Potshot (24 page)

There was movement on the left periphery. Five of us turned to shoot, and Dean Walker came out of the scrub, where not so long ago the deer had walked, carrying an AR-15, and looking a little sweaty. His radio was strapped to his belt, the microphone clipped to one of his shoulder epaulets.

‘I already called for some EMTs,’ he said.

He spoke to The Preacher.

‘You’re under arrest,’ he said, ‘for assault with deadly force, for trespassing, and probably for leading an insurrection. You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney.…’

From out of sight, faintly at first, down the road toward town, I could hear the whoop of the ambulance siren growing louder.

Showered and shaved, comforted by ten hours sleep behind me and six buckwheat cakes, I sat in Dean Walker’s office drinking coffee from a white mug that said Santa Monica on it in red script. He drank from one just like it.

‘Been a cop too long,’ Walker said. ‘I couldn’t let it slide.’

‘Good,’ I said. ‘How about the Dell?’

‘Most of them have split,’ Walker said. ‘I managed to convince the county that the ones left were squatting on county land, and there’s a bunch of sheriff’s deputies up there now evicting them.’

‘Also good,’ I said. ‘How about your cops?’

‘They resigned,’ Walker said.

‘Didn’t care to fight the Dell?’

‘Not at these prices,’ Walker said.

My coffee was gone. I went over to the Mr Coffee on the top of the file and poured another cup. I brought it back and sat down again across from Walker.

‘I wish I owned a swell cup like this,’ I said.

‘I know,’ Walker said. ‘I feel very lucky.’

‘Preacher got anything to say?’

‘Not yet.’

‘He will,’ I said, ‘when it’s time to save his ass.’

Walker smiled.

‘How cynical,’ he said.

‘I’m trying to change,’ I said.

‘Never too late,’ he said. ‘Cawley Dark’s coming down to talk to The Preacher about Steve Buckman.’

‘I don’t think The Preacher did it,’ I said.

‘He did something,’ Walker said.

‘I don’t want to bag him for something he didn’t do,’ I said.

‘I’ll take what I can get,’ Walker said.

We were quiet. We drank some coffee in the cool empty room. Mr Coffee had done a nice job. The coffee was good.

‘What about Mark Ratliff?’ I said.

‘I don’t got Mark Ratliff in a cell,’ Walker said. ‘I got The Preacher.’

‘And you’re willing to railroad him?’

‘The Preacher’s a creep,’ Walker said. ‘He was out to kill you. He’s probably killed a lot of people. Just because maybe he didn’t kill Stevie Buckman is no reason not to hang him for it.’

‘How cynical,’ I said.

‘I’m trying to change,’ Walker said, and smiled.

We drank some more coffee. The hushed sound of the air-conditioning made the room seem even quieter than it would have with no sound at all.

‘Ratliff’s missing,’ I said.

‘That’s what his secretary says.’

‘You been looking for him?’

‘I’m a one-man department,’ Walker said. ‘I been kinda busy.’

‘I owe you for that time in the street,’ I said. ‘And I owe you more for showing up when you did yesterday.’

Walker nodded and said nothing.

‘But I don’t owe you everything there is.’

‘You don’t owe me nothing,’ Walker said. ‘I was doing what I’m supposed to do.’

‘And now you’re not. I came out here to find out who killed Steve Buckman, not just clear the case.’

Walker was silent.

Then he said, ‘I think maybe it’s time you went home.’

‘Not yet,’ I said.

‘Whatever you might think,’ Walker said, ‘I’m what this place has got for law. I could shoot you dead for resisting arrest, and no one would say shit.’

‘Someone might,’ I said.

Walker smiled again, but not because he was happy.

‘You’re an optimistic bastard,’ he said.

I finished my coffee and put the empty mug down on the edge of Walker’s desk and stood up.

‘Persistent, too,’ I said.

It was our last breakfast together. We were eating omelets with onions, made, and beautifully, by me. Everyone was at the table in the kitchen, except Bobby Horse, who was propped up on a couch that Chollo and Hawk had dragged in from the living room. A local doctor had done what he could for Bobby Horse, put a cast on the knee, and given him a large supply of Percocet. The Percocet made him quieter, which I would have thought impossible.

Bernard J. Fortunato wasn’t as badly hurt. The bullet had gone through his thigh without breaking any bone. It had destroyed some of the tissue around the entry hole, and it would take a while to heal. Bernard had Percocet too, and its effect was to make him more talkative. Between him and Bobby Horse, they averaged out about normal.

