No one left, p.23
No One Left, page 23
“I’m packing some things up now, and then I’m coming to Albuquerque. I’ve got a stop to make, and then I’ll be at your house. I need you to get started on a warrant.”
“For who? For what?”
“CJ. The attorney general’s son.”
“What’s this about, Pinter? What does CJ have to do with any of this?”
“I’ll explain when I get there. We’ll need a wiretap for his phone and a couple of concealed listening devices for his house.”
“How am I gonna do that?” Sanchez asked.
“He’s got an arrest record, doesn’t he?”
“Small things, sure.”
“Anything involving drugs?”
“A couple of marijuana possessions.”
“Bingo,” James said. “Get it done. I’ll see you tonight.”
James packed up just about everything he had on the case: the financial files from Cathy; the cassette tapes with Isaiah’s recording and Janice Stone’s, too; the intake list from the children’s home; and Robert John’s bank account wire transfers.
He put them in the trunk, got in the driver’s seat, and went to pick up Molly.
69
SANCHEZ
Sanchez was shocked by how easily he had obtained the warrant. He shouldn’t have been, though. The city practically begged the state’s narcotics division for help daily. Drugs had become such a problem that if narcotics wanted a warrant, they got one.
Sanchez tried to figure out what Pinter was thinking. Vasco’s nickname—El Gato—was used among certain groups, mainly law enforcement and members of the community who had great respect for the man. Though criminals also sometimes used it mockingly. But what that—or CJ—had to do with this case, he couldn’t figure.
When the doorbell rang, Sanchez opened it to find Molly holding two extra-large pizza boxes.
“Did you get the warrants?” James asked, behind her.
“Yes,” Sanchez said. “But you’ve got to explain this to me.” He shut the door behind them.
“Over pizza,” James said, sitting at Sanchez’s dinner table. Molly set the pizzas down carefully, and James flipped open the lids.
“Why CJ?” Sanchez called over his shoulder as he got some plates.
“You gotta trust me on this, all right?” James called back.
Sanchez returned with the plates and set them down on the table in a stack. James put a slice of pizza on a plate and handed it to Molly.
“I know how you feel about the AG. But I strongly believe he killed Judge Winters and his wife.”
Molly stopped with the pizza raised to her lips and stared at Sanchez. He was breathless. And then he laughed. “Have you lost your mind?”
“Hear me out,” James said. “Since the beginning, I’ve been thinkin’ about who would have the balls to kill someone in their office right around dinnertime, leave the scene of the crime, go right to the judge’s next of kin, and kill her, too. It’s possible, but bold. And it’s gotta be done within ten minutes. Someone with a personal vendetta is a solid explanation. Someone like George. Crime of passion, on a mission, isn’t thinking straight, right?”
Sanchez stared at him in a stupor.
“But instead of that scenario, let’s say there are two killers. One of whom is seen around the judge’s office frequently enough that no one would bat an eye when they watched him walk in and out. And no one would think to even mention it to law enforcement—or anyone else, either. Hell, by the time the police arrive at the crime scene, they’ve already forgotten about it.”
Sanchez didn’t take his eyes off of James as he lowered himself onto a chair. Molly tentatively bit into her pizza.
“And the other killer?” James went on. “Just a young man tryin’ to gain his dad’s approval. The AG was the first to know about what Cathy was doin’. The financial statements revealed that NMCA gave a whole hell of a lot of money to Vasco’s campaign for AG. Now, maybe Cathy thought Vasco had a moral compass that points north—that Vasco cared more about Indian children than that money—and she was wrong. Or maybe she hadn’t uncovered Vasco’s campaign name, Justice for All, so she didn’t know it was him. Either way, big mistake on Cathy’s part.”
Sanchez scoffed a little but still couldn’t form any words. James kept going.
“What I found in Duncan’s desk wasn’t a retirement card at all. It was a threat. To keep his mouth shut or else this would be his last case ever. With a little kitten on the front. El Gato. Well, el gatito, I guess.” James chuckled a little. “Doesn’t have the same ring to it. Either way, Duncan knew exactly who it was from.”
