Bloodville (17 page)

―Empty your pockets on the bar.‖
―Come on, man, I ain't....‖
―Do it here or I'll take you down to....‖
―Ok, ok.‖
Peters hauled out a large ring of keys, a handful of loose change, a

―Twenty bucks, huh? I count three hundred and twenty. Where'd it come from, Joe?‖
―I been working, man. That's honest money?‖
―Sure it is. Who you working for?‖
―Bob Drymaple. Detailing cars for him. Ten bucks a car. I worked three days this week.‖ Peters said it proudly.
Herman picked up Joe‘s knife and pressed the button on the black handle. The three inch blade locked into the open position. ―Joe, Joe. You worked three days. Ten bucks a car. That's thirty-two cars you detailed in three days. You must do one hell of a good job of it. Besides, Bob Drymaple hasn't sold thirty cars in the last two years. What‘d you need the knife for?‖
―Dangerous world, man.‖
―Hard to believe a nice guy like you got enemies.‖
―What the hell do you want down here, Mister Budwister.‖
―Not a thing, Joe. Just curious, that's all. You know a guy named Ray Stirling?‖
―No. Should I?‖
―How about Bill White, or Billy Ray White?‖
―Not in my part of the universe.‖
―Larry Kendrick. You ever hear of him?‖
―Nope. Who are these guys, anyway?‖
―How about David Sipe?‖
―Never heard of.... Cute. Very cute. 'Course I know Dave Sipe, and you know it.‖
―Where‘s he?‖
―Been doin' some work for Drymaple, too. Maybe he's up at the car lot. Hell, I don't know where he is. I ain't his love-interest. I don't even like him.‖
Budwister finished off his glass of beer. ―It's always a pleasure to talk to you, Joe. I guess it's the depth of your character that impresses me most. I know that if you run across Ray Stirling or Billy White or Larry Kendrick you'll let me know. Just that he's in town, know what I mean. I don't have a warrant or anything. You'll do me that favor, won't you, Joe?‖
―Sure, man. I'll personally come to the station. But I don‘t know nothing about....‖
―About what, Joe?‖
―You know, Billy Ray White.‖
―Sure, Joe. Tell you what, just to show you how much I like you, I‘ll hang on to your knife. You know, keep you out of trouble.‖

Located north of Albuquerque in the town of Bernalillo, the Sholenberger Tool Company employed more workers than any other business in southeast Sandoval County. On the first of February, 1968, Joe Cato applied for a job there. He made the effort to keep his unemployment benefits current. The office manager guessed as much but allowed Cato to use the employee break room to fill out the application anyway. Cato made a mental note of four vending machines in the room: soda-pop, cigarettes, candy bars and coffee. Everything a working man needed to sustain him. As he returned the completed application, he counted five adding machines and three new electric typewriters at desks in the front office.

On the fifth of February, Cato paid a return visit to the machine shop—at three o'clock in the morning. He considered himself a planner. He didn't believe in taking things for granted when it came to burglary. He'd been at it his entire life—starting at age ten when he broke into an elderly neighbor's house and stole all the money he found in the old lady's purse—and served less than a year of county jail time. He figured any police officer on duty in the town of Bernalillo would be asleep somewhere. Monday nights were slow for cops. Same with any Sandoval County deputy sheriff who might be out and about. He knew for a fact the State Police did not have officers on duty between midnight and seven in the morning. Cato figured he'd get into the plant by three o'clock and be out and gone by three-thirty. He parked his car at the north end of the large metal building at a place where two big cottonwood trees shaded the light from a nearby street lamp and near an emergency fire exit.

