Under the Color of Law Read online

  "We've searched the room, photographed, and vacuumed," Sloan said. "The techs are dusting every door to the building for prints," Sloan said. "There are no tool marks on the doors or windows suggesting forced entry. The ground froze last night, but we've found no footprints outside the window."

  "What was on the bookcase?" Kerney asked.

  "Before he left for his office, Brother Jerome said it was mostly empty. But you know, Chief, with two computers you'd think there would be a box or two of floppy disks around. There weren't any in the room."

  "Any personal items?" Kerney asked.

  "Nothing in his clothes. But we did find some letters from his mother in Houston. He had a Louisiana driver's license with a New Orleans address that checked out to be a Catholic seminary. New Orleans PD is making contact."

  Only a few investigators from Kerney's earlier tenure as chief of detectives still remained with the department, and Sloan was one of them. From past experience Kerney knew him to be reliable, hardworking, and a straight talker. Somewhat older than Kerney, Sloan had a missing tooth near the front of his mouth and an unconscious habit of probing it with his tongue.

  Through the window Kerney saw Officer Herrera lounging against the fender of his squad car, smoking a cigarette, watching the ambulance drive away.

  "Tell me about Herrera, Bobby," Kerney said.

  Sloan snorted.

  "As a cop he's worthless, Chief, and as a person he's piss-poor company. The last chief didn't have the balls to can him. His uncle is on the city council. Serves on the finance committee."

  "I see."

  "You need anything else from me?" Sloan asked.

  "Continue with the crime-scene work-up," Kerney replied. "I'll help Catanach take the witness statements."

  "That's a big help," Sloan said. "How do you like being back with the department, Chief?"

  "I'm glad to be back, Bobby."

  Sloan grinned. "Just don't sweat the small stuff, Chief. Most of us know what we're doing."

  "I'll keep that in mind."

  ***

  Along with the clerics in residence two women employees worked as housekeepers and cooks. Sergeant Catanach had rounded them up with the brothers and was in the dining room conducting interviews. Kerney took over the lounge, a large room with a stone fireplace, comfortable easy chairs, and an overflowing wall of hook shelves, and began taking statements.

  Kerney learned very little about Father Mitchell from the people he interviewed.

  An historian working on a compendium of late twentieth-century military aid to South American countries, Father Mitchell had been in residence slightly less than a year. He rarely discussed his work and when engaged in conversation about it responded very vaguely. The brothers knew Mitchell had served as an army chaplain, had taught for a spell at a Midwest Catholic college, and held an advanced degree from an Ivy League university. He'd been murdered a week short of his fifty-ninth birthday.

  Brother Jerome, chair of the social science department, was the last faculty member to return from his office. A tall, reserved, intelligent-looking man in his early sixties, dressed in a clerical robe, he sat across from Kerney with his hands folded in his lap. Only the rapid blinking of his eyes gave a hint of his dismay and shock about Father Mitchell's murder.

  "You found Father Joseph," Kerney said.

  "Yes. He'd missed morning prayers and didn't appear for breakfast. I thought he might be sick."

  "What time was that?"

  "About seven o'clock," Brother Jerome said, "There was so much blood I knew he was dead as soon as I stepped into the room."

  "The door was unlocked?"

  "Yes, and all his personal possessions were missing. I gave a list of what I knew he kept in his room to the sergeant."

  "How long was it before you called to report the death?"

  "Within a few minutes. Almost immediately."

  "Did you see anybody nearby?"

  "I saw no strangers, if that's what you mean, and everyone else had been to prayer and breakfast."

  "Your colleagues seem to know very little about Father Joseph."

  "He kept to himself and we respected his privacy. I may know a little more, since I granted Father Joseph's request for a visiting scholar's appointment."

  "So far all I've learned is where he earned his advanced degrees, where he recently taught, and that he served a hitch as an army chaplain," Kerney said.

  "Father Joseph retired as an army chaplain with the rank of major about a dozen years ago. He was stationed all over the world. He took his master's in history at a university in Georgia while on active duty, and completed his Phd after he retired."

  "What else can you tell me about his professional life?" Kerney asked.

  "His research interest was military history. Much of it he did on the Internet."

  "What brought him to Santa Fe?"

  "He was gathering oral histories from some significant primary and secondary sources. Mostly retired military officers living in the state, I believe."

  "Did Father Joseph mention any names?"

  "Not to me. But he spent a fair amount of time conducting interviews."

  "Did he talk about his personal or family life?"

  Brother Jerome shook his head. "Only in the most general of terms. We shared a few reminiscences one evening shortly after he arrived. He has a widowed mother who lives in Houston. And his only younger brother died while serving as a military attache at an embassy in Latin American some time ago. He wouldn't say more about it and never seemed willing to discuss it again."

  "Did you ever try?"

  "Yes. Father Joseph said it was just an everyday sort of tragedy in today's America."

  "How would you characterize Father Joseph's political views?" Kerney asked.

  "Very liberal. Are you looking to do a bit of witch hunting, Chief Kerney?"

  "That's not how the question was meant. Understanding Father Joseph may help me catch his killer. This could be the act of an everyday criminal. On the other hand it could be connected to something in Father Joseph's past. Did you learn anything about the younger brother?"