“Wait,” Sanchez finally spoke. “I thought Janice gave Duncan the lizard for evidence. How are Janice and Vasco connected?”
“I’d like to find that out,” James said. “I’ve got an idea. A crazy little thought. Something I saw in Janice’s office. I might be wrong, but we’re gonna do our damndest to find out.”
“But Vasco said his people were looking into Donald Andrews.”
“He was lying.”
Sanchez made a face. James had no way of knowing that. “He gave you that tip about the bank account.”
“Because he wants us going after the Navajo judge for the murders. And I almost did. Listen,” James said. “Vasco told us he didn’t know about the ICWA violations, but Cathy would surely have told him. She thought he was on her team. I think what was a surprise to Vasco at the café was how close Bartholomew was to involving the US attorney. I think that made Vasco’s butt pucker.”
Molly made a face.
“Sorry, but it did,” James said. “The US attorney might just be someone Vasco can’t bully. I hope he can’t, at least, because Molly and I stopped at the US attorney’s office on our way here and gave them all the evidence we’ve been gathering on Donald Andrews.” James finally took a bite of his pizza.
“So, Vasco is doing all this for . . . campaign money?” Sanchez asked.
“Sometimes it’s just that simple, my friend,” James said after he swallowed. “Andrews has influence, too. He tells people to vote one way, and they do. He tells people the AG really is a friend to New Mexico’s children, and they believe him.”
Sanchez was speechless. He wanted to say no, this couldn’t be true. Finally, he asked, “When Cathy came to him with this, why not just ignore it? Why kill the Winters?”
“Because he knew them. He knew they weren’t quitters.”
“No offense, Pinter. Excuse my language, Molly. But this is some bullshit.” Sanchez couldn’t help being pissed off. It was easier to be angry than to entertain this idea.
“I know it is,” James said.
For a moment, the room was silent except for the ticking of the wall clock.
Sanchez shook his head. “I can’t imagine CJ doing this. Just . . . killing Cathy like that. A woman he doesn’t even know. But I guess I don’t know him at all anymore. I haven’t spoken to him in probably eight years?”
“That’s gonna have to change,” James said. “You’re gonna have to speak with him.” Molly grabbed another slice of pizza and looked back and forth between the two men.
“Why?” Sanchez asked.
“To scare him a little. Or maybe I should say to alarm him.”
“How am I going to do that?”
“Make somethin’ up. Tell him we have a witness that puts him at the scene of the crime.”
They watched CJ leave the house, get into his truck, and drive away. Seeing him in person put a deep sadness in Sanchez’s chest. CJ didn’t look so great.
Molly kept watch while they set the wiretap and bugs. They tested the bugs by speaking to one another in the living room and having Molly listen in, the phone wires by calling from a pay phone. Everything was ready.
“Now remember,” James said, “the goal is to scare him enough to call his father.”
“And what if the attorney general calls me instead of going to speak with his son? Or what if he invites CJ to his house?”
“I don’t think he’s going to do either of those things. He doesn’t want to talk about it around his wife or anyone else.”
“What if he shows up at my house?”
“You won’t be there.”
If James was wrong about all of this, Sanchez would look like a real asshole, going to CJ’s house, accusing him.
“You’ll do good,” James said. “I know it.”
The next morning was cold and gray, and Sanchez wondered if the reservation would get its first snow of the year. Sometimes it happened this early. He remembered from his time in Gallup. He missed the snow.
He didn’t wear his uniform. He went appearing to be a friend, even though he wasn’t. The only thing left to do was knock. Talk.
CJ came to the door in worn bell-bottom jeans and a faded, striped tank top.
“Can I help you?” He looked exhausted.
“Hey, CJ. It’s me. Gabriel Sanchez. Remember?”
CJ’s forehead wrinkled in confusion for a moment before he broke into a slow smile. “Hey, brother. How you been? Come in.”
