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    Extradition Order
    Extradition Order
    Extradition Order
    Ebook167 pages2 hours

    Extradition Order

    By Geoffrey A. Feller

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    About this ebook

    Natalie Dvorak Mystery #8

    Detective Sergeant Natalie Dvorak of the Vermont State Police travels to New Mexico on assignment to retrieve a fugitive for extradition. Before the paperwork is complete, a prominent local citizen turns up dead from a bullet and Natalie’s fugitive becomes the Sheriff’s prime suspect in the murder. But Natalie doubts the accused is a killer. She persuades the Sheriff to expand the investigation, discovering that the dead man had a number of enemies in the county. Can Natalie find the real murderer in the unfamiliar desert territory or has she underestimated her fugitive’s potential for violence?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherGeoffrey A. Feller
    Release dateDec 13, 2018
    ISBN9780463304310
    Extradition Order
    Author

    Geoffrey A. Feller

    I was born fifty-seven years ago in the Bible belt but grew up in a Massachusetts college town. I am married and my wife and I have moved frequently since we met. We've lived in Minnesota, Massachusetts, and New Mexico, as well as a brief residency in Berlin, Germany. I have worked peripherally in health care, banking, and insurance. In addition to writing, I have done a bit of amateur acting and comedy performances. I am afraid of heights but public speaking doesn't scare me. My wife and I live in Albuquerque with our chihuahua.

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      Book preview

      Extradition Order - Geoffrey A. Feller

      EXTRADITION

      ORDER

      by Geoffrey A. Feller

      Smashwords Edition

      Copyright 2018 by Geoffrey A. Feller

      CHAPTER ONE:

      LAWMAN’S LODGE

      The Obregon County Sheriff’s department was housed in a single-story rectangular building with a brick face exterior. It was dark outside, an hour after sunset, and the lights were glowing over the parking lot and above the entry door. A stiff breeze was coming over the desert, chilling the January air to the high-twenties, Fahrenheit.

      A red Subaru BRAT turned rapidly and sharply in from the street, past the chain link fence, and came to an abrupt stop in one of the visitors’ parking spaces. A woman got out of the car. She was a bit on the tall side and was bundled in a multicolored wool jacket above blue jeans. The woman had thick, wavy blond hair down to her shoulders and was walking briskly to the entrance in a pair of black and gold cowboy boots.

      Inside the building, the department was staffed at this hour by just one deputy, Geronimo Jerry Castillo. Two other deputies were out on patrol and the civilian clerical staff had all gone home within the last half hour. The walls were painted beige and two wooden benches were set out in the linoleum floored reception area, opposite each other and flush with the reception counter.

      Castillo was in his mid-thirties, married, with three young children; a son and two daughters. He was short and stocky but with a powerful set of shoulders and arms that fit tightly in his khaki uniform. When the door to the reception area opened, the rush of wind would have alerted Castillo, even without the electronic chime.

      He looked up from the file drawer open at chest level to recognize the woman who’d barged in. Startled, Castillo slammed the drawer shut as if protecting secrets in the files; there was a different secret the deputy was worried about.

      Rita! Castillo exclaimed. What are you doing here?

      Jerry, the woman said breathlessly. Listen. I’m not here to make trouble!

      Castillo glanced behind him in case one of the other deputies had come in through the locker room although logically either would have radioed in first. His heart pounded and he only wanted Rita to leave.

      It’s nothing to do with you―with us. It’s about me, just me!

      Castillo approached the counter where the woman was leaning forward, her blue eyes wide. Those high cheekbones and cute nose were still attractive to him.

      I’m here on business, Jerry. Police business!

      You want to file a complaint?

      No… I―I’m turning myself in…

      For…?

      Castillo knew that Rita had been turning tricks as a prostitute down in a house trailer where she had been living for the past six months. She’d been arrested for it by another deputy but no one in the department had gone out of his way to bust Rita again. Castillo had sought out Rita’s services after meeting her in the lockup, paying her extra to keep things quiet. If she was planning to give it all up now…

      Not what you think, Jerry. My name… it’s not really Rita Andersen.

