Charlene’s face swung from joy at hearing that the other kids weren’t involved, through terror at suddenly remembering that her own son hadn’t had the same fortune, then to grief when she remembered why we were all sitting in her kitchen.
Mimi hung on Cowboy’s every word, not even breaking eye contact when she tilted her beer bottle, and gave a secret little smile at a couple of places during the re-telling.
Ray looked like he couldn’t wait to get back to Galveston, that the type of stuff that happened in Big D would be best left in the rearview mirror.
“What’s your gut feel?” I said.
“They’s all tellin’ the truth,” he replied. “I made enough phone calls to doctors, mechanics, and track coaches to make sure that each one of those kids was where their folks said they was. Goddamn ear was ‘bout to fall off after that.”
“Welcome to my world.”
“You can have it, boss-man.” Cowboy leaned back in his seat and swigged.
“Yeah.”
Charlene took up the conversation. “Did you say that you think Bradley is innocent?”
They all looked at me.
“Honestly, I’m not sure.” Wished I had more than that, but I had to play the hand I’d been dealt. “Firstly, and you need to know this whether you want to or not, there’s nothing yet that proves Bradley innocent.”
Charlene’s face fell, but I watched her resolve break the fall and she started shaking her head. “No, no, n—”
The phone rang and I snatched the receiver off the wall.
“Yeah.”
“Rafferty?”
“Uh huh. Paul. I need to know, now that Bradley’s awake, what’s going to happen?”
“He’s awake?”
“He’s awake?” Charlene and Ray parroted behind me. Mimi started talking. I waved an arm at them and turned my body so I could hear Paul better.
“Yep. Came out of the coma sometime late Sunday or Monday. I assumed you knew. When I saw him yesterday, he was still pretty grog—”
“You saw Bradley?”
“You saw Bradley?”
I was going to go ‘round the bend if I had to keep listening to Paul’s words on a two second delay, and in Charlene’s voice, so I said, “Hang on, Paul.” Covered the mouthpiece. “We’ll talk about this in a second, Charlene, but right now I need to hear what Paul has to say.”
Charlene and Ray stood, paced, and glared at me but I stayed strong.
Turned back to the wall, “Okay, Paul. Go.”
“Well, if he’s conscious again, the DA will swing into top gear getting to court. She’s already got the indictment, so it’ll just be a matter of getting a date for the preliminary hearing and making sure that she’s ready with her case. Given what I hear about how many bodies in her office are working on it, I wouldn’t expect her to have any problems in that area.”
“How much time?”
“They’ll get a judge out to the hospital as soon as possible for the arraignment, if they haven’t already, so let’s assume the clock is ticking. Nine days, max. Could be as little as a week. Which means that I need to get busy finalizing our defense. Charlene will need to start prepping in the next few days, so that we’re ready to go. As far as evidence goes, tell me that you’ve got something I can use.”
“Hold on, Paul. Our deal was for me to find you evidence connecting Bradley to the shootings, not exonerate him.” I heard Charlene’s breath and Mimi’s whispers behind me. “But putting that aside for the minute, I need to know what’s going on with the Laweles girl.”
“What? Who?”
“Imani Laweles.”
“Who’s that?”
“Are you trying to play me again? Because, if you are counselor, you need to get acquainted with Rafferty’s Rule Eighty-five: Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, don’t go complaining about the busted nose I give you.”
“Seriously, I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
“Imani Laweles? The girl who keeps cropping up in the papers?”
“I don’t know her from Eve.”
“I hope that turns out to be the truth, because if I find out that you told her to keep quiet so it helps your case, I will be very disappointed. And you do not want me disappointed. I guarantee it.”
“Okaay, but I really don’t know what you’re talking about.” His voice changed and I heard the dimples coming up to full power. “Can she help our case? Maybe I should talk to her.”
“Don’t go anywhere near the girl, Paul. You hear me? She’s spooked and I don’t need her going to ground, or hiding behind her family before I get her to tell me the truth.”
“Keep me informed with what you find.”
“It may be nothing.”
“I’ll use whatever I can, so let me know anyway.”
“Uh huh.”
I hung up, sat back down at the table and reached for my beer. Warm. Damn.
Before I could get to the fridge and grab another, Charlene and Mimi started in.
Charlene was standing in the corner with her arms crossed over her chest, as far away as she could get while still staying in the room. She looked at me like I was the family pet who’d contracted rabies: a mixture of revulsion, horror, and fortitude. She wasn’t going to like what she might have to do, but she’d stay strong, get it done, and clean the blood away later.
Ray stood next to her, rubbed her shoulder. Charlene shrugged and he dropped his hand.
“My son’s awake and you didn’t bother to tell me! Probably because you think he shot those people. And you’re trying to find evidence of that when I thought you were trying to prove his innocence. I knew you weren’t really trying to help him. I knew it. Don’t know why I let Paul talk me into hiring you in the first place. Maybe it’s time for you to—”
Mimi looked up at her. “Charlene. I’ve known Rafferty a long time, and he’s one of only two people I would trust with my life—with my son’s life—to do the right thing. It might not look obvious, or even logical, but he’ll prove Bradley’s innocence. If there’s evidence, he’ll find it.”
Cowboy hadn’t moved a muscle, but it was his turn for a secret smile as he watched Mimi from under the brim of his Stetson. Then he looked at me, saw me watching, and raised his eