Chapter 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 a shame his 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 behind him, 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.
Cash stared at Castillo. “If you don’t cooperate, Sheriff Colcord here is going to return you to your cell and your chance to clear your name will be gone.
He’s gonna keep you overnight, and tomorrow, there will be a bail hearing, with Mr. Randall here representing you.
Sheriff, what kind of bail are you gonna recommend for Mr. Castillo here? ”
“At least a quarter million,” Colcord said. For a crime like this, even if he requested bail that high, he likely wouldn’t get it. But Castillo didn’t know that.
“Ouch. You got that kind of money? You can get a bail bond, but the fee is ten percent—-twenty--five grand. Ouch again. And if you can’t raise bail, you’re gonna stay right here in Eagle.
When the charges are filed, there will be stories in the newspapers.
Even if you post bail, you’ll have to come back here again for the preliminary hearing—-maybe even a grand jury proceeding.
Are we gonna need to convene a grand jury on this one, Sheriff? ”
“Felonies committed on public land. Certainly a grand jury will need to be convened.”
Colcord could see Castillo inspecting Randall warily from the corner of his eye. Randall dabbed at his wet forehead with his sleeve. Castillo grimaced.
“Grand juries take a lot of time, Mr. Castillo. What’s the hourly rate of your attorney in San Francisco?
Unless, of course, you choose to be represented by the very capable Mr. Randall here.
You’re gonna be tied up for months, maybe years.
Lawyers are so expensive these days! That club you belong to—-what are the membership fees? ”
Castillo raised his hand. “All right, all right! For chrissake, I’ll answer your fucking questions!”
“What were you looking for at Solitary Lake?”
“I was looking for the alien artifact that Grooms claimed to have found.”
“And what is this artifact?” Cash asked.
“Grooms wouldn’t tell me.”
“Was it important?”
“He … wouldn’t tell me.”
Colcord began shaking his head. This whole thing was ridiculous.
He couldn’t help but feel a little resentful that Cash, against his advice, had gone to San Francisco to talk to this nutjob.
He told himself that she couldn’t have known the maniac would follow her here, all the way to Burns, and then tear apart their crime scene …
Still. This was a whole lot messier now.
“You told me,” Cash said, “that the aliens had killed him and taken it. So why were you still looking for it if the aliens had it?”
Colcord shot her a look. Why was Cash playing into Castillo’s alien narrative?
“I was hoping maybe the aliens hadn’t found it after all. Grooms said it was well hidden.”
“Did he tell you where he’d hidden it?”
“No.”
“If you didn’t know what the object was, how was it important?”
“Any alien artifact would be important. Earth--shattering. It would be proof that we’re being visited by intelligent beings from another galactic civilization. It would be the greatest scientific discovery ever made.”
Colcord let out a long, audible sigh. They needed to get rid of this guy, not try to make sense of his ramblings. He couldn’t have this guy wandering around, causing trouble.
Cash glared at Colcord and forged on. “Why were you breaking apart and knocking down those sculptures?” she asked.
“I thought the alien object might have been incorporated into one of them. You know, disguised.”
“But you didn’t find it.”
“No.”
Colcord cleared his throat and spoke. “Mr. Castillo, let me get this right: You came all this way, flying from San Francisco to Denver, renting a car, and hiking up to the cabin in hopes you might find some alien object Grooms claimed he found in the wreckage of a UFO many years ago. You busted up some junk sculptures looking for it before you were apprehended by one of my deputies. Have I got your story right?”
“More or less.”
“And you also think aliens murdered Grooms. Correct?”
“Correct.”
Colcord glanced again at Cash, raising his eyebrows.
He had had enough of this. This entire line of questioning was a waste of police resources and time.
He just needed to get rid of Castillo. Get him out of Colorado.
The man probably wasn’t a threat to society—-at least when he wasn’t wrecking crime scenes—-and prosecuting him would just occupy space on a judge’s busy docket.
Space that was needed to prosecute real criminals.
“Mr. Castillo, you are wasting our time.”
Castillo shifted in his chair, face unreadable.
“We can forget all about this,” said Colcord, “and decline to forward charges to the DA’s office if you’ll just go back to San Francisco and leave our investigation alone. How about that?”
Castillo didn’t respond immediately. Randall said quickly, “I advise you to accept the offer, Mr. Castillo.”
“Shut up, Randall,” Castillo said.
Randall’s face morphed into a mask of anger mixed with embarrassment.
Colcord sighed, holding up his fingers. “Choice one: Felony charges, bail, grand jury proceedings, hearings, trial, conviction, appeals, big--time legal fees. Choice two: Drive your rental car straight to the airport, get on a plane, and get the hell out of Colorado.”
There was a long silence. Castillo finally said, “All right. Fine. I’ll go back to San Francisco. Do I … have to sign anything?”
“Nope. Just leave.” Colcord turned to Cash. He could see she was irritated with him—-but to hell with it; it had needed to be done. “Any objections?”
Cash drilled him with her eyes but did not respond.
“Very good.” Colcord turned to a deputy. “Please escort Mr. Castillo out—-and do him the courtesy of driving him back to the location of his rental vehicle.”
“Yes, Sheriff.”
Cash waited until they had left before clenching her fists in frustration and approaching Colcord, who had gotten up and was busy making some coffee. “So that’s it? Just give him the bum’s rush out of town? That guy was lying. He knows more than he’s letting on.”
“Maybe so, Cash,” he said, “but like I said from the beginning, he’s crazy.
Aliens? Aliens don’t torture people with Spanish Inquisition contraptions.
Aliens don’t feed their victims holy wafers and wine.
Aliens don’t embalm people. We already know that four actual real human beings dressed in camo went up there and killed him.
Their footprints were all over the crime scene. ”
“Right, but there’s another possibility—-that Grooms was killed by some alien conspiracy theorists looking for that artifact he supposedly found.”
“That’s a stretch.”
“No, it isn’t. There’s a whole movement out there of people and organizations investigating UFOs and extraterrestrial contact, and some are very serious and have deep pockets.
I did some digging into the foundation he runs—-Paradox.
The one that Margie was transferring money to.
It’s a legitimate, registered 501(c)(3) nonprofit with a board and an endowment, all aboveboard.
Castillo’s the chair. These aren’t just a bunch of nutjobs.
And the guy wrecked our crime scene. You’re gonna let him get away with that? ”
“The scene was processed. Sure, we could have charged him, but to what end? And yeah, I hear you about the alien conspiracy angle, but we know where Castillo is and can always question him again.”
Cash shook her head.
Colcord gave her a conciliatory smile—-she was a good agent, but sometimes she got sidetracked. “Cash, I respect your judgment. I appreciate your leadership in this case. I promise you, if something additional turns up to implicate him, we can always drag him back here and charge him.”
He busied himself with his espresso machine again, trying to hide his vexation. Cash’s insistence on following these dead ends was going to put them in the hot seat—-he just knew it.