Serpent Gate Read online

  “Were you in Mountainair the night Paul Gillespie was murdered?”

  “No. I’ve been living in Socorro since March and I haven’t been back there since I left. I don’t care if I never go back.”

  “Do you know Robert Cordova?”

  “Sure. Everybody in Mountainair knows him. Why?”

  “He told me you made him promise to keep a secret.”

  Addie shook her head. “Not me. I don’t think I’ve ever said anything to him in my entire life. He’s too weird. What secret?”

  “I was hoping you could tell me.”

  She shook her head emphatically. “Sorry. Can I go back to class now?”

  “Sure. Thanks for talking to me.”

  Kerney watched Addie return to her class. In spite of her unhappy predicament, the girl had spunk. He had reviewed every felony case handled by the Mountainair Police Department during the six months preceding Gillespie’s death and no rapes had been reported. Had the girl been sexually assaulted by a stranger? Was it a date rape that didn’t get reported? Perhaps she hadn’t been raped at all but was simply covering up to protect the unborn child’s father.

  Kerney didn’t have a clear picture, but one thing was certain: Addie was holding something back.

  The bell announcing the end of the period rang and he waded through a tide of noisy teenagers who burst out of the classrooms and filled the hallway. He went back to the administration office to find out where Addie lived. She was staying with Verdie Mae McNutt, her great-aunt. He decided to pay Verdie Mae a visit.

  • • •

  There was no answer to Kerney’s knock at Verdie Mae’s door, but a four-door older Plymouth, without a dent or ding, sat under the carport. A thick band of fast-moving clouds covered the sun, and the cold afternoon air cut through Kerney’s windbreaker. He zipped it up and walked to the backyard. The back porch had been converted into a greenhouse, and inside an elderly woman dressed in faded coveralls dug with a trowel in a raised planting bed.

  Kerney knocked on a window and the woman glanced up with a startled look, got to her feet, stepped to the door, and opened it cautiously. She was thin, with slightly stooped shoulders and a heavily lined face that showed the wear of a good eight decades.

  “Yes?” she asked.

  “Are you Mrs. McNutt?” Kerney asked, showing his badge.

  “I am.”

  Kerney introduced himself. “I’d like a few minutes of your time.”

  Verdie Mae let Kerney in and closed the door quickly behind him. She gestured at two Stickley oak chairs in the center of the greenhouse, positioned to look out at a birdbath, some feeders hanging in the trees, and birdhouses on posts that stood in the middle of the backyard.

  “Have a seat,” Verdie Mae said. “I was just about to stop puttering. Is there some problem in the neighborhood?”

  “I came to ask you about Addie,” Kerney replied as he sat down. The greenhouse was uncomfortably warm. Verdie Mae didn’t seem to mind it at all. He unzipped his jacket and looked around. The planting beds and pots on the brick floor were filled with herbs, flowers, and vegetables. Verdie Mae was a serious gardener.

  Verdie Mae put the trowel in a basket, removed her gloves, and joined him. “Is something wrong with Addie?” she asked.

  “She’s fine. I just spoke with her. I’d like to know a little more about her.”

  “For what purpose?” Verdie Mae asked, with the look of a woman not easily intimidated.

  Kerney decided to see if he could get a reaction out of Verdie Mae. “Was Addie raped?”

  Verdie Mae responded with an exasperated sigh. “That’s why you’re here. I don’t know. She refuses to discuss it.”

  “What do you think?”

  “I’ve known Addie all her life. She’s a brainy girl with a lot of gumption and ambition. I don’t think she would willingly put herself in this predicament.”

  “Does Addie stay in contact with her family and friends in Mountainair?”

  “Not really. Her parents aren’t coping very well with the situation, and Addie won’t talk to them about it.”

  “Is she writing to anyone?”

  “No.”

  “Has she had any visitors from back home?”

  Verdie Mae hesitated. “Just one. Nita Lassiter came to visit.”

  “When was that?”

  “Two months ago.”

  “Tell me about Nita Lassiter.”

  Verdie Mae’s expression turned guarded. “What are you trying to discover?”

