Gilbert wasn't a financial expert, but paying off so much debt so quickly seemed unusual to him, especially for a real estate project with land and houses still unsold. He went through the forms again, this time scanning the signature blocks. Sherman Cobb, Roger Springer, and Bucky Watson had signed off on each of them, Cobb for Rancho Caballo, Springer as corporate counsel, and Watson for Matador Properties.
It's such a small world, Gilbert thought, as he heard footsteps in the hallway. He looked up, expecting to see Chief Kerney appear in the doorway, ready to ream him out for his late-night visit to Roger Springer. He relaxed when the footsteps receded.
Gilbert leafed through the papers again. Matador Properties was taking a hard hit on interest earnings because of the accelerated payback on the notes. And while everything appeared legal, he wondered why Watson would keep financing a project that yielded such low returns. He needed some expert advice.
The official workday had begun, which meant that Joe Valdez should be in his office. Valdez, a senior investigator and a certified public accountant, specialized in white-collar and corporate crime. Gilbert picked up the paperwork and went looking for Valdez. He found him anchored behind his desk, reading glasses perched on his wide nose, punching the keys of a desk calculator.
Valdez had a full chin and big ears with thick lobes.
He wore his hair short with no part. He looked more like a prizefighter than a cop or a CPA.
"Hey, Sergeant," Joe said as Gilbert walked in.
"What's up?"
"Doing the monthly family budget?" Gilbert asked.
"There is no family budget," Joe grumbled, pushing the calculator aside.
"A budget assumes that I can actually plan for expenditures. That's impossible to do with two teenage daughters in high school."
"Marry them off," Gilbert suggested, sliding into a chair.
"Too young," Valdez replied with a shake of his head.
"Plus, they both want to go to college before they get married. As it is, I'm running a tax service out of the house in my spare time, trying to put some money aside for tuition. It costs a bundle to send kids to college.
Now that the wife is working, we just might be able to swing it."
"The rewards of police work come from the satisfaction of the job, not money."
"Don't give me that crap."
"You'll have both girls in college at the same time?"
"One right after the other, starting in two years."
"I'm looking forward to the same experience with my girls later down the line."
"You'll love it," Joe predicted sourly.
"What have you got?"
"Take a look at these and tell me what you think."
Gilbert handed Valdez the documents and waited for a reaction.
"I don't like what I'm seeing," Valdez finally said, flipping back and forth from document to document.
"These kind of real estate development projects usually attract more than one financing source, especially at this level. Two hundred million is a hell of a lot of money for one company to invest in this state, unless it's a banking institution."
"What about the accelerated loan payoffs?"
"That, too," Joe replied. He rubbed the bald spot on the back of his head.
"There's a lot of cash moving back and forth here over a short period of time."
"Between the same group of people."
"Exactly. I'd be looking hard at Matador Properties, if I were you.
Scope out the assets of the corporation."
"That's the place to start?"
Joe nodded.
"You bet. Track down the source of that money. What kind of income is generating that level of investment capital? If it looks clean, then jump over to Rancho Caballo. The corporate earnings to debt ratio might prove interesting, once you know what amounts from the loan proceeds were actually plowed into the development."
Valdez held out the paperwork for Gilbert to take back.
Gilbert didn't move.
"Would you do it? I don't know the first thing about all this crap."
Valdez dropped the papers on the desk.
"Have I just been suckered into something here?"
Gilbert grinned.
"Only if you think it's worth your time."
Joe scratched his chin.
"It may be. I'll make some calls. If I learn anything interesting, I'll let you know."
"Pair enough," Gilbert said.
"Are you using your unit today? If not, I'd like to borrow it. I'm stranded without a vehicle."
"No way," Joe answered with a snort.
"I only do one favor a day for newly anointed sergeants." caklos couldn't remember a time in the past when he had been invited to join the patron for a cup of coffee.
He sat at the dining room table holding the delicate cup carefully in his hands while the maid cleared away the breakfast dishes. De Leon gazed out the window at the snowcapped mountains and didn't speak until the woman departed.
"So Kerney has no girlfriend? No private life outside of his job?" De Leon asked, shifting his gaze to Carlos.
"No, patron. He works and goes home. That is all."
"What did he do in Albuquerque last night?"
"According to a nurse at the hospital, he visited a patient, a man who had been found beaten in a small village called Mountainair."
"What prompted Kerney to visit this man?"
"I do not know, patron. But he identified himself as a police officer to the nurse in charge of the unit."
"Where is this village?"
"South of Albuquerque, east of the mountains."
"Tell me about Kerney's workplace."
"The buildings are fenced, isolated from the highway, and on a small hill. There are many police around, including students and officers who stay at the police training academy. Those who work there must either pass through a reception area or use security cards to enter the exterior doors. Cards must also be used after hours to open the security gate."
"Could Kerney be killed from a distance as he leaves?"
"Yes, but at some risk," Carlos replied.
"The highway is very busy and there are nearby businesses along the strip that attract customers."
"What is the best vantage point?"
"There is a new car lot directly across the highway.
From there I can see who comes and goes, but only if I use binoculars.
I have been able to follow Kerney by identifying his vehicle. He parks in the same reserved space every day."
"Using a sniper won't work."
Carlos nodded.
"We would have better success where Kerney lives. He resides in the guest quarters of a house near the state capitol. It is on a private lane at the end of a street, shared by only one other residence.
The house is situated in a hollow, almost hidden from sight. From the lane, you can see only the roofline and part of the driveway. There are many places that can be used for concealment."
"Who is Kerney's host?"
Carlos pulled a scrap of paper from his shirt pocket.
"His name is Fletcher Hartley."
De Leon eyes closed. Fletcher Hartley was the man at the Rancho Caballo clubhouse who had forced Bucky to make an introduction. Had Hartley been acting on Kerney's behalf?
"Can the house be entered easily?" Enrique asked.
"Yes, jefe. There is one door at the front, a patio door at a rear garden, and a separate entrance to the attached guest quarters. There are no alarm or security devices to contend with. Under cover of darkness, with three men to assist me, there should be no problem."
Enrique nodded, pleased with Ruiz's thoroughness.
He now had a clear picture of what needed to be done.
"Is the information sufficient?" Carlos asked.
"You've done well," De Leon replied as he refilled his coffee cup.
"Go to the house tonight. After Kerney arrives, send the men in. One through each entrance.
Have them kill Kerney and his host. When it is done, rendezvous with me at the airport."