Bad Samaritan (2 page)

“Which you would still beat. A police officer is authorized to use deadly force when he's attacked.”

“Yes and no. I'd have a legal battle on my hands.”

“I wish I could visit the crime scene now while everything's fresh,” she said.

Tom shook his head. “A crime scene needs to be worked by specially trained officers. You'd be in the way and might even unknowingly compromise evidence.”

“Even now you're sticking to the rules?”

“Those rules were made and put in place for a reason.”

She sighed.
That
was the Tom she knew. “Anything else you can tell me?”

“I was told that they'd found a single footprint—a size ten and a half—that had been left in a muddy patch near the body. It doesn't match my shoe size or pattern, or the victim's. The thing is, it could have been left there anytime after the sprinklers got things wet. They go on every morning at seven.”

“The presence of a third person at the crime scene could help clear up some of the apparent inconsistencies,” Sister Agatha said.

“Maybe, or maybe not,” he muttered sourly. “All I know is that I have this bruise on my head, but I can't remember getting it,” he went on, gingerly feeling the lump by his left temple. “Had I been conscious, I would have remembered a blow like this, and it wasn't caused by the fall when I passed out. There was nothing in the grass that I could have hit my head on. I looked.”

“Verifying that you were drugged is crucial now. Have they given you a blood test?”

He shook his head and winced. “I've been asking for one ever since I was brought in. To me, it's obvious. That's the only way I can explain my inability to remember things more clearly. I'm being framed, but I'll need a tox screen to back up my story.”

“So what's the holdup?” Sister Agatha asked.

“Budget constraints. Our department has a policy that doesn't allow for extra tests when the evidence appears so straightforward. In this case, it indicates that I shot Garcia about the same time he clubbed me,” he said. “My people will help me push for one, but what worries me is that by the time they get a tech here, it'll be too late.”

“How can I speed things up? Is there someone I can speak to on your behalf?”

“I don't think so. Gloria and my lawyer, Doug Sanchez, are working hard to get things rolling. They spoke to Captain Chavez, who's acting sheriff right now, and he's for it, but DA Springer is apparently throwing a million legalities in their way.” He rubbed the stubble that now covered his chin. “Springer owes his job to the Garcias.”

“No one who knows you will believe you're guilty of murder,” Sister Agatha said firmly.

“That's what I'd like to think, too. Problem is, with this run for office against the Garcia machine, I've now got as many enemies as I do friends.”

“I'm your friend, Tom, and trust me—I'll find out what happened.”

“I know you will. Thanks,” he said with quiet gratitude.

“This is a very complicated frame-up, Tom. We need to find out why anyone would go to all the trouble, and exactly what's behind this.”

“I wish I could tell you.”

“The evidence indicates that you were a bonus—but not the target. You were even struck on the head to give the impression that you'd acted in self-defense—a way out for you. Robert had to have been the real target, so I'm going to concentrate on him. As far as I'm concerned, the puzzle starts there.”

“Robert had a lot of enemies.”

“I imagine so, but nothing about this case—not even the logistics—makes sense. Why would Robert invite you to a secluded corner of the park, then attack you—an armed officer—with a big stick?”

“Exactly. Also keep in mind that if I'd wanted to take that branch away from him, I wouldn't have needed a gun. I'm at least a foot taller than he was, and well trained in self-defense. But the bruise on my head and the fact that the branch in his hand had
blood on it back up the wrong version of what went down.” He paused, then in a slow, deliberate voice added, “If Robert hadn't been the victim, I would have sworn that
he
was behind the setup. He liked playing people.”

“You and he had differences even before the campaign, didn't you?” she noted, accurately reading his tone.

“Robert used to be a deputy. He and I have a history that dates back to his years in the department.” He lapsed into what became a long silence.

“I'll need to know more,” she prodded.

“I wish I could help, but those details are sealed. I'd just make my position worse if I told you. As it is, I've probably said too much already.”

“I'll keep whatever you tell me confidential,” she assured him.

He considered it for several moments, then answered. “Here's what I can tell you. Robert and I went head-to-head on just about everything. He quit about a year after I was elected sheriff and set up his own security firm. I figured he was out of law enforcement for good. Then came the primaries, and suddenly he was the other party's candidate and in my face again.”

Sister Agatha felt a sinking sensation as she listened to Tom. Things
were
looking bad. Their current mayor, JD Garcia, was Robert Garcia's brother, and no friend of Tom's. Tom's refusal to play small-town politics had made him an outsider—one certain people would be happy to see go down.

“The only thing that makes sense to me is that a third person was there—the killer,” Sister Agatha said. “We need to act fast and find out who that was. The longer the truth stays hidden, the worse it's going to get for you.”

“I didn't fire my weapon unassisted. I know that, but I have to prove it. Somehow, I've got to find a way to remember everything that led up to the moment I passed out.” He took a slow,
deep breath and added, “Can you get me a list of everything that was found at the crime scene? It might help me.”

“Millie was there, so I'll ask her. If she has orders to withhold that information from you, maybe Doug Sanchez can request it. They're supposed to give the defense access to that information, aren't they?”

“With Tivo Chavez on the case, Doug'll probably be given a copy of whatever the deputies gathered up. I never thought much of defense attorneys—until now,” he added in a taut voice.

“You've got a lot of people that'll be working hard to establish the truth, Tom. Hold on to that.”

“I've also got enemies who are ready to do whatever it takes to get a piece of me,” he countered quietly.

“Maybe so, but working from the standpoint that you're innocent, I'll be able to see things that others may miss.” She pointed to his hand. “Like that injury. Why is your hand bruised? The web between your thumb and forefinger is down to raw skin.”

Tom flexed his hand, making a fist, then opening it again. “Even after hours of practice at the range, I never bruised my hand firing my own weapon. This is evidence that supports my claim. The killer wrapped my hand around my pistol, then squeezed my finger against the trigger. That's how he shot Robert. What he forgot to take into account was the recoil. That, coupled with an unconscious man's sloppy grip, completely explains this type of bruising.”

“Did you point that out to the deputies at the scene?”

He nodded. “I had them take photos, too.”

“Good. Firing the weapon while it was in your hand tells us that the killer is savvy enough to know about gunpowder residue,” Sister Agatha said.

“Yeah, and the blow to my head offers an easy explanation for me being unconscious.”

They heard footsteps coming down the hallway, and a second later Millie Romero unlocked the door for John Ramirez. Sister Agatha recognized him as one of the department's senior crime scene investigators.

“I'm here to draw blood, Sheriff,” he said with a grin. “We need to get that done now to increase our chances of finding detectable traces of whatever drug they used on you. Then, by the time the bureaucrats get around to authorizing the tests, we'll already be a step ahead on the results. Hopefully, we're not too late already.”

Tom already had his sleeve rolled up. He looked at his watch. “It's been at least six hours since I ate. How late is too late?”

Ramirez looked up and shrugged. “Lots of variables, Sheriff. Wish I knew.”

“Let's hope my time hasn't run out,” Tom said.

“You'll be fine, Tom,” Sister Agatha said, although she wasn't feeling particularly hopeful. Even if the tests proved what they all believed, they would still have a long way to go.

“Look for a type of knockout drug that can result in partial amnesia. My memory of the events is too jumbled to be explained otherwise.”

Sister Agatha watched silently. It was said that after the first twenty-four hours, the chances of solving a crime dropped precipitously. Yet never in her investigative experience had time been such a critical factor on every front. She couldn't even guarantee how long she'd be able to investigate before the monastery was closed and her order left New Mexico.

It was absolutely imperative that she find answers quickly. Praying she wouldn't fail her friend, a man who was now counting on her help, she left the tech to his work and slipped out of the room.

