Under the Color of Law (5 page)

Helen nodded.

"And the FBI has arrived," she said.

"Special Agent Applewhite is waiting in your office."

Kerney knew all the local special agents and Applewhite wasn't a name he was familiar with.

"Wanting what?"

"She didn't say."

Kerney made a face.

"Welcome to the Crystal Palace," Helen said.

"The what?"

"The chief's office was dubbed the Crystal Palace a couple of administrations ago. It is not a term of endearment."

"No, of course not," Kerney said.

Somewhere in her thirties, Special Agent Elaine Applewhite wore a cardigan sweater over a white turtleneck top and a pair of blue jeans.

The outfit didn't hide her sturdy-looking frame. She had a sharp chin, an oval face, a small, turned-down mouth, and empty eyes that reminded Kerney of the thousand-yard stare he'd seen on the faces of soldiers in Vietnam. A bright new red ski parka hung neatly over a chair at the small conference table that butted against the front of Kerney's desk.

"Make yourself at home," Kerney said as Applewhite arranged herself in a chair.

He moved to his desk, sat, and waited.

Applewhite adjusted her position to face Kerney head-on.

"The wife of a Federal official has been murdered, Chief Kerney. The Bureau has jurisdiction in the matter."

"Are you here to assume oversight?"

"That's not my role," Applewhite replied.

"I understand you have a suspect in custody."

"What exactly is your role, Agent Applewhite?" Kerney asked.

Applewhite leaned forward.

"We don't have to joust, Chief Kerney. I'm a liaison agent to the State Department. I've been asked to interrupt my vacation and assist you, until a task force arrives from Quantico."

"You're here vacationing?"

Applewhite smiled tightly.

"I was."

"Really? Where?"

"Taos. My husband and I are on a week-long skiing trip. He's not too happy about having our plans interrupted, I can tell you."

"I'm sorry to hear it," Kerney said.

"Why isn't the local FBI field office handling the case?"

"Because Mrs. Terrell's murder may have national-security implications."

"Such as?"

"I can't go into that."

"Then I assume you're the point man until the task force arrives."

"Not at all. I've been asked to provide you with some background information."

Applewhite paused.

"Ten years ago Ambassador Terrell divorced his first wife.

Within the year he married Phyllis Carol Straley Hasell, a woman twenty years his junior. In both her previous and current marriage Mrs. Terrell maintained a rather liberal attitude regarding her marriage vows, and was somewhat indiscriminate about her choice of sexual partners."

"Are you suggesting Mrs. Terrell may have been killed by a lover?"

Kerney asked.

"Its a highly speculative notion, but not outside the realm of possibility."

"Are Mrs. Terrell's past and present lovers known to the Bureau?"

"Our background investigations on family members are confidential, Chief Kerney.

But I can say that when the Terrells separated, the ambassador provided the State Department and the Bureau with a full, voluntary statement as to the reasons why."

"The ambassador told your department about his wife's lovers?"

"In the interest of national security he felt it was his obligation to do so. On a political note, you need to be aware that Proctor Straley is Mrs. Terrell's father. You may know of him. He owns the El Moro Land and Cattle Company in Ramah, New Mexico. He moved here from Texas and bought the property about twenty years ago. I understand it's quite a large tract of land. He's a close friend of your governor, and quite influential in state and national politics."

"I know who he is," Kerney said.

"How did you come to learn so quickly about Mrs. Terrell's murder?"

"The State Department advised the Bureau as soon as your department requested assistance in locating Ambassador Terrell."

"What is your role with the task force?"

"I've been asked to coordinate information sharing between you, the Bureau, and the State Department."

Kerney digested the statement and stared thoughtfully at the woman.

Although Applewhite had denied it, Kerney's hunch wasn't wrong;

Applewhite was the watchdog sent to keep the local cops reined in until the task force arrived.

"When do your people get here?" he asked.

"Before dawn. We'll be headquartered at the National Guard armory."

"I'll let my people know."

"We'll need full access to whatever information your detectives have gathered so far."

Kerney smiled.

"Of course, and I know you'll be equally forthcoming."

"You'll have clearance for all unclassified information," Apple white replied.

"Is the man you have in custody a possible suspect?"

"He hasn't confessed to anything yet. Will the ambassador be willing to meet with my violent-crimes supervisor?"

"In fact, he's asked to speak with you personally upon his arrival. His plane is due in at twenty-one hundred hours. But he may not have any information of value. For nearly the last two years the ambassador and his wife have maintained separate residences."

"So I've heard. Has he been advised of the theory that his wife may have been murdered by a lover?"

"I really don't know what Ambassador Terrell has been told."

"Interesting," Kerney said, getting to his feet.

"I take it the ambassador isn't the jealous type."

"Ambassador Terrell can't possibly be a suspect. He was out of the country, meeting with twenty-five high-ranking foreign and domestic diplomats when his wife was murdered."

"You couldn't ask for a better alibi, could you?"

Applewhite gave Kerney an unfriendly look.

"I wouldn't be thinking in that direction if I were you, Chief Kerney."

"With national security involved I'll gladly let your people call the shots," Kerney said as he opened his office door.

"My department isn't equipped to handle a case like this. I'm assuming your vacation is over."

"For the duration," Applewhite said, holding out a business card as she approached him.

"The phone number for my hotel is on the back. Can you hold off on any statements to the press?"

"Whatever you say," Kerney replied.

"It's your case."

"We're here to work with you, Chief Kerney."

"You'll have my full cooperation, Agent Applewhite."

Kerney closed the door behind the departing Applewhite, picked up the telephone, dialed Helen Muiz's extension, and asked her to send somebody outside in a hurry to get a make, model, and license number on Applewhite's vehicle.

"Have it done on the sly," he said, "and run a motor-vehicle check as soon as you have the information."