  “The name of the man who raped Addie.”

  Verdie Mae nodded her head in agreement. “I’d try to shake the name out of that girl if I thought it would do any good. Nita might know, if anyone does.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “During her visit, Nita stayed with Addie in her room for several hours. When she came out, she seemed upset. I asked if everything was all right. All she said was she had to leave right away.”

  “What did you make of it?”

  “Something Addie said troubled Nita.”

  “Have you spoken to Nita since then?”

  “No. Nor has Addie, as far as I know. I just pray she hasn’t cut herself off from Addie. They’ve been as close as sisters.”

  “Is Ms. Lassiter a family relative?”

  “She’s not related by blood at all. She went to school with Addie’s parents. Addie’s mother was Nita’s best friend.”

  “How does Ms. Lassiter make her living?” Kerney asked.

  “She’s a veterinarian. Her office is in Estancia.”

  “Is she married?”

  “Divorced.”

  “What was her maiden name?”

  “Jackson.”

  “She’s Thelma and Burl’s daughter?” he asked.

  “That’s right. Do you know the family?”

  “I’m beginning to. How did Addie come by her name?”

  “She was named for Nita. Anita Jackson was her maiden name.”

  “‘Addie’ was Nita’s nickname?”

  “Only among the immediate family.”

  “You seem to know the family well,” Kerney noted.

  “Thelma and Burl were my dearest and oldest friends.”

  “Is there anything else you can tell me?”

  Verdie Mae clasped her hands in her lap and looked down at a planting bed. “You seem to be a very smart man, Mr. Kerney. I may have said too much already.”

  • • •

  In Kerney’s mind, there really wasn’t much of a difference between the towns of Estancia and Mountainair. Both had faltering business districts along a main drag, hodgepodge residential areas of mixed housing in various states of repair, and the fast-fading feel of old-time ranching communities.

  But Estancia had the edge in terms of survival. It was the county seat and within commuting distance of Albuquerque. The town had gained population as old farms and ranches were carved into mobile home parks and ranchettes with prefabricated houses that served the spillover growth of city workers who wanted inexpensive land and a country living.

  The sprawling new developments sprinkled on the high plains and the strip businesses along the highway that connected with the interstate depressed Kerney. None of it belonged on the landscape.

  On the main street of Estancia, Kerney found Nita Lassiter’s office, a one-story white stucco building sandwiched between a movie theater and a boarded-up cafe. A sign on the locked office door listed business hours and telephone numbers. In the alley behind the row of buildings, he found the trailer Floyd Wilson, the railroad crew chief, had described. A painted sign on the side panel read:

  LASSITER VETERINARY CLINIC

  SPECIALIZING IN LIVESTOCK & LARGE ANIMALS

  ESTANCIA, NEW MEXICO

  From a pay phone at a convenience store, Kerney called Lassiter’s office and got an answering service. Lassiter was on a call at the Von Hewett Ranch. The operator gave him directions.

  He climbed back in the car wondering wha
t Andy Baca would say if he knew the only lead that had been developed in four weeks consisted of a crazy man who had been seen on the day of the murder talking to a lady horse doctor, who happened to share the same name with a pregnant teenage girl.

  If nothing materialized with Lassiter, he would turn in his commission card, thank Andy for the work, and try to figure out what in the hell he would do next, while Gillespie’s unsolved murder gnawed away at the back of his mind.

  Ten miles out of town and a mile off the blacktop that ran from Estancia to the village of Manzano, Kerney found the Von Hewett Ranch, backed up on the far side of a knoll, hidden from sight, with the mountains rising to the west.

  The clapboard house was a two-and-a-half-story affair with five columns running the length of a porch underneath a glassed-in sunroom. Positioned between dormer windows at the roofline, two brick chimneys jutted out from the center of the house. In the front yard was an assortment of restored Depression-era farm machinery, including a spreader, cultivator, and mower, all with oversized metal wheels. The centerpiece of the display, a reconditioned buckboard wagon, was filled with terra-cotta flowerpots.

