“But why would he dump it on your land instead?” I asked.
“Because he was a low-life son of a bitch. I’m sure the company he worked for in Albuquerque had to pay the people in Las Cruces to take it. He could’ve pocketed that money every so often and dumped the oil here where no one would know.”
Uncle Bob was taking notes in a memo pad while Wyatt, Gemma, and Cookie stood speechless. “Kenny, I don’t want to upset you, but I think your cousin might have had something to do with the deaths of those women.”
“Ms. Davidson, that wouldn’t surprise me in the least. He was a piece of shit. Threatened my parents one time when they wouldn’t give him money for some harebrained scheme of his. He was always joining one pyramid scam after another.”
“Was?”
“Well, is, only now he’s not doing much of anything. He’s in a nursing home. Had a stroke or something a while back.”
I took down the information, then asked, “Can you have Agent Carson call me if you happen to see her? I can’t get through.”
“It’s the cell service out there. How about I take a drive and let her know.” He seemed so relieved to know who the killer most likely was, and I was relieved for him.
“Thank you so much,” I said.
“No, ma’am, thank you. I got your note.”
I cleared my throat. “Um, my note?”
“It’s okay. I know she was here and I know she’s gone.” His breath caught in his chest and he began again. “I’ll put a garden there for those girls. Something she would have been proud of.”
Damn. He must have seen me put the note in his pickup. “Thank you,” I said.
“It will be my pleasure.”
I hung up as Uncle Bob gaped at me. “Did we just solve this?”
I smiled at the gang. “I think we did.”
Gemma beamed. “I can see the allure, sis.” She offered me a quick hug. “It’s kind of intoxicating.”
“Yes, it is. And it’s even more so when you solve cases actually intoxicated.”
“You have to sully everything.”
“I do,” I said as she hugged me again. “I really do.”
The nursing home smelled like a fermented combination of bleach and urine. The scent stung my nose as I went up to the nurses’ station. We didn’t want to converge on the home, so only Wyatt, Uncle Bob, and I went in. The nurse behind the desk was busy with paperwork, but looked up when she saw Wyatt’s uniform.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
I spoke up first. “We’re looking for Saul Ussery.”
“Oh, are you family?”
“We’re here on official business,” Uncle Bob said, his tone too sharp for her to argue with.
“He’s in room 204. Down the hall, second door on the right.”
“Thank you,” he said.
We walked in just as a young nurse was putting him back to bed. Saul was about my height with a wide brow and tiny eyes. His pudgy face probably didn’t show his age as much as it would have had he been thinner. He looked like a character from a J. R. R. Tolkien novel.
The nurse winked at us. “You here to see this rascal?” she asked, tucking his sheets around him.
“We sure are,” I said, trying to keep the distaste from leaching into my voice.
“Mr. Ussery’s a hoot. He’s always cracking jokes. And he likes the blondes, if you know what I mean.”
I did, sadly. “You aren’t missing any, are you?”
“Any what?”
“Blondes?”
She giggled. “Not that I know of. If we ever do, I’ll know where to look, won’t I, Saul?”
She had no idea.
I couldn’t help but notice how the rascal’s eyes had zeroed in on Wyatt’s badge. He seemed worried. I couldn’t imagine why.
“Okay, well, I’ll leave you alone,” she said. “Don’t give them any trouble.”
A killer smile lit across her face as she pranced out. Even with a job like hers, she was able to keep her spirits up and enjoy her day. Either that or she was on something really good.
“Hey, Saul,” I said, stepping beside his bed.
“Oh, my god,” Wyatt said, surprised, “I interviewed him in 2004. I didn’t make the connection. He was a maintenance man at UNM when a student went missing.”
“You mean he worked there when another girl disappeared?”
“He sure did.”
“She didn’t happen to be blond, did she?”
He nodded.
“Uh-oh,” I said to him. “Strike two. I hear you like to kill little girls.”
“Nope, nope,” he said, shaking his head and rocking back and forth, playing the feebleminded bit to the fullest extent of the law. I felt deception roll off him in waves. Then why was he here? A roof over his head? Food in his belly? Was it all a charade?
Uncle Bob was on the phone with the captain. “Yes, we have some pretty solid evidence, but we’ll have to build a strong case if we want this closed.” He looked back at Saul. “He’ll never see the inside of a jail cell, but at least those women’s families will have some closure.”
I bent down to Saul, waited until his gaze met mine, and said, “You’re going to burn in hell.”
Not very poetic, but most likely true.
18
What the world needs is more geniuses with humility. There are so few of us.