by Michael Beck
"It's a Raptor," said Acilino.
"Oh, like in that movie, How to Train Your Whatchamacallit?"
"They were dragons," I heard a high pitched voice come from the other side of the Raptor. Pilar, the youngest. "You know, like in How to Train Your Dragon." I couldn't see him but I couldn't miss the derision in his voice. "This is a dinosaur, not a dragon."
"Oh, right." In my defense, if I wasn't worried about losing the wheels off my Beetle I would have had a better comeback.
"Can we go? This thing weighs a ton," whined his ten-year-old brother, Jairo.
They disappeared behind a mobile home with their latest "find." I'm glad we were friends or I doubted if I would have a possession left to call my own.
Bear and Faith were playing dog-ball with Little Bear when I arrived back at my Winnebago. To my knowledge, Heavenly Falls is the only place where dog-ball is officially played. The equipment needed for dog-ball is fairly eclectic. Regulation equipment required a mobile home, a trampoline, two mattresses and a baseball. Oh, and a dog with a prosthetic limb.
Little Bear bounded from a bin to a fridge and landed on the roof of Faith's mobile home. He ran along the roof and jumped toward the trampoline standing next to it, launching himself into the air. Bear threw a baseball. Little Bear caught it in his mouth and landed fifteen feet away on two old mattresses.
"And that's how you play dog-ball!" Bear said to Faith.
"It took you eight tries. I did it in seven, so you lose," Faith said.
"My first one was a warm-up throw, so it didn't count."
"Warm-up throw? Since when do we have warm-up throws, Nancy-Boy?"
"Nancy-Boy?" Bear was six feet five and looked kind of like a grizzly bear on steroids.
"Anyone who needs a warm-up throw is definitely a Nancy-Boy. Tan?"
"Definitely Nancy-Boyish, in my professional opinion," I agreed.
"Sudden death then? Double or nothing," Bear said.
"You're on."
Faith grabbed the ball out of Bear's hand and shouted, "Dog-ball!" This was the official way to open all dog-ball matches. We were sticklers for the rules. Little Bear bounded onto the bin, heading for the roof of Faith's mobile home.
"Heard you got arrested again?" said Bear.
"It was all a mistake."
"That seems to happen a lot to you, doesn't it? The police will start charging you room and board soon."
"Someone planted the gun and drugs in Decker's car."
"You sure they weren't his? He does have a history of stuffing up."
"Not all of his own doing. I think Liz is right. Someone is out to get him. And not just hurt him but to destroy his career first."
"That's someone with a lot of hate."
Little Bear careened off the trampoline and soared through the air. I swear he had a sappy, look-at-me-I'm-flying grin plastered across his face. His mouth opened and he caught the beautifully timed pass from Faith. Faith didn't throw like a girl but fast and hard like a boy. Small, pretty and black, she might look like Halle Berry now, but was very much born looking more like Chuck Berry.
"She sure can throw, for a girl," said Bear admiringly.
"She sure can." I probably should tell Bear sometime.
My phone beeped just as Bear commenced his turn. It was a video text message. I clicked on it and suddenly was seeing Decker's Mercedes, sitting in the clearing of the forest where we trained. So the FBI had been tailing me. A figure dressed in jeans and a knee-length coat appeared at the edge of the trees. The person was wearing a Denver Broncos cap so, along with the shapeless clothing, it was impossible to tell if it was a man or woman.
After looking both ways, Broncos-cap ran across and opened the Mercedes with a key. How the hell did he get a key? Broncos-cap pulled a white bundle out of his coat that appeared the same size as the one the cops had found. After a few seconds inside, Broncos-cap shut the door and ran back into the forest. The video text message finished. It was thirty-nine seconds long.
So, Decker had been telling the truth and lying. The truth about the gun and drugs. Lying about there not being anyone out to get him.
"He must have really pissed off those Broncos fans when he played them last," said Bear, when he handed me back my cell.
"You can't tell whether it's a man or woman," said Faith.
"And the face is so small, dark and grainy I doubt you will get a useable picture," added Bear.
"Why won't he accept that someone is targeting him?" said Faith. "Sounds like he's got something to hide. What do you know about him?"
"Only the most important thing."
"What's that?" said Bear.
"Liz is dating him."
CHAPTER 17
Like most people, Detective Larson was enormously pleased to see me.
"What the fuck do you want?" He threw a pen onto his desk and leaned back in his chair.
"I need you to drop all charges against Decker."
"You do, do you? Well, you can kiss my furry ass."
"You should consider an ass-ectomy. You could put that furry ass on your head and suddenly the ladies might start going for you."
Larson's chair slammed to the ground and his hands hit the desk with a bang. "You've got one minute before I throw you out of here."
"I'll only need thirty-nine seconds. Here."
I pressed play on my cell and placed it on the desk. Larson, puzzled, looked down at the opening shot, but stiffened when Broncos-cap appeared. His face moved closer to my cell as he realized the full import of what he was seeing. He sat back when the video text message finished and looked at me like I had just told him Dunkin Donuts had gone bust.
