The Judas judge kk-5 Read online

  A tight smile crossed Penelope Gibben's face. "Surely, you must know by now that keeping secrets is one of the things I do best."

  Kerney left thinking that in spite of the obvious difference in age, Penelope Gibben and Kay Murray seemed remarkably alike.

  Kerney tried calling Linda Langsford's law partner at home and got no answer. The office telephone yielded a busy signal, so he decided to stop in and see if Drew Randolph was working on the weekend. He found the building on a side street across from the county courthouse.

  Shielded by large trees and an expanse of lawn, the courthouse had a Greek revival facade topped off by a large dome.

  The law office was open, and a buzzer sounded when Kerney stepped through the door into an empty well-appointed reception area. Kerney waited until a man came out to greet him.

  "Can I help you?" the man asked.

  Dressed in a rib-neck jersey tucked into a pair of cotton chinos, the man stood an inch taller than Kerney's six-one frame and looked to be in his late thirties. He had an athletic build and a well-developed chest.

  "I'm looking for Drew Randolph," Kerney said, displaying his shield.

  "And you are?"

  "Kevin Kerney."

  "I'm Drew Randolph. As I told the agent who called, I have no way of contacting Ms. Langsford. She didn't leave an itinerary."

  "I understand that, Mr. Randolph."

  "Although I'm sure she'll call in at least once or twice next week."

  "Did the agent inform you that we're investigating Judge Langsford's murder?"

  "Yes." Randolph's expression turned slightly sour. "She also said, unnecessarily I might add, that I could be charged with interfering with a police investigation if I disclosed the information to the media."

  "Until every attempt has been made to notify the next of kin, we want to handle the case as discreetly as possible," Kerney said.

  "Surely, your people must understand that as an officer of the court I am aware of the technicalities."

  Kerney smiled at the pomposity of the man. "We like to cover all the bases, Mr. Randolph. How do you think Ms. Langsford will take the news of her father's murder?"

  "That's an odd question," Randolph said, leaning against the reception desk.

  "I understand she has not been close to her father for some time."

  "True." Randolph's eyes searched Kerney's face. "How can that possibly be relevant to Judge Langsford's murder?"

  "We may need her cooperation to solve the case. If she is uninterested in lending assistance, I'd like to know it now."

  "Do you know the circumstances of Linda's disenchantment with her father?"

  "Somewhat."

  "Then you know Linda has cut herself off from him, more or less completely."

  "I understand they exchange Christmas cards."

  Randolph nodded. "There is occasional, strained contact. I think a psychiatrist would say that Linda is conflicted about her father. She loves him, but she can't forgive him. She keeps him at arm's length, and at the same time can't bring herself to completely sever the tie. I'm sure she'll cooperate with you. After all, now both her parents have been murdered."

  "How long have you known Ms. Langsford?"

  "We were in law school together."

  "Does she stay in contact with her brother?"

  "Not to my knowledge. They have nothing in common. I take it you haven't located Eric."

  "No, we haven't. Does Ms. Langsford frequently take vacations without an itinerary?"

  "We went to law school in Boulder, and we both love the Rocky Mountains. When we started the firm, we made a pact: I'd get a week of uninterrupted skiing in the winter, and she would have her annual high-country fall color tour. Since we limit our practice to oil and gas clients, coverage isn't a problem.".

  "That makes sense. Did you know Linda's ex-husband?"

  "Slightly. His name is Bill Kendell. He's a vice president at a bank in Albuquerque. I don't remember which one. He left here soon after the divorce." Randolph held up a hand to ward off more questions.

  "Please don't ask me about Linda's personal life, past or present, Mr. Kerney. I'd rather you go directly to the source for your information.

  I'm Linda's partner, and we have a solid, congenial work relationship, but we live totally separate lives."

  "Does the firm represent any of Judge Langsford's companies?"

  "We do. I should say, I do."

  "Which ones?"

  "I'm the corporate attorney for each company."

