Caruso 01 - Boom Town (18 page)

Tony shifted in his chair, catching the racing action from the corner of his eye. “Your ankle... I understand you hurt it doing some spectacular jam?”

“Motherfucker!”

“What?”

“Not you, man.” He stretched out his skinny finger at the T.V.

“I fuckin’ crashed.”

“Your ankle?”

He hesitated. “That’s part of the game.” He put special emphasis on that last word, and then said, “The fans don’t wanna see a bunch of pussies clomping up the hardwood with that lay-up shit.

They want some air.”

Tony couldn’t have agreed more with him. He always thought if the women really wanted fan support, they would lower the
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baskets to nine feet and start jamming the crap out of the ball.

“What I meant was, you were injured two days before Dan and Barb Humphrey died.” Tony turned slightly, watching Jamal’s car fly around the track and sift through the cars. Since he didn’t respond, Tony continued. “You were here, Jamal. The night they died. The night their house blew up.”

Jamal’s car smashed into the grandstands. “Shiiit...”

“Jamal?”

He shook his head and set the game controller down. “What the fuck you want from me?”

“I just want to know if you saw anything out of the ordinary that night.”

“Yeah. Damn straight. It ain’t normal for a frickin’ house to blow up.”

Tony had that one coming. Almost the same thing Mrs. Ellison had said when he asked her that question. “Did you hear a shot prior to the place going up?”

He thought for a moment. “What? You think ‘cause I’m black I be used to hearing gunshots?”

“Cut the bullshit, Jamal. You grew up in a nice north Chicago suburb, one of two children of a prominent cardiac surgeon mother and a father who was a lawyer at one of the largest firms in that city. After high school, you went to Stanford on a full scholar-ship. Scored almost 1500 on your SATs. The attitude is an act, my friend.”

Jamal sat with his jaw shifted to one side.

Tony continued, “I’m sorry. I just thought maybe you heard something and looked out your window.”

Jamal laughed out loud, pointing his finger at Tony. “I had ya going, Tony, my man.” He restarted his game, and when the lights went from red to green, he jammed his thumb onto the button as if he was really behind the wheel of the race car.

“Did you see anything that night?”

“I don’t pay attention to other people’s business.”

Time to lead the witness. “What about a car?”

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He let out a gasp of air. “Aw right. I saw a car.”

“What kind?”

“It was dark.” His race car smashed into another car and flipped over. Luckily, the program popped it back over for him.

“If I had to guess, I’d say it was a Ford. Some piece of shit like that.”

“Anything else?”

He paused the game and stared right at Tony. “Yeah, the fuckin’

second shooter on the grassy knoll.” Shaking his head, he continued the game.

Tony had a feeling there was something else he wasn’t telling him, but he also knew he was starting to piss him off. And if he wanted anything else, he needed to lay off. Tony thanked him for the information and saw himself out.

When he got to the truck, Captain Beaver Jackson was parked in his truck just behind Tony’s vehicle. He got out and shuffled up to him, his expression sullen, like he was about to do something totally against his nature. Stopping a few feet from Tony, the captain pulled his pants up higher on his waist.

Tony had a feeling he knew what was coming. The good captain had been forced to sit through the crying of his two men and now felt somewhat compelled to act.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Jackson?” Tony said.

The security captain twisted his neck to the side, cracking it as easily as some would their knuckles. “I hope I don’t have to go to the sheriff to keep you from hassling our residents.” He gave Tony a slight smile to show he wasn’t absolutely pissed off at him. At least not yet.

“Don’t think that’ll be a problem,” Tony said. He thought about it for a second, and then said, “Has somebody complained about me?”

“Can’t say.”

“You’ve obviously been talking with those two Einsteins of yours.”

He laughed and then pulled out a piece of gum from his pock-142

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et, offered Tony one, and when he waved him off, Beaver Jackson shrugged and shoved a piece into his mouth. “Doctor told me to stop smoking,” he said. “It’s a damn conspiracy.