"This doesn't prove anything," he said. "You could have made this anytime. That's even probably you in that fucking Broncos cap."
"Sorry, I'm a Turbos man."
"Who gives a fuck? And where did this video come from? How come you can suddenly produce it today but not yesterday? I'll tell you why. It's because you spent this morning recreating the crime. This is the weakest attempted alibi I have ever seen. Do you know I could have you thrown into jail for this?"
I held my hand up. "Hold your horses, Kojack. If you want to know who took the video that's fine with me. Just phone the FBI and give them my name."
Larson's forehead furrowed. "FBI? What does this have to do with the FBI? And who the fuck is Kojack?"
I shrugged. "Sorry, too much late night TV when I was a kid. The FBI filmed it. You can ask them why."
Larson eyed me even more suspiciously than he had at the start. "What's the FBI videoing you for? Are you under investigation? What did you do? You know I checked up on you and found you were in the Army and when I asked for your records they came back stamped classified? I called them and they wouldn't help me at all. What the fuck did you do?"
"Larson, your faith in me is underwhelming but I can't blame you. I do have that effect on people. Here, I've just sent you the video text message, but you will find it legit. It was a setup, Larson. Someone is trying to destroy Decker's career and this is not the first attempt." I paused. "And it sure as hell won't be the last. Like I said, you have any questions, ring the FBI."
I looked back as I reached the door. Larson was looking down at his phone like a starving man contemplating a cabbage sandwich. I almost felt sympathy for the guy. I knew exactly what he was feeling.
Disappointment was my middle name.
CHAPTER 18
True to my word, I left Heavenly Falls through the front exit without any shenanigans, tomfoolery or flim-flamming. I was a reformed individual. Forty minutes later I pulled into Decker's driveway. Liz's Beemer was parked next to Decker's white Mercedes, which was smudged with fingerprint powder.
My cell rang.
When no one spoke I said, "What did you find out, Mole?"
"Decker has two arrests. One for drunk and disorderly and lewd conduct in a public place."
"That would be for urinating in the fountain at the club function last year
."
"The other was the drugs and gun charges which they will probably drop after they look in to that video you gave them. No evidence of gambling, bookies or any other illegal activity."
"Well, if peeing in a fountain is the worst that he's done, he's ahead of me."
"He has seven million dollars in several accounts, doesn't owe any money and has a clean bill with the IRS."
"Women?"
"He's dated several high profile models and a singer, which have all ended amicably."
"So, we've got nothing?"
"There is something. It's probably just a typo, a glitch with his records."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you know Decker got drafted from Syracuse University?"
"Yeah?"
"Well, on his bio it says he attended Syracuse for four years."
"So?"
"I checked his records and he was only there for three years."
"Checked" was Mole-speak for hacked.
"Did it say where he transferred from?"
"Yeah. Erie Community College."
"Where the hell is that?"
"In Buffalo."
"What's a first round draft pick attending a community college for?"
"No idea."
"Okay, so someone made an error writing his bio."
"Yeah, that's what I thought. So I checked with Erie Community College just to satisfy my curiosity. He did go there for his first year of college and then transferred to Syracuse."
I was silent, thinking.
"Where did he go to high school?" I finally asked.
Mole grunted, which for him was a laugh. "I wondered how long it would take you to get there."
"Well?"
"His bio says he went to a number of schools overseas. The last one listed was Northbridge International School in Cambodia."
"Why do I have a bad feeling about this?"
"I haven't been able to find any record of Decker ever attending Northbridge or any overseas school."
The front door of Decker's house opened and Liz stood in the doorway.
"Fuck!" I said.
CHAPTER 19
Liz wore a pale blue, knee-length dress that looked like it was painted on. Her long dark hair fell loosely over her shoulders. She exuded a raw sexuality that punched me in the stomach and made me ask what sort of fool would ever let this woman go.
Oh, yeah, me.
"Tan! Thank God you're here." She grabbed my arm and pulled me inside.
The house was silent and the passage way was illuminated by only a lamp.
"Is Decker here?"
"Yes, he's in the study."
"How is he?"
"I don't know. He locked himself in there an hour ago and won't answer."
"Don't worry. He's probably in there looking at football cards of himself."
"Tan, don't. This whole thing has thrown him for a loop. He can't understand what's happening and it's driving him crazy."
"Has he said anything to you about it?"
"No. Like I told you, he denies that anyone has a vendetta against him."
I held up my cell. "Think he'll deny it when he sees this?"
Liz watched the video text message, and then looked at me, eyes shining. "Where did you get this?"
"My good friends at the FBI."
"This is great, isn't it? It clears him of any wrongdoing."
"I think so. I spoke to the cops today and I think they will drop the charges."
Liz hugged me, and I could feel her whole body through that damn dress.
"Liz, did you recognize the person in the Broncos cap?"
"No, it was too dark and grainy."
"Do you know anything about Decker's past?"
"He comes from New York and went to Syracuse, where he got drafted by the Turbos."
That was interesting. He'd told me he came from California. Liz thought he was from New York and yet he started college in Buffalo. Where the hell was he from?
"Does he have any friends, apart from teammates?"
