Parishioner (40 page)

“Then why’d you help Brayton steal those boys?”

The look on her face was that of a lost child. She was searching for the answer in Ecks.

“I didn’t say that I loved the old pervert.”

“But it sounded like you were proud that he loved you.”

“What does any of this have to do with those boys?”

“Did Clay Berber know what you were going to do with Brayton? Did he profit from the money you got from Sedra?”

“Absolutely not. When he realized that I had a real boyfriend he tried to keep us apart. He wouldn’t let me go out; at least, he tried to stop me.”

“Okay, all right. Tell me about Jerry Jocelyn.”

“He called the night after I met you. He said that he heard I was looking for Brayton and three boys that went missing twenty years ago.”

“Why would he care about that?”

“He said that he knew about Brayton but he was wondering what my interest was.”

“And you told Jocelyn about Frank?”

“Not exactly. I just said that I had somebody else looking for the boys. That’s when he said that two of the parents were willing to pay for knowledge about all the boys. He was on some kind of time limit and wanted me to back off. When I told him that I didn’t know if the new people I’d engaged would agree to stop looking, he said that he’d pay me fifteen thousand dollars if I turned the information I got over to him before taking any other action. I didn’t see the harm. I wanted to find them anyway.”

“Which parents?”

“He didn’t say.”

“Why would any of the natural parents want the boys dead?”

“He said that they wanted them found but not until after their thirtieth birthday. It sounded like they wanted to get to the bottom of the kidnapping … and something else too.”

“So they hired a lawyer?”

“I don’t know.”

The Parishioner realized that he was leaning forward in a predatory fashion. He sat back and took a deep breath.

“How’s the Y treating you?” he asked.

“I’ve been in worse places.”

“What do you plan to do when all this is over?”

“Go back to Florida or maybe turn myself in. Maybe if they take me to court I can feel like I paid for my crime.”

“Did you give Jocelyn my name?”

“Uh …”

“But you weren’t gonna tell me.”

“I didn’t know that he was going to be killing the boys. Why would I think that?”

It was a good question.

“Why would they pay all kinds of money to keep quiet?” was another one.

“Waiting for the birthdays to pass like Jerry said,” Benol suggested weakly.

“Jerry’s in jail along with a man named Chick Martindale.”

“For what?”

“Murder.”

“Hank?”

“No. Two other guys.”

“Oh. I see.”

“I lied to you,” Ecks said. “The last guy I met, that Lenny, he was the third boy.”

“Really?”

“So I’ve completed my mission.”

Benol Richards seemed to age right there in front of Ecks. Her shoulders slumped and her eyes lost focus.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“The last kid is all fucked-up and you lied to me. I’ll give Frank the information and either he’ll tell you or he won’t. That’s up to the church.”

“I am not an evil woman, Mr. Noland.”

“If a chunk of rock fell off a building aimed right at my head it wouldn’t be evil either, but I’d sure the fuck try to get outta the way.”

“This was my last chance,” she whispered.

“No, baby. Your last chance comes in the middle, or maybe just a second before your last breath. This was just a practice run for you. From here on in you have to get more creative.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will.”

Benol hadn’t touched the food set out in front of her. She stared for a moment and then rose. Ecks watched her, saying nothing. Saying nothing she walked from the restaurant lugging her golden purse as if it were a heavy weight, filled with the bodies of her victims.

“Hey, sailor,” the electric eye greeted.

It was six minutes past three and Lenny was up on a ladder hanging rakes between long wooden dowels jutting out and upward from the wall. The young man was wearing jeans that would have fallen off his skinny hips if not for a tightly cinched leather belt. His T-shirt read,
Hardware Man
.

Lenny was talking to George Ben, who was standing at the base of the mobile ladder. They were both smiling.

“Hey, Ecks,” George said, his attention still on Lenny.

“Eyes in the back of your head, George?” Ecks asked.

“Mirror on the back wall of the store.”

“I see you put Lenny to work.”

“Idle hands.”

“Can you give your new employee a coffee break?” Ecks asked.