  "Thanks for your time."

  The sheriff's office was behind the county courthouse, in an old, nondescript commercial building that had been carved up into offices.

  The investigating officer on the Arthur Langsford bicycle fatality had retired four years ago, and with a deputy sheriff at his side, Kerney searched for the case file in boxes stacked in a back storage room. When he found it, he sat on a step stool under the glare of a bare lightbulb and read the accident report.

  Just five days before Christmas nine years ago, Langsford had been hit by a car on a curve at approximately four in the afternoon, with the sun low on the horizon. Reconstruction at the scene indicated that the unknown vehicle was heading west, within the speed limit, when the driver apparently swerved to avoid a hazard in the road. Skid marks showed the driver had braked hard before hitting Arthur Langsford, who had been riding in the opposite lane. Traffic at the time had been light, and there were no witnesses. Follow-up attempts to locate either the car or the driver proved unsuccessful.

  The deputy made a copy of the file for Kerney, who left thinking that a lot of very interesting information about Vernon Langsford and his family had come to light, but none of it yet seemed to have any bearing on the investigation.

  He swung into the flow of traffic on the main street and called in his location and destination. Lee Sedillo came on the horn to tell him the search of Langsford's Ruidoso home was under way.

  Lee Sedillo met Kerney at the door and took him to Langsford's study, where two agents were working their way through the judge's financial records and personal papers. The furnishings echoed the decor of the living room: an oversize desk stood in front of a wall of books, and a matching leather reading chair and ottoman were positioned to give a view out the window to the fairway.

  "We'll toss the rest of the house after we finish here," Lee said.

  "Anything yet?" Kerney asked.

  "Tidbits," Lee replied. "We found a letter from Langsford's daughter telling him not to appoint her as the personal representative of his estate. Langsford did it anyhow. His will, dated two weeks after her letter, names Linda Langsford as his representative. Except for some very generous donations to charity, a million dollars to Kay Murray, and a million dollars to a woman named Penelope Gibben, the estate is to be equally divided between Eric and Linda."

  "Penelope Gibben was Langsford's mistress for almost twenty years," Kerney said.

  "If money is the motive, then we've gone from no suspects to at least four: Gibben, Murray, and the two children."

  "The letter bomb murder of Langsford's wife still suggests the possibility the judge was killed for other reasons. What else have you got?"

  "Langsford kept meticulous records, including receipts of his purchases and cash expenditures. Over the past five years, he gave Kay Murray fifty thousand dollars to help her buy a town house, and bought her a number of expensive presents-an eight-hundred-dollar lambskin jacket, diamond earrings-stuff like that."

  "And the Ford Explorer?"

  "Another gift from the judge," Lee said. "I spent some time at the clubhouse and talking to residents in the neighborhood. Murray's car was often here overnight when the judge was in residence."

  "That's interesting. Did the judge talk about his relationship with Murray to any of his neighbors or golfing buddies?"

  "Nope, and all the people I spoke with had nothing but kind words about him. He was quiet, well-liked, and had a low handicap. Most didn't eve
n know he had been a judge. Except for Murray's over nights there wasn't any other gossip about him."

  "Has Eric Langsford been located?"

  "He hasn't surfaced," Lee said. "He worked as a handyman at a Cloudcroft inn until his supervisor fired him last month for chronic absenteeism. He moved out of his apartment and hasn't been seen since."

  "Check with the San Francisco PD and see if they arrested or charged Langsford with any crimes six years ago. He once had a serious cocaine problem."

  "Which means he's probably still using," Lee said. "Do you want me to question Murray about the gifts she received from the judge?" Lee asked.

  "Did her alibi about her Albuquerque trip check out?"

  "Completely."

  "Let it ride, for now. I'll follow up with her myself later on. But deepen the background check on her."

  "Will do. You look beat, boss."

  "I am. I'll be at my motel room in Alamogordo, if you need me."

