scale.
Drench’s home sat at the base of the mountains and was surrounded on either side by ponderosa and piñon pines. The steel and glass house was made up of three rectangular boxes stacked haphazardly on top of one another, extending up the side of the mountain. The excavation work alone had cost half a million dollars because of the equipment trucked in from El Paso for months on end. But the final effect was stunning, and among the pine trees, the villa could have passed for a home in Aspen, Colorado. Josie was looking forward to seeing the house. She’d heard stories but never been inside.
She parked her jeep in a spot sheltered in the pines and saw Drench standing beside the reflecting pool in front of his home. A formidable six foot five in cowboy hat and boots, often sporting leather chaps, he was dwarfed by his monstrous house.
“How do, Chief?” Drench called.
He had the ability to make a slight acquaintance feel like an old friend. Josie had talked with him on a few law-related matters through the years but had never felt intimidated by his wealth or position as the town’s founder.
She made her way around the granite boulders that had been dropped along the front walkway to look like a rockslide. The reflecting pool was surrounded by smooth black granite slabs flecked with white and gold that caught the light despite the cloudy day.
“Sorry to wake you this morning,” she said.
Drench waved her inside. “No worry. Come on in. Haven’t even had my coffee yet.”
Josie followed Drench into a vast minimalist space constructed primarily of concrete, glass, and steel. The couches were concrete slabs covered in gray and blue cushions. The space looked cold and uncomfortable, like she had fallen through a crag in an iceberg.
Drench noticed her look and smiled wryly. “Have you ever met my wife?”
“No, sir.”
“This is her floor.” He looked around the room with a wry smile. “She’s a fine woman, but a little chilly.”
Drench walked toward an angular stairway consisting of wide slabs of concrete that twisted up to a second floor; the middle box that was visible from the road. Thick floor-to-ceiling windows surrounded the room, large fur rugs were scattered about the space, and overstuffed black leather couches and armchairs encircled a bar and a fireplace on the other end of the room. Drench walked to the bar, where he poured two cups of coffee from a carafe.
“Gladys buys this stuff from the Andes. We could feed a family of four on what she spends for coffee. But it’s damn good.”
Josie sipped and admired it, although she thought it tasted burnt.
“What brings you to the hinterlands so early in the morning?”
“I’m sure you’ve heard about Red Goff?”
“That I have.”
“I’m hoping for a little perspective on Red. Everyone we’ve interviewed hated the man. I haven’t found anyone upset by his murder. Makes it a little hard to narrow the focus.”
Drench squinted and looked out a wall of plate glass into the smoky sky. “Red and I go way back. He was friends with my brother, Samuel. We all went to the same grade school and high school, but he and Sam were three years older. I took off to make my fortune in Houston, and Red stayed back. He’s seen some terrible things. Red’s daddy was gunned down and killed by Mexican coyotes sneaking a group of illegals across. They’d stopped at his farm to camp for the night and use water from the stock pond. Red’s dad confronted them, tried to run them off, and they killed him. Red never got over it.”
Josie shook her head. “He never saw guns as a danger. Even though his own father was killed with a gun.”
Drench raised his right hand as if swearing on a Bible. “No, ma’am. Guns don’t kill. People do. Red’s doctrine.”
Drench pulled a barstool out for Josie and she sat. He sat on the stool beside her and sipped at his coffee.
“Red started working as a field hand the year his daddy died, and he worked hard physical labor every year after. He blamed the illegals for his family’s tough life. And he blamed the government for doing nothing about the problem. Police, too. Growing up, his three sisters relied on him as a father figure. His mother died from a heart attack just after his daddy.”
“No family money that you know of? No inheritance or insurance from way back to support him?” Josie asked.
“Red married an acid-tongued barmaid