  "He was career military, I believe. A colonel in the army."

  "Did Father Joseph speak to you of any personal or family problems, conflicts with others, or worries he might have had?" Kerney asked.

  "No. He seemed very content and at ease with himself and others. He was a fine man and a good priest."

  "What about contact with students?"

  "He had no teaching responsibilities," Brother Jerome replied, "although he may have had some casual association with individual students."

  "Did he keep any papers or documents outside of his room, or show you his work in progress?"

  "I never saw his manuscript or research notes. He did have a briefcase he carried with him whenever he left the residence."

  "Did Father Mitchell have a car?"

  "Yes, he drives a brown Toyota. It should be parked outside."

  "We found no briefcase in his room," Kerney noted.

  "I see," Brother Jerome said.

  "Would you like to look for it?"

  "If it's not a bother."

  "By all means."

  No briefcase was found during the search of the residence hall, and nothing turned up in the car search. After checking in with Catanach and Sloan, Kerney left the residence hall to find Officer Herrera hurriedly finishing his supplemental report.

  Cloudy handed over the paperwork and had Kerney sign the crime-scene log.

  "Is your report complete?" Kerney asked.

  "Yeah. There wasn't much to say."

  ***

  At his office Kerney entered the information he'd gathered from his interviews into the computerized paperwork system. He finished and looked over the list of stolen items. The perpetrator had cleaned out all the priest's research plus two computers. Two trips would have been necessary to cart it away, which heightened the chance of discovery. No professional thief would risk get
ting caught unless the stolen items had more than a monetary value. It upped the probability that Father Joseph had been silenced by someone who wanted to avoid exposure or keep a secret. But of what?

  He accessed the Terrell case file and read through the forensic notes that had been posted earlier that morning. Semen had been found on the bed sheets, along with some pubic and head hairs not from the victim, which didn't match the samples taken from Santiago Terjo. Autopsy findings showed Phyllis Terrell had engaged in sexual intercourse no more than a few hours before her murder. DNA analysis confirmed Terjo wasn't Terrell's bed partner, at least not on the night of the murder.

  He scrolled through the supplementary report menu and pulled up Sal Molina's notes on Terjo. The man had stuck with his story during Sal's second full-press interrogation. But Kerney still felt Terjo was holding something back. Maybe the night spent in jail would induce him to be more forthcoming.

  He shut down the computer and switched his attention to Alonso Herrera's personnel file. After a year on patrol Herrera had been transferred to the Crime Prevention Unit. Six months into the assignment he'd requested a return to patrol and had been assigned to a different team. Ratings from his field training officers and supervisors fell in the adequate range and nothing in the file reflected negatively on the officer.

  Kerney found Herrera's unusually rapid transfer to the crime prevention unit interesting. From experience he knew junior officers rarely moved so quickly off patrol duty. Normally, it took between three to five years for a uniformed officer to get bumped up to a specialist slot. Occasionally, an exceptionally sharp officer could make the cut in two years, but that was rare. From what Kerney had seen of Herrera, he certainly didn't fit the criteria of an officer on a fast track.

  He switched his attention to the supplemental field report Herrera had given him on his way out of the crime scene, first reading for content and then for competency. Because of a patrol-officer shortage on the swing shift, Herrera had been held over at the Terrell residence for several hours, and according to his report Applewhite had appeared about an hour before her arrival at police headquarters. Herrera's penmanship was sloppy, his use of grammar and syntax unbelievably bad, and his spelling bordered on semiliterate.

  Kerney buzzed Helen Muiz and asked for a quick meeting. Helen came in, notebook and file folder in hand, and sat with Kerney at the conference table. Today's outfit was a smartly tailored pair of slacks complemented by a cashmere sweater.

  "You look very nice today," Kerney said.

  "As do you," Helen replied.

  "You mean the uniform?" Kerney asked, tugging at the collar with the four stars.

  "Yes, and it's about time you started wearing it."

  "Should I wear it every day?" he asked.

  "Frequently will do," Helen replied.

  "A response to your FAA inquiry regarding the aircraft identification numbers on the corporate jet used by Ambassador Terrell came in while you were out. The plane is leased by Trade Source Venture International. According to its Web site the company engages in multinational high value technology start-up enterprises--whatever that means."

  "It usually means, give us your money," Kerney replied.

  Helen smiled agreeably and referred to her notebook.

  "I did some digging on your behalf. Trade Source is headquartered in Virginia, but they control a local subsidiary, called APT Performa, which has offices in the business park off Rodeo Road. It's a Los Alamos National Laboratory private-sector technology-transfer spin-off company, that develops state-of-the-art high-tech computer security software bundles."

  "Whatever that means," Kerney said before Helen had the chance.

  "Exactly. The CEO is a Mr. Clarence Thayer. Trade Source is on the NASDAQ exchange. I've asked a stockbroker friend to send over all the information she has on the company. You'll have it this afternoon."

  "You should have been a cop, Helen."

  Helen's eyes smiled. "You don't want to hear my response to that comment, Chief."

