might tell him something about the evil it had seen. He didn’t like the house. It gave him a strange feeling. “It was a lonely damn place,” he recalled later. But he was not ready for the radio call he got from Childers on Wednesday morning, August 1.
“What are these crosses doing down here?” Childers asked, his voice agitated.
“What are you talking about?” Davidson said.
“These damn crosses on the floor.”
“Are you guys going crazy?”
Davidson thought it a joke, but Childers made dear it wasn’t. He and Nobles had entered the house through the garage and spotted six small crosses fashioned of palm leaves arrayed on the hallway floor, as if some kind of hex. Frightened, they retreated hastily. If Davidson wasn’t playing a practical joke, as his detectives knew he was prone to do, somebody had been in the house—or other forces were at work.
Neither Davidson nor Childers believed in ghosts, and both had paid little attention when Helen Stewart mentioned strange experiences she had had in the house. Helen thought the house haunted and didn’t like to be in it alone. She’d heard footsteps when no one else was there, she said, had answered voices that never responded. After Chuck Lynch’s death, she’d spotted faint impressions of male footprints in the Persian rugs where Delores allowed no feet to tread. “That house was spooky,” she adamantly insisted.
Joyce Rose, Delores’s friend, who had been to the house many times, didn’t think it haunted, but she didn’t like the house and had mentioned having strange sensations there. “You could feel the tension and misery in that house,” she said.
Childers and Nobles returned with weapons drawn and made a cautious and thorough search. The only explanation they could offer for the crosses was that they had been tucked into the back of a picture on the hallway wall and had fallen when a departing officer slammed a door, but that wasn’t a satisfactory explanation, and the mystery of the crosses would forever perplex them.
During his search that day, Childers opened the lavatory cabinet in the bathroom off Delores’s bedroom and spotted a revolver and a box of shells. It was Delores’s .32 that had been thought stolen. The find was a disappointment. A recovered stolen weapon could be the piece of evidence linking a killer to the scene. Now that possibility was out.
Later that day, Davidson got a call from Albuquerque police asking if he had Tom Lynch under surveillance. Tom had reported strange cars in his neighborhood and was frightened. No, Davidson said, he had no officers in New Mexico. Perhaps the killer was stalking Tom, as Davidson had warned. He told about the rumors of Tom’s gambling and asked for help in looking into that.
On August 5, Davidson got his best lead in the case to date. A woman called to report her suspicions that her daughter’s boyfriend might be the killer. The boyfriend, José Peralta, was a Cuban refugee who had drifted into Kentucky with another refugee, Felipe Alonzo, to work in the stables of horse farms. After arguing with his girlfriend, he hit her with his fist and threatened her with a gun. The girlfriend’s mother said that on the weekend of the Lynch murders, Peralta and Alonzo had stolen riding apparel from a horse farm near the Lynch house, and Peralta had come in with blood on his clothing. Friends of Peralta had told her that he pulled a robbery in another Kentucky town, that he carried a derringer in his boot, and that he bragged of killing people in Cuba.
The detectives grew excited when they learned that Janie had been to the stables a couple of times while Peralta worked there. They got even more excited when they discovered that his friend, Alonzo, drove a beat-up yellow car.
Peralta sold goods at a flea market in Louisville, and the detectives went there, bought riding paraphernalia from him, and took it straight to the horse farm, where it was identified as stolen. Davidson thought
“What are these crosses doing down here?” Childers asked, his voice agitated.
“What are you talking about?” Davidson said.
“These damn crosses on the floor.”
“Are you guys going crazy?”
Davidson thought it a joke, but Childers made dear it wasn’t. He and Nobles had entered the house through the garage and spotted six small crosses fashioned of palm leaves arrayed on the hallway floor, as if some kind of hex. Frightened, they retreated hastily. If Davidson wasn’t playing a practical joke, as his detectives knew he was prone to do, somebody had been in the house—or other forces were at work.
Neither Davidson nor Childers believed in ghosts, and both had paid little attention when Helen Stewart mentioned strange experiences she had had in the house. Helen thought the house haunted and didn’t like to be in it alone. She’d heard footsteps when no one else was there, she said, had answered voices that never responded. After Chuck Lynch’s death, she’d spotted faint impressions of male footprints in the Persian rugs where Delores allowed no feet to tread. “That house was spooky,” she adamantly insisted.
Joyce Rose, Delores’s friend, who had been to the house many times, didn’t think it haunted, but she didn’t like the house and had mentioned having strange sensations there. “You could feel the tension and misery in that house,” she said.
Childers and Nobles returned with weapons drawn and made a cautious and thorough search. The only explanation they could offer for the crosses was that they had been tucked into the back of a picture on the hallway wall and had fallen when a departing officer slammed a door, but that wasn’t a satisfactory explanation, and the mystery of the crosses would forever perplex them.
During his search that day, Childers opened the lavatory cabinet in the bathroom off Delores’s bedroom and spotted a revolver and a box of shells. It was Delores’s .32 that had been thought stolen. The find was a disappointment. A recovered stolen weapon could be the piece of evidence linking a killer to the scene. Now that possibility was out.
Later that day, Davidson got a call from Albuquerque police asking if he had Tom Lynch under surveillance. Tom had reported strange cars in his neighborhood and was frightened. No, Davidson said, he had no officers in New Mexico. Perhaps the killer was stalking Tom, as Davidson had warned. He told about the rumors of Tom’s gambling and asked for help in looking into that.
On August 5, Davidson got his best lead in the case to date. A woman called to report her suspicions that her daughter’s boyfriend might be the killer. The boyfriend, José Peralta, was a Cuban refugee who had drifted into Kentucky with another refugee, Felipe Alonzo, to work in the stables of horse farms. After arguing with his girlfriend, he hit her with his fist and threatened her with a gun. The girlfriend’s mother said that on the weekend of the Lynch murders, Peralta and Alonzo had stolen riding apparel from a horse farm near the Lynch house, and Peralta had come in with blood on his clothing. Friends of Peralta had told her that he pulled a robbery in another Kentucky town, that he carried a derringer in his boot, and that he bragged of killing people in Cuba.
The detectives grew excited when they learned that Janie had been to the stables a couple of times while Peralta worked there. They got even more excited when they discovered that his friend, Alonzo, drove a beat-up yellow car.
Peralta sold goods at a flea market in Louisville, and the detectives went there, bought riding paraphernalia from him, and took it straight to the horse farm, where it was identified as stolen. Davidson thought
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