  "Get some sack time," Lee said.

  "That's the plan."

  The lock in the motel door turned and Sara Brannon glanced up from her laptop computer to find Kerney staring at her with a surprised expression. She went to him and snuggled against his chest. "I've been worried about you."

  Sara's body felt warm and reassuring. Kerney stroked her strawberry blond hair, lifted her face, looked into her green eyes, and kissed her softly. "Not to worry," he said. "How did you find me?"

  "I called Andy, found out where you were staying, and hitched a ride out here on an Air Force cargo plane."

  Kerney looked out the window of the dingy motel room onto a panoramic view of the parking lot, half-filled with rental moving vans, semi-trucks, and subcompact four-bangers.

  "This wasn't the weekend together I had in mind," he said. "Nor the place."

  "You don't like your accommodations?" Sara said with a laugh.

  "It's the best Alamogordo has to offer, I suppose. I'm glad you came."

  "I considered it my wifely duty."

  "There's nothing wifely about you, Sara. That's why I married you."

  Sara smiled again and kissed him quickly. "Don't sweet-talk me, Kerney. How much sleep have you had?"

  "Not much in the last two days. How long can you stay?"

  "I fly out from Holloman Air Force Base at six in the morning."

  "Give me a few minutes to clean up and we'll go get something to eat."

  "I don't want you to take me out, Kerney. Get some sleep." Sara gestured at her laptop. "I have to finish my assignment, anyway."

  "You're sure?"

  "Positive."

  "A nap would do nicely."

  Stretched out on the bed next to Kerney in the darkened room, Sara listened to his breathing deepen. Although she'd married Kerney impulsively, she had no regrets. He was, in so many ways, a perfect match for her. Aside from being sexy, he was honest and had never tried to dominate or smother her, which would have driven her away in a flash. Best of all, he fully supported her decision to continue her career as a serving army officer.

  She'd never really given him a choice in the matter, and had made it clear from the start that she wasn't about to walk away from four years at West Point and ten years on active duty for the privilege of becoming his wife. But she had the growing intuition Kerney wasn't completely happy with the part-time nature of their marriage.

  She stroked his hand and watched for a reaction. Kerney's breathing remained even. Quietly, she got up, found her jacket, and left the room.

  Kerney woke to the smell of food. The small motel writing desk had been cleared off, moved away from the wall, and covered with a red and white checkerboard paper tablecloth. On it, Sara had arranged a picnic dinner of Mexican take-out. The centerpiece, a spray of fresh-cut flowers, was arranged in the plastic ice bucket.

  "Hungry?"

  "Very. How long did I sleep?"

  "Six hours. According to the locals, this is the best Mexican food in town. Stay where you are. I'll serve you in bed."

  Kerney sat up and propped a pillow against the headboard. "Finally, I'm getting some of the treatment I deserve."

  "Careful, or you'll find this plate in your lap," Sara said. She came over with two plates, handed one to Kerney, and sat with him.

  "You're a beautiful woman, Sara Brannon."

  "Now, that's the kind of talk I like to hear."

  They ate and talked, filling each other in on all the small events that didn't get into their letters or phone conversations. By the end of the meal, Kerney felt rested, well fed, and much more like himself.

  "Have you heard from Dale?" Sara asked.

  Dale Jennings, Kerney's oldest friend, ranched on the west side of the San Andres Mountains, and had been keeping his eye out for property on Kerney's behalf.

  "He's been bugging me to get down there," Kerney said. "Says he knows three ranchers who might consider selling."

  "Well, when are you going to take a look?" Sara asked.

  "I don't know."

  "Do it tomorrow."

  Kerney laughed. "Yeah, right."

  "Why not? You've got eight agents and a lieutenant working the murder cases. Are you feeling indispensable?"

  "I didn't say that."

  "Are you close to making an arrest?"

  "We don't even have a viable suspect."

  Sara poked him lightly in the ribs with an elbow. "Take tomorrow off"

  "Can you stay over?"

