Chapter 44

 

Word got out quickly. Two state police cars showed up within ten minutes, dispatched from the nearby town of Belen. The sun had set, making me wish I’d remembered to bring a jacket. Why is it I can never seem to understand that surveillance drags on forever and I should be prepared for all temperatures and all hunger conditions?

The officers had quickly transferred Jay Livingston to one of their vehicles, and a call was put out for a tow truck to take his. The flashing lights brought traffic to a crawl, gawkers unable to resist trying to catch a glimpse of blood. Ron and I were in the process of telling how we happened to be there when Drake called.

“Hey, what’s up?” he asked.

I caught the fringe of worry in his voice.

“We caught our suspect. Just talking to the police now.”

“Does this happen to be at the side of the highway?”

“Why? What have you heard?”

“It’s on the news. Traffic reports say I-25 is backed up for miles, and the overhead shots make it look serious. I thought I recognized Ron’s car.”

Oh boy. With the traffic and cacophony of voices, I hadn’t even heard the news helicopter. I assured him there’d been no injuries and all was well. I’d be home as soon as I could possibly manage. The long day was suddenly closing in on me.

When the detective arrived, I begged off any more roadside questions, asking whether we could take this up again in the morning. He gave me a look that said police work isn’t only nine-to-five, but then he took pity and told us we could come by his office anytime within twenty-four hours and give our statements for the record.

Even so, it was nearly eight o’clock before I dragged my weary body into the house after Ron took me back by our office to shut everything down and retrieve my loaner Corvette. Drake greeted me with a long hug and the offer of a sandwich, but by that time the hunger had passed and bed was all I wanted. I showered, fell between the sheets and didn’t wake up for many hours.

By the time I roused a little, Drake was already gone. He’d left a note on the bathroom mirror, letting me know he had to be out early for a spring elk count with the Fish and Game Department. The tone of the message was that he really hoped we would have a nice evening together. Poor guy. I’d hardly been around in the past few days.

I breakfasted on two leftover blueberry muffins, played with Freckles in the back yard awhile and, when she was finally tired out, I made ready to leave for the office. Ron and I had agreed to go together to speak with the detectives. I wasn’t looking forward to the questions, but did have to admit I was curious about Livingston’s motives and whether the expensive ring had been recovered.

I met Ron at the office and rode downtown with him. Detective McPeel met us with a gruff expression that hinted he’d been up late into the night on this case. Hey, not my fault. He could have locked his suspect into a cell and gotten a good eight hours’ sleep like the rest of us.

We each gave our version of events, mine including the two trips to El Paso and discovery that Jay Livingston’s living arrangement was a sham, which had led us back to Albuquerque in pursuit of our client’s missing ring.

“We got a lead on the apartment on Rucker Street and were surveilling the place. We had hoped to talk to him there. There was always the chance he’d mistakenly given me the wrong ring during our transaction and would trade it back for the correct one.” Yeah, and pigs can fly.

McPeel’s skepticism was every bit as evident as my own.

“You searched his apartment last night, I’m sure. May I ask if you found Bobby Lorrento’s Super Bowl ring?”

A long moment went by as he decided whether to share information.

“Let’s just say the ring you’re looking for … it’s only a fraction of what we found.”

“Livingston had more? What—more sports memorabilia?”

“I’m not at liberty to say. A full investigation is ongoing.”

“But—okay. You are saying the ring I bought back for Bobby Lorrento is among all this?”

“We believe so.”

Ugh. Why do cops speak in such roundabout ways?

He printed my statement, had me sign it and told me I could go. I wasn’t sure which room Ron had gone into. I hesitated in the hallway, wondering where to look for him, when I heard a slight commotion. From around a corner, two officers appeared with an orange-jumpsuited prisoner. It was Jay Livingston. This time he didn’t look quite so debonair.

“Where’s my stuff?” he demanded. “I need to get home and check on my stuff.”

“We’re not headed home right now, sir. You’re on your way to your arraignment.”

“For what? I purchased everything in that apartment.”

Neither officer responded. I pressed myself against the wall as they passed. Livingston gave me a long, hard stare. One of the officers took his arm and kept him moving forward. The other peeled off and ducked into a side room where I caught the pungent scent of strong coffee.

I eased toward the open doorway and stood to the side, intent on the phone in my hand, as if I was busy with an urgent message. From the break room I could hear two cops talking.

“That was the jewelry guy?” one said. “I heard the search was pretty unbelievable.”

“Yeah, no kidding. Closets jammed full—I mean full—of the stuff. Lots of cash, too. We were up until four, logging it all into evidence.” A noisy yawn. “A cup of this stuff for the road and then I’m outta here. Gotta get some sleep.”

The other man chuckled. Footsteps approached the door and I moved a little farther away.

Before either of the men left the coffee room, I heard another door open at the far end of the hall. Ron appeared, relaxed and smiling. I caught up with him and we left the building.

“Guess what,” I said as we walked through the parking lot. “Bobby’s ring wasn’t the only thing Livingston took.”

“I know.”

“I just heard two cops talking, saying there were closets full. And cash.”

“I know. McPeel told me some of it.”

“How is it you always manage to get cops to talk to you? He wouldn’t tell me anything.”

He shrugged and unlocked his car. When he asked if I was up to some lunch at Pedro’s, of course I was.

“Livingston was squawking about how it was all his stuff, how he’d paid for everything in the apartment.”

“Well, technically, he did. He just paid a whole lot less than it was worth.”

“But … he’ll probably get off. Can they make the charges stick?”

“It’ll be complicated.”

We arrived at Pedro’s where I ordered my usual—chicken enchiladas with green chile and sour cream. Ron got the beef burrito. We’re so predictable.

“So. Does this mean we’re done with the Lorrentos? Police have the guy. Case closed?”

He took his time over the chips and salsa. “I’ll have to write up a final report for Marcie. Technically, she’s the client. I could do it this afternoon and then, yeah, I guess we’re pretty much done with them.”

“I’m sensing a but …”

“But, nothing really. I’m just curious about a few things. I might do a little follow-up. See if I can piece together a whole picture.”

“A little lecture to Marcie on choosing the wrong guy to fool around with?”

“Well, she wasn’t too smart about it, was she?”

I didn’t think cheating was ever a good idea, but our food arrived at that moment and I got a little too busy to talk about it.

My phone rang as I was about to pour honey into the middle of my sopapilla. When I saw it was Drake, I wiped the oil off my fingers and took the call.

“Hey there,” he said. “I’m on my way back from the job and was thinking about an early dinner at Pedro’s.”

“Ooh, a little late for that decision. But I’ll bring home whatever you want.” I felt badly that our timing hadn’t worked out a little better, but I soon had a takeout box of enchiladas for him and was on my way home.

It felt good to have wrapped up the Lorrento case, but I felt an unease about the Delaney twins. Clover’s admission yesterday bothered me. I just couldn’t put my finger on what to do about it.