"This is Sergeant Gonzales with the New Medco State Police, Lenny. Who is inside the house besides your wife and mother-in-law?"
"Nobody. What do you want?"
"We're here to serve a warrant. I want you to step outside the house and stand in plain view with your hands where I can see them. Are there any guns in the house?"
"No."
"Are you armed?"
"No."
"Hang up the phone and step outside. Stay calm and nobody gets hurt."
On the porch step with his hands palms out and open, Lenny watched the four police cars come up the driveway. The front unit rolled to a stop and a uniformed sergeant with a stubby chin and square face got out of his cruiser and stood behind the car door.
Behind him, three officers emerged from their units with guns drawn.
"What's this all about?" Lenny asked.
Gabe studied Lenny before responding. Aland wore a work shirt, blue jeans, and cowboy boots that added an inch to his five seven frame. A full mustache covered his upper lip, and deep worry lines creased his low forehead.
His hands were shaking.
Gabe didn't see any bulges in Lenny's clothing. He made a circular motion with his finger.
"Very slowly,
Lenny, I want you to make one complete turn and then stop. Keep your hands away from your body."
Lenny finished the turn to find two of the cops within striking distance. One held a gun on him while a baby-faced officer patted him down.
"He's clean," the baby-faced cop said as he tossed Lenny's truck keys to Gabe.
"Check inside," Gabe ordered.
The cops moved into the house as Gabe walked to Lenny, smiled, and handed him some papers.
Lenny couldn't focus on the document.
"What's this?"
"You want me to read it to you?"
"No."
"What's inside your trailer, Lenny?"
"You tell me."
"How about a truckload of stolen goodies from Texas?" Gabe asked.
"I don't know nothing about that."
Gabe took the papers out of Lenny's hand and waved them in his face.
"This is a warrant to search your truck and trailer, Lenny. Let's try again. What's in the trailer?"
Lenny's shoulders sagged.
"Water heaters, washing machines, and some other stuff."
"You got a bill of lading for the cargo?"
"No."
Gabe stepped behind Lenny, pulled his hands to the small of his back, and cuffed him.
"You arresting me?" Lenny asked.
"Yeah. Let's go take a look in the box," Gabe said.
"But first let me tell you about your rights."
Lenny refused to confess to anything other than transporting one load of stolen property, still in original factory crates and boxes, boosted from a regional warehouse distribution center in El Paso.
Gabe took Alarid into the kitchen, closed the door, sat him down at the table, and had him write a voluntary confession. The kitchen was right out of the late 1940s. It had a cast-iron enamel sink positioned under a window, a run of metal kitchen cabinets painted white with a battleship gray linoleum countertop, and a badly worn tile floor. The oval kitchen table had chrome legs and a yellow top, and the matching chairs were padded with cracked vinyl cushions. On one wall hung a framed photograph of John Fitzgerald Kennedy.
While Art Garda and Abe Melendez inventoried the stolen merchandise, Russell Thorpe stood watch over Gloria, who was in the living room feeding Perfecta her meal. Gabe had let the senior citizen van driver deliver it on his way back to the village.
Through the closed door, Gabe could hear me elderly woman complaining that she wanted lamb and peas, not fish.
Gabe watched Lenny sign his name at the bottom of the paper.
"Date it," he said.
Lenny scribbled the date and held out the confession.
Gabe read it and shook his head.
"This isn't going to work, Lenny."
"Why not? I confessed, didn't I?"
"I forgot to explain a few things to you."
"Like what?"