  "Probably not. Give me the back channel scoop on Alonso Herrera."

  Helen's expression turned sober.

  "Do you really want to step into that open manhole right now?"

  "That bad?" Kerney asked.

  "You know about Herrera's uncle?"

  "I just learned who he was."

  "Herrera was bounced from his patrol team and sent to the crime-prevention unit in an attempt to keep him off the streets."

  "Be more specific," Kerney said.

  "Shoddy paperwork, poor attitude toward the public, abuse of sick leave, sub par performance, citizen complaints about the use of excessive force."

  "There's nothing documented in his file."

  "Not anymore there isn't," Helen replied.

  "Your predecessor ordered the file purged and Herrera's performance evaluations upgraded to adequate. As a result the department got a nice bump in the annual budget that sailed through the finance committee and the city council without a hitch."

  Helen passed the file folder she'd brought in to Kerney.

  "When you asked me for Herrera's personnel file, I thought we might have this discussion. That file contains copies of the original disciplinary reports and performance evaluations on Officer Herrera, along with some internal memoranda. When I heard that you were to be our next chief, I was glad I saved them."

  "You are insubordinate," Kerney said with a laugh.

  "Only when it's in the best interest of the department."

  An incredulous expression creased Kerney's face as he read the material. He set the folder aside and said, "Herrera starts his days off tomorrow. Prepare an order assigning him to permanent duty in Fleet Management upon his return to work."

  "Are you sure you want to do that now?" Helen asked.

  "I might as well find out right away if I'm going to survive in this job or not."

  "You'll be making an enemy on the city council."

  "I'll add him to my list. Captain Otero wrote some strongly worded memos protesting the decision. Is that why he was removed as a field-operation captain and placed in charge of Technical Services?"

  Helen nodded.

  "It tubed his career. He's got a short-timer's calendar in the top drawer of his desk, and he's counting the days until he can take early retirement."

  "How close is he?"

  "Sixty days."

  "Have him come see me," Kerney said.

  "May I tell him why? With the old chief the senior commanders never knew what to expect when called to appear at the Crystal Palace."

  "Tell him I've a few minor questions about the fleet-replacement schedule. Set up the appointment for late this afternoon, and get me his personnel jacket. I want to take another look at it. I may have found my deputy chief."

  Helen grinned.

  "What?" Kerney asked.

  "Nothing," Helen said lightly as she rose and left the office.

  ***

  Detective Sloan had accepted Kerney's offer to scout out Father Joseph's military records and make contact with the priest's mother, so he turned to those tasks, first calling the Armed Forces Record Center. Kerney got nowhere with the civilian employee he spoke to. Terrell's records could not be released without his written permission.

  He called the retirement home where Mrs. Mitchell resided, and spoke to a caseworker. Mrs. Mitchell, age eighty-seven, was in failing health but mentally alert. Leaving out many of the details, Kerney gave the caseworker the news of Father Joseph's death. The woman suggested it would be best for her to pass the information on to Mrs. Mitchell to soften the impact.

  "By all means, please do that," Kerney said.

  "But Mrs. Mitchell will still need to speak to the police. I'm going to ask the Houston Police Department to have an investigator meet with her as soon as possible."

  "Why is that necessary?" the woman asked.

  "To learn as much as we can about Father Mitchell, and find his killer."

  The caseworker sighed
and hung up.

  ***

  By phone Kerney put in his request to the chief of detectives of the Houston PD, who agreed to get someone on it right away. As an afterthought Kerney asked for any information Mrs. Mitchell might have on the death of her other son, Colonel Mitchell, United States Army, first name unknown.

  He hung up and read through Captain Larry Otero's personnel file. Otero had attended a number of traffic-safety institutes, was a graduate of two FBI police-management training courses, and had earned instructorship status in field-officer training, officer survival techniques, and DWI enforcement. He held a BA degree in criminal justice, and up until the prior administration his performance ratings had been excellent.

  Aside from his present assignment and his prior position as a patrol captain, Otero's job experience included a tour in Traffic Services as commander, a stint as an Internal Affairs lieutenant, and two years as a sergeant in crime prevention.

  At forty-two Otero was seasoned, capable, and knowledgeable about a wide range of department operations, which was exactly what Kerney needed in a deputy chief. He also liked the tone of Otero's clearly written, dissenting memos about the Herrera whitewash. The man had backbone and principles. It could work out to be a good match, he thought, as he closed the file and checked the time. Charlie Perry's press conference was due to begin soon.

  Although he knew he had to go, he disliked the thought of watching Perry do the FBI spin-doctor routine that inevitably accompanied such events.

  Chapter 4

  Charlie Perry opened the press conference reading a two-page prepared statement that had been distributed to the media. Minus the hype about cooperation with local law enforcement, it boiled down to nothing more than that the FBI was on the scene and in charge of the investigation.

  Kerney hung back while Perry finished his canned remarks and fielded questions.

  The reporters, all from area newspapers and Albuquerque television stations, focused their attention on the ambassador's wife, eager to get quotes and sound bites that would guarantee a wire service byline or network news spot.

  One young man, a television reporter standing at the back of the room, called out Kerney's name.