passed across Clarence’s eyes. “Barney,” he moaned. “There isn’t . . . wasn’t . . . a nicer guy in the whole world.”
Chuck nodded, a grim up-and-down movement of his chin. “Whoever did it got away—for now, at least.” He smacked his fist into his palm. “I want to get them. For Barney. For Audrey
and Jason. And for us, too.” Reaching from the chair, he caressed Rosie’s shoulder. “You have every right to be scared, pequeña. They broke in to our house. They killed a friend of ours in our back alley.”
Clarence frowned. “I’m still not sure why you’re saying the police are going to come here to talk to me so fast.”
“They’re putting together a list of persons of interest. Sandra said someone from the department will be over here as soon as they’ve got the scene secured.”
Janelle leaned toward Chuck from between the girls. “You really think they’ll consider Clarence a person of interest?”
“They’ll consider everyone who’s been working with Barney a person of interest.” Chuck looked at Clarence. “Where have you been today?”
Clarence loosened his arms from around his stomach. “Right here, earning me a few extra bucks. The dig they’ve got me on in Cortez is shut down for the weekend.”
“That’s the one for the new subdivision on the edge of town, right?”
“Sí.”
A land swap between the neighboring town of Cortez and Canyons of the Ancients National Monument had provided additional development acreage for the growing municipality. Southwest Archaeology Enterprises had won the contract to perform the required archaeological survey on the swapped land.
“I’ve been working on the project online today,” Clarence continued. “Cataloging.”
“Have you done any emailing?”
“A few back-and-forths with Michaela.”
Michaela McDermott was the owner of Southwest Archaeology Enterprises.
“During the last few hours?”
“All day, off and on, since breakfast.”
Chuck shifted in his seat to face Janelle. “Clarence’s alibi should be solid. The time stamps for the emails on his computer will take care of it.”
Rosie lifted her head from her mother’s shoulder. “I liked Barney. He came to my concert.”
Janelle rested her nose in the thick nest of Rosie’s curls. “I remember that,” she said into Rosie’s hair. “He came to your school choir recital. Audrey came, too.”
With Jason grown and gone from Durango, Audrey and Barney included the school events of the children of friends on their social calendar.
Janelle raised her head from Rosie’s hair. “Audrey’s probably all alone at their house,” she said to Chuck. “We should get over there.”
“Maybe she’ll know something.”
“If she’s even capable of talking.”
Clarence put a hand to his round belly. “What about me?”
Chuck rose from his chair. “You need to stick around. The police will be here soon. No use looking like you’re trying to hide from them.”
“What’d they ask you?”
“About what you’d expect. How well we knew Barney. Any idea why someone would break in to our house.” Chuck didn’t mention the postcard; he was still processing that piece of information himself. “They’re going to want the names of people you know who’ve been working with him.”
“The names of other archaeologists?”
“Barney’s death has archaeology written all over it.”
Clarence’s eyebrows rose high on his forehead. “That’s what I can’t figure out. The murder of an archaeologist for archaeological reasons? Are you kidding me?”
“Not just for archaeological reasons. For money, if I were to bet.”
“You really think . . . ?”
“You know as well as I do how bad things are getting these days, all around the world, including right here in the US.”
“You really believe they’d come here, to Durango? You think somebody killed Barney because of some black-market deal gone wrong?”
“I think something along those lines is a strong possibility.”
“Barney seemed like a totally straight-arrow dude to me. I don’t see him being involved in anything illegal.”
“Neither do I, to be honest. But I can’t think of anything else at this point.”
“On account of the break-in?”
Chuck nodded.
“How do you suppose that plays into it?”
“I don’t have any idea. Not yet, anyway. It’s too soon. You just have to tell the cops everything you know, anything you can think of.”
Clarence rolled his shoulders. “When Michaela first hired me, she teamed me with Barney so I could learn from the ‘old pro,’ as she called him. But I’ve worked with plenty of other Southwest Archaeology people over the last few weeks, too. She’s got four or five digs going right now. She’s been sending me wherever she needs me from week to week, even from day to day sometimes.”
Janelle leaned forward. “Like my part-time gig with Durango Fire and Rescue,” she said with a nod. “I never know when I’m going to get a shift, from which substation.”
“Exactamente,” Clarence said to her. “Except, unlike you, I’ve been getting full-time hours from Southwest Archaeology. It’s boom times for SAE.”
Chuck caught Clarence’s eye. “How many of Michaela’s archaeologists do you figure you’ve worked with?”
“Six at least. Maybe more.”
“But with Barney most of all, in Cortez.”
“That’s right.” Clarence shook his head, the silver studs in his ears reflecting the sunlight streaming through the window. “The whole thing with him being murdered, it’s . . . it’s mind blowing.”
“We don’t have any choice but to wrap our minds around it, though. Somebody just killed him, in broad daylight, behind our house.”
“Who found him?”
“Neighbors, according to the police.”
“What was the cause?”
“No one’s saying yet.” Chuck pictured the bloodstained sheet covering Barney’s body in the alley. “Someone covered him up—whoever found him, I guess. From what I saw, it looked like a knifing.”
“Eww,” said Rosie.
Janelle looked at Chuck. “I’m still trying to figure out the card from your files.” She turned to Clarence. “Barney was holding it when he . . . when he died.”
Clarence’s eyes flashed from Janelle to Chuck. “Card? You didn’t say anything about that.”
“I was getting there,” Chuck said.
Carmelita’s brow furrowed. “What was on it?”
“It was an old postcard,” he explained to her, “from way before you were born. It had a picture on it of one of the most incredible archaeological discoveries in the history of North America. Hardly anyone remembers the discovery nowadays, though.”
“How come?”
“Social consciousness, I guess you could say. On account of how