“Where is Ramirez now?”
“Fucked if I know. Probably went to Phoenix. Ain’t much work around here.”
“Do you think he might have been involved with Mooney’s death?”
He laughed, shaking his head. “Why? He didn’t have nothing to do with Mooney. Everybody knew Mooney was a gasbag. Lot of people could have offed Mooney.” He stood up. “Just the same to you, I gotta get back to work.”
“Thanks for your time,” I said.
He picked up the nail gun, and as he walked away I said, “Hey.”
He turned.
“Who was it brought Ramirez into your group?”
He hesitated, thinking about whether he wanted to answer my question or not. “Ain’t sure. Think it might have been Frankie. Frankie Wambaugh. They worked together,” he said. “Why?”
“Just asking questions. Thanks for your time.”
He turned and walked away.
I nodded to myself, walked to the Mustang, got in, and drove away.
When I got back to the motel Eddie was gone. There was a note on the table that read “taking a walk.”
I got my bag out of the trunk, and brought Eddie’s sack in also. I took a shower. Eddie came back while I was dressing. He was carrying a paper bag. He set it on the dresser.
“Liquor store down the way,” he said.
“How you doing?” I asked.
He hooked one of the cheap chairs with a foot and sat down.
“Startin’ to get pissed,” he said. “Somebody did this and they’re stickin’ it to Billy.” He looked at me. “Did you find anything?”
I shook my head. “I thought I’d head to that bar, see if Lucy Mooney will talk to us.”
“I’ll come along,” he said. “Let me clean up a little.”
He took his paper bag into the bathroom and shut the door. A couple minutes later I heard the shower start. I found the remote control and started flipping channels to kill the time. Ordinarily I would have picked up a book, but I hadn’t brought one.
Each channel I went through reinforced for me why I don’t have a TV on the boat. I found this one channel that had a show where a man and a woman were dropped naked into the jungle, and had to survive for a couple of weeks. Is this what people watch? Right away they didn’t know how to make a fire. They didn’t know how to hunt or fish. They sure didn’t know how to build traps. They froze at night because they weren’t smart enough to build a waterproof shelter, and too stupid to cover themselves up with layers of dry underbrush. They whined about mosquitoes, but were too ignorant to cover themselves with a thickness of mud. When the man started whining more than the woman I turned it off.
When Eddie came out of the shower he was dressed, shiny clean and sweet smelling. It was the first time I’d ever seen him clean shaven.
“Damn, you are a vision,” I grinned.
“Give you a run for your money, boy.”
“The ladies won’t even glance my direction,” I said.
“Damn straight.”
“You ready?” I asked, moving toward the door.
“Need a favor,” he said.
“Sure.”
“I need to talk to Billy’s mama. Can I use your phone?”
I pulled it from my pocket, and handed it to him.
“She as hard as you are letting on?”
“Worse. Was the main reason Billy went into the service. Had to get away.”
“People say family can be hard. I’ve never had the problem.”
“Family is funny,” he said. “They can do things you put up with that you wouldn’t with anyone else. Somebody else robs a bank and goes to prison, you can just walk away. If it’s family, you’re taking them cigarettes.”
I smiled.
“I’ll wait outside,” I said. I opened the door and stepped through. He didn’t need an audience.
I could hear the muffled tone of the conversation. Not the words, just the tone. Sounded like Eddie was losing. I was leaning against the Mustang when he finally came out. He handed me the phone.
“Everything okay?” I asked as I slid into the driver’s side.
“No,” he said. “She thinks I should have done something. Like it was my fault or something. Thinks I should have stopped him.”
“She thinks he did it?”
“She always thinks the worst.”
“Wasn’t your fault. What could you do?”
He shrugged. “She don’t think that way. Never did.”
12
The sun was hitting the western mountains, causing deep blue shadows on the western slopes. Looking east, the light bathed the high desert far into the distance, adding a golden magical twinge to the land. It was postcard photography time.