  Kerney walked toward a barn, where two pickup trucks were parked by the open door. The newer truck, an extended-cab, full-size Chevy 4 x 4, had a magnetic sign on the driver’s door that read NITA LASSITER, DVM. Through the open barn door, he heard two women speaking in anxious voices. He stepped inside. The women were working on a mare that was trying to foal. The animal lay on a bed of straw in a stall, her front legs tucked under her chest, straining in discomfort. An older woman dressed in work boots, jeans, and a barn jacket held the mare’s head and tried to keep it still.

  The other woman, in her thirties with short brunette hair, lay on her side at the mare’s rump with an arm inserted in the birth canal, trying to dislodge the foal. She wore a sleeveless undershirt with no bra, blue jeans, and a pair of leather work boots.

  “What’s the problem?” Kerney asked.

  Nita Lassiter looked up from the mare and scanned the stranger. She saw a tall man somewhere in his forties, with blue eyes, square shoulders, gentle-looking hands, and an outwardly calm presence. He hunkered down next to her.

  “Mama’s having a hard time delivering her baby,” Nita replied. “The foal is hung up.” Nita sized up the length of Kerney’s arms. “I can’t reach in far enough to free it. Strip to the waist, slosh some antiseptic on your arm, and coat it with Vaseline. I’ll walk you through what needs to be done.”

  “You got it,” Kerney said as he hurried out of his windbreaker and shirt.

  Nita tensed when she saw the badge clipped to his belt and the holstered gun. He had an ugly scar on his belly. He cleaned his hands with the antiseptic before rubbing Vaseline on his arm.

  “We don’t want to damage the mare’s womb,” Nita said, removing her arm from the canal.

  She gave up her position to Kerney and watched as he slowly inserted his arm into the mare’s vagina.

  “Find the foal’s head. Have you got it?”

  “Yes,” Kerney replied.

  “Push it gently back toward the mare’s abdomen.”

  “Done.”

  “Lift the muzzle by the chin and position it toward the vaginal canal.”

  “Okay.”

  “Now, find a hoof, cup it in your hand, and pull it forward. Careful. Don’t tear the womb.”

  “It’s free,” Kerney said.

  “Do the same thing with the other hoof.”

  Kerney felt around but couldn’t find it. Nita could see the frustration in his eyes as he searched.

  “Push back on the foal’s head a little more,” she ordered.

  Kerney nodded, pushed the head back, and located the hoof with his fingertips. With his arm inside the mare up to his shoulder, he strained for another fraction of an inch to reach the hoof. Slowly, he brought it forward and the foal, no longer hung up, entered the canal before Kerney could extract his arm. At that same instant, the mare dropped a load of horseshit that hit Kerney in the face and chest. He pulled free and moved out of the way as the foal and the afterbirth came into view.

  The foal was out and struggling to stand on shaky legs as Kerney got to his feet. The mare snorted once and lowered her head in exhaustion.

  Horseshit dripped down the front of Kerney’s jeans. “Don’t say it,” Kerney warned both women.

  Nita tossed him a small towel. “Say what?”

  “That I look like shit.”

  “Well, now that you mention it . . .” She waved off the rest of her comment. “Thank you for your help.”

  An attractive woman, Lassiter had a finely boned oval face that appeared to be almost symmetrical. Her eyebrows were straight and thick, and her lips were full. She had a small birthmark on her chin.

  “I was glad to oblige.”

  Kerney’s thoughts turned to his visits with Lassiter’s sister, Lurline Toler, and Verdie Mae McNutt. Had Lurline put him off about how to find Nita? What did Verdie Mae think he was smart enough to figure out?

  Nita gestured at her companion. “That’s Liddy Hewett. I’m Nita Lassiter.”

  “Kevin Kerney.”

  Nita turned her attention to the foal. “It’s a girl,” she announced.

  “Let’s get you cleaned up,” Liddy Hewett said, as she retrieved Kerney’s shirt and jacket.

  “That would be nice,” Kerney allowed, blinking through the manure, and dabbing the towel around his eyes.

  “We don’t usually have policemen come calling,” Liddy said. She walked him to a utility sink outside the tack room and turned on the faucet. “Is there a problem?”

