“Toto, I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.” (From The Wizard of Oz, a movie I’ve been thinking a LOT about lately.) Right? I totally understand how Dorothy felt. It’s like, “Pluto, you’re not in Santa Fe anymore!” I am now so far from any desert or adobe — in Claymont, Delaware (home of One Day at a Time’s Valerie Bertinelli and Vice President Joe Biden. I live on his street!!!) The other day, talking to a client I said “vortex” and she said, “vo-techs?” Hahaha. Not that easy to find quesadillas, either. (But there’s a lot of Italian restaurants here, so ravioli heaven! Guess who else loves ravioli? JOE BIDEN!)

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by Jaime Romero
New Mexican Staff Writer

LOS BANOS, CA. July, 1 – In a shocking climax to the electrocution death that has riveted New Mexico for nearly a week, the supposed “victim” of a love-triangle murder has been found alive in the Central Valley of California and charged with 1^st-degree murder of an employee.

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Gus

What the fuck have I done?

But first, my God, what did I fail to do? I knew he was exploring that past-lives nonsense. I knew he thought he was in love with the deplorable Myrrhgenroder. I knew he was ditching Vineeta for the goddamn rebirthing. Why did I let him? Why didn’t I stop him? He was my responsibility. I am his master. Why did I abandon him to his naïve adolescent fantasies?

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To: news media inquiry
From: Candace Tran Stevenson
Re: statement on Pluto McDowell case

thank you for your call/email.  in an attempt to end various serious distortions in media coverage of the so-called “Pluto matter,” this statement consists of basic facts:

i am separated from Mary Lou Stevenson

i have never in my life set foot in the state of Nevada except for a high school field trip to the Hoover Dam when I was 16.

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Deputy Oscar

Got to hand it to Pop.

He’s been elected sheriff every four years for 32 years. He’s very popular in the county and if he wanted he could just sit in his office, working on budgets and smoking cigars. But this isn’t a big department. We have only 21 officers including him. So he goes out on patrol like any of us. We don’t have county detectives; every deputy is responsible for any investigations on their watch, too. I’m more or less in charge of managing those investigations, and Pop doesn’t interfere. But I’ll tell you what: he pays very close attention. Doesn’t say much, but he’s watching and listening, believe me.

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Dale

So here was my week:

Tuesday: Hey, Dale. Your father’s dead. Yeah, your dad was in a hot tub and got electrocuted. Your dad was “regressing” to past lives. Now he’s in a fucking morgue somewhere. You’re smoking-hot stepmom found him, and he was smoking hotter. Your father, burnt to a crisp, Dale.

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The Governor

It is my honor and pleasure to speak to you. My name is Susana Martinez, the 31^st governor of New Mexico. In my first term as chief executive, I am proud of getting the state budget under control by eliminating certain tax loopholes, demanding accountability from our public schools by grading them on the same A to F scale we impose on students and to be taking on organized labor and militant climate advocates. I have also fought battles to protect Life, and to counter a culture of sexual permissiveness and promiscuity among our youthful citizens. I have protected small business by vetoing a bill that would have increased the minimum wage beyond the means of hardworking business owners and negatively impacted jobs growth.

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Lotus

You cannot believe what has been going on here the past few days. This is the last Friday of the month, so, yep: nut shipment. I have to be on the loading dock when it arrives and especially today, to make sure the order is cut by two thirds. The Loam Sweet Loam section has squeezed out the nut bins (including the macadamias, thank God!) and I show up at 7 a.m., even before Gus. And who is there waiting for me? THE FEDS.

There’s three agents from the Drug Enforcement Agency plus two city cops who serve me a search warrant for Chakra ’n’ Awe. They tell me Mary Lou is in jail in Albuquerque, charged with drug trafficking, and I’m thinking two things: 1) WTF? 2) I have weed in my shoulder bag.

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Manny

My attorney tells me that I need to tell you that nothing I’m saying here is new to the cops, the district attorney, the DEA or the U.S. Attorney’s office. I am not attempting to recast the circumstances in a more favorable light or “play to the court of public opinion.” What we’re dealing with here is a matter of legal gray areas, gray in the states of Nevada and New Mexico, the United States of America and the freaking United Nations.

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by Jaime Romero
New Mexican Staff Writer

ESPANOLA, June 28 – The man who moved to Santa Fe and immediately became a statewide celebrity has been arrested by Rio Arriba police in connection with the death of industrialist Randolph Hergenroder.