Breaking and entering required no special talent. Cato simply broke a window and climbed into the machine shop. Fire exit signs illuminated his way to the employee's break room. He first rifled employee lockers and found only an old army field jacket to steal and he put it on over his sweatshirt. Then he went to work on the vending machines and cleaned out coin boxes, stuffing nickels and dimes into the jacket's over-sized pockets. Joe came upon a problem when he tried to get into the front office. A locked, heavy metal, fire door barred his way. He rose to the challenge. He found a large hammer and a chisel in the machine shop and went to work pounding on the door knob. It broke off but the door still wouldn‘t open. Cato used the chisel to pound out the inner workings of the latch. The door remained firmly closed. The burglar went in search of a bigger hammer and discovered another door to the office; a wooden one in a temporary plasterboard wall. It opened with a single kick.

Cato took his time searching through desk drawers, pocketing loose change, half sticks of chewing gum, partial rolls of Lifesavers, used-up ball point pens, paper clips and rubber bands. Then he picked up an electric typewriter and carried it to the fire exit at the north end of the building, near where he‘d left his car. He planed to put all the office machines near the door—secured only by a sliding bolt—then load them up and be gone. More than thirty minutes had expired since he entered the shop, but Joe wasn't worried.

He should have been.
Young deputy sheriffs, the rookies, often get stuck on the graveyard shift. Even so, some of them spend a couple of years on the job with some genuine enthusiasm for doing real, basic, police work. Through the simple expedient of observing a car where none should have been parked at three fifteen in the morning, and watching it for a while, a young deputy named Paul Trujillo interrupted a crime in progress. The officer waited and watched as Cato removed a typewriter from the machine shop, and then another, and then a third. The thief carefully placed each under a blanket on the back seat of his car. While he went back inside to get another office machine, Trujillo dashed across the street and hid behind a big cottonwood tree. Cato stepped back out the fire door to face the business end of a .38 Police Special. He dropped an adding machine in his haste to obey Trujillo‘s command to raise his hands.
The young deputy knew about the practice of ―stacking‖ where as many charges as possible are piled on a suspect in a single case. In addition to burglary, Trujillo booked Cato for larceny, for taking money from the vending machines and desk drawers; criminal damage to property, for breaking the window and destruction of the fire door; and criminal trespass.
Placed in a small, barred, holding cell in the booking room of the Sandoval County jail, Cato chained-smoked Camels while Deputy Trujillo filled out arrest reports, property inventory sheets, fingerprint cards and booking forms. The jailer left to attend other business.
―Hey, bro,‖ Cato said.
―Yeah what?‖ Trujillo said. He was feeling pretty proud of himself, and just a little tough.
―You want to be a real hero, bro? Make some solid brownie points with the big-pigs?‖
―
¡Callarse, cabrón!
‖
―Don't hard-ass me, bro. I got a real good deal for you.‖
―You‘re in no position to be offering deals,
ladrón
.‖
―Sure I am. What you got here, bro?
Un crimen menor y no más.
I didn't get enough out of that crummy factory for anyone to care nothing about. But here's the deal: I can offer you two guys that done two killings.
Hombres muy malo
. You interested?‖
―I'd have to talk to....‖
―Tell you what you do, bro. You get ahold of Detective Herman Budweiser at the Albuquerque cops. You tell him Joe Cato wants to talk to him about a nine-millimeter pistol and Mr. Billy Ray Stirling. He'll do the rest.‖
―Budweiser? Like the beer?‖
―That'll do, bro. That'll do.‖
The sky was light in the east when Trujillo locked Cato in a cell and went home to bed. He didn't sleep well. Before noon he called Albuquerque and talked to Detective Herman Budwister.

Budwister and Spurlock sat at a conference table in the Albuquerque District State Police office. Joe Cato faced them, a pack of Camels and a paper cup of coffee in front of him. A tape recorder rested in the center of the table. Budwister began.

―I want you and me to understand each other from the git-go, Cato. I called in some favors to get you out of Sandoval County. You jack me around and I'll drop-kick your ass back to Bernalillo so fast you'll think you're in a
Star Trek
time warp. You understand me?‖

―Yeah. I understand you.‖ Cato talked with a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth and smoke curling from his nose like exhaust fumes from an old Hudson.

