Murder in a Small Village

By Daniel L. Scott

Special thanks to my wife.
Without her help, this could not have been written.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 9, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483679679

Daniel L. Scott

I was born in Albuquerque,New Mexico in 6/23/41, but was raise in a small town , called Las Vegas N.M. I want to school there. I was raised by my grandmother and later on by my aunt . After finishing school In 1960, I want to Denver Co, for a few years , returning back to my hometown, I end up in Dallas Texas , and getting married there . At the time I work for an insurance company. Later I moved back to New Mexico, I applied for a job as a port of entry inspector , for the state of New mexico. I was station in Gallup N.M. During this time two daughters were born , later on I transfer to Anthony , N.M. at the Port of entry . after 8 years I moved back to Denver Co, I end working at the state capitol , during this time I got mariied to my second wife which only lasted for five years I open my own business , as a Jeweler after being here in Denver for fifiteen years I moved back to my hometown , later that was in 1969 til 2005. while in Las Vegas N.M. I ended up getting married to third wife which after 28 years we are happly married. while having a jewelry shop and repair which was self taught. My step daughter thats was living in Denver Co, had come down with cancer , at the time she was pregnant , she end up having a boy , which my wife and I ended up raising him as our own, after her passing . At that time we moved to Denver,Co. We still live in Denver Co , I have always wanted to write a book , with my wife help this became possible , also I have written three other books which I have yet not had puplished , with in time they will be published

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Copyright © 2013 by Daniel L. Scott.

ISBN:   Softcover   978-1-4836-7966-2

             Ebook        978-1-4836-7967-9

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without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the

product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance

to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Rev. date: 08/06/2013

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Special thanks to my wife.

Without her help, this could not have been written.

INTRODUCTION

A retired police officer from New York City is now living in Santa Fe, New Mexico, for the past ten years. The last ten years before he retired, he worked for an organization for crimes dealing with the mafia.

Now he has retired to a peaceful community in Santa Fe, rubbing elbows with the rich and working on a part-time basis as a private investigator on messy divorce cases, which he hates. One morning, while having breakfast at his favorite cafe in Santa Fe, while reading the local paper, an article catches his eye. Outside Santa Fe, in a small town, Las Vegas, New Mexico, two people were killed in a small village twenty miles south of Las Vegas, New Mexico. Curiosity gets the best of him; he has to check this out after reading the paper there. Before retiring, he had befriended an old friend that he had met in New York City.

This friend turns out to be an assistant DA, Charles Garcia, in Las Vegas, New Mexico. After checking this out, he finds that the two people in question, one being from New York City, are executed mob style. This gets him more involved in a murder in a small village twenty miles south of Las Vegas, New Mexico.

The neighbor Gene drove up to pick up the Harris brothers, Carl and Lou. It was 5:30 a.m. They had planned on going fishing that day. When he drove up on the gravel road, the two dogs were barking. They had known Gene since they were puppies; this was very unusual for these two dogs to act this way.

Gene had a feeling something was wrong. As he got to the front door, he knocked—no answer. He called out—still no answer. He turned the door handle, and the door opened a little. He pushed the door. It swung open. He walked. He called—still no answer. As he made his way in the dining area, there he saw something he never expected. There in front was Carl sitting on a chair with his hands tied and half of his head gone and blood splattered all over the back wall. He just froze. This brought back bad memories when he was in Vietnam. He had seen some of his army buddies also shot and body parts missing. He backed up as he had walked into the house. He ran toward his car and headed toward his home to call the police.

When he reaches his home, he was met by his wife, Honey. I thought you were going fishing. He did not say anything. He fumbled with the phone; he dropped it. His wife picked up the phone. Are you OK? What’s wrong? He told his wife to call the police. She dialed without question.

State Police, may I help you?

Yes.

Her husband came on the phone. Yes, this is Gene Armijo. I’d like to report a shooting. My neighbor was shot.

Dispatcher asked, Can you give me an address?

I’m about twenty miles south of Las Vegas in a small village called La Liendre, New Mexico.

The state police dispatcher notified State Police Officer Max Cordova, a fifteen-year veteran. The dispatcher also called the San Miguel Sheriff Department in Las Vegas, Deputy Al Chavez, a ten-year veteran. Both officers are familiar with the area. When they arrived, they were met by Gene and his wife, Helen.

Officer Cordova looked at the information as to what happened. It’s 11:30 a.m. He asked Gene to show him where the house is located. Both officers drove to the Harris home. When they arrived at the home, they found the front door open. Both officers walked into the house. They made their way inside. They walked into the dining room, and they found the bodies. Max told Al, Let’s take a look around and see if there are any more bodies. Gene told them there were three people living at this home, Lou and Carl’s wife. After a thorough search of the home, two bodies were found, Carl and his wife. Where was Lou? Gene told them that there were three people living here, and both men were going fishing with Gene. Both officers had done a total search of the home and garage; nothing else was found.

The next thing was to call the district attorney and coroner’s office. State Police Officer Cordova made that call. While waiting, Officer Cordova questioned Gene and his wife. They told the officer that they knew the Harrises for about fifteen years. As for Carl’s wife, he had met her in Albuquerque about five years ago. The only thing he knew was that the Harrises had bought this home about fifteen years ago. All he knew was they always had money and were nice people and most everybody in the village liked them.

