The Pot Thief Who Studied Billy the Kid (Pot Thief Mysteries) by J. Michael Orenduff

Author:J. Michael Orenduff [Orenduff, J. Michael]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: AKE
Published: 2012-11-04T04:00:00+00:00

26

Fletcher showed up at four as we had agreed.

“Case you don’t know it, Hubert, we cops are like doctors. We don’t make house calls no more, so this better be something good.”

I pointed down to my cast.

“You called me to report a broken foot?”

“It’s not broken. It’s sprained.”

“It still ain’t a police matter unless someone sprained it while assaulting you.”

“I sprained it by accident, but that wasn’t the point. The point is that I couldn’t come to the police station because of this cast.”

“We got ramps, automatic doors, little bells in the elevator to let you know what floor you’re on, Braille tags, you name it. It’s that accessibility law. A deaf and blind guy with no legs can make it in there.”

Whit is not politically correct, and some would say he’s a bit slack as regards ‘to protect and serve’. I’ve known him a long time. He’s relentless in going after the bad guys. His police procedures and his English are both occasionally improper, and he’s been known to make a buck or two on the side when no one is likely to be damaged as a result of it.

“The reason I called you was I need to find out something about missing persons.”

“Like what?”

“Like if there’s one from a certain area.”

He stood a little straighter. “What’s this about, Hubert?”

“You know I don’t dig in graves, right?”

“That’s what you tell me.”

“Well, it’s true. But a lot of other pot hunters do. And one of them was recently surprised to find a body.”

“Finding a body can’t be much of a surprise to someone digging in a grave.”

“The surprise was not the body. The surprise was that it wasn’t prehistoric. It was someone who died recently.”

“So you was out digging for pots and found a fresh corpse.”

“It wasn’t me.”

“Right. It was a guy you know.”

“Right.”

“What’s his name.”

“See, that’s the problem. He told me about finding the dead guy because he wanted the police to know. But he doesn’t want to get involved because he wasn’t supposed to be digging in a prehistoric site. So I can’t give you his name.”

“Okay, Hubert, I’ll play along. Where did this guy find the stiff?”

“I can’t tell you that, either.”

“What can you tell me?”

“The dead guy was probably from Taos or Rio Arriba County. Or maybe Sandoval. Maybe even Los Alamos.”

“Well, that narrows it down.”

I walked with him over to the pot I’d bought from Alvar Nuñez. I was getting better at using crutches.

“This pot was found in the same place as the body.”

“Was it found under the body? Cause it’s busted and most of it is missing.”

“I don’t know where it was found because I didn’t find it.”

“Right. The guy you know found it.”

“No, it was found by a teenager.”

“Let me guess – you don’t know his name either.”

“I don’t. But it passed from the teenager to someone I do know named Alvar Nuñez. And Alvar sold it to me.”

Whit looked at the card with the price on it.

“Three thousand dollars? The thing is just a couple of pieces glued together.

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