‘So what I wanna know,’ Bernard said, sitting sideways at the table with his injured leg sticking out toward the stove, ‘didn’t we ambush those Dell guys and shoot them up pretty good?’

‘We did,’ I said.

I put an omelet on a plate with some biscuits. Chollo took it to Bobby Horse.

‘You need me to feed you?’ Chollo said.

Bobby Horse shook his head.

‘So if we was going to ambush the fuckers anyway,’ Bernard said. ‘How come we didn’t do it first, climb up there and shoot them down right in the canyon?’

‘They hadn’t come for us then,’ I said.

‘That’s why I got fucking shot,’ Bernard said.

I nodded. I was at the stove again, making another omelet. You have to make omelets in small batches or they don’t work. And the pan needs to be cured, and the heat needs to be right. You don’t just break a bunch of eggs.

‘I don’t get it,’ Bernard said.

‘You get used to it,’ Vinnie said.

‘But we did the same fucking thing,’ Bernard said. ‘And I got fucking shot doing it, and so did Bobby Horse.’

The current omelet had firmed up just enough. I folded it over, shook it around in the pan a minute, and slid it onto a plate. I gave it to Bernard.

‘Are you going to explain it?’ Bernard said to me.

‘Just eggs and some pan-fried onions,’ I said.

‘I’m not talking about the fucking omelet, for crissake,’ Bernard said. ‘Vinnie, you know what I’m talking about.’

Vinnie shrugged.

‘You get it?’ Bernard said to Vinnie.

‘Yeah.’

‘And?’

‘You get used to it,’ Vinnie said.

‘Well it’s fucking crazy,’ Bernard said.

Hawk put his coffee cup down and rested his forearms on the table.

‘No,’ he said. ‘It’s not crazy.’

Bernard looked a little scared. Most people were afraid of Hawk, but there was heft in Hawk’s voice that Bernard had never heard before. A lot of people hadn’t.

‘It’s what makes him different than you,’ Hawk said, ‘or me or Vinnie, or Chollo or Bobby Horse.’

‘What about Tedy?’ Bernard said.

Bernard had the attention span of a hummingbird.

‘Don’t know about Tedy,’ Hawk said. ‘Might be more like Spenser.’

‘Except for the queer part,’ Sapp said.

‘’Cept that,’ Hawk said. ‘The rest of us, we see something that needs to be done, we do it. We don’t much care how we do it. Spenser thinks that how you do it is as important as what you do.’

I realized what had startled Bernard. There was no mockery in Hawk’s voice. None of his usual up-alley, self-amused, ghetto bebop. Bernard stared at him. They all did, except me. I was working on a new omelet.

‘Why?’ Bernard said.

Hawk grinned suddenly.

‘So he be different than us.’

I don’t think Bernard got it. But everyone else seemed to, and Bernard, Percocet-addled though he was, sensed it and shut up. The rest of breakfast conversation was devoted to women we had known.

After breakfast I sat on the front porch with Hawk and drank more coffee.

‘I don’t need to sleep at night, anyway,’ I said.

Chollo came out helping Bobby Horse. He got him arranged in the back seat of the car, with one leg out straight, and came back up the steps.

‘You got everything?’ I said.

‘Guns are in the trunk, jefe.’

‘What about Bobby Horse?’ I said.

‘Mr del Rio has a friend at UCLA Medical Center,’ Chollo said.

‘I didn’t know del Rio had friends.’

‘When he needs them,’ Chollo said. ‘Like you.’

I put out my right hand, clenched in a fist. Chollo tapped his fist lightly on top of it, nodded at Hawk and walked to the car. Bobby Horse never glanced back as they drove away.

‘We through here?’ Hawk said.

‘Everybody but me,’ I said.

Vinnie came out with Tedy Sapp. Bernard J. Fortunato hobbled along with them. Tedy had an arm around him holding him up. Bernard had one arm around Sapp’s shoulder.

‘We’re going to Vegas,’ Bernard said. ‘I’m going to drink six Mai Tais and fuck six women the first day.’

‘Better do it the other way around,’ I said.

‘I’ll take the rental,’ Sapp said. ‘Drop Bernard off. Turn it in at the airport. Fly home from Vegas.’

‘My best to the opthalmologist,’ I said.

Sapp grinned.

‘And to the shrink,’ Sapp said.

The three of them headed for the car and got Bernard in the back. Sapp got in the driver’s side. Vinnie went around to the passenger side. He stopped before he got in and looked over the roof of the car.

