handcuffed him behind the back.
“I want to call my lawyer,” Staggs said.
“That will have to wait. What time did the game break up last night?”
“I want to call my lawyer now.”
“Did the people who dropped Ulibarri off sit in on last night’s game?”
“I’m not talking,” Staggs answered.
Clayton resumed his position at the window, switched his handheld radio to the Ruidoso PD frequency, waited, and listened. In twenty minutes SWAT arrived. He made contact with the SWAT commander and talked the team down the hill and into position. There was no discernible movement in cabin three.
Hewitt made contact by radio, reported his arrival, and gave his location. Quinones and Dillingham followed suit.
“SWAT goes in first,” Hewitt said. “Sheriff personnel hold your positions.”
From their units, Dillingham and Quinones acknowledged the order.
“Roger that,” Clayton replied.
The SWAT commander cut in. “We’re ready.”
“It’s your move,” Hewitt said.
Clayton watched it go down. Sharpshooters covered the windows. Three men hit the front door, two on either side, as one smashed it open at the lock set with a battering ram. They went in high and low, automatic weapons at the ready, while Clayton held his breath. Finally the radio hissed.
“Clear,” the SWAT commander said, “but you might want to come and take a look-see.”
“What have you got?” Clayton asked.
“Looks like one very dead murder suspect,” the SWAT commander replied.
Clayton left Staggs in the company of Deputy Dillingham and joined up with Paul Hewitt outside cabin three. Together with Sergeant Quinones they inspected the crime scene. Naked to the waist and bare-foot, Ulibarri was on the floor in a sitting position propped against one of two unmade double beds. The new belt with the sterling silver rodeo-style buckle was undone at his waist, his jeans were unzipped, and his feet were bare. His fancy new boots were next to his body with a pair of socks draped over the toes. There were visible bruise marks at his throat suggesting death by strangulation.
“Dammit,” Clayton said.
Hewitt stopped scanning the room, glanced at Clayton, and noted the disappointed look on his face. “Let’s see what evidence the crime scene techs turn up before you start grousing.”
“I wanted an arrest and conviction out of this,” Clayton said.
“Like the sheriff said, maybe we can still clear the Humphrey murder,” Quinones replied.
“That’s not the same thing,” Clayton said.
“We can worry about that later,” Hewitt said, with a nod at the corpse. “Right now we’ve got another fresh homicide to work.”
“You’re not turning it over to the city cops?” Quinones asked.
“Nope,” Hewitt said. “The police chief won’t like it, but screw him. I’m the chief law enforcement officer in this county and this is in my jurisdiction.”
“How do you want the team to operate?” Quinones asked.
Given his mistakes and Quinones’s rank, Clayton fully expected Hewitt to bounce him and put the sergeant in charge.
“Let’s leave things as they are,” Hewitt answered. “Deputy Istee will continue as lead investigator.”
“Makes sense to me,” Quinones said.
Clayton hid his relief by staring at the corpse and avoiding eye contact with the sheriff. “We need to talk to Harry Staggs,” he said. “Maybe he knows what got Ulibarri killed.”
“Let’s do that,” Hewitt said to Clayton as he turned to leave the crime scene. “By the way, the stain on Ulibarri’s boot is the same type found in Humphrey’s car. If the DNA confirms a match to Humphrey, as far as I’m concerned you’ve cleared a homicide.”
Before leaving Los Alamos, Kerney made phone calls from his unit. Several years ago Professor Perrett had transferred from his teaching position to administer a chemical and alcohol dependency research project affiliated with the university. Kerney made an appointment with Perrett’s
“I want to call my lawyer,” Staggs said.
“That will have to wait. What time did the game break up last night?”
“I want to call my lawyer now.”
“Did the people who dropped Ulibarri off sit in on last night’s game?”
“I’m not talking,” Staggs answered.
Clayton resumed his position at the window, switched his handheld radio to the Ruidoso PD frequency, waited, and listened. In twenty minutes SWAT arrived. He made contact with the SWAT commander and talked the team down the hill and into position. There was no discernible movement in cabin three.
Hewitt made contact by radio, reported his arrival, and gave his location. Quinones and Dillingham followed suit.
“SWAT goes in first,” Hewitt said. “Sheriff personnel hold your positions.”
From their units, Dillingham and Quinones acknowledged the order.
“Roger that,” Clayton replied.
The SWAT commander cut in. “We’re ready.”
“It’s your move,” Hewitt said.
Clayton watched it go down. Sharpshooters covered the windows. Three men hit the front door, two on either side, as one smashed it open at the lock set with a battering ram. They went in high and low, automatic weapons at the ready, while Clayton held his breath. Finally the radio hissed.
“Clear,” the SWAT commander said, “but you might want to come and take a look-see.”
“What have you got?” Clayton asked.
“Looks like one very dead murder suspect,” the SWAT commander replied.
Clayton left Staggs in the company of Deputy Dillingham and joined up with Paul Hewitt outside cabin three. Together with Sergeant Quinones they inspected the crime scene. Naked to the waist and bare-foot, Ulibarri was on the floor in a sitting position propped against one of two unmade double beds. The new belt with the sterling silver rodeo-style buckle was undone at his waist, his jeans were unzipped, and his feet were bare. His fancy new boots were next to his body with a pair of socks draped over the toes. There were visible bruise marks at his throat suggesting death by strangulation.
“Dammit,” Clayton said.
Hewitt stopped scanning the room, glanced at Clayton, and noted the disappointed look on his face. “Let’s see what evidence the crime scene techs turn up before you start grousing.”
“I wanted an arrest and conviction out of this,” Clayton said.
“Like the sheriff said, maybe we can still clear the Humphrey murder,” Quinones replied.
“That’s not the same thing,” Clayton said.
“We can worry about that later,” Hewitt said, with a nod at the corpse. “Right now we’ve got another fresh homicide to work.”
“You’re not turning it over to the city cops?” Quinones asked.
“Nope,” Hewitt said. “The police chief won’t like it, but screw him. I’m the chief law enforcement officer in this county and this is in my jurisdiction.”
“How do you want the team to operate?” Quinones asked.
Given his mistakes and Quinones’s rank, Clayton fully expected Hewitt to bounce him and put the sergeant in charge.
“Let’s leave things as they are,” Hewitt answered. “Deputy Istee will continue as lead investigator.”
“Makes sense to me,” Quinones said.
Clayton hid his relief by staring at the corpse and avoiding eye contact with the sheriff. “We need to talk to Harry Staggs,” he said. “Maybe he knows what got Ulibarri killed.”
“Let’s do that,” Hewitt said to Clayton as he turned to leave the crime scene. “By the way, the stain on Ulibarri’s boot is the same type found in Humphrey’s car. If the DNA confirms a match to Humphrey, as far as I’m concerned you’ve cleared a homicide.”
Before leaving Los Alamos, Kerney made phone calls from his unit. Several years ago Professor Perrett had transferred from his teaching position to administer a chemical and alcohol dependency research project affiliated with the university. Kerney made an appointment with Perrett’s
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