A Dead Issue (28 page)

“We got to cut this short,” I whispered. “Before he finds the gun.”

Lenny was at the bank shining his light up and down the slope as he walked along the base. Cash had moved back to where he had drained his dragon. We were safe as long as Lenny stuck to territory we had already searched. We stayed close to Dusty's teeth, swinging our light back and forth, keeping our eyes on him.

Lenny ended his search of the bank and then turned his light on us and walked our way. If we timed it right, we could meet at the teeth, which were in the weeds in the path between us. Dusty led the way back shining his light way out in front where the teeth were, and when a bit of pink flashed, Dusty said, “There!”

DiNuccio trained his light on the spot and we converged on Dusty's front four teeth basking in a warm pool of light. Dusty snatched up his prize and polished them on his shirttail before popping them into his mouth and snapping them into place. “I feel normal,” he said with a smile.

I expected Lenny to focus his light on Dusty's mouth to examine the finished product, but his flashlight pointed toward the ground.

“I'll be a son-of-a-bitch,” he said with a sense of wonder. He bent over and plucked something from the weeds.

Cash joined our huddle, “What'd you find?” he asked casually.

“A cartridge,” DiNuccio said. “Remington forty-five.”

Dusty's hand rose to his chest, but I knew his pocket was empty.

“I'll be damned,” he added and tucked it into his uniform.

CHAPTER 48

We watched the patrol car pull away. When the taillights disappeared around the bend, Cash bowed his head and chuckled.

“Well, well, well,” he began. “So you weren't looking for the missing tapes after all. What do you know?”

Dusty and I said nothing.

“This is going to get interesting,” he continued.

I looked at him concerned. “What do you mean?”

“Let's see if I can put this together.” He paused and looked skyward. “The papers say Jonah Heard died during a breakin at his house. Someone shot up the place with a .45 caliber pistol. The pistol has not been recovered. And here you are at one o'clock in the morning poking around the grass where your car rolled over—looking for Dusty's ‘teef.' Jesus Christ, I can hear the jury laugh now. Then Lenny finds a forty-five cartridge in the grass—right next to where the teeth are. What a co-inky-dink. I wonder if you could be looking for the gun that goes with it.” His voice trailed off and his shark's teeth glistened in the glow from the headlights. “How'd I do?”

I sucked in a deep breath and exhaled loudly.

“You know, if I can figure that out, Devereaux's going be on it in a second. I be you—I'd look for a visit real soon.”

He nodded in a self-satisfied way as if he expected Devereaux to pull up to join us within the next minute.

“So, guys, we have some talking to do. Where to?”

Dusty, who hadn't said much since DiNuccio found the bullet, looked up. “How ‘bout Miller's?”

“Motherfuck . . . pull that shit on me again, you'll be looking around for the rest of your ‘teef.' Let's make this simple. Where are the tapes?”

Dusty said nothing.

“They're at my place,” I finally confessed.

“Then we'll go to your place,” Cash said decisively. “Lead the way.”

Dusty took a step toward the Lexus, but Cash reached out and grabbed a handful of collar. “I think you better come with me, Stanley. We have a lot of talking to do.”

Dusty turned and climbed into Cash's car and we headed back up 611 toward the Crow's Nest. As I drove, I checked the rearview mirror, wondering what was going on in Cash's GTO. And then I pieced it together. Cash didn't want us talking and conspiring all the way to the Crow's Nest. He needed to keep us apart. Now I understood—or thought I did.

Nearing the Crow's Nest, I became more and more uneasy about Cash seeing my father's house. His only view of Cameron money was through his brief visits to the Farmhouse. There is a difference between hearing about wealth and actually seeing what it can do. I feared that once he saw the Crow's Nest, he would give himself a raise. The ten thousand dollars for the surveillance tape would be the down payment.

At the Crow's Nest, Cash slid out of his car and pulled a small backpack out after him, slipping the strap over his right shoulder. It was the kind of backpack an eighth grader might use to carry his books—lots of zippers, straps, and mesh pockets. Dusty came around from his side of the car looking like he had just been told he had cancer.

