Free Mexican hat by Michael McGarrity

times that amount." He pointed behind Kerney. "The old wagon road I talked about comes out over there, at the side of that mountain. Want to take a look? Maybe we can find out how that old man got up here."
    First, they found the body of a young man thirty yards from the kill site. A coyote had chewed away most of the face and feasted on the chest cavity. When they turned him over, they saw the exit wound from the bullet hole. Kerney took a wallet from the dead man's pants and scanned the contents.
    "Who is he?"
    "The man's name was Hector M. Padilla," Kerney said. "A Mexican citizen."
    "Hector," Stiles repeated. "Well, I'll be damned. Isn't that what the old man called you? Let's see what other surprises we can find before we call the state police."
    Then they found the truck.
    ALL THAT COULD BE DONE to sccure the crime scene and conduct a preliminary investigation was accomplished quickly. Kerney found himself frustrated by their lack of equipment but at the same time pleased with Jim Stiles. He worked efficiently, made few mistakes, and had good cop instincts. They had a confirmed identity of the dead man
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    and a strong suspicion, from the registration papers found in the truck, that the old man in the cave was Dr. Jose Padilla.
    Positioned on a small rise with a clear view of the body, Stiles had a rifle in hand just in case the coyotes came back for another meal. He could see three of them moving in the tall grass, fifty yards away. Kerney sat down next to him. As they waited for the state police to arrive, he started asking Stiles questions.
    "What do we know, so far?"
    Stiles grinned. "Are we debriefing?"
    "Why not?" Kerney replied.
    "That's great. I haven't had anybody to debrief with since I transferred to Reserve. It gets boring analyzing things by yourself."
    Kerney laughed. "I know that feeling. Let's build a scenario of what may have happened."
    "Okay," Stiles said. "Hector and Dr. Padilla, citizens of the Republic of Mexico, drive up to the meadows, for God knows what reason, and get the truck hung up in a gully. Hector Padilla decides to hike out and get help, leaving the old man to wait in the truck. Why he decides to walk to the meadow instead of heading back down the road is a mystery. It's a shorter route, but how would he know about it? He runs into the poacher and gets himself blown away. Probably the old man would have been murdered too, if the killer knew he was in the vicinity."
    "That makes sense. What about the killer?"
    "He's got to be one of the locals."
    "Why do you say that?"
    "Elderman Meadows is protected. Off limits. Has been for years. It's prime elk breeding ground."
    "Okay," Kerney said. "Not much traffic. Known only to locals
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    and off the beaten path. What about the lion? You said it was relocated. Would the killer know it was here?"
    "The word is 'translocated.' It's a technical term we Game and Fish types love to use. You've got to use it if you want to be politically correct."
    "Okay, translocated. Tell me how the killer knew about the lion."
    "We don't publicize translocations. Just a few of the area ranchers are informed so they don't start shooting when they see a cougar."
    "Who knew?" Kerney prodded.
    "Phil Cox and his father. The Johnstons, over by Allegros Mountain. Al Medley. Vance Swingle. Ray Candelaria down in Bear Canyon. Law enforcement personnel. That's it."
    "Did any of the ranchers protest?"
    Stiles shook his head. "Not a one. I know these people. They'd be on the telephone yelling at me in a minute if there was even a remote possibility that a lion was taking their stock. Demanding permission to kill it."
    "People talk," Kerney suggested.
    "True enough. We can't keep a project like this completely secret. That would be impossible. But I don't think folks sit around in Cattleman's Cafe talking to tourists about wild mountain lions."
    "So it's a local," Kerney agreed. "Are there any prime suspects in other cases we can check