Bad Country: A Novel (33 page)

And then she and her sicario murder all these Native-American men? Anderton asked.

Yes, Mr. Anderton. And then somewhere along the way her daddy, Apache Ray Molina, is killed in the mix so that the sheriff gets bundled in with the rest of the dead Indians in Los Jarros County in any investigation, said Rodeo. Hitman goes home to Mexico. Probably by sneaking back across the border the same way he came in, maybe even through my backyard since La Entrada is one of the most difficult points of ingress. Border Patrol don’t care about people going back to Mexico.

We could catch him, this sicario.

You could. But you won’t. And even if you do, unless he gets totally stupid and confesses, which he won’t, there’s no real, decisive physical evidence to connect Sirena to any of this. So what if the sicario has American money on him? He won’t crack … and why would he? He only has American cash money on him and that’s not much of a crime. He just gets deported. If you think she leaves her fingerprints on any of this then you don’t know Sirena.

But Ms. Molina is still the prime suspect for her father’s death, said Anderton. There’s no question about that. We always look first at the family.

And you will find nothing, said Rodeo. Just like I said. Sirena has an airtight alibi for the time of Ray’s death.

You.

Her sicario was killing her daddy when she was having sex with me, said Rodeo.

Ms. Molina’s statement has already been taken, Anderton said. And I’m sure someone will be contacting you shortly for yours, Mr. Garnet, in order to substantiate hers. I’m not quite sure why they haven’t yet.

I been out of pocket, said Rodeo.

You’ll be called to testify, Mr. Garnet, said Anderton. At least at the Grand Jury hearing.

Rodeo nodded.

But even if Ms. Molina hired someone, some sicario to perform these murders, including her own father’s, she could still be indicted and convicted of conspiracy for multiple murders and do at least ten to twenty, Anderton said.

Look at the percentages Sirena actually faces, Rodeo said. If y’all can’t catch the hitman or hitmen that Sirena hired to do the shootings and get them to confess, then all you will ever have is hearsay and circumstantial evidence. And if Sirena’s plan here at Twin Arrows had worked out for her, and me and Luis were dead now, then you wouldn’t even have my speculations—which I’m pretty sure are accurate but I couldn’t ever prove—that Sirena used contacts her lawyer set her up with to hire a Mexican hitman, lured Indian men to Los Jarros on the Internet or by hiring Undocumented Aliens who fit the profile she needed and then had them all murdered just to obscure or confuse the murder of her father, Ray. Rodeo took a breath of cooling desert air and wiped blood drip off his lips with the back of his hand. And then she set up some patsy to take the fall for this.

Where did she get the idea? From the book we were reading,
Paths of Life
?

Her plan is probably based on a novel that is based on
Paths of Life,
Rodeo said. The novel is a “serial killer thriller” the patsy wrote. In the book a serial killer probably kills a member of each of the ten major Indian tribes in the Southwest, for what reason I wouldn’t know. Sirena took this fiction and turned it into reality. Then she can use this patsy’s novel, and his own .38, to frame him for the murders of Indian men in Los Jarros including Sheriff Apache Ray. And juries around here don’t give a shit about motive. All they want is means and physical evidence. All the physical evidence would be on the patsy, not on Sirena. I’m sure Sirena didn’t leave physical evidence that any regular cop would find or that couldn’t be spun into nothing by a good lawyer, said Rodeo.

But where is this patsy? Anderton seemed suddenly agitated.

Dead.

She killed him too?

Nope. Just he died.

Anderton was quiet for minute. So this scenario is completely your speculation, Mr. Garnet?

Rodeo said nothing for a while. Yep. I could find evidence against the patsy, but I know he’s innocent and that would only help Sirena’s defense, so I won’t find that evidence.

If you could find that serial killer book and establish some links between Sirena and the patsy, then there might be a case.

The “serial killer thriller” is gone baby gone, said Rodeo. I think Sirena saw the book at the patsy’s house maybe, read enough of it to get the gist and that gave her the idea of killing ten Indians. She sets up her patsy by planting evidence in his house and once the killings are done, including her father’s—and not Ray’s as the last one either, that would be too obvious—she plans on leading Police to the patsy’s door. Rodeo took in a deep breath, winced in pain, continued. But the patsy died before Sirena was done with him. He died before Ray, her daddy, the principal target of all this, was murdered. The murders had to continue to Ray’s and past Ray’s, so a few more Indians had to be killed. But now the prime suspect, Sirena’s patsy, is dead. So she had to steal the serial killer thriller because if found it’d really be a rompa cabeza for her.

Anderton stared at Rodeo his mouth nearly agape.

So the serial killer thriller is now burnt to ashes, I am sure. And the computer it was written on is destroyed completely. And I don’t think there will be any reliable witnesses that Sirena and this patsy had an intimate relationship. They might have known each other in public, at a bar for instance, but Sirena wouldn’t tell anybody she was dating this patsy. And he was too private to tell anyone. Rodeo sighed. So as I said, Mr. Anderton, all this is just me talking. I couldn’t prove anything, not against Sirena at least. She’s too careful to catch.

Do you still think she’ll get away with it, Mr. Garnet?

She will, because even if Sirena somehow goes to trial, if she gets the right hairstyle, the right outfit and a good lawyer she can establish reasonable doubt and then the Molina estate is all hers, eventually.

And Ms. Molina has a good lawyer.

Jarred Willis has some very bad habits, said Rodeo. But he’s the best trial lawyer in southern Arizona with beaucoups of connections. His father was a national senator from Arizona back in the 1970s and his mother ran the Arizona Chapter of the American Red Cross for twenty years and Jarred himself is Tucson High and the University of Arizona with a JD from James Rogers Law School and a MBA from ASU plus a year on a Fulbright.

Mr. Willis sounds expensive, said Anderton.

Apache Ray Molina was one of the richest working men in southern Arizona, said Rodeo. And when Ray married into the Asquith rancho his small Mexican fortune just multiplied into an Anglo fortune. So whenever probate clears, Sirena Rae will have more money than she can burn in a bonfire. I’m sure Willis will get his cut of that fortune. There’s not many lawyers who wouldn’t take the risk for that sort of backside payoff.

The men shared a silence for a minute that Anderton broke.

Why did she murder that Seri man on your property?

Rodeo shrugged and shook his head.

Just to jam me up maybe? She was vindictive that way and I had dumped her. Rodeo shook his head. Maybe she was just trying to get me involved because nobody in the Los Jarros County Sheriff’s Department thought there was a serial killing going on in this county, said Rodeo. And she needed to get Police interested this case. And she needed the cases to be linked for her plan to work. And that was the problem for her, said Rodeo. Because even though she or her hitman or hitmen left their victims on the roadsides, the bodies of the dead Indians were not being discovered. Nobody cared about these men particularly so nobody was looking for them. And even when they were discovered no one was putting all the killings in Los Jarros together to make them into the serial killing spree she needed.

And that’s why she had the Seri man killed by your property line, Anderton said. To get you involved, sir? Because of your background with a serial killer, with the Charles Constance Case?

May be like that, said Rodeo. Because if I had to defend myself or if I just got involved in the killings in Los Jarros, then because of my reputation the media would surely start screaming about another serial killing spree in Los Jarros County.

Anderton cleared his throat. I did have a similar idea to yours, Mr. Garnet. If you might remember?

I’ll admit you were linking these deaths in Los Jarros into a serial killing, but you thought the serial killer was me, Officer Anderton. Rodeo shook his head. And if Sirena had known about your interest in the murders down here in Los Jarros County then she probably would have found a way to get you in the mix to speed the wheel for her. And maybe then she would have left me alone. Or just killed me as the Pascua Yaqui victim on the list of dead Indians just out of spite. I wouldn’t put it past her. She could carry a grudge.

But Ms. Molina did not even know I existed, said the cop.

No, she didn’t, Rodeo said. You are not a Regular around here and don’t have a local reputation so you haven’t much been in this story. And anyway Sirena knows I’m not stupid and so she must have figured that eventually I’d have worked out her plan. So that’s why she put a hit on me. And since she knows that I often confide in Luis she thought she’d manage to get us both out of the picture and get in two more dead Indians with appropriate tribal affiliations on her list. If she was going to have some drugs planted at Twin Arrows that would make it look like Luis and me were involved in a narco shootout and just muddy the waters more.