―Ok. We'll go through this by the numbers. State your name, date and place of birth, and take that goddamn cigarette out of your mouth. You think you're James Dean?‖

Cato removed the cigarette and held it between his thumb and index finger. ―Joe Cato. Phoenix, Arizona. September 20, 1943.‖
―Are you acquainted with a subject named Billy Ray White?‖
―I know him as Billy Ray Stirling, but it's the same guy. I'm pretty sure.‖
―When did you first meet him?‖
―Last fall.‖ Cato knocked the fire off his cigarette and squeezed the tip between his thumb and forefinger. He put the butt in his shirt pocket and took a sip of coffee as if he‘d finished talking.
―Well? What then?‖ Herman demanded. ―Tell the damn story! That‘s what you‘re here for.‖
―Ok, ok. Dave Sipe called me up that he had some liquor for sale and I wanted to buy some. I don't remember what date it was.‖
―Here in Albuquerque?‖
―On Chama Street. Billy Ray's apartment.‖
―You buy the liquor?‖
―Yeah.‖
―When‘d you see him again?‖
―Next day.‖
―Who was with you when you saw him then?‖
―Dave Sipe. We went back to Billy's apartment.‖
―Was he living alone?‖
―I don't know. He said something about a girl living there but I never seen him with anything but whores.‖
―Why‘d you go back that second day?‖
―He said he wanted to trade his '57 Chevrolet for a better car. He said his car was probably hot because he hit another car, a little car, he said, and he didn't stop.‖
―What‘d you do?‖
―We went to some wholesalers over on Central. I know some of them pretty good.‖
―You get him a car?‖
―No. Because he didn't want to give that much money on the cars we saw. That's when we went to see Wally Webb at Bob Drymaple's who is a wholesale car dealer.‖
―Just you and Billy Ray?‖
―Yeah.‖
―What‘d you talk to Webb about?‖
―This and that. Wally said he wanted to trade for something like merchandise instead of money. He said he needed a .30-30.‖
―A .30-30 rifle?‖
―Right. Wally went over to his truck and brought back a holster, a gun and two boxes of shells. Billy asked him how much he wanted for it and Wally said thirty dollars. Billy offered him twenty-five. Wally didn't go for it and said that he wanted to trade for a .30-30 rifle, so we left. So that night we went out to look at a few places. I was going to set Billy up on a heist. A good armed robbery where he could get good money and get away with it.‖
―What places you look at?‖
―I don't remember.‖
―I‘ll bet you don‘t, Joe. Places here in Albuquerque?‖
―Yeah. So the next day Billy came by with a gun he had, a big revolver, and he said he wanted another one; an automatic would be just right. I went back to see Wally, but he wasn't there. Next day I found Wally and I asked him about the gun he had, to let me have it for twenty-five. He gave me the gun, the holster and two boxes of shells, but the shells wouldn't work on a nine-millimeter. Wally knew Billy wanted to buy the gun and he knew I bought it for Billy. I knew Wally and I asked him to let me have it for twenty-five. Then I gave it to Billy. Billy thought I had to pay thirty for it. That's all there is to it. I made a fin on the deal.‖
―When did you give the gun to Billy?‖
―Same day I got it.‖
―Who was with you when you gave the gun to Billy?‖
―Dave Sipe. We went to Billy's apartment on Chama.‖
―What did you do after you gave Billy the gun?‖
―Left. I wanted to talk to Billy about the heist, if I could pick up a car for him, or something, but I told him I‘d see him later because they was partying too much. I don't like to plan stuff when there's drinking going on and whores hanging around and smoking dope. I don't trust 'em. Besides, I'm married.‖
―Who was doing the partying?‖
―Billy and Dave and some others and some girls. Whores, like I said. Billy had an in with the whores but I don‘t like ‘em because of
la purga
and syph. Then the next night they called me at the house.‖
―Who did?‖
―Dave Sipe. He said something about some machines.‖
―What did you do?‖
―I went to see them.‖
―Was anyone with you?‖
―Billy.‖ Joe crushed out a wet half-inch cigarette butt, took a drink of coffee and lit another Camel.
