Peter Decker 2-Book Thriller Collection: Blindman’s Bluff, Hangman

Having Brady guard Gil was like the fox guarding the henhouse.

18 (#ulink_b5c52722-d673-5c8a-838d-e014d6925346)

The ranch was a contrast between nature and nurture. The back area was raw land with high desert chaparral, sage, cactus and other wild succulents, and a lot of dirt and gravel. The acreage in front had been controlled and manipulated, turned into garden rooms with towering trees, fountains, flowers, herbs, and beds of roses, their colors glistening in the noonday sun.

As Decker twisted through the driveway, he spotted a man stooped over yellow and orange marigolds set into emerald boxwood squares. He wore a long-sleeved khaki uniform and a big floppy hat tied under his chin. Decker pulled the car over and parked, leaving just enough room for any other vehicles to pass around his unmarked. He got out and walked through a knot garden. The area was in full sun, and the afternoon heat was relentless.

Paco Albanez turned when he heard shoes scruff against the loose rock and when he saw Decker, he slowly unfolded upward, his left gloved hand grabbing his hip as he arched his spine backward. His face was tanned and lined. He dropped his hands to his sides as Decker came closer and gave him the courtesy of a nod.

“Buenas tardes,” Decker said. “Está caliente hoy.”

“El verano es caliente.”

“Verdad.” When Decker told him how beautiful the flowers looked, Albanez smiled. Beyond that, the face remained a cipher. “If you have a moment, I’d like to talk to you about the other night,” Decker told him in Spanish.

Albanez wiped his damp forehead with the back of his glove, leaving a streak of dirt. Dark eyes looked down at his shoes. “I have nothing new to say.”

Decker slipped out his notebook. “Just need a few more details.”

Albanez’s gaze fell somewhere over Decker’s shoulder. “I’m trying to forget the details.” He bent down and pulled out a weed. “Terrible to remember.”

“Could you just”—Decker swatted a fly from his face—“go over that night one more time?” When Paco was silent, Decker said, “Maybe it’s time for a break. Someplace with shade possibly?”

With reluctance, Albanez left his post and took Decker into a glade of Agonis trees, where there were several stone benches. Decker sat on one side and the groundskeeper took up the other. He stared straight ahead, his face sweating profusely.

Decker said, “Just go over the night one more time.”

Albanez’s recitation was mechanical. Señor Riley woke him up. It must have been around two in the morning and Señor Riley was very upset. He couldn’t understand Señor Riley because he was talking too fast. Finally, Paco realized that something happened to Señor and Señora Kaffey. Señor Riley took him back to his bungalow. Ana was already there, crying and shaking. She told him what happened, that Señor and Señora Kaffey were dead. There was blood was everywhere … that it was horrible. The two of them waited in Señor Riley’s bungalow until he came back with the police. Then the police took them into the main house and separated them.

The smell was horrible inside. Several times, he had to go back outside to get some fresh air. He wanted to go back to his bungalow, but the policeman told him to wait until the boss came.

“Then you came and talked to me and finally I get to go back to my house.”

His memory squared with Ana’s account. Still, Decker didn’t quite get why Ana went to Riley’s bungalow before she went to see Paco. Although it was true that Riley’s place was closer than Paco’s, Decker had seen the physical layout. The two bungalows weren’t all that far apart and because Ana was primarily Spanish speaking, Decker would have thought that she would have taken the extra steps.

Then again, the woman was panicked.

Paco’s recitation had turned him a shade paler. Decker said, “Did you know that Gil Kaffey was still alive?”

“No.” Albanez licked his lips.

Decker looked him in the eye. “What do you think happened?”

“Me?” Deep furrows sat between his eyes as he wrinkled his forehead. “I don’t know. It was horrible.”

“Why do you think Gil wasn’t killed?”

“Suerte.”

Luck.

“Has anyone talked to you about the future of your job?” When Paco shook his head no, Decker said, “You’re still working here.”

“The garden still grows.”

“Who is paying you?”

His eyes narrowed. “Señor Gil will pay me.”

“How do you know? Did he tell you he’d pay you?”

“No, but he is alive.” His voice was resolute. “He will pay me to keep the garden.”

“How do you know he won’t sell the ranch?”

Albanez looked confused. “Why would he do that?”

“For money.”

“Then what about his plans?”

Decker hoped he kept his face flat and his voice casual. “Tell me about the plans.”

“Growing the grapes for the winery. It is why Señor Kaffey bought the land. He and Señor Gil have been working on it for over a year. They draw many designs. I’ve seen them.”

Keep your voice calm. “They wanted to build a winery?”

“Yes. Señor Gil and Señor Kaffey talk a lot about wine.”

Decker thought of Grant Kaffey, about how anxious he was to sell the ranch to help pay estate taxes. He said, “I heard that the ranch was going up for sale.”

Albanez looked at the ground. “If so, I will find work somewhere else.”

“Do you think now that Señor Kaffey is gone, that Señor Gil will continue with the plans?” All Decker got was a shrug of the shoulders. “Was he here a lot? Señor Gil?”

“He was here, yes. But he doesn’t live here.”

“Do you think that he might want to live here now that Señor Kaffey is gone?”

“I don’t know, Señor. To him, it has bad memories.”

“But you think he will continue on with the plans?”

“I hope so. I like him very much. I like this job very much.” He lowered his head. “I liked Señor Kaffey very much. He had a big mouth, but also a big heart.”

“I heard that he often raised his voice. Did he yell at you a lot?”

A small smile played on his lips. “Yes, he yelled. ‘Why is this dying? There are too many weeds. Trim this, cut that. You are lazy. You are crazy.’” Another smile. “The next moment, he would give me money for no purpose. Twenty dollars every time he yelled. One time he gave me a hundred-dollar bill. He’d say, ‘Here, Paco. Take out a girl for a nice dinner.’”