“Thanks, man.”
There was one small couch in CJ’s wood-paneled living room and a pile of shoes in the corner. The television sat directly on the floor, and a single lamp stood on a side table next to the couch. There hadn’t been many options for hiding the listening devices, and now, Sanchez resisted the urge to look right at them.
“How’s everything been, Gabe?” CJ asked.
“Great, great. I’m, uh, with the New Mexico State Police now. How about you?”
“I heard. You know. Been working here and there. Looking for a gig right now. What brings you over? Just . . . catching up?”
“Actually, I came here as an old friend. To warn you.” Sanchez rubbed the back of his neck, looking away.
“Warn me about what?”
“We’re investigating a double homicide,” Sanchez said. “We have a witness.” He paused. Cleared his throat. “A witness who puts you at one of the crime scenes.”
CJ didn’t say anything. Didn’t move. But when he finally did look at Sanchez, Sanchez knew James was right. He almost cried. Right there.
“I don’t . . .” CJ started. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Sanchez stared at him. He wished he could take him with him right now. Put him on a bus. Send him far away. To the East Coast. Anywhere. Just let him start over. James Pinter saw a murderer, but Sanchez saw a lost kid who only ever wanted to please his father and always felt he had fallen short.
“I think you do,” Sanchez finally said. He wanted to say, Don’t do this. You didn’t have to do this. Turn him in now. It’s his fault. But he couldn’t encourage that. Not yet. They needed CJ to speak to his father. To call him as soon as Sanchez left.
Sanchez stepped closer. He clasped CJ’s trembling shoulder. “As of right now, no one knows but me. But I wouldn’t try to run. You won’t get far.”
CJ started to speak, but Sanchez interrupted him. “Don’t say anything else. Trust me. Get a lawyer.”
70
JAMES
The phone call came shortly after Sanchez left. And just as James thought he would, the AG told his son he was coming over.
James knew it would unfold quickly, that they’d be stuck sitting, waiting in the car, listening and unable to leave. He had brought Pepsi and sandwiches and Slim Jims and apples and Ruffles potato chips. Molly munched on some now while they waited for the older Vasco to show up.
Sanchez said nothing. He ate nothing. James knew the feeling. Finding out that you really didn’t know a person at all was jarring.
James took a bite of his ham and cheese sandwich.
“What about the others?” Molly asked, wiping her hands. “Bobby Tate and Donald Andrews?”
“It’s with the US attorney now,” James said. “We’ve got to hope Vasco’s influence doesn’t reach that far. We’ll follow up, of course. But they can do much more with it than we can.”
The car was quiet again. Finally, a crackle from the radio transmitter. Faint voices. James signaled to Molly, and she started recording.
“When was he here?” the AG asked.
“I don’t know. A couple of hours ago?”
“He doesn’t have anything on you.” The older Vasco’s voice was calm.
“He says there’s a witness!”
The AG sighed. “Witnesses are unreliable. It’s nothing. Did you see anyone?”
There was silence.
“I didn’t think so,” the AG said. “Relax. We’ll find this witness. They can be persuaded.”
“That stupid lizard,” CJ said. “I can’t believe you did that. That’s why they know something’s off. It’s that lizard.”
“We had to connect Cathy with that Indian. It was the only way. The fact that the man had the misfortune to be the last one in the judge’s office was a stroke of luck. One might say fate put him there. Put the lizard in Janice’s possession. Or perhaps God did. She saved us with that lizard. Otherwise, we would’ve had to do a lot more work covering this thing up.”
“Yeah, because she’s such a close friend,” CJ scoffed. “I ought to tell Mom. That’s what I ought to do.”
“You’re forgetting yourself, CJ,” the AG said. His voice was sharp now, threatening. “I am not the enemy. Do you want my help with this witness, or do you want me to throw you to the wolves? You’re the one in question here, not me.”