S
ISTER AGATHA WALKED DOWN THE HALL DEEP IN THOUGHT
. First she checked on Pax, who was now asleep on the floor beside one of the desks. Then she went to the break room and poured herself some coffee. She wasn't used to being up at this hour and didn't trust herself to remain alert enough not to miss something important.

Millie Romero joined her about five minutes later. “We're done, Sister. Would you like to go back?”

“First I need to talk to you, if you have a minute,” Sister Agatha said.

Millie nodded wearily. “Even if I didn't, I'd make time,” she said quietly.

“We need to find out who else was in that area of the park when Sheriff Green met with Robert Garcia,” Sister Agatha said. “Someone must have seen them leave the crowd—then followed.”

“Like the killer, you mean,” Millie observed. “Captain Chavez is working the case and will make a list of people to interview. Since there were so many people at the event last night, it's going to take a while.”

“It might go faster if I get some names from the sheriff and start checking on my own. Also, Tom and I will need a list of everything that was found at the crime scene. Can you get a copy of that for us?”

“I don't know what the procedure is in a case like this, but once the reports come in, I'll make sure the details go to the sheriff, or to his attorney,” Millie replied. “Worst-case scenario, I'll get somebody ticked off. Of course, if charges end up being filed, he will be entitled to the information. If not, then he's the sheriff. It shouldn't matter in the long run, and the sooner this matter is resolved, the better.”

“Don't worry, Millie. I'll make sure it all stays confidential.”

“Thanks,” she said quietly. “The sheriff's run this department as a team. We're like family—at least most of us—and I, for one, am totally convinced he's being framed.”

Sister Agatha glanced down the hall. “Take me back to Tom for a few more minutes. Then I'll pick up Pax and be out of your hair for a while.”

A few minutes later, Sister Agatha sat across from Tom in the interview room. “You've already mentioned some of the people you remembered dealing with at the festivities. Now think back carefully, Tom. Who saw you walk away with Robert?”

He paused, a faraway look on his face. “I'm not sure,” he said at last. “I spoke to some of my constituents, had a lemonade, then went to meet Robert. By then, the fireworks were starting, and people weren't moving much, just looking up.”

“Okay. Who gave you the lemonade?”

“I don't know the guy's name, but he was one of the city employees working the food stands,” Tom said. His forehead furrowed and his eyebrows knit together as he struggled to recall more details. “He was Hispanic looking, with short, curly black hair and a mustache. He had a rough complexion, too, like someone who had had severe acne as a teen.”

“There'll be a list of the workers somewhere, so I'll find him,” Sister Agatha said firmly. “One more question. How well do you know Al Russo?”

“He was Robert's campaign manager. I've met him a few times at local events and around the town hall, but I don't know him personally. All I can tell you is that he's effective at his job and reputed to be honest—unlike his boss.”

“Thanks. I'll be speaking with him soon,” she said. “Before I go, Tom, is there anything you need right now?”

He started to speak, then glanced away from her and looked down at his hands, which rested on the table.

“What's on your mind, Tom?” she asked gently. “You can ask me anything.”

He met her gaze with a steady one of his own. “Gloria . . . She's high-strung, and right now she's probably terrified,” he said.

“I'll go talk to her. Is there anything else?”

“Just find out what really happened. If anyone can do that, you can.”

Sister Agatha saw the shadow of fear that crossed his eyes, but in a heartbeat he forced himself to relax slightly and gained control again. “Lies never stand up to close inspection,” she told him. “I'll find the truth.”

“I believe you. God's always on a nun's side,” he said with a hint of a smile.

“It sure seemed that way back in high school when Sister Assumpta would catch us passing notes.”

He laughed.

“Don't worry,” she said growing serious again. “God
will
help us.”

After giving him a reassuring smile, Sister Agatha followed Millie down the hall, stopped by the bullpen, and picked up Pax, who was awake again. As they stepped outside together she took a deep breath.