―Anyone else?‖
―Joe Peters. He said he had an aunt that wanted to buy an electric typewriter. He asked how much for the IBM ball machine. Dave wanted fifty dollars for it. I thought maybe Peters would know Billy because they was both in Leavenworth, but Billy said he didn't know him. Joe took the machine and left. Then some guys from El Paso said they wanted all the other machines. They loaded them up and left. Billy told me he needed wheels, ones that was good. He asked me if I wanted to go on a heist and I asked him where and he said out of town. I didn't want nothing to do with it. If I was gonna do anything I‘d do it here in my own fighting grounds because if you get caught when you‘re out of town, they‘ll throw the book at you.‖
―That's why you're here, right Joe? You don't do nothin‘ out of town?‖
―I mean if I was gonna pull a heist. Not no little burglary.‖
―Oh,‖ Budwister said. ―Nice to know you keep your major business right here at home. Go on. What‘d Billy say then?‖
Cato downed another slug of coffee. ―He asked Dave if he wanted to go and Dave said no, he didn't want nothing to do with it. Dave told me later he didn't like the deal with Stirling; he figured it was a one man job and he didn't trust Stirling to split with him.‖
―Where was this going to be?‖
―I thought it was in Santa Fe. I heard that Joe Peters had a friend or uncle or something who could set up the score out of town. I heard that Billy paid two hundred bucks to get the score set up, and that Joe would bring him the transportation. I asked Billy if it was true that he upped two big ones for the score. Billy said you have to pay money to make money. He said this was a good deal. This man where the score was going to be had about ten thousand and a store and a junkyard and a J. P. Court and being a crooked guy, he must have money laying around. I didn't even know where this deal was until the last day. We saw Billy and he said he missed the place. Couldn't find it. He said Joe told him it was on the highway, but it must have been off the highway.‖
―Who was with you when Billy said this?‖
―Dave. Then Dave comes for me in the morning and we get in the car and start to go down to the Old Lib for a beer and the guy on the radio tells about the murders and says there‘s a man in custody. A sailor with an Indian wife. I know Billy did it. So we go over to Billy's apartment on Chama. We knocked on the door. We see Billy and the gun so Dave tells him you done a terrible thing. Billy said, 'I couldn't help it. That rotten son-of-a-bitch only had a hundred bucks.‘ There was a jar with a lot of change and some blood all over it and some clothes was in the bathroom, in the tub, soaking in water. Billy says something like, I have to leave town. Dave says it was too risky because they had roadblocks. Billy said, call Joe Peters and tell him not to report the car. The car‘s here. I called Joe but I couldn't get him but the car was gone anyway. Billy said he had the key. Joe must of hotwired it. So we said what about the gun? We should get rid of it. Billy asked is there a river. I said there is only the Rio Grande River. What we did, we went and took the freeway where they opened it up and then we went down to the South Valley looking for a place to throw it. I know a place I told him, so we went down to Lourdes School and on some back roads to the river. Dave stayed in the car and Billy and I threw the gun and the shells when we walked along. Then we came back home and that was it. I said, you shouldn't try to leave town. I called Joe Peters and said Billy wants to see you and Peters says ok but then he never came.‖
―What happened then?‖
―A few days later, after I‘d been out of town, my wife told me, she said Billy left his house keys. He told me to go to his house and clean it out. There was a few things I might want. Joe Peters told me Billy went to Cheyenne, Wyoming, but it turned out he went to Oklahoma City. I don't know why he said he went to Wyoming then told me later he went to Oklahoma.‖
―Did Billy Ray ever tell you where the job was going to be?‖
―No. Never said it.
