "According to Customs he's legal," Sal Molina said, referring to the notes from his preliminary interview with Terjo. "Born in Hildalgo del Parral--wherever that is. Age thirty-eight. No wants, warrants, or priors. He's got a wife and three kids in Mexico, and a girlfriend and one baby here in Santa Fe."

  "What kind of story did he give you?" Kerney asked.

  "He says he moved the RV from the stables to the house yesterday after work before going to his girlfriend's house, where he spent the night. He last saw Terrell alive at about six o'clock in the evening when they talked for a few minutes about what she wanted done while she was gone. According to Terjo, Terrell was alone at the time."

  "Does the girlfriend confirm he was with her?"

  "All night. Her name is Rebecca Shapiro, originally from New York. Someplace on Long Island. She's a jewelry maker who works out of her house. Shapiro said Terjo didn't leave until seven-thirty this morning."

  "Is she lying?" Kerney asked.

  "Not likely," Molina replied.

  "She independently confirmed the events of their night together. Terjo came over, helped Shapiro make dinner, and then they ate. He played with his daughter, Aspen, age one, until her bedtime. After that Terjo gave Shapiro a Spanish lesson--she's trying to learn the language. Then they watched a little television and went to bed."

  "Does she know about Terjo's wife and children in Mexico?"

  "Yeah. She says she's perfectly comfortable with her relationship with Terjo. Isn't into the marriage thing."

  "What happened in the morning?" Kerney asked.

  "Terjo leaves his dog, Zippy, at the stables when he stays with Shapiro because she's allergic to animals. In the morning he stopped by to feed him and let him out. He left his truck behind and walked up through the arroyo to the house, so Zippy could do his business. Then he put the dog in the RV and went to work."

  "Doing what?"

  "Taking out some trees in front of a rock outcropping on an upper slope behind the house. Terrell wanted the area cleared because she was planning to have Terjo build a pergola and an outdoor fireplace on the site, and the trees blocked the view."

  "Did anybody see Terjo working?"

  "One neighbor heard the sound of a chain saw, and another neighbor coming down from his hilltop house saw Terjo at the site. The detective who examined the area said the trees were freshly cut."

  "Why did Terjo run?"

  "He came down to the house to get something to eat and let the dog out of the RV. Supposedly, Mrs. Terrell gave him standing permission to raid the refrigerator whenever she was away. He went into the house through the main entrance. That's when he saw Terrell's body. He got scared, panicked, and went back to the RV just about the time Matt Garcia was chasing Zippy up the hill. He saw Garcia and took off. He said he thought Garcia was the murderer."

  "It's a good story," Kerney said.

  "Do we have any physical evidence from the crime scene?"

  "No prints on the scissors," Molina replied.

  "But we've found some pubic and head hairs and a small fluid stain on Mrs. Terrell's bed sheets. Also, we have one set of footprints that don't match up with the victim, Terjo, or Matt Garcia. They're from a size-ten hiking boot. The tracks start at the front side of the patio, drop down the hill, and end at the road."

  "Anything else?"

  "Yeah. Seven Baggies of marijuana, hidden in the stables. Terjo says he knows nothing about it. But I think he ran away so he could move his stash."

  "Have you asked Terjo to provide head and pubic hairs for comparison purposes?"

  "He agreed to it in writing. I took him to the hospital on the way here and had a nurse take samples. The lab has them. We're still waiting on results."

  "You've found no other physical evidence?" Kerney asked.

  "Not yet," Molina said.

  "If the precipitating event was a lovers' quarrel or a burglary gone bad, there should be."

  Molina nodded.

  "No prints on the scissors and no sign of forced entry does seem to make it look a little too neat and tidy. I've been thinking that maybe the murder was staged."

  "For what purpose?"

  "If you can tell me that, Chief, then I'd have a motive."

  Kerney studied Terjo through the glass. The man was nervous, rubbing his hands together and constantly shifting his weight in the chair.

  "Terrell and her husband were separated. Maybe Terjo knows something about Phyllis Terrell that can help us answer that question," he said.

  "I think he'll cooperate," Sal said.

  "He already knows how much time he's facing on a possession-with-intent-to-sell conviction."

  "If you can make it stick." Kerney nodded in Terjo's direction.

  "Let's see what he says."

  * * *

  Santiago Terjo had seen enough television cop shows to figure people were watching through the mirror and talking about him. He slumped against the back of the metal chair and tried to remain calm. But the longer he waited alone in the small room the more his hands got nervous and his gaze wandered toward the mirror.

  He'd lied to the police lieutenant about the marijuana, and about his family in Mexico. In truth, Terjo had no wife and children. If the cops found out he'd assumed his dead brother's identity, Terjo could go to prison first and afterward get deported. Then there would be no more money to send home every month for his only sister-in-law, Lupita, her children, his parents, or his aunts and uncles.

