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tells all.” She ran a finger along the screen. “I mean, look at last week. Three days that young man missed on the first week of school. He’s going to have his ten days before the end of September, and
then
where will he be?” The phone console at her elbow lit, and Estelle raised a hand in farewell as Donna Barnes lifted the receiver.
    “If I see Freddy first, I’ll have him call you,” she said.
    “That’s not necessary,” the undersheriff. “Just have him call his folks.”
    She left the school and less than two minutes later her county car turned into the parking lot behind the Public Safety Building. A pickup with state plates and livestock inspector’s shields on the doors was parked in the spot reserved for Sheriff Robert Torrez.

Chapter Five
    Former sheriff of Posadas County William K. Gastner stood under the row of framed photographs in the Public Safety Building’s spacious foyer. He was examining the portrait of Eduardo Salcido, four sheriffs in the past. In the photo, Salcido was sitting behind his huge desk—the same desk that now graced undersheriff Estelle Reyes-Guzman’s office—hands folded in front of him on the blotter, gazing directly into the camera. He reminded Estelle of a
patrón
waiting to hear complaints from the peasants.
    Gastner turned as Estelle approached from the narrow passageway past the dispatcher’s island. He tapped the corner of Salcido’s portrait. “Way back in 1965. That’s the first time I met him.” The state livestock inspector’s grin widened, and he ran a hand across the burdock of his salt and pepper hair. “And you know, this looks like it was taken on that very day. That’s what he was doing when I came into his office for an interview, you know? Sitting there like the grand poobah.”
    “That’s what he was doing when
I
interviewed,” Estelle offered.
    “A man of infinite good taste in his hires. And that was a long time ago.” He stepped back and looked to his right, past the portraits of Martin Holman, himself, and the current sheriff, Robert Torrez. “What a rogue’s gallery.” He turned and regarded Estelle. “You’re about settled on a new hire or two?”
    “Yes. I think so. I was working on the applications yesterday and got sidetracked. One or two of the applicants look strong.”
    “The Veltri kid? It’s always nice to hire local.”
    “He’s on the list for sure.”
    “That’s interesting. I half expected him to stay with the military.”
    “A homesick wife, I think.”
    “Ah…the wife. You have time for breakfast?” Gastner patted his ample girth. “I got a late start this morning, and the tank’s empty.”
    “I’ll keep you company, but Irma made sure I didn’t skip out hungry.”
    “Ah. Speaking of Irma, an interesting thing came in the mail yesterday.” Gastner looked at Estelle, one bushy eyebrow raised.
    “A wedding invitation?”
    He nodded. “It wasn’t exclusive to me? I’m crushed.”
    “Mine was hand-delivered,” Estelle said. “I knew it was coming someday, but I’m not ready for it.”
    “I can imagine.”
    “The wedding is only the tip of the iceberg, sir. She told me this morning that Gary has been accepted into an MFA program at Stanford. She’s going to study Spanish out there.”
    “Well, my, my. Changes and rearranges. Happens, doesn’t it.” He followed her back through the offices, and they headed out the back door for the parking lot. “And that’s easy to say, of course. What are you guys going to do?”
    “I have absolutely no idea.”
    “Well, that’s a start,” Gastner chuckled. “Guess who else is finished.”
    “Finished?”
    “Changed and rearranged. September thirtieth is my last day.” He reached out and patted the fender of the state truck as they walked past it toward Estelle’s county car. “And it feels absolutely wonderful.”
    “Something prompted this?” She paused at the door of her car as Gastner walked around to the other side. “Not that it’s