‘I left my guns all packed,’ Vinnie said. ‘Drive them home for me.’

‘You’re going to Vegas?’ I said.

‘One drive between Boston and here is enough,’ Vinnie said. ‘Gonna help Bernard with the Mai Tais and the broads, then I’ll fly home.’

‘Viva Las Vegas,’ I said.

‘You gonna pay me?’

‘When I get back to Boston.’

Vinnie nodded.

‘I packed my guns in the back of the Explorer,’ he said. ‘I’ll pick them up in Boston.’

‘Spenser’s long haul,’ I said. ‘No package too illegal.’

Vinnie nodded at Hawk and at me, and slid into the car, and the car slid into gear and went down the road. ‘You still worrying ’bout the guy got killed?’

‘Steve Buckman.’

‘Going to stick around until you sort that out?’ Hawk said.

‘Yes.’

Hawk had his feet up on the railing, his hands locked behind his head and his chair tilted back. He looked out at the sage and cactus and shale and sand that stretched in front of the house up the hill.

‘Me too,’ he said.

‘Are you okay?’ Susan said when I called her.

‘I’m fine,’ I said. ‘Just wanted to listen to your voice for a little while.’

‘It’ll have to be a very little while. I have another patient in… three minutes.’

‘Maybe he’ll be late,’ I said.

‘He’s never late. When are you coming home?’

‘Not quite yet. I got everything done but one thing.’

‘Have you done your thing with the Dell yet?’

‘Yep.’

‘Successful?’

‘Yep.’

‘I was scared about that,’ Susan said.

‘Me too.’

‘What’s the one thing?’

‘Who killed Steve Buckman?’

‘Will it take long?’

‘It shouldn’t. I’m pretty sure I know who did it, and I’m pretty sure I can’t prove it.’

‘But you’ll try,’ Susan said.

‘One last time,’ I said.

‘Then you’ll come home.’

‘Yes.’

There was silence on the phone line for a while.

When Susan spoke her voice had deepened somehow and become richer.

‘And what’s the second thing you’ll want when you get here?’ she said.

I was quiet for a while lying on the bed, looking up at the unaccommodating ceiling of the house where I had spent too much time already.

‘There is no second thing,’ I said.

‘I know… My patient is here… I love you… I have to go.’

‘I love you too,’ I said. ‘I’ll be home soon.’

‘Is Hawk still with you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good,’ she said and hung up.

I called Mary Lou to make sure she’d be home. When I pulled the Explorer up in front of Mary Lou Buckman’s place, Dean Walker’s patrol car was parked in the driveway.

‘Both the usual suspects,’ I said to Hawk.

We got out and started up the walk. The horses in her corral stood at the fence, staring at us silently. The front door opened before I reached it.

‘What the hell do you want?’ Dean Walker said.

I kept on toward the door.

‘We need to talk,’ I said. ‘You and me and Mary Lou.’

‘What’s he doing here?’ Walker said, looking at Hawk.

‘He’s here to listen to us talk,’ I said.

I thought Walker was going to slam the door on us. I believe he thought so too, but changed his mind and stepped aside and we went in. The yellow Lab I’d met before rushed up and began to lap my hand. I scratched her under the chin. Mary Lou was sitting on the couch. She was wearing blue shorts this time, and a white tank top. The effect was just as good.

‘I can’t be alone with you,’ she said. ‘I called Chief Walker the minute I knew you were coming.’

‘Good to find a cop when you need one,’ I said.

Hawk stopped inside the doorway and leaned on the wall. He looked bored and amused at the same time.

‘What do you want, Spenser?’

I sat on the arm of the couch, at the other end from Mary Lou. Walker remained standing. The Lab came and put her head on my thigh. I patted her. I felt kind of old. I missed Pearl. I wanted to go home.

‘Here’s what I think,’ I said. ‘I think that one day, Mary Lou and Steve were wandering around in the hills around here and found water. I don’t know how. Mary Lou’s a water resource geologist, maybe she found a spring that was suggestive. Maybe they did some covert drilling. Maybe they looked at surveys and rock formations. I don’t know how you find water. But she did and one way or another she figured out that there was a whole new water source. She or Steve or both of them saw what that could mean.’

Except for the Lab who was wagging her tail, no one moved. With the heat packed in around the house, there was a kind of timelessness in the cool interior.

‘But they didn’t know quite how to exploit it, so they went to J. George Taylor, the real estate specialist in the region. He must have liked it ’cause he attracted some investors. Luther Barnes, the mayor, Henry Brown, some others, and they started buying up land.’