It was still relatively early, but the parking lot at the Sunset Corral was more than half full. As I pulled into the lot it dawned on me that it was Friday. Happy hour. I parked next to Alfred Medina’s old Ford. The two old Fords could co-mingle, maybe get a thing going while we were inside.
Eddie followed me in. There were enough customers to make the place seem smaller, more intimate, that it had earlier. Through the window to the kitchen I could see Alfred Medina working. There was another smaller man working with him. One of the two girls I had seen in the courtroom was coming through the batwing doors balancing a tray of food-filled dishes. Her sister was sitting at the bar, at the end, by the cash register. She had a beer in front of her and empty stools beside her. Eddie followed me over, and we sat down beside her. She didn’t look at us.
A few moments later Lucy Mooney finished serving a table of men, and came back behind the bar.
“What will you gentlemen have?” she said without really looking at us. Then she did.
“Hey, I know who you are,” she said to Eddie with a smile. “You are Billy’s Uncle Eddie. He told me all about you.”
Eddie nodded, “Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m glad you are here,” she said. “Billy can use some family around him right now.”
“This is my friend, Jackson,” he said, indicating me.
She reached her hand across the bar. “Pleased to meet you,” she said.
“Likewise,” I returned. She had a good grip.
Her sister had hitched around, and was looking at us now.
“This is my sister, Dahlia,” Lucy said.
“Hi,” she said. She smiled and it was enough to invade Troy for.
I smiled back, and Eddie leaned forward to look across me. He nodded.
“What can I get you gentlemen?” Lucy asked. “First one is on the house.”
“That’s mighty kind,” I said.
“PBR,” Eddie said.
Lucy smiled. “Old school. How about you?”
“Dos Equis, if you have it.”
“Green or brown,” she said.
“Green,” I said.
“Coming right up,” she said and turned away.
I looked at Dahlia.
“I saw you guys in the courtroom,” she said.
“Your sister’s right,” I said. “Billy can use some support.”
“He didn’t do it,” she said, looking at me and I noticed that her eyes were as deep and dark as the hair that flowed to her shoulders.
I could tell Eddie couldn’t hear very well; the bar talk filled the room with a wall of noise.
“Would you mind moving to a table with us so we can talk with you about Billy?”
“Sure,” she said. She picked up her beer and a napkin and slid from the stool.
I turned to Eddie, “We’re moving to a table to talk.”
“Good,” he said.
We followed her. She was tall and trim and wore a chambray shirt with a small red scarf around her neck. Her jeans were the same as in the courtroom. Elena wore the same kind. They were known as “skinny jeans,” and you had to be skinny to pull it off. They were tucked into a pair of boots that were fashionably wrinkled around the ankles. These were different from the ones she wore in th
e courtroom.
It was a pleasure to follow her to the table. Not all women can pull off walking away from a man. She chose one toward the back corner. As we passed a table of men, all those facing her watched as she walked by. One of them, a smaller man with a stubble of beard and a camouflaged cap, watched her intently. It looked more like anger than appreciation. He looked a little out of focus. Like he had been drinking for a long time.
She reached the table and turned to look at us.
“This okay?”
I looked at Eddie and he nodded approval. I angled around so I could sit with my back to the wall, facing the room. An old habit. If Wild Bill Hickok had done the same, things might have turned out better.
Lucy found us and brought the beers. We thanked her.
“Do you get a break?” I asked as she placed the bottles in front of us.
“I can take one when Janine comes in. She should be here shortly. We can talk then.”
Another group of men entered and sat at the bar. She moved away to serve them. I looked at the table of men with the little guy with the cap. He was still staring at us.
“You know that guy with the camo hat at the table?” I asked Dahlia.
She looked over, and the guy averted his eyes.
She snorted, “That’s Calvin. He’s a regular here. He usually closes the place. He’s Ed Mooney’s cousin. Ed’s mama and his mama are sisters.”