Two hours later, the district attorney Manual Martinez and coroner George Pacheco arrived. Both were met by Officer Cordova. He explained what he and Deputy Al Chavez had found at the Harris home—two victims: Carl Harris and his wife, Betty; also missing was the brother, Lou Harris. The house was ransacked. What they were looking for is the question. Both officers went through the house looking for any clues as to why these two were hog-tied and killed in this manner. Fingerprints were taken; these would be run through NCIC. This would give them more information as to who this people were. The news media picked up on the story.

Murder in a Small Village. The district attorney did not want to give out too much information at this time. He was the kind of man that everything had to be done right, no loose ends. We have to get all the facts together and will go from there.

In Santa Fe, New Mexico, a private investigator, Antonio Rossi, after twenty years, retired as a New York police officer right after his wife had passed away. Many years ago, he had vacationed in Santa Fe, New Mexico, and had loved this state. He had always said that when he retired, this would be his home. The last ten years as a police officer, he was involved as a special investigator dealing with organized crime. He had dealt with the mafia from New York to St. Louis, Missouri, during which many crime figures were sent to prison. When he moved to New Mexico for a few years, all he did was travel the state. That, after a while, got old.

He was going crazy not having anything to do, so he decided to go back to what he knew best—being an investigator. After all, he had not only the experience but also the education. Since living in Santa Fe, most of the people he got to know were either divorced or getting a divorce. Most of his clients wanted to know if their partners were having an affair. This gave him any opportunity to make a few dollars. That morning, while having his breakfast at one of the restaurants, he was reading the morning paper, Murder in a Small Village, in San Miguel County. This story was rather suspicious. His personal knowledge told him there is more to this story. Later that day, he met with one of his clients on a divorce case that had gotten rather messy. It turned out that his wife was going with a younger man, and his thirteen-year-old daughter had been raped by this man. His client went after this man and found him at a club in Albuquerque, dancing with other women. He waited till he left the club. Late that night, as he was getting into his car, his client shot him twice point-blank. His client was arrested at the scene. The man did not die, but his client was charged with attempted murder. That case was being handled by the DA in Albuquerque, New Mexico. This was the kind of cases he hated to work with. In the long run, there was no money to be made. The attorney in the long run would end up making the money. He was happy that this case turned out this way.

He had made plans of going to Las Vegas. He had made a friend when he was a police officer in New York, one of the DA investigators from Las Vegas, while he was on vacation in New York City. He had never been to the Big Apple. Charles Garcia came down to the #55 Police Precinct. I happen to be at the sergeant’s desk. He introduced himself as a DA investigator from Las Vegas, New Mexico. He told me that this was his first time in the Big Apple. He seemed to be a nice fellow, so I took him around for the day. He gave me his card. He said if I ever come to New Mexico, I should look him up. I looked in my files and found his card, so what the heck, I’ll go a visit him at his office. When I got to Las Vegas, his card read, San Miguel County Court Rm #101. When I got to his office, the secretary asked, May I help you?

Yes, I’m looking for Mr. Charles Garcia. I gave her my card. She got up from her chair and went into other room. Minutes passed; just then he came out from his office.

Mr. Antonio Rossi, from New York, what brings you to New Mexico?

Rossi thought to himself, Boy, this guy has the memory of an elephant.

Please come into my office. Nice to see you.

Likewise.

I was on my way to have lunch. Care to join me?

Yes. We ended up at a cafe in New Town. He explained that there were two towns, New Town and Old Town. We had lunch at a cafe called Spic & Span. When he got there, the place was packed.

He asked me, I notice that your card reads ‘private investigator.’

Yeah, I’ve been retired sometime ago. I live in Santa Fe.

So tell me, what brings you here?

The murder that happened at La Liendre.

Yeah, my boss is keeping that under wraps.

I just read the paper, but course you and I know that in this kind of cases, not much is said to the public till all the facts are in order. I can understand, but all the years I spent in similar cases are just like a puzzle.

Mr. Rossi, as far as I’m concerned, you did not hear it from me. On that day, I understand that there were three people living in that house, but two were found. What the paper did not say, and I’m sure this will not be written, that both were hog-tied, and one was shot with a shotgun, and the other was shot with a .38, also a 9 mm bullet was found embedded in the floor.

You saying there were three shooters?

Most likely. Also there were three people living there.

What happened to the other person?

That’s a good question. Within time, both victims will be identified. The New Mexico medical examiners are helping the San Miguel County Office in this case. Like I said, my boss wants no loose ends. Tell you what, Mr. Rossi, I have your card. If there any more information that will come up, I’ll give you a call. Please keep this to yourself.

I want to thank you.

Mr. Garcia went back to his office. I was thinking about this: why were these people hog-tied and executed in this manner? I have a gut feeling there is more to this—too many loose ends. Somebody screwed up and took it upon them to be judge and jury. As I was sitting there in the cafe, it never fails that there is always somebody talking about what happened in La Liendre. One man was talking rather loudly, saying, Carl or Lou always had money and spent it like it was going out of style—that’s why they got killed. If one listens to this kind of talk, it is all hearsay. I need to go to this village and see for myself. I have my camera. I need a good excuse to be there. I’ll play it by ear. I need to find out how to get there from here.

On my way out of town, I stopped at Texaco station. I asked the men working there how to get to La Liendre. He told me to go south, before you get to Romerville, go south from there. That dirt road will take you there. An hour later, I arrived at the village.

At the first house, I stopped a man who later told me that he was Gene Armijo. I told him that I was with an insurance company and I needed to take some pictures of the place. Also the company that I work for needed me to make a report as to what happened and to take some pictures of the place. He told me to drive to the home on the left where the Harrises lived. I asked him if he could give information if he had any relatives or friends that knew them. He didn’t know too much other than they were nice people, never bothered anybody, and