  "I can't," Sara said, as she cleared away the plastic plates and utensils. "But if you don't do as you're told, I'll be inclined to throw a hissy fit. You wouldn't like that."

  "I don't even know if Dale can get away."

  "He can. I spoke to him a couple of hours ago."

  "Well, aren't you something?"

  "Get used to it, Kerney."

  "Used to what?"

  "Having someone in your life who's concerned about you."

  "Bossy is more like it."

  "That, too. Are you ready for dessert?"

  Kerney looked at the table, didn't see any dessert, and glanced at Sara, who slowly unbuttoned her blouse. He grinned, reached over and pulled her to him.

  In a briefing room at the air force base, Sara scrolled through her paper on Haitian military incursions one last time before shutting off the laptop. She needed to add footnotes and several more references to complete it, which meant putting in a long stint at the Command and General Staff College library once she got back to Fort Leavenworth.

  As a lieutenant colonel, Sara was one of the highest-ranking members of her class, and she had no intention of letting junior officers outshine her. Finishing the paper as soon as possible would give her a head start on the upcoming battle command strategy exercise that would carry significant weight in determining the honor graduate for her class. Although graduation was months away and the competition was stiff, Sara planned to win that award.

  She wished there was something she could do to help Kerney. The Shockley incident had rattled him badly, and while she could give him emotional support by telephone, it hardly seemed adequate. She'd deliberately arranged Kerney's day off with Dale to explore ranching possibilities as a way to force him to take some downtime and decompress.

  Sara knew from firsthand experience what it took to run a major violent crime investigation, and how wearing it could be. Serving in an army where combat assignments were closed to women, she'd carefully selected intelligence and criminal investigations as a career path that would take her as close to the action as possible. Her postings had included tours as an executive officer of a MP company in Saudi Arabia during the Persian Gulf War, temporary duty as a tactical intelligence staff officer in Bosnia, supervising a Criminal Investigation Unit at White Sands Missile Range, and commanding allied ground reconnaissance and intelligence units in South Korea.

  On a professional level, she would have enjoyed the opportunity to work with Kerney on the case. Spree murders were relatively rare events, and the hands-on experience would'v
e been invaluable. So would some more time with Kerney, she thought, especially in the sack.

  She wiped away a smile when a senior airman stuck his head in the door to say the bird was ready to fly.

  When he woke, Kerney found Sara gone and a love note pinned to a pillow, containing a graphic suggestion of how they could spend their next weekend together, which made Kerney smile. He cleaned up and called Lee Sedillo.

  "Any progress?"

  "We've finished reviewing the user-fee pay envelopes for the past thirty days. We've identified seven people who visited all four parks in a one or two-day period. I've got agents checking every motel between Carrizozo and Alamogordo to see if any of them returned and registered as guests around the time of the murders."

  "Can you link any of the seven to Langsford?"

  "Negative, Chief."

  "Have Langsford's children surfaced?"

  "Also negative, Chief."

  "Have the PIO release Langsford's name and the fact that we're seeking the whereabouts of his son and daughter to the media."

  "Will do."

  "Did you finish up at Langsford's house?"

  "No way, Chief. There's a hell of a lot of stuff to go through. The judge was a total pack rat. I've got a man there now. Are you coming in?"

  "Do you need me."

  "Nothing's breaking."

  "I'll be there this afternoon."

  Kerney answered the knock at the door, and Dale Jennings stepped inside.

  "Where's your bride?" Dale asked, eyeing the rumpled bed covers with a grin.

  "Long gone," Kerney said. "She can only take me in small doses."

  "That makes sense. She said I'm to keep you occupied all day."

  "We've got the rest of the morning."

  "That will do, if we get our butts in gear."

  "Have you seen these ranches we're going to look at?" Kerney walked to the chair by the window to grab his jacket.

  "Nope," Dale said, waiting for Kerney to turn away from the window.