“He doesn’t seem happy.”
She looked over at him again. She shook her head, “He ain’t. He’s not very smart either. Does odd jobs around town. Always seems to have beer money. Since they found poor Ed he’s been getting more and more vocal. Especially after a few beers. He’s here almost every day. Drinks until he can barely walk, then one of his buddies will take him home.”
“Lucky he doesn’t drive.”
She smiled, and I liked that a lot. “Not since Bub Berry shook a knot in his tail.”
“Sheriff Berry runs a pretty tight town?”
“He’s fair, but you don’t cross him.”
I took a drink of the beer. It was good so I took another one. “You said Billy didn’t do it?”
“Billy is a cop, but he’s a pussy cat. Not soft, but you know, he’s a sucker for a sad story. Got a big heart. He’s always in trouble with the chief because he gives out more warning tickets than actual tickets. I didn’t really know him until he started seeing Lucy. Compared to Dick Mooney, he’s a saint.”
“Do you know of any way to prove he didn’t do it?”
She shook her head, her hair moving on her shoulders. She looked like a young and sexy Linda Ronstadt. “If I did, Billy wouldn’t be in jail.”
“How long have Lucy and Billy been seeing each other?”
“Not long enough. I wish Lucy had met Billy first. Lucy married Ed about ten years ago, and I’ve always been sorry I stood up with her. But who knew what a miserable son of a bitch he would turn out to be. I think they separated at least five times, and each time he would talk her into coming back. But this last time was it.”
“What happened?” Eddie asked.
“Ed never was what you call a success in business. He pretty well got let go from every job he ever had. Finally he started the landscape business, but he screwed that up too. He just couldn’t stay away from the booze. And the more he drank the meaner he got. Lucy finally had enough of him beating on her, so she came to move in with me. I told her this was the last time, and that’s the way it turned out.”
“Did your sister love Mooney?”
She shrugged, “At first I think she did. But you know how it is, you fall in love with a pair of shoes, and you put them on every day for ten years and somewhere along the line you don’t think about them anymore. But when they start beating you up, it’s time for them to go.”
“Don’t believe I ever fell in love with a pair of shoes,” Eddie said.
Dahlia and I laughed.
“When did Billy and Lucy get together?”
“You’ll have to ask her. I first knew about it after she had moved in with me.” Dahlia looked across the room. “In fact you can ask her in a minute; that’s Janine.” She nodded toward a middle- aged woman that had come through the door, and was going behind the bar.
I watched Lucy as she spoke with the woman. The woman looked our way, then pulled on an apron. Lucy made her way over. She snagged a chair from an empty table and pulled it up beside Dahlia. She reached over and took a drink of Dahlia’s beer. Behind her I saw a tall, angular, young man come into the room. Like most of the men in this town, he wore a ball cap. It was tilted back trying to contain a shock of unruly hair. He stood inside the door looking around. I watched as he looked at us, then started over.
He came up, and touched the brim to his cap, “Ladies,” he said.
“Hey Joe,” Lucy said. She tilted her head toward us. “This is Billy’s Uncle Eddie and his friend Jackson. This is Joe Whitney. He works with Billy on the force. He is a friend. Join us?”
He nodded, “Thanks.” He hooked a chair from a neighboring table and Eddie and Lucy scooted to let him in.
The waitress, Janine, came up behind him and expertly sat a napkin and a bottle of Coors on the table. He dug into his pocket and extracted some crumpled bills. He handed it to her.
“Keep it,” he said.
“Thanks, Joe,” she said, moving away.
“Jackson was asking us about Billy and Ed,” Dahlia said to Whitney.
He looked at Lucy. “Lucy, you know I’m sorry Ed is dead.”
Lucy nodded, “I appreciate that. I know we called it quits, but I spent ten years of my life with the guy, and it still hurts.”