After calling a young African man named Jack from the storeroom, George Ben led Ecks and Lenny O to his office. There he extracted three espressos from an elaborate brass contraption that sat on its own table against the wall.

“I need to talk to Lenny alone,” Ecks told his fellow parishioner.

“No,” George said as politely as the word allowed. “I promised him that I’d make sure he was okay.”

“And you think I mean to hurt him?”

“No offense, Brother Ecks, but all someone has to do is look at you and they can tell that you represent hurt from your fingers to your toes.”

Ecks weighed the options of the possible confrontation. Ben was, among other things, a killer. He was strong and brutal, though rehabilitated. He would always be a threat, even if he was a little too softhearted.

“Okay,” Ecks conceded. “Let’s sit down and powwow.”

“You go sit in my chair behind the desk,” George said to Lenny.

The store owner then gestured for Ecks to take one of the two visitors’ chairs, waited for him to be seated, and then followed suit.

Ecks decided to ignore the dynamic of the meeting and opened his line of inquiry. “Tommy Jester.”

“What about him?” Lenny asked, looking to George.

“How long ago did he tell you about the people after you?”

“One week, no, no, two, two weeks.”

“Did he tell you anything else about it?”

“Just that Ellie’s brother blamed me for what happened to her. He said that he was after me, that I should stay in the steel shed behind the kitchen. He gave me a padlock to use on the inside and told me not to come out unless it was daylight and the daytime security staff was on duty.”

“How long did he expect you to live like that?”

“He told me that he’d try and work it out, but if he couldn’t he’d make sure that I’d get out of town.”

“You trust him?”

“Oh, yeah. Tommy’s always been real nice to me. When he told me about the guy after me he had his doctor look me over and give me a blood test.”

“Why? Were you sick?”

“I think that that’s enough questions,” George said.

“Don’t press me, George,” Ecks said from a place that didn’t bargain.

“Um, it’s okay, Mr. Ben,” Lenny said, suddenly in the role of peacemaker. “No, no, I wasn’t sick. I thought that he was givin’ me the usual STD test. You know, the doc gives them to everybody.”

“Two weeks ago?”

“Uh-huh.”

“How long’s the turnaround on that?”

“Usually it’s three days.”

“So what did he say?”

“He had to send it out to a new place for some reason and it hadn’t come back yet. He said that happens sometimes with a new lab.”

“Hm.”

“What?” Lenny and George both asked.

“Thank you very much, Len,” Ecks replied. “I think everything is gonna be all right for you, but I’d keep my head down for a while—at least until I give you the okay.”

“What is it, Ecks?” George asked.

“It is what it is.”

“Hello?” Benicia said. There were sounds of clinking and voices behind her.

“Just thought I’d call and say hi.”

“For such a tough guy you’re really very considerate … Ecks.”

“I had a nice time with you the other night.”

“You could have spanked me harder. I wouldn’t have cried.”

“I might be pretty busy for the next couple’a days.”

“Dinner? Three nights hence?”

“Hence?”

“I told you, I’m a graduate student. I know all kinds of words.”

“Yeah, I heard a few of them in your bed.”

“You talk in your sleep, you know.”

The cold fingers in Xavier’s chest did not reduce the heat of his ardor.

“Tell me about it when I see you next.”

“I can hardly wait.”

Walking up the stairs of his apartment building Ecks wondered whether there might be assassins waiting for him. Benol had told Jocelyn about him. Lou Baer-Bond might have very well visited the rogue lawyer in prison by then.

You never see it comin’, man
, Swan was apt to say.
The kill shot, the knife in the back, that one wrong step happens while you’re wonderin’ if your girl got underwear or if she’s too hot for you to put ’em on
.

Ecks wondered if this was some prescient warning about “Dodo” Milne on the part of his
deceased partner.

There was no one waiting at his door inside or out.

He went to his safe, retrieved the disposable cell phone, and left in four minutes flat.

At the Beach Motel south of Redondo, Ecks sat at a card table in an aqua lacquered chair waiting for enlightenment. He believed that he knew what had happened and what would. But knowledge, like perception, was elusive even when it was clear.