      What are you talking about?

      I’m wanted for assault and for prostitution in another state. Wanted under my real name.

      Castillo closed his gaping mouth and reached for a tablet and pen.

      What name? What state?

      My name’s Sophie Niebauer.

      Spell that: Niebauer.

      Castillo took the dictation and demanded the rest of her confession.

      There’s a warrant for my arrest in Vermont. I threatened a state police detective with a gun. Then I jumped bail. I’ve been on the run ever since.

      You―you tried to shoot an officer? Castillo asked with a scowl.

      No! You don’t understand! I wasn’t going to shoot her, Jerry!

      Her? A lady cop?

      Yeah, she was a woman. So what? I was desperate! I was trying to get away from my pimp and she was in my way. I was never gonna shoot her!

      Stop right there, Castillo said, holding his hands up. You came here to get arrested, right?

      Sophie nodded, her eyes glistening with tears.

      Take off that coat, turn around and put your hands behind your back, Castillo ordered, taking a set of handcuffs from his belt.

      I’m still not telling anyone about us, Jerry, Sophie murmured as Castillo came around the counter.

      Don’t say nothing to anyone before your lawyer gets here.

      Castillo recited her rights to remain silent and to have legal representation as he snapped the handcuffs in place. Despite his anger and fear, the deputy frisked his prisoner with dispassionate efficiency, the result of three years’ practice in the department. He’d handle the booking all by himself, from taking fingerprints and mug shots to putting the woman he’d known as Rita Andersen into a cell down past the locker room. Then, before typing up the arrest report, Castillo would have to call Sheriff Sam Olcutt at home with the news.

      It was a good thing Olcutt wouldn’t have gone to bed yet. Otherwise, Castillo wasn’t sure who’d take it worse if word got out that he’d been Rita’s john, his boss or his wife.

      Six days later, Sergeant Cleve Norris of the New Mexico State Police was waiting at the arrival gate for a flight that was coming in from Denver a little past noon at the Albuquerque Sunport. He was in his late forties, tall and lanky, with slate gray hair in a flat top cut above his square-jawed face. He was standing in uniform, his presence drawing curious, sometimes wary glances from various travelers. Was the trooper about to arrest someone trying to escape state jurisdiction by air?

      Of course Norris was watching for the opposite of a criminal suspect trying to flee. When a small, pony-tailed brunette woman with dark blue eyes smiled at him as she emerged from the jetway, Norris realized he’d made his contact. He removed his peaked cap, pinned it under his left arm, and stepped forward to meet the woman off to the side from the stream of arriving passengers.

      Sergeant Norris, the woman said, offering her hand.

      Sergeant Natalie Dvorak.

      Makes me think I should’ve worn my uniform, Natalie said. But I usually work in plainclothes.

      She was wearing her typical navy blue blazer and black slacks. Natalie made note of the color variation in the New Mexico uniform: black with blue trim while in Vermont it was khaki with green trim.

      Norris offered to take Natalie’s carry-on bag but she refused. The two of them made their way towards the baggage claim.

      How was your flight?

      Two flights. Hartford to Denver then here. Anyway, they were okay. Coach doesn’t bother me, being so short.

      Norris chuckled; he was more than a foot taller than Natalie.

      The airport was decorated with representations of Native art, both Navajo and from various Pueblos. Natalie took that in as they walked, finding the exoticism of it all beguiling.

      How long have you been traveling? Norris asked as they took an escalator down to the baggage claim level.

      The first flight left at eight o’clock, Eastern. Of course your clocks say it’s half past noon but my body is two hours ahead of this time zone.

      We’ve got a bit of a drive to Morton City.

      What, three hours?

      Five.

      Natalie stared up at Norris.