Dahlia reached across the table, and took her sister’s hand and squeezed it.
“Is there anything new on it?” I asked, looking at Joe.
“Don’t know if it has anything to do with Ed, but we got a call about noon from County. Hunters found another body out in the desert.” He shrugged. “It’s probably a hundred year event when we have a local citizen show up without a head. I can’t remember another murder since I’ve been on the force. Maybe a long while back when Bernie Wisdom shot-gunned his wife. Said he thought she was an intruder.”
“He thought his wife was an intruder?” Eddie smiled.
“That’s what he said, even though she was sitting in her rocker on the porch.”
“You’re kidding,” Lucy said.
“Be a cop long enough, you’ll see everything,” Eddie said.
“Was the guy in the desert a murder?” I asked.
He looked at me. “Don’t know. Quail hunters found the guy five miles from the nearest paved road. He had a hand chopped off. Based on the blood, the guy bled out. No car, no tracks, no hand and no nothing. Out in the middle of nowhere.”
“Who was it?” Dahlia asked.
“It was Frankie,” he said, looking at Lucy. “Frankie Wambaugh.”
Lucy looked shocked.
“You know him?” I asked.
“He was a friend of Ed’s,” Lucy said. “One of them Ed would go out into the desert with. They called themselves the Sons of Thunder,” Lucy said. “Some kind of Bible thing.”
“Two of the Apostles,” I said. “James and John. They were the sons of Zebedee.”
They all looked at me.
“He reads a lot,” Eddie said.
“Were these guys religious?” I asked.
Lucy laughed.
“Only time Ed saw the inside of a church was at his dad’s funeral. We were married at the town hall.”
A tall, slender, dark-haired woman came through the front door. She caught my eye. She stood quietly, looking around, letting her eyes adjust. Eddie and I looked at her, then each other, then back to her. We watched her start toward us. Joe, Lucy and Dahlia saw us looking, and turned. They watched as the woman came up to us.
“Detective Boyce,” I said, coming to my feet.
13
The bar was thinning and Boyce and I sat across
from each other. We each had a half a glass of beer in front of us. Lucy had gone back to tending bar. Dahlia and Joe had moved back to Dahlia’s previous spot at the bar. I had given the keys to the Mustang to Eddie so he could drive back to the motel. Boyce said she could get me back to the motel.
She looked at me, her eyes calm and knowing. She could always look right into me. I was remembering how very much I liked this girl.
“Are you mad at me?” she asked.
“Of course not,” I said. “Are you mad at me?”
“Of course not,” she said.
“There you are. Two grown-up people not mad at each other.”
She took a drink of her beer. “How did your job go?”
She meant the op for the Colonel. One of the rules was that we never talked about ops with anyone. All she knew was that I had been gone to do something for the Colonel.
“No worries,” I said. “Are you out into the field yet?”
She shook her head.
“Rules say I have another two months.” She looked at me. “You haven’t asked why I’m here.”
“I figured you just couldn’t stay away from me.”
She snorted. “Yeah, that’s it.”
“Why are you here?”
“Mendoza offered me up to Homeland Security.”
“Offered you up?”
“I think he got tired of me hanging around, so when the Feds came and asked for some bodies he offered me up. Short time assignment.”
“What do they have you doing?”
“Can’t tell you.” She leaned forward with a smile. “But most of us they have down at the border because of all the illegals coming across. I’m on my way to Sedona because of some unusual activity on an IP address. Somebody’s been online a lot with radical ISIS websites.”
“That’s against the law?”
“No, but we gotta check it out. Exciting work.”
“So glad you didn’t tell me. How did you know I was here?”
She smiled. “Stopped by El Patron. Blackhawk told me.”
I smiled now. “Did you see Elena?”
“Yeah. Jesus, Jackson, she was acting like I had terminal cancer or something. She was almost in tears.”
The Librarian Her Daughter and the Man Who Lost His Head Page 6