He replaced the receiver and stared through the office window that gave a view across Cerrillos Road to the shopping mall. The dinner hour had arrived and most of the parked cars were clustered near the entrance closest to a family-style mall cafeteria.

He'd tried to match Applewhite's low-key approach to the Bureau's taking over of the investigation, hoping that if he covered some of the basics but dumbed things down a bit he would be viewed as a hayseed police chief who wouldn't cause any problems. But Kerney had doubts about Applewhite's interrupted vacation story. He ran over the conversation in his mind. Aside from establishing FBI control over the case, Applewhite had laid out two key issues: focus on the victim not the husband, and beware the political and security minefields.

Why?

Kerney thought about sharing his suspicions with Sal Molina and dropped the idea. How did Applewhite know a suspect was in custody? Terjo hadn't been charged with a crime as of yet, and a simple wanted person computer check wouldn't flag him as a murder suspect.

Kerney tapped his finger on the telephone, and checked the time. There was a chance that Andy Baca, chief of the New Mexico State Police and his ex-boss, might still be at work. He dialed Andy's direct, private office number and Baca picked up.

"Working late?" Kerney asked.

Andy answered lightheartedly.

"I thought I got rid of you when you took the Santa Fe job, Kerney."

"I need a favor, Andy."

"What's up? Are you in trouble already?"

Kerney summarized the facts of the Terrell murder and recounted his conversation with Special Agent Applewhite.

"You need help from a much higher power than me," Andy said after Kerney finished.

"I'm glad the FBI is landing in your lap and not mine. What can I do?"

"I'd like some substantiation of Applewhite's story."

"A certain amount of paranoia is a healthy thing for any police chief to have, Kerney, but you may be stretching it a bit. Aside from the FBI, it's quite likely you'll have antiterrorist specialists, State Department counterintelligence agents, and the CIA camping at your door."

"I think I'm being played for a fool. Applewhite literally handed me a ready-made motive for murder. If this is a cover-up, I want to know it."

"Or you could sit back, cover your ass, and let them run their game.

Forget I said that; it's not your style. Okay, how do you want to handle it?"

"Nothing through official channels. Just a quiet check of Apple white's cover story. I'd like to know when she arrived in New Mexico and with whom. She was supposedly in Taos before getting pulled off a skiing vacation with her husband and sent down here to meet with me.

I've got the name of the Santa Fe hotel where she's booked a room, and we're running a license-plate check on her vehicle. I'll fax the information to you when it comes in."

"That's all?" Andy asked.

"I don't want to telegraph my suspicions."

"Why not use one of your people?"

"Not a good idea."

Andy thought about the mess Kerney had inherited from his predecessors: an understaffed department known for petty politics, poor morale, and vicious infighting.

"You're probably right," he said.

"I'll get back to you."

"Thanks, Andy."

"Keep your head down, Kevin."

Kerney heard the distant sound of an aircraft and looked up at the clear night sky. Against a backdrop of stars he saw the flashing lights of a plane ten miles out, on a straight gradual descent to the Santa Fe Airport.

Because large commercial jets flew into Albuquerque, less than an hour away by car, the airport terminal-a small, rather charming, old-fashioned pueblo-revival building-was quiet at night.

He got out of his unit, walked through the terminal, with its viga ceiling, tile floor, and mission-style benches and chairs, and waited at the outside gate that led to the tarmac. The night air, still and cold, chilled his face, and a quarter moon shed enough light to kindle a shivery glow on the snow-covered ground beyond the runway.

Kerney watched the corporate jet touch down and taxi to the terminal, thinking the chances were slim Terrell would remember him from their brief service together in Vietnam. He preferred it that way and had no intention of raising the old connection.

The outside terminal lights were bright enough to give Kerney a good look at Terrell as he came down the ramp. He wore an expensive wool coat that covered a chunky frame. His face had a tanned, healthy color and his expression looked subdued. There didn't seem to be any sadness in his eyes, though. He came forward without any hint of recognition.

For a man in his mid seventies Terrell appeared vigorous and lively. He carried a leather overnight bag.

"Are you the police chief?" Terrell asked, barely slowing his pace as he approached.

"Yes, I am, Ambassador."

Terrell didn't stop moving. He nodded his head and pointed a gloved hand at the terminal entrance as a signal for Kerney to follow along.

Kerney complied.

"No press," Terrell observed as they passed through the empty terminal.

"That's good. Where's your car?"

Kerney guided Terrell to his unit and drove him away. On the road to town Terrell relaxed against the passenger seat, took off his gloves, and rubbed his face with large, heavy hands.

"Tell me what happened," he said.

"Your wife was stabbed once in the chest with a pair of scissors, probably by an intruder," Kerney said.

"Have you caught the son of a bitch?" A touch of emotion colored his voice.

"We're talking to Santiago Terjo about the crime."

"That's a waste of time," Terrell said.

"You think so?"

Terrell stared out the window and said nothing.

"Can you tell me anything that might be helpful?" Kerney asked.

"Phyllis was never a cautious woman when it came to her personal safety."

"Any enemies?"

"My wife didn't make enemies," Terrell said, swiveling slightly to face Kerney.

"She prided herself on being gracious to everyone, and she was. Please tell me what you've learned so far." Kerney did as Terrell asked, saving for last-without revealing his source-Applewhite's imputations about Phyllis Terrell's moral character. It brought a sigh from the ambassador.

"I didn't realize it was such common knowledge in Santa Fe," Terrell said.

"You were aware that your wife had lovers?" Kerney asked.

"She made that very clear to me after we began to grow apart. My wife and I have been married in name only for the last two years. She built a house here so we could have totally separate lives. I came infrequently to visit and only on family business. We were moving amicably toward a divorce settlement."