The accused, Pluto McDowell, 18, is a young distributor for Hergenroder’s Pueblo Mineral Resources, a multi-level marketer of so-called “energy rich” potting soils and similar garden products. Deputies from the Rio Arriba Sheriff’s Department took him into custody Wednesday at Albuquerque SunPort on an arriving flight from Las Vegas.

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Pluto

Oh, brother. After I win $1 million (a check for $610,000 after taxes) I go back to my room. It’s crazy at the elevator lobby, because it’s jammed with folks who want to go upstairs with me, but security doesn’t let anyone through. They’re all treating me like a super celebrity, but, tell you the truth, I’m not exactly sure what was happening. There were the weird tails of light I saw in everyone’s footsteps or arm movements and their faces all looked so … crinkly? I know what’s happening, OK, but the Bitter Magic really did a number on me. Not in a bad way. Just in a big way. The elevator ride up 15 floors feels like I’m being sucked along like in those tubes at the bank drive-through. When I get to the room, there’s Mary Lou conked out in my bed. There’s also about a 5-foot tall flower arrangement (from Vineeta!), and another basket filled with candy and fruit, courtesy of the NACM. (“Dear Mr. McDowell. Thank you for participating in the 116^th Annual Credit Conference & Expo. Please enjoy a snack on us in advance of your session tomorrow morning. Break a leg! Sincerely, Milt Pleasence.”) Oh, and a shopping bag from a gun range with about a pound and a half of sacramental herbs.

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Dr. Salazar

The fellow from the newspaper asks me, “Dr. Salazar, is this is an unusual case?” Ay, ay. I say like my granddaughter would: “It’s the unusualest.”

First let me tell you, this is not like Denver or Albuquerque. The medical examiner in Rio Arriba doesn’t see much activity. Most of the cases within my jurisdiction are MVAs and DOAs. A DOA is a death by any means where there is little or no medical intervention, usually a senior who dies at home. When the individual dies alone, and days elapse before the body is discovered, it is very unpleasant to deal with. I’ll leave it at that. There are times when someone passes away in a hospital of violent trauma and I’m required to determine if physical assault or some other unnatural cause contributed to death; it happens. It is one of the most challenging duties for coroners. We obviously must be detached from human relationships and we must have what you call critical distance from the events, but we can’t always be immune to the drama when, for example, someone in the grieving family has by negligence or malice caused the injuries leading to death. This arouses bad feelings. I have been called every name in the book, and worse.

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Myrrh

Dear PMR Family. Mi hermanos y hermanas, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for the outpouring of sympathies for my darling, treasured, unforgettable Randy. I send you this letter to share as we have always shared.

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Jaime

It is a basic rule of journalistic ethics that, before you do anything else in a conversation, you identify yourself as a reporter. It’s what I’m doing right here, right now. (Once again, Jaime Romero of the New Mexican.) And it’s what I did with Deputy Mendoza of the Rio Arriba County sheriff’s office.

I’m not a police reporter; I cover business, so I’m not all that well acquainted with law enforcement in the region — certainly not Rio Arriba, which adjoins Santa Fe County and shares some climate and topography but not much else. Mainly it’s just sprawling, scrubby, semi-rural, semi-suburban, nondescript blah — plus four desert ghost towns. If you know Rio Arriba, it’s probably for Northern New Mexico College, New Mexico Highlands University, the Jicarilla Apache Reservation, the Brazos Cliffs, the Monastery of Christ (with its own brewery!) and, most famously, the Puye Cliff Dwellings, which are more than 1,000 years old and were abandoned by Pueblo Indians 500 years ago. It’s like a two-story condo complex carved out of soft volcanic tuff. No community tennis court, no pool. In the Tewe language, Puye means “pueblo ruin where the rabbits assemble or meet.” Of course.

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Read Pluto Walks the Earth, Chapter 49: The Ashram Detective Agency

Date              27 June 2012

Time             4:58 pm

Mode            In Person _____  Telephone __x__ Email __x__ Postal Mail _____

Personnel    Deputy Oscar Mendoza

Name           Varneeda Wieselberg

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Read Pluto Walks the Earth, Chapter 48: Meanwhile, Back Home

Gus

Hergenroder dead? It does not make me proud to tell you this, but my first thought is, “Whatever. That works for me.” Because this guy — come on — a waste of carbon atoms. Ashes to ashes, dirt to dirt. Still, it doesn’t take too long for me to return to being a human being and regret his passing, especially in such a horrifying way. I can’t imagine what it must have been like. I only hope the first jolt did the job. Then, Wednesday morning, Vineeta calls.