They’re all in it together.” He hesitated as Tony gave him a blank stare. “The doctors and dentists. Doctor says don’t smoke, chew gum. Got two choices there. Sugar gum, which rots your teeth, and sugar free, which causes cancer. Doctors’ll get you back one way or another. They got ya coming into this world, ya gotta pay

‘em all along the way, and then ya pay ‘em when you’re dying.”

He shook his head like he’d just said the most profound thing in his life. With the gum back in his molars, he was chomping away like a cow.

Wasn’t much Tony could say. “I think I’ve talked with everyone I need to at Cascade Peaks,” he said.

“That so?”

“At least for now. I needed to talk with Jamal Banks...since he was here the night Dan and Barb died.”

Beaver Jackson lowered his brows as if Tony was a quarterback and he was about to run right over his center and take off his head. “Thought he was playing in Portland that night,” he said, without much conviction.

“No. He’d already injured his ankle. Just told me that himself.”

“What else he have to say?”

“I’m afraid that’s confidential,” Tony said. “Let’s just say I’m getting closer to the truth.”

Tony got into the truck and lowered the window.

Beaver Jackson stood back a few feet, his hands on his hips.

“You need to keep an eye on those two gifted children of yours,” Tony said. “They might try to bite off more than they can chew. Good way to choke.” Tony smiled and turned his head toward the captain’s truck, which sat in Tony’s way.

Jackson took that as a sign to move out of Tony’s way. He shuffled off and moved his vehicle.

Backing out, Tony smiled and waved at the good captain as he left.

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Tony had just made it through the front gate when he got a call on his cell phone from Sheriff Bill Green. He wanted to see him right away. Now! Great.

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Tony would have expected the sheriff to haul him into his office, plant him into an uncomfortable chair, and proceed to chew his ass for something or other. But that didn’t happen. In fact, he had asked him nicely to meet him in Drake Park in downtown Bend, right on the same bridge where Tony and Dawn Sanders had stood the other day.

Parking on the west bank of the Deschutes River, Tony walked a block to the meeting. Panzer took this opportunity, once again, to chase after geese at a safe distance, and generally frolic about the wide green spaces. The sheriff was already waiting for him, leaning against a rail and not even turning to look at him as Tony approached.

“What’s up?” Tony said.

His eyes shifted toward Tony. “A couple of my deputies were called out to the Riverfront condos this morning. There was a condo last used by a Frank Peroni completely destroyed.

Someone at the front desk told us about how a man claiming to be his brother had been there. You wouldn’t know anything about that?”

Leaning against the bridge rail next to the sheriff, Tony shrugged. “They didn’t talk to you?”

The sheriff turned quickly. “Who?”

“The two Portland Police detectives. Shabato and Reese. I caught them rifling through Peroni’s condo.”

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“The guy at the front desk didn’t say anything about two cops,”

he said. “He described you like a photo, though.”

“And after I said I’d pay the bill.”

“What?”

“I told Shabato and Reese you might want to get together, considering all the break-ins around here you told me about.”

The sheriff had an incredulous glare across his face. “Again, Tony. Why are the Portland detectives running around Deschutes County?”

“I have no idea. I went to Portland to hunt down Frank Peroni.

Back up. I found out Frank Peroni went home with Dan and Barb Humphrey the night the house was blown to shit. I went to Portland to find Peroni. He wasn’t there. His wife said he hasn’t been back from Bend. Filed a missing person report; the whole nine yards. I leave Peroni’s place and pick up a tail. It’s the Portland cops, Shabato and Reese. They say they like Peroni for a string of robberies in upscale neighborhoods there. Entering but no breaking. They figure Peroni sold the locks and security systems and then hired someone to go in later. Sweet deal.”

“No shit. Ream their ass coming and going. Sounds like something a lawyer would do.”

“Yeah, I also thought about your problem here. You mentioned the problems you’ve had.” Tony shrugged.

Letting out a deep breath, the sheriff said, “I’ll call Portland.