“So, this is where you live,” Cash said as he closed his door. “I couldn't figure out why we passed the Farmhouse down there—the guest house, Dusty said.”

Cash turned and looked out over the valley—a vast plain of darkness sprinkled with a few clusters of lights. “Some view.”

I was wary of Cash. I had learned the hard way that he was most dangerous when he acted friendly, putting you off guard, waiting for the chance to pounce. We moved toward the front door, Cash pirouetting every few steps to catch the view again and make a comment. “Bet that light over there—bet that's Easton.”

“Yes,” I said unlocking the door, “And Allentown and Bethlehem. It's one big glow from here.”

Since Cash's ploy seemed to be to focus on the wonderful view, I decided to run with that theme. I led him
straight upstairs to the observation room at the top of the house. I did not turn on the lights as I ushered them into the room. I wanted the outside world to be free from reflections and to keep Cash playing the role of awestruck guest until it wore thin. When we entered, Cash stepped up to the nearest window and seemed genuinely captured by the vista before him. On a cool, crisp night like tonight, it would have been hard to ignore the miniature world below.

Cash shifted his backpack to his left shoulder and walked from window to window in much the same way Liza did the night we first met. I looked down the valley. Headlights blinked through the trees and I wondered where Liza was. I longed for her to come back. I followed the lights, willing them to be Liza, and mentally directing them through the twists and turns of country roads to Cameron Drive. But it did not happen. The car moved on and eventually disappeared from view.

Cash, meanwhile, looked up at the stars, holding his hand at arm's length and peering through a viewfinder formed by the L of his thumb and flattened hand. I watched him for a moment and glanced over at Dusty who shrugged his shoulders vacantly.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

Still squinting at the sky, he said, “I'm looking for a special piece of the sky.” He continued his search. “It's just a little patch.” He turned from the window to face me and added, “It's the one you'll be able to see from your cell window.”

He paused while the words “cell window” took their full effect.

“There it is!” he announced as if making a great discovery. “That bright star right over the horizon. Ur-anus.”

“Uranus is a planet,” I corrected him in an attempt to hide my growing fear behind a veil of bravado. “I don't think you can actually see it.”

“Don't matter. Planet. Star. Once you're in jail, the only thing you're going to worry about is your anus. Fact of the matter, it's never too early to start.” He slipped the backpack off his shoulder and let it drop.

“What do you want?” I said, and the resignation that spilled out with those words shocked me. I had just given myself over to Cash Williams.

“My fee.” He paused and came at me, stopping to stare down at me while I tried hard not to flinch. “You got the ten thousand?”

I said nothing, and he moved to the telescope and toyed with the knobs. He pushed it closer to the window in front of us.

“Didn't think so.” He bent down and peered into the eyepiece. “What'd you do, pay Shitbird to take the tapes?”

“There's been a new development,” I said, seeing a way to slither out from under Cash's heel. “I got busted by DiNuccio at the accident. He put me in handcuffs and then made me an offer I couldn't refuse. He wanted that tape.”

“For Devereaux?”

“He thinks he's being investigated for accepting freebies.”

“And you think he's that stupid?”

I nodded.

“How about this,” he said, “Devereaux is setting you up, using DiNuccio to get that tape and implicate you at the same time.”

He stared at me until I shook my head in agreement. Cash glanced at Dusty then he looked through the telescope again.

“And you figured you wouldn't have to pay up if DiNuccio destroyed the tape—right?”

“No, I wasn't going to give DiNuccio the tape. Dusty told him it got erased—taped over.

“Twice,” Cash added, letting me know that he overheard our little exchange back at the accident.

“I wasn't thinking about paying,” I said. “I had an accident . . .”

Cash straightened up and looked at me. “Oh, yeah. The accident—where you accidentally lost the gun.” He shook his head, advertising his chagrin over my ineptitude. “Where are the tapes?”

Dusty looked up. “Downstairs. In the kitchen.”