  “I came to see Dr. Lassiter,” Kerney replied. Behind him, Nita Lassiter’s stirring ceased and he thought he heard a sudden intake of breath.

  “Well, I’m glad you came when you did,” Liddy noted. “We were having a hard time of it with the mare.”

  “Some births don’t come easy.” He scrubbed his hands clean, ran the basin full, and started washing the shit off his face and chest. He dirtied one large towel and Liddy handed him another.

  “Can I offer you a cup of coffee after you’ve cleaned up?” Liddy asked.

  “That sounds nice.”

  She handed him the last clean towel. “I’ll get the pot going. You and Nita come over to the house when you’re ready.”

  Liddy walked off and Kerney turned to study Nita. She was bent over the mare watching the horse lick the foal clean. She straightened up and forced a smile at Kerney.

  “Thanks again. I think we would have lost the foal if you hadn’t shown up.”

  “You’re welcome,” Kerney said as he tucked in his shirt and put on his jacket.

  “So, you’re a police officer.”

  “I’m an investigator with the state police.”

  “Why do you need to talk to me?” Stiffly, Nita walked to the sink and stood with her back to Kerney. A good five foot eight, she had a slender frame, much like Addie Randall’s.

  “I spoke with your sister earlier today.”

  She splashed water on her face, cleaned her arms, slipped on a plaid work shirt, and turned to face him. “Really?”

  “And Verdie Mae McNutt.”

  “I see.”

  “I also talked with Addie Randall. I understand you paid a visit to her in Socorro.”

  “Her mother and I have been friends since childhood. Addie is someone I care about.”

  “Verdie Mae made that clear. You were seen talking to Robert Cordova in Mountainair on the day Paul Gillespie was murdered.”

  “I’ve known Robert for a long time.”

  “He was your foster brother.”

  “That’s right.”

  “What secret do you want him to keep?”

  Nita’s eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

  “Where is Serpent Gate?”

  “I’ve never heard of it.”

  “That’s not what Robert said.”

  Nervously, Nita used her fingers to comb her h
air. “If you’ve talked to Robert, you know that he’s not completely rational.”

  “Not always,” Kerney agreed. “But two thoughts seem to occupy his mind: a place called Serpent Gate and rape. Do you know why he spends so much time thinking about those two things?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Addie was raped, wasn’t she?”

  “I think that’s a safe assumption.”

  “Did she tell you who did it?”

  “Addie won’t talk about it.”

  “Not with just anybody,” Kerney said. “But maybe she would tell someone close to her. Someone who would understand what happened.”

  “I don’t know what you mean by that.”

  The more Kerney looked at Nita, the stronger her resemblance to Addie seemed. He decided to roll the dice. “Does Addie know you’re her mother?”

  “That’s absurd.” Nita’s voice rose several notches.

  “Why would Lurline lie to me about your friendship with Robert Cordova?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Then lie to me again about your family nickname? It’s Addie, isn’t it?”

  “I think I’ve heard enough.” Nita walked to her medical bag and started repacking it. Her hands were shaking.

  “I think it’s more than a coincidence that you and Addie share the same name.”

  Nita snapped the bag closed. “I have to go now.” Her eyes blinked rapidly, filling with tears, and she walked quickly past Kerney into the biting late-afternoon wind.

  “Did you kill Paul Gillespie?”

  “Why would I do that?” Nita opened the passenger door to her truck and put the bag on the seat, hiding her face from Kerney.

  “Because he raped Addie.”

  Nita sagged against the door. “Who told you that?”

  “Addie,” Kerney lied. “Is she your daughter?”

  “You’ll have to figure that out by yourself.” Nita closed the passenger door and walked to the driver’s side of the truck. A sheen of perspiration showed on her upper lip.

  Kerney followed and stopped at the front fender. “You need to talk about this, Nita,” he said softly. “You can’t keep carrying it around. It’s eating you up. You’re sweating and shaking.”

  “I don’t want to talk to you,” Nita responded, her voice drained. She opened the driver’s door, got inside, and gave him a feeble smile. “Good-bye, Mr. Kerney.”