"I've never met any."
"Any relatives?"
"I don't know. Just his parents, I think."
"Have you met them?"
"No, not yet."
"Isn't that odd?"
"We've only been dating a few weeks, Tan. It's not as if we're engaged or anything." She said this with a strange tone to her voice.
I studied her. "Liz, he hasn't asked you to marry him, has he?"
She glanced away and bit her lip.
"Liz, don't do anything stupid. You don't even know this guy."
"I know he loves me."
"He loves you and hasn't taken you to meet his parents yet?"
"It's not about his parents, Tan. It's about us."
"What high school did he go to?"
"Lincoln High, or it might have been Franklin High. I'm not quite sure."
"Not sure or he's never told you?"
"Tan, you can't make me doubt him."
"Liz, I'm not trying too. That's you."
She gazed at me, her eyes welling. "Tan, just because you didn't want me doesn't mean you can stop me from wanting someone."
"Liz, I always wanted you. If anything I wanted--."
"What? What did you want?" Liz was standing close to me and I knew if I stayed this close to her I would do something I would regret.
I stepped back and held up the cell. "Come on. We better show this to Decker, don't you think?"
She had a strange expression on her face. "You can never let go, can you?" She took the cell from my hand and started up the stairs. I watched her swaying hips and called myself a damn fool.
Decker wasn't looking at his football card collection. The TV was on and he was watching highlights of his games. The study was dark, except for the TV and the display cabinet's lights. His face was wan and drawn, the white spots on his cheeks standing out vividly. He looked five years older than yesterday.
"Troy, good news. See what Tan has found."
She tapped my cell and showed the video text message to Decker, who watched it through intently.
"Have you shown this to the cops?" he asked me when it ended.
This struck me as curious. I thought his first reaction might be to ask who was the guy in the Broncos cap? Perhaps he didn't wonder. Perhaps he already knew.
"Yes, I think they will drop the charges against you."
Decker's face relaxed. "So it's over. Thank God. I owe you one."
"You don't owe me anything. I shouldn't have let the gun and drugs be planted in the car in the first place. But I don't know about it being over. Do you recognize the guy in the Broncos cap?"
"No. Never seen him before."
"That's funny."
"What?"
"I don't think anyone could recognize the guy even if they knew him. It's too dark and his face is too obscured."
"So? What's funny about that? What are you getting at?"
Liz put her hand on Decker's arm. "Troy, Tan's just trying to get to the bottom of it. He's not accusing you of anything."
He shrugged her off. "Like hell he's not. I know what he's saying."
"And what's that?" I said quietly.
"You think I know the guy and am keeping quiet about it."
"Are you?"
"No, I told you. I've never seen him before."
"Why do you think some stranger planted a gun and drugs in your car?"
"How the fuck would I know? I told you this before. There are hundreds of crazies out there who follow football. Last year some guy dropped a bucket of flour on me after a game. Had I seen him before? No. Is it my fault I don't know every crazy supporter out there? How the fuck did he get a key to my car, anyway?"
"Good question. Does anyone else have access to your car keys? Do you use valet parking anywhere?"
"All the time. When we play matches, some nightclubs, even at a gym I sometimes use."
"He probably followed you sometime and copied your key that way."
>
I moved around the room, studying the displays. There were trophies and memorabilia from his time in the NFL and at Syracuse but I couldn't see any high school trophies. No NFL quarterback left high school without a room full of trophies.
"Where are all your high school trophies?"
"What I have are at my parents' place. There aren't that many, as I was injured through a lot of high school so couldn't play."
"What was wrong?"
"I had bad knees. Osgood Schlatters disease they called it. I got over it by the time I got to college."
"What was that for?" I pointed at a trophy with a figure of a quarterback standing on a football.
"I was MVP at Syracuse in my senior year."
"You went there for four years?"
Decker was silent, watching me. Liz too.
"No, I transferred."
"Where from? And where did you go to high school?"
"What's this got to do with anything? I'm paying you to protect me not to give you a history lesson."
"You aren't paying me anything."
Decker glanced at Liz, who nodded.
"Tan wouldn't accept any money."
"Then why the hell is he here?"
"He's doing it for me."
"Yeah? And why's that? What's going on between you two?"
"Troy, it's not what's going on between Tan and me you have to worry about. It's what's going on between you and me. Why won't you answer Tan's questions? Have you been lying to me?"
Decker laughed, but it wasn't pretty.
"Liz, I love you more than anything but I don't have to put up with a jealous ex-boyfriend. Now, if you'll excuse me I'm going to bed. It looks like I'll be able to train tomorrow."
Decker walked out without another word.
He never did answer my question. Why wouldn't he say where he went to high school?
CHAPTER 20
"Cupid Steals Hearts!" was the headline in the New York Times.
"Crap," I said when Faith held the paper up for me to see. We were sitting in my Winnebago the morning after my futile talk with Decker. "The press will be all over this now. What do they have?"
"They have Abrahams but not your family."
"It won't be long. Someone is sure to talk. Especially with Bensen trying to further his career. The bigger the case the better for him."