  Three years ago Santiago, his brother, had died from a stomach illness while home for a visit. Ignacio, who had much the same features as his brother and was only a half inch taller, had used Santiago's green card to enter the United States and find work.

  Because Santiago had worked in Texas, Ignacio had decided to go to New Mexico, where the switch wouldn't be discovered. It had worked perfectly. To Rebecca, Mrs. Terrell, and everybody he'd met in Santa Fe, he was Santiago.

  How could he convince the cop it wasn't his stash they'd found in the stables, even though it was? He always brought marijuana back with him from his visits to Mexico, but only for his personal use, not to sell. Usually he brought enough to last for six or eight months, sometimes a whole year.

  Terjo coughed and swallowed the phlegm in his throat. It scared him to think he could be charged with drug dealing and maybe sent to prison for a very long time. Before the cops arrested him at the stables, he'd used a rag to rub the Baggies clean of any prints. That should help, but what if they found some seeds or stems in the RV, which was likely? How could he explain that?

  He needed to come up with a convincing st
ory. He tried to think of something the police lieutenant might believe.

  * * *

  "Sorry to keep you waiting," Sal said as he entered the interrogation room and placed a tape recorder on the table.

  "Who's watching me through the mirror?" Terjo asked.

  "My new boss," Sal said, easing himself into the chair across from Terjo.

  "I think he wants to make sure I know how to do my job. Help me out and cooperate, Santiago. I don't want to look bad."

  "I already told you everything."

  "Give me a minute," Sal said. He turned on the recorder, identified himself, and gave specifics of who he was interviewing, why, and when.

  "There, that's out of the way. What did you say before I turned the machine on?"

  "That I told you everything," Terjo said, giving Molina a friendly smile.

  "But we haven't talked about the scissors," Sal said.

  "The scissors?"

  "They're expensive German-made, just like my wife's."

  "Asi?" Terjo replied, pulling at an earlobe.

  "So, I'm wondering if you ever saw Mrs. Terrell use those scissors, or scissors like them."

  "I don't think so," Terjo said. "But she has a lot of stuff she doesn't really use much."

  "Maybe she used them as kitchen shears," Sal said. "Or for cutting string and wrapping presents."

  "Maybe."

  "Are the scissors yours?" Sal asked.

  "No, pero I keep some in my toolbox."

  "We found those." Sal rubbed his chin.

  "Do you think the killer brought the scissors with him?"

  Terjo shook his head.

  "You shook your head," Sal noted.

  "Nobody does that."

  "I agree. Most people don't carry scissors around with them. That tells me something."

  "What?"

  "The killer was someone Terrell knew and let into the house."

  "A lot of people come to the house, making deliveries, visiting."

  "I have the list of names you gave me. Does anyone special come around a lot?"

  "Alexandra Lawton. She is Senora Terrell's neighbor."

  "Killing someone with scissors is something a woman is more likely to do," Sal said.

  "She would never do such a thing."

  "You must know Ms. Lawton pretty well to call her by her first name."

  "She asked me to do so."

  "Maybe you used the scissors as the murder weapon."

  "I have no reason to kill Senora Terrell. She has been very good to me."

  "Does Lawton have a boyfriend?"

  "Who knows? It is not my business."

  "Have you seen her with men?"

  "Yes, but they are strangers to me."

  "What about Terrell? Did she have men friends who came to visit; ?"

  "I don't spy on my boss."

  "Did you know that Terrell and her husband were getting a divorce?"

  "I knew."

  "An attractive woman like Mrs. Terrell must have had a boyfriend or someone she was seeing. After all, she'd been separated from her husband for nearly two years."

  "I know nothing about that."

  "Your English is very good," Sal said.

  "I studied it in school as a child."

  "How far in school did you go?" Sal asked.

  Terjo tensed and stalled momentarily, mentally counting the number of years his brother had been in school.

  "Eight years."

  "And they taught you English?" Sal asked, leaning closer, breaking into Terjo's space. "I didn't think Mexican schools did that very much."

  "Everybody wants to learn English so they can come here," Terjo said defensively.

  "What was the name of your school?"

  "It is gone. The government closed it many years ago."

  "You must have been a good student."

  "I learned more English when I came to this country."

  "I'm thinking maybe Lawton killed Mrs. Terrell because of jealousy," Sal said.

  "Porque?"

  "Because you were sleeping with both of them."

  "That's not true."

  "Somebody had sex in Terrell's bedroom before the murder. Was it you?"

  Terjo rubbed his nose. "I would never do that."

  "The hair samples we took will tell us," Sal said.

  "Then you'll know what I say is true."

  "I hope so, for your sake," Sal said. "Still, we've got this marijuana thing to deal with."

  "I think maybe some kids left it there," Terjo said, the tone of his voice rising slightly.

  "Kids?"

