20
Sheriff Colcord, mightily ticked off, looked at the man sitting on the bench in the holding cell—the idiot his deputy Clausen had brought down from Solitary Lake. This jackass had tried to run from his deputy, scared her half to death, and vandalized the crime scene—the paperwork alone was going to be a nightmare. Fortunately, she was one of his best and had handled it well.
This was the same guy Cash had gone to see in San Francisco. The nutjob who claimed Grooms had been murdered by aliens. Colcord had thought it was funny when Cash had unearthed the alien-murder conspiracy, returning a little peevish. It wasn’t so funny now.
Colcord looked him over. He was dressed in expensive hiking clothes. A well-formed guy, trim, polished—if a bit damp and slightly muddy—who toted a fancy prosthetic leg. Here was a guy who should have known not to mess up a crime scene and then try to flee from an armed deputy. And now he was trying to lawyer up. Wasn’t it ashamehis attorney from San Francisco was on vacation in Tulum. Instead of waiting two nights in jail, Castillo had agreed to be questioned in the presence of a local defense attorney.
Colcord unlocked the cell door and swung it open. “Mr. Castillo?”
The man rose.
“Your attorney is here and is waiting for you in the interrogation room. Would you come with me, please?”
Colcord walked down the bare corridor, Castillo shuffling behindhim, and they entered a spartan room with a table and a handful of metal chairs.
Cash was also waiting there, and she rose as they came in. She looked annoyed as all hell. “Well, well, Mr. Castillo,” she said. “We meet again.”
“I’m your attorney,” a man said, wiping the palm of his hand on his wrinkled pants and sticking it out to shake Castillo’s. “Mort Randall. Would you like to confer with me before the questioning?”
Colcord was amused at the look of disdain that gathered on Castillo’s face as he laid eyes on his attorney for the first time. Randall was known for his sartorial ineptitude, his big suits flapping about him like loose sails, his ties too long, and his comb-over plastered across his pate with excessive tonic. He looked more like a used car salesman than a lawyer. It was a good day for the cops when Randall was sitting on the other side of the table.
“Not necessary to confer, Mr. Randall,” said Castillo. “I’m pleading the Fifth across the board. Not answering any questions.”
“Have a seat,” said Colcord, pointing to a metal chair.
Castillo sat down grudgingly, and Randall took a seat next to him. Randall was sweating profusely, nervously picking at a frayed string on his jacket sleeve. Castillo wrinkled his nose and edged away so he was seated as far as possible on the edge of the metal chair.
Colcord pulled out a card on which he had jotted some questions, and they started the video recorder. This wacky guy had flown in from San Francisco and gone straight to the crime scene. According to Deputy Clausen, he had messed it up too. Why? What the hell was he doing up there?
“Now, Mr. Castillo,” Colcord began, “you’re looking at a long list of possible charges: evidence tampering, disturbing a crime scene, interfering with a peace officer, resisting arrest, and vandalism, among others. Whether or not you cooperate with us will be reported to the DA’s office when they make charging decisions. Do you understand?”
He waited for an answer, but Castillo said nothing.
“So we’d like to ask you, first—why’d you come here all the way from San Francisco?”
Castillo leaned forward in his chair and laced his fingers in front of him. “I plead the Fifth.”
“What were you doing up at Solitary Lake?”
“Fifth.”
Colcord let out a sigh. “Really? I don’t think the DA is going to be happy when they hear you refused to answer any questions.”
“He pleads the Fifth,” said Randall unnecessarily. Colcord could see Castillo’s jaw working in irritation at the sound of Randall’s voice.
“You were looking for something. What was it?” Colcord asked.
“I’m not answering that.”
“For chrissake, are you really gonna pull this on us? We’re trying to solve the brutal murder of your apparent friend. You seem to know something about it. Why were you vandalizing those sculptures?”
“Fifth.”
Colcord turned to Cash. “You want to ask anything?”
“Sure.” She turned to Castillo. “In our previous interview, you said that Mr. Grooms had seen a UFO crash, gone up to the site, and found something up there. Is that what you were looking for?”
“He pleads the Fifth,” said Randall again.
