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Authors: Michael McGarrity
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are, come and see me. I’ll make you my assistant, pay you good money.”
“Maybe after I qualify for a pension,” Clayton said.
Moses laughed. “That’s a long time for me to wait, nephew.”
“If I make you wait long enough, maybe I can have your job,” Clayton said with a smile, handing over a photograph. “I’m looking for this man. He was registered as Fred Villanueva. Checked out yesterday. His real name is Felix Ulibarri.”
“What did he do?” Moses asked, studying the photograph.
“Maybe murder.”
Kaywaykla’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t like murderers in my casino. It happened in your jurisdiction?”
“Yeah, that burned body we found in the fire outside Carrizozo,” Clayton replied. “The victim’s name was Humphrey. Ulibarri was one of his drinking buddies and supposedly came down here with him. Humphrey had just won a lot of money up at one of the pueblo casinos near Albuquerque. I’m thinking Ulibarri killed him for the money and went on a gambling spree here.”
“You say he left yesterday?” Moses asked, handing back the photograph.
Clayton nodded.
“Let’s look at some security videotapes,” Moses said, “and then we’ll talk to some people.”
They viewed videos and found Ulibarri playing poker intermittently over a two-day span and mostly losing. In between long sessions at the card tables he drank in an upstairs café and broke even playing a row of quarter slots. In the last video, which Moses fast-forwarded, he won heavily at poker.
The sight of Ulibarri raking in a hefty stack of chips discouraged Clayton. His suspect was bankrolled again and possibly on the move. Was he heading back to Albuquerque or to one of the other Indian casinos in the state? Was he in Juárez drinking in a brothel?
Moses froze the tape. “Want to know what he cashed out?”
“Yeah,” Clayton said. “He seemed to be doing a lot of talking in the last tape. Do you know any of the people at his table?”
“Two of them,” Moses replied, pointing out two players on the frame. “Gus Hogan is a serious player. We comp him his room and meals. He comes up from El Paso about once a month. Sometimes he plays at the high-stakes tables, sometimes not. Jasper Nava is local. Everyone calls him JJ. He owns an appliance repair shop in Ruidoso. He’s here once a week usually. Comes in with a couple hundred in his pocket and plays until he either loses it or wins. He does pretty well most of the time, but won’t move up to any of the high-stakes games.”
“What does Hogan do for a living?” Clayton asked.
“Nothing. He’s a rich guy. I’ll get you his home address and phone number, if you want to talk to him.”
“Good deal,” Clayton said. “I’d sure like to know who else was at the table when Ulibarri won big.”
Moses shrugged. “Maybe the dealers know who they are.”
They walked from the lodge to the casino on a pathway that led them past the swimming pool, tennis courts, boathouse, and the restaurant that overlooked the golf course. It was too cool and early in the year for swimming, and the tennis courts were empty, but several foursomes were out on the greens.
At the casino Clayton learned that Ulibarri had walked away from his last poker game with seventeen thousand dollars. Two of the dealers who had had Ulibarri at their tables were on duty. They remembered Ulibarri when Clayton showed them his photograph, but didn’t know any of the other players by name. None had been regulars.
He got the names, phone numbers, and shift schedules for the three other dealers, said good-bye to Moses, and drove to the sheriff’s department in Carrizozo, where he put together an advisory bulletin. It read:
WANTED FOR QUESTIONING FELIX ULIBARRI FOR THE MURDER OF JOSEPH J. HUMPHREY
Subject is Hispanic male, age 43, DOB 3/03/59, height 5’8”, weight 148 lbs, brown eyes, brown hair, clean shaven, with a knife scar on right forearm approximately 2 inches below the elbow, approximately 3
“Maybe after I qualify for a pension,” Clayton said.
Moses laughed. “That’s a long time for me to wait, nephew.”
“If I make you wait long enough, maybe I can have your job,” Clayton said with a smile, handing over a photograph. “I’m looking for this man. He was registered as Fred Villanueva. Checked out yesterday. His real name is Felix Ulibarri.”
“What did he do?” Moses asked, studying the photograph.
“Maybe murder.”
Kaywaykla’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t like murderers in my casino. It happened in your jurisdiction?”
“Yeah, that burned body we found in the fire outside Carrizozo,” Clayton replied. “The victim’s name was Humphrey. Ulibarri was one of his drinking buddies and supposedly came down here with him. Humphrey had just won a lot of money up at one of the pueblo casinos near Albuquerque. I’m thinking Ulibarri killed him for the money and went on a gambling spree here.”
“You say he left yesterday?” Moses asked, handing back the photograph.
Clayton nodded.
“Let’s look at some security videotapes,” Moses said, “and then we’ll talk to some people.”
They viewed videos and found Ulibarri playing poker intermittently over a two-day span and mostly losing. In between long sessions at the card tables he drank in an upstairs café and broke even playing a row of quarter slots. In the last video, which Moses fast-forwarded, he won heavily at poker.
The sight of Ulibarri raking in a hefty stack of chips discouraged Clayton. His suspect was bankrolled again and possibly on the move. Was he heading back to Albuquerque or to one of the other Indian casinos in the state? Was he in Juárez drinking in a brothel?
Moses froze the tape. “Want to know what he cashed out?”
“Yeah,” Clayton said. “He seemed to be doing a lot of talking in the last tape. Do you know any of the people at his table?”
“Two of them,” Moses replied, pointing out two players on the frame. “Gus Hogan is a serious player. We comp him his room and meals. He comes up from El Paso about once a month. Sometimes he plays at the high-stakes tables, sometimes not. Jasper Nava is local. Everyone calls him JJ. He owns an appliance repair shop in Ruidoso. He’s here once a week usually. Comes in with a couple hundred in his pocket and plays until he either loses it or wins. He does pretty well most of the time, but won’t move up to any of the high-stakes games.”
“What does Hogan do for a living?” Clayton asked.
“Nothing. He’s a rich guy. I’ll get you his home address and phone number, if you want to talk to him.”
“Good deal,” Clayton said. “I’d sure like to know who else was at the table when Ulibarri won big.”
Moses shrugged. “Maybe the dealers know who they are.”
They walked from the lodge to the casino on a pathway that led them past the swimming pool, tennis courts, boathouse, and the restaurant that overlooked the golf course. It was too cool and early in the year for swimming, and the tennis courts were empty, but several foursomes were out on the greens.
At the casino Clayton learned that Ulibarri had walked away from his last poker game with seventeen thousand dollars. Two of the dealers who had had Ulibarri at their tables were on duty. They remembered Ulibarri when Clayton showed them his photograph, but didn’t know any of the other players by name. None had been regulars.
He got the names, phone numbers, and shift schedules for the three other dealers, said good-bye to Moses, and drove to the sheriff’s department in Carrizozo, where he put together an advisory bulletin. It read:
WANTED FOR QUESTIONING FELIX ULIBARRI FOR THE MURDER OF JOSEPH J. HUMPHREY
Subject is Hispanic male, age 43, DOB 3/03/59, height 5’8”, weight 148 lbs, brown eyes, brown hair, clean shaven, with a knife scar on right forearm approximately 2 inches below the elbow, approximately 3
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