  Terjo spoke quickly. "Sometimes they use the stables when I'm not around. They get in through the open stalls to the corral. A couple of times they even broke into the RV."

  "I see."

  "I've found empty beer cans and used rubbers in there before."

  "In the RV?"

  "Yeah, and the stables."

  "How did they get into the RV?"

  "Sometimes I forget to lock it."

  "When was the last time this happened?"

  "Maybe two weeks ago."

  "Did you call the police and report it?"

  "No. Nothing was stolen, nada."

  "Did you report any of the prior incidents?" Sal asked.

  "No."

  "Do you know the kids by name? Where they live?"

  Terjo cleared his throat. "No, pero I'm guessing it was kids. Mira, I never saw them."

  Molina shook his head sympathetically. "Too bad. If you'd reported the break-ins, maybe this drug-dealing charge wouldn't be hanging over you."

  Terjo lowered his head. "It's not my grass."

  "Did Mrs. Terrell ever talk about her husband?"

  "Just to say he was a very important man who does much work for the government."

  "Nothing more than that?"

  "Sometimes she would seem upset after talking to him on the telephone."

  "Upset about what?"

  "I don't know."

  "Did Mrs. Terrell have a lover?"

  "She would never talk to me about personal things like that."

  Sal pushed. "Did she have a lover?"

  Terjo looked away before responding.

  "I don't know nothing about that."

  "Let's go over again what you did last night," Sal said, backing off with a smile.

  "I gotta stay here?" Terjo asked.

  "For now," Sal replied. "Start with what you were doing just before you spoke to Terrell for the

  last time."

  Molina used his notes to move Terjo through the events he'd previously reported.

  He finished up and got to his feet. "Did you tell one of your amigos how easy it would be to break into Mrs. Terrell's house and rip her off while she was gone?"

  "I would never do such a thing."

  "Maybe your friend came at the wrong time, Mrs. Terrell caught him in the act, so he decided to rape and kill her."

  "That's loco."

  Molina turned off the recorder and extracted the cassette.

  "Just tap on the door if you remember something else you want to tell me, or if you want to change your story."

  "I told you everything. I want to leave now."

  "If you left, I'd start to believe you don't want to cooperate," Sal replied. "You wouldn't want me to think that, would you?"

  "I'll wait," Terjo said with a sigh.

  "He stuck to his story, Chief," Molina said as he walked with Kerney to the second-floor landing, "and it didn't sound rehearsed to me."

  "He's lying about something," Kerney said.

  "Why and what are the questions?"

  "I'll talk to the girlfriend."

  "Canvass her neighbors to see if they saw Terjo entering or leaving her house.

  And query the Mexican authorities and see what they have on him." "We could wait weeks for a reply."

  "I want him locked up at least overnight. Book him on the drug dealing charges."

  "Our probable cause is weak,"
Molina said.

  "Granted, but it buys you time to push him a little harder. Let's find out what he's covering up."

  "Anything else, Chief?"

  "Assuming Terjo isn't involved in the murder, that leaves us only with the victim's profile to go on."

  "We're talking to Terrell's friends and acquaintances right now," Molina said.

  "Good."

  Helen Muiz signaled to Kerney from the doorway to the administrative wing. He waved and she stayed put.

  "Do you need anything else from me, Lieutenant?"

  "Some clarification would help, Chief. How deeply involved in the investigation do you want to be?"

  "I want to know everything that goes on."

  "I meant personally."

  "That depends," Kerney said.

  "On how well me and my people do our jobs?"

  "Exactly. You've got five open murder investigations that haven't been cleared. That's five out. of six during the past year. It is not a cheerful statistic. Don't add the Terrell homicide to the list."

  Molina fought off a desire to explain and squared his shoulders. "If you want me to put in my retirement papers, tell me now."

  "That's not what I want. At this point you have my goodwill, Lieutenant.

  Whether or not I come to appreciate your abilities is up to you. Do the

  job and I'll stay off your butt."

  "That's straight enough," Molina said, stomping away.

  Helen Muiz eyed Kerney speculatively when he approached.

  "What have you got for me?" Kerney asked.

  Helen flipped open her notebook and started talking. "Ambassador Terrell was due to arrive by corporate jet at the Santa Fe airport in several hours. The mayor, governor, and a State Department official had called asking Kerney to extend every courtesy to the ambassador. Several newspaper reporters were in the lobby clamoring for a briefing."

  "Have them stand by in the downstairs conference room and ask Lieutenant Molina to issue the standard statement that we're not releasing any information presently," Kerney said.

  Helen nodded. "And the FBI has arrived," she said.

  "Special Agent Applewhite is waiting in your office."

  Kerney knew all the local special agents and Applewhite wasn't a name he was familiar with.

  "Wanting what?"

  "She didn't say."

  Kerney made a face.

  "Welcome to the Crystal Palace," Helen said.

  "The what?"