“Because you didn’t have to worry about witnesses! It was probably easy for you to pull that trigger, too. Therapeutic even. You hated the man. I didn’t even know that poor woman. The way she stared at me. The fear in her eyes.” CJ paused. “I couldn’t do it at first. I had to wait until she turned. She was trying to make it to the phone. And then I had to do it. I had to. I couldn’t let her get to that phone.” There was a muffled sob. It seemed like the AG was letting his son gather himself. Or maybe he had nothing to say.
“Gabe knows I’m a murderer,” CJ finally said through clenched teeth. “Do you know what it’s like to have a friend look at you the way he looked at me?”
“You always were too emotional,” the older Vasco sighed.
CJ chuckled exasperatedly. “And you were never emotional enough. I hope this was all worth it for you. I’ll be spending the rest of my life in jail.”
“No, you won’t. I explained. There was no other way. Once I knew what Cathy had . . .” There was a pause, and James wished he could see the attorney general’s face. He went on. “Donald Andrews brings in federal money. He has friends in Washington. Friends in the church. He’s a pillar of the community, and without his endorsements, without his funds, none of what I do would be possible. The whole state would suffer. You understood this before you agreed to help.”
“I understood you needed me,” CJ said. “And that you couldn’t do it all yourself. And that I’m not good for much else.” He chuckled again. “Not to you. And so, I thought, well, I can do this. I will do this. But I also thought you’d protect me when it came down to it. That’s your end of the deal. You have to protect me now.”
“I will. I will, son. We’re a team. Put this witness out of your mind.”
“And what about their suspicions? You told me yourself that a P.I. is working the case now.”
“I’m hoping that little financial tip I gave him leads to the arrest of the Indian judge, Bobby Tate. It would be best for him to take the fall for all this. The least damaging for Andrews. A rogue, troubled, adopted Indian, who just happened to have ties to Andrews. Judge Winters was a thorn in Tate’s side for years. The P.I. will see the money as payment for the murder, but Andrews will be able to honestly say that it’s for the unwed mother’s home. Easy enough to explain. The whole situation might even garner some sympathy for Andrews.”
“And what about the lizard? How do they explain it?”
“Tate is on the reservation now. Same as this other man. This Morris. Tate could have taken the lizard. Or found it. Tate could have set this whole thing up just as easily.”
James and Sanchez looked at each other. They had enough now. Sanchez looked a little pale. Queasy, maybe.
“So, you don’t think I’ll need a lawyer?” CJ asked his father.
“You’ll have a lawyer. All the lawyers you want, son. But you won’t need them. I’ll talk to Gabriel tomorrow. Or maybe his P.I. I’ll focus their attention elsewhere.”
“All right,” CJ said, but he didn’t sound convinced.
“Get some rest,” the older Vasco said. Then, he left, and Molly hit the button again to stop the recording. The van was quiet. Finally, James spoke.
“I’m sorry.”
Sanchez shook his head. “Let’s take this to Lark. Tonight.”
71
SANCHEZ
It felt like a dream. Like he sleepwalked into the station. Like it was someone else who called the head of homicide at home and told him to come in because they had arrests to make.
James believed that Lark already knew. He had seen the fear flicker across Lark’s face at the sight of Duncan’s “retirement” card. According to James, Lark was waiting to see what he and Sanchez would dig up. He would put it on them. Their successes, perhaps. Their failures, most certainly.
So, when Lark appeared to be surprised by the news, Sanchez spotted the small clues that told him it was an act, and he was glad James had spared him the disappointment.
But the tape, Lark was surprised by that. They had the AG discussing the crime with his son on record. Apparently, Lark hadn’t expected this degree of success.
“This is . . . wow,” Lark said. They waited for him to say more, but he didn’t.
“I know, sir,” Sanchez said. “I’ll make the arrests tomorrow.”
“How about you handle one and I’ll handle the other?” Lark suggested. “We don’t want either one getting spooked.”
“All right,” Sanchez said. “I’ll visit the attorney general, then.”