―Not even the area where....‖
―The way he named it was Broomfield, or Bloomfield, something like that, where he went that night and couldn't find it. I wasn't interested. I didn't want to get tied into nothing.‖
―Right, Joe. We know how sensitive you are to appearances.‖
―What about the clothes in the bathroom?‖ Doc asked, taking over the questioning. ―What became of ‗em?‖
―The jacket was mine and I don't remember what I did with it. It was like an Army jacket. Green. It had a zipper and four pockets.‖
―And some clothes were soaking in the bath tub?‖
―Yeah. The water was pink. There was blood.‖
―Did you have the impression that the jar of money you saw at Billy Ray‘s apartment was stolen from Budville?‖
―I guess so. I don‘t know. Maybe he was soaking the money. The change.‖
―Why would he do that?‖
―Get off the fingerprints, you know. Soak them off.‖
―Whose fingerprints?‖
―The people he killed, I guess.‖
―You‘re saying there was a jar of coins, with water in it, on Billy Ray‘s coffee table. Is that right?‖
―I didn‘t say there was water in it. Just that maybe there was.‖
―And there was blood on this jar. Is that right? Where‘d the blood come from? Was Billy hurt in some way? Bleeding?‖
―Not that I know of.‖
―What kind of shoes did Billy Ray wear?‖
―Beetle boots. Black. He was having trouble with his feet. He said he jumped off a building or something and he was halfway crippled. His toes and ankles was all swollen up.‖
―You mean he had trouble walking?‖
―Yeah. Sometimes he limped a little bit, but he liked those shoes. Had two pairs of ‗em.‖
―What kind of car did he use?‖ Budwister asked.
―I thought it was a Belaire Chevrolet four door, white or green.‖
―And Joe Peters got it for him?‖
―That's what Billy said. It was part of the deal on the score.‖
Herm laid a picture down on the table in front of Cato. ―Is that Billy Ray Stirling, or Billy Ray White?‖
―It looks like him.‖
―How did Billy Ray wear his hair?‖
―When he'd make his heists, all down. Combed down.‖
―How do you know that?‖
―He told me. That was his disguise. He combed it down over his forehead, over his face as much as he could when he did a heist.‖
―Is his hair longer than in this picture?‖
―Maybe. He had a lot of hair.‖
―What kinda work‘s this Billy do? He ever say?‖ Doc asked.
―He said he‘d never worked since he was a little kid. He‘d been in penitentiaries, from joint to joint, transferred all around by the feds, for most all of his life.‖
―Would you describe Billy Ray as clean-cut?‖
―Clean-cut. Yeah. He was neat about himself.‖
―Were his hands and fingernails clean?‖
―He never worked. He couldn't get them dirty.‖
―You ever hear from Billy Ray after he left Albuquerque?‖
―I got a postcard from a Bill. It was from a place in Wyoming I never heard of. It could be another Bill, but the Bill I know lives in Colorado. The heat was on so I burned it up. I didn't even read it. There was a picture on it, but I don't remember what it was.‖
―But it was correctly addressed to you?‖
―I guess so. I don't remember.‖
―Where does Dave Sipe work?‖ Herm asked.
―Bob Drymaple Auto Sales on North Fourth.‖
―He still live there, too?‖
―What he does, he's like the night watchman. He stays there at night. He shaves and showers at his mother's house in the North Valley. I don't see Dave that often anymore.‖
―What about Joe Peters?‖
―He left town. I haven't seen him for a long time. New Orleans, I heard. Can I get some more coffee?‖
―No. I guess we're about done here. We'll have a uniform take you back to jail.‖
―We got a deal, man.
Por qué
I gotta go back to the can?‖
―Joe, Joe. We have to check things out. You don't think all you have to do is sit and bullshit us for an hour or so and then we cut you loose to go drink beer at the Old Lib. No, no. You're a criminal, and a liar. I said I'd talk to the DA about your current troubles, and I will. In the meantime....‖
―In the meantime I sit in
el calabozo
. You won't send me back to that pig pen in Sandoval County?‖
―No, Joe. We'll keep you right close by, right over in the Albuquerque lock-up.‖
―Well, it's not so bad then. I got friends in there.‖