“Those you can have.” Cash went to his backpack and pulled out a tape. His usual predatory smile was replaced with one of glee. “This tape,” he started and then paused,
“this is the real deal.”

Cash looked at me and threw a glance at Dusty.

“Asshole here stole all the tapes except the one that shows him stealing the tapes.” He shook his head. “Shitbird forgot that there was a tape in the surveillance system catching his every move.”

Dusty sank low in the chair.

“You know,” Cash said conversationally. “When I saw Dusty walking off with those tapes, I was really pissed. I mean, Devereaux is after those tapes. And this fuckin' nitwit goes and takes them. Makes it look like I'm trying to cover my black ass. I don't need that.”

I glanced over at Dusty. He was in a Death Row pose—head down, hopeless.

“Then I reviewed the tape—watched him set up the oil spill and walk off with a bag full of tapes. Then I go back a little more and see him dip into the till, looking around with his head on a swivel. When I saw that move, things got a little brighter—everything but Dusty that is. He keeps getting dumber. Know what he was going to do with that money?”

I shook my head and looked over at Dusty. He glanced up, caught my eye, and lowered his head.

“He's squirreling away a nest egg so he can go to Brazil!” Cash moved closer to him, leaning over him. “Brazil!” he laughed. “They have a McDonald's in Brazil?”

“Sí,” Dusty said quietly, and I knew that he was beaten but not crushed.

CHAPTER 49

Cash swung one of the leather chairs around to face us and sat with his backpack between his feet. He took his time and looked us in the eyes with a reassuring nod before speaking.

“Everything is going to work out just fine,” he said quietly—almost to himself. “This tape, in its own fucked up way, is the answer to everyone's problem,” Cash said, getting serious. He paused and leaned hard in Dusty's direction. “We had a long talk on the way over here, didn't we?”

Dusty said nothing, his eyes darting everywhere.

“Dusty's going on a little trip.”

Cash waited until Dusty focused on him.

“Then I give this tape to Devereaux.” He waited for that information to sink in and then continued. “That gets my ass off the hook. It actually shows someone dipping into the cash register. That gets you off the hook, too. Devereaux wants those tapes to prove you weren't working that night. Once Dusty gets on that plane, his investigation ends—no evidence. The case goes on the back burner for good. He's not chasing Dusty down to Brazil for dipping into the till.” He remained silent and looked at Dusty. “And Dusty gets the trip of a lifetime.”

Dusty smiled weakly.

“Case closed.”

He pushed himself out of his chair and walked to the window facing the Farmhouse with Uranus shining down upon it. He stood quietly for a moment and then continued. “Except we have one small problem—maybe two.” He turned toward Dusty and me. “See, I'm the captain of this team, but I'm not sure I have any team players. Everybody thinks they can do their own thing. Shitbird over there thinks he can steal the tapes and the game's over. Well, it ain't over till it's over. And it's over
when I say it's over—or when Waldo here finds himself in
an orange jumpsuit lost in general population.” He wheeled a chair up close and sat, his face inches from mine. “Tell me about the gun—no bullshit.”

“No bullshit,” I said taking a deep breath. “The night Jonah died, I went back to get my wallet.”

“Yeah, I heard that part,” Cash cut in. “He was dead when you got there and you left. Now tell me what I didn't hear.”

I glanced over at Dusty. He looked up and then dropped his head. “Actually, he was alive when we went in.”

His lips twitched into a brief smile of satisfaction that faded quickly.

“He heard us and thought we were burglars. He fired off a shot and fell down the steps. We ran like hell.”

Cash sat back but remained silent, evidently satisfied with a story that made sense.

“We went back in to see if he was all right.”

“You went back into the house? And he had a gun?” Cash pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows at our courage—or maybe our stupidity.

Dusty sat up. “I tried to tell him, but he wouldn't listen. We go in and he was hiding in the other room. Came staggering out like some kind of zombie and started shooting all over the place. Fuckin' Dodge City.”

“Later, we found out the gun was missing.” I looked at Dusty. “Someone took it.”