Do you believe that the patsy you described had any idea about her plans? asked Anderton. Do you think this man actually killed someone? That he actually started this chain of murders?

I don’t know, said Rodeo. He might have murdered the kid in Sells near the DQ. It’s the only murder in Los Jarros recently not done by shotgun. Maybe that kid was a test kill. But like I said, I think it was Sirena did that to frame him up.

Ms. Molina seems sociopathic, said Anderton.

You see why I broke up with the girl, don’t you? asked Rodeo.

*   *   *

Early the next day Rodeo knocked on the big yellow door in the middle of the Old Pueblo.

Come!

Rodeo stepped into the office of Jarred Willis, Esq., put two cans of beer, one Green and one Blue, on the desk, and then sat down in the distressed leather armchair for distressed clients. Willis got up, locking the wooden doors of his office and the secondary, steel-reinforced inner doors as well. He turned on the overhead lights and then moved around to close the heavy wooden shutters on both deep front windows and the back window. He turned on a white noise machine that emitted a static hiss and then stepped over to Rodeo.

Stand up, he said.

Rodeo stood and raised his hands as his lawyer frisked him thoroughly, even taking off Rodeo’s cowboy hat to examine the interior of it and sliding his finger between Rodeo’s belt and his Levi’s.

Sit, the lawyer said.

Rodeo sat back down. Jarred took his own seat and leaned forward to snag the Foster’s Bitter, pop the top and take a long swig. He nodded at Rodeo and at the Blue on the desk untouched.

Not drinking?

Rodeo shook his head. It’s all for you, Jarred, he said.

That’s the way I like it, Tonto. The lawyer drank, sat back and stared at Rodeo’s face.

Have you gone back to riding broncs, Tonto? I hadn’t seen you this beat up since your Indian Rodeo days.

Rodeo ignored this and began his own interrogation.

Since you conspired to have me killed are you at least willing to tell me what’s going on with Sirena, Jarred? Since we’re in lock-down mode here anyway? Or for old time’s sake?

The lawyer took another long swig of beer even though it was still early in the day.

You were Mr. Sports Hero at Tucson High, Chief, said Jarred Willis. And you were getting nasty with Deborah Mabry, the prettiest girl in school, and the only girl that I loved. And you and me were friends and you knew that I had a total crush on Deb and you rubbed it in my face that she was yours and not mine. I was the geek on the debate team who couldn’t even get a handjob.

We were kids, Jarred. And your daddy gave you a hundred dollars a week allowance so you could have paid for a handjob. Probably could have gotten one from Deb if you’d spent that hundred taking her to Tucson Inn or someplace fancy like that, she was so “top-shelf” about everything.

The lawyer looked thoughtful.

Well then, your butt buddy, Tank, used to beat the shit out of me too, said Jarred Willis. There was that too.

I admit that Tank did kick the shit out of quite a few people, said Rodeo. But he even beat the shit out of me a few times.

The lawyer put down his beer and held up his hands. I’m just saying “old time’s sake” doesn’t mean to me what it does to you, Tonto.

Rodeo moved to leave. The lawyer waved the private investigator back into his seat and leaned forward and squinted his eyes to examine the damage to Rodeo’s face, which was significant, then he leaned back in his captain’s chair.

But there’s no harm in confirming what you think you already know, said Jarred Willis, Esquire. And we are in lock-down mode here, hermetically sealed. So, shoot.

How much did Sirena pay you? Rodeo asked.

That seems an odd first question, said the lawyer.

I was just wondering how you think Sirena’s going to pay you anything, Rodeo said. She hasn’t got a pot to piss in. She still owes me rent money.

She’s getting considerable monies advanced against her projected future fortune.

Advanced from who?

From certain parties that will remain nameless.

So how much are you getting, Jarred?

The lawyer held up five fingers.

Rodeo shook his head.

She’s giving you half a million for this boondoggle?

It’s not a boondoggle if it works out, Chief. It’s business.

What does she get for that kind of money? Rodeo asked.

Theoretically, the lawyer said. And this is only theoretical, mind you, I established some first-level contacts and agreed to shepherd her through a trial by a jury of her peers if it comes to that.

Sirena paid you, or says she’s going to pay you, five hundred grand to set her up with what? asked Rodeo. A narco hitman, a sicario and a legal defense?