      That’s figuring a quick lunch along the way, he added. You hungry, Sergeant?

      Well, yes, as a matter of fact.

      They came up to the baggage carousel for Natalie’s flight.

      Of course, Norris added, I could try to finagle us a State Police chopper from here to our helipad in Deming.

      Don’t be silly, Natalie replied with a smile. Couldn’t justify the expense.

      Aren’t you the frugal Yankee, Norris chuckled.

      Well, Vermont’s no Massachusetts when it comes to spending, that’s for sure.

      I know a nice diner on the way, less than an hour down off I-25.

      Diner food’s what me and my husband like; that’ll be fine.

      Within ten minutes, Norris was carrying Natalie’s suitcase out to the pick-up and drop off area. There was no need for his official vehicle to be parked somewhere in the short term lot; the cruiser was at the curb just ahead of the taxi stand.

      Natalie was grateful for the comfortable low-60’s temperature when she stepped outside. It had been a good forty degrees lower when she’d started out that morning.

      So I’m based in Deming, Norris said after the luggage had been put in the trunk. That’s the district station closest to the Obregon County jail. Either me or someone else from my district will run you back up here for your round trip. You were told we’re handling transport because the county hasn’t got the manpower for it?

      Natalie nodded.

      Norris radioed in to the nearest State Police dispatcher to announce he was in transit with Vermont’s police agent.

      As the cruiser came out from under the airport buildings, Natalie was suddenly aware of a vast blue sky overhead with only a few scattered clouds. Then she was confronted by the buff colored sand and rocks on either side of the road leading to the highway. Natalie kept her eyes on the sun-drenched mountains as Norris guided them onto I-25 South.

      You okay, Sergeant?

      Call me Natalie. No, I’m fine. This is my first time in the Southwest. I live in the mountains but it’s pretty thickly wooded. From a distance, the Green Mountains look mossy. These mountains seem so bare.

      Is it ugly to you?

      Not at all. Fascinating, I guess. Maybe after five hours I won’t feel so overwhelmed.

      We’ve got forests in New Mexico, too. There’s a huge national forest a little to the north of where we’re headed. That might look more familiar to you.

      Norris was in the fast lane, keeping them at a steady 80 miles per hour, much faster than Natalie would drive in Vermont unless it was an emergency. Several cars switched lanes and slowed down as Norris approached them from behind but within fifteen minutes, traffic thinned out to hardly anything visible ahead or behind them.

      How long have you been on the force…?

      Call me Cleve.

      Cleve.

      Twenty years. And you?

      Coming on to eight years with the VSP―Vermont State Police. I was on the city force in Burlington before that.

      Married, you said.

      Right. My husband’s a town cop where we live. Dan’s the only cop, what we call a constable. Our town’s got a population of around 200. Small town constables have to call in the state cops for major crimes or unnatural deaths. That was how Dan and I met.

      Norris gave her a nod.

      I’m an old married guy, myself.

      You heard that I’m the one Sophie Niebauer threated with her gun? Natalie asked after a lull in their conversation.

      I did. Is that why you got this detail?

      It’s why I volunteered for it. Might not have heard about it otherwise. The extradition terms were worked out at state headquarters―I’m assigned to a regional barracks in Rutland―but I was notified because I was Sophie’s ‘victim’. The brass said it was okay for me to bring Sophie back up if I wanted to. Nice chance to get away from the snow and ice, of course, and―well―I wanted to get out of dress-uniform duty at the governor’s inauguration. See, we’ve got Vermont’s first woman governor coming into office and someone in her entourage wanted every broad with a badge sent over to Montpelier for a show of female solidarity. I didn’t even vote for her.

      Norris chuckled.

      Good move, he said. Glad to meet you, Natalie.

      Thanks.

      Does your fugitive know who’s coming to get her?

      Not from me. I hope it’ll be a surprise. Hell, Sophie never would’ve shot me except by accident. But she’ll still do time for it.

      "Sure. How’d you

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