But I have another concern.” He slid his large frame sideways toward Tony. “This thing you’re looking into. Dan and Barb Humphrey. The autopsy came back from Portland, and as I suspected, everything was as I guessed it would be. Dental matches.

Their wedding rings. Everything.”

“What about DNA?”

His eyes narrowed on Tony. “There was no reason for that. No reason for us to believe they weren’t who we thought they were.”

Tony started to back away. “Gotcha.”

“One more thing,” the sheriff said.

Tony stopped and looked at the sheriff.

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“Leave the residents alone out at Cascade Peaks.”

Letting out a slight laugh, Tony said, “I have everything I need from that place. I thought you might have actually found out something about the person who shot me. How’s that investigation going?”

He smiled and shrugged. “You didn’t give us much to go on.”

Tony gave a little whistle and Panzer came running and stopped at his feet.

“I heard you had a giant schnauzer.”

“Yeah, and I’ve got a big dog, too.”

“I heard they’re used in Germany for police work,” the sheriff said. “This one trained?”

Tony stooped down and rubbed Panzer behind the ears. “He doesn’t piss in the house, if that’s what ya mean.”

The sheriff shook his head as he started to walk away. “You take care of yourself, Tony,” he said over his shoulder.

Watching the sheriff drift back along the fake cobblestones toward downtown, Tony got down on one knee next to his dog.

He didn’t need the sheriff telling him that. Enough had happened in the past few days to keep his senses at peak performance. But something had bothered him about this whole case. Something he had contemplated on his drive to see the sheriff.

“You’ll take care of me,” he said to Panzer.

The dog whined and yawned.

“Always vigilant. How’d you like to see our favorite acupuncturist?”

He went back to his truck, loaded Panzer into the back, and then headed toward her place.

When he got to the Naturopathic Clinic, the receptionist informed him that Dawn Sanders wasn’t there. She had gone out to her brother’s house in a hurry, not saying why. That was almost a half an hour ago, she said.

Tony got directions to Don Sanders’ place out on Mount Jefferson Drive. Driving out there, he passed tall stands of old growth ponderosa pines mingled with swatches of sage and vir-BOOM TOWN 147

gin juniper. The road rose up as he neared the location, and he could see immediately why Cliff Humphrey and his partners wanted to build a resort there. Spreading out to the west and north were unobstructed panoramic views of Mount Bachelor, Broken Top, the Three Sisters, and he suspected from farther out in the fields to the west, some sites would have views of Mount Jefferson and Mount Washington.

Tony pulled into the dirt driveway and parked behind a Toyota 4x4 pickup. Up closer to the house was a larger white Chevy truck, with the back enclosed with a specially designed container with locked doors and explosives symbols plastered to the side.

Don Sanders’ work truck that Tony had seen out at the blast site.

He got out and looked around. Panzer was going nuts in the back of the truck.

“Settle down, Panzer. I know what you smell.”

The dog circled around a few times, his nose in the air, and finally settled into his bed.

The house wasn’t anything special. A little ranch house fifty or sixty years old, with a cedar shake roof and siding that needed a coat of stain. Surrounding the house were shrubs that had gotten carried away, spreading branches in front of the windows. He went to the front door and knocked. Nothing. He tried looking through the window, but couldn’t see anyone inside. Then he noticed it. The frame alongside the lock had been pried and ripped away. Probably how someone had gotten into the place.

Looking more closely, Tony noticed the lock. It was a Cascade Lock.

Suddenly, Tony heard a muffled voice around the corner of the house. He stepped down from the stoop and made his way around the side of the building. Then the voice became more clear. A man. Don Sanders? The voice was coming from a small out-building that might have been a barn of some sort. He guessed as much, since there was a dilapidated fence that led out from each side of the wooden frame, and then out farther to a trampled and well eaten pasture.

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“Motherfucker!” the voice said as Tony got closer.

Then there was a second voice. A woman. Consoling. Dawn Sanders. Tony got to a gate, slipped through it, and closed it behind him.

“Bastards. Motherfuckin’ bastards. I’ll kill that fucker.”