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By Cary Karczewski
New Mexican Staff Writer

ALBUQUERQUE, N.M. – Randolph R. Hergenroder, president and chief operating officer of Pueblo Mineral Resources Corp., died June 26 in his Medanales home. He was 46.

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Milton Pleasence <mpleasence@NACM.org> Wed, June 27 2:10 PM       

To: Colleen Z. Amberson <czamber@sincityspeakers.com>

CC: LoriAnn Falcone <lfalcone@NACM.org>

Dear Colleen:

At the risk of excess haste, I write to you immediately with respect to the June 27 opening session at the NACM Credit Conference & Expo. It was a problematic culmination to a problematic booking of the day’s opening speaker, Mr. Pluto McDowell. It came to a halt five hours ago, but has already led to media repercussions.

As you know, we engaged Mr. McDowell for his appearance through your agency at the fee of $25,000 plus 2-nights lodging, first-class air travel and incidentals. We, of course, also engaged Ms. Joan Lunden to be his interviewer at a significant expense. The booking process was complicated at the outset by McDowell’s demand that we include, onstage with him and at our expense, a gentleman named Manuel Baerga, who was, as you explained “a character in the Pluto McDowell story.” We consented, committing to additional first-class travel and accommodations and adjusting our program accordingly, which included a new brief for Ms. Lunden. Then, one week before the event, we were suddenly informed that Mr. Baerga could not attend due to a serious illness in his family. This again required inconveniencing Ms. Lunden and readjusting our program.

Then, yesterday, at 1 pm during the general luncheon, Mr. McDowell was a no-show for his rehearsal in the adjacent Grand Ballroom. It is my understanding that he arrived in time for his 7 am call this morning, and sat curled in the corner of the green room hugging himself and humming. When Ms. Lunden called him onto the stage at 8:40 am, what a spectacle that was: stepping up to the dais in a bathrobe, looking as if he’d slept in a sandpit. From the front row, where I sat, it was all too clear he was wearing no pants. I am separately forwarding the videotape and the full transcript of the session. But let me please excerpt the first few questions and answers:

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Franny

I’ll tell you what, Vineeta’s madder than hell. Pretty sure that Mr. McDowell warned her he might not be able to go out with her and her friends tonight, but she’s stomping around looking pretty jilted. She says to me, “Franny,” she says. She says “Franny, I want you to get the biggest flower arrangement you can find in the city of Las Vegas, and I want you to deliver it to him personally.”

“Ain’t you mad? Why you sending him flowers if you’re mad?”

“First of all, Francis, I’m not mad. Maybe I’m a bit disappointed that I could not make the boy’s birthday extra special. Secondly, I promised my dear friend Gus that I’d look after him, and so I am. Thirdly, he’s sick in bed on his birthday. Someone should brighten it up a little. And fourthly, since when did this business become a democracy? Last I heard you worked for me.”

“Yeah, sorry, Vineeta. I wasn’t sayin’ …”

“Never mind. Just take care of it, please. Also, if you and your wife maybe want to see Cirque du Soleil tonight, I have two tickets. My treat.”

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Mary Lou

The Mustang is humming that nice throaty idle when Pluto finally climbs in.

“Buckle up, buttercup,” I say. “We are goin’ for a ride.”

That’s no lie. I have to see Pluto through this. Just have to. So I’m driving through the Mojave to Amargosa Desert, Nevada, right near the California line, about an hour and a half northwest of Vegas. Pretty much a straight shot up Highway 95.

Amargosa is really just one patch of the 25,000 square mile Mojave sandpile that extends from the Sierra Nevada mountains to the Colorado Plateau. I can’t say for sure it stands out from the other scorching patches, but talk about desolate beauty; it is something to behold. The whole run up there is a two-lane ribbon of blacktop through a stunning, arid wasteland. Purple mountains jut fuzzily from the endless, distant horizon, with a vast foreground of sand and sandstone, Cholla cactus and scrub pushing up from the gravel. The Creosote bushes and Joshua trees, it’s like they’re just being ignorant of the elements, like dinner guests who won’t leave even when you cut the music and lights. Land alive, don’t they know better? It is hot out here. And more water, probably, on the damn moon. Every now and then, a black-tailed jack rabbit will skitter into view, and if you keep your eyes peeled you can spy quite a few rattlers and chuckwalla lizards. But mostly it’s like a Flintstones cartoon: you drive and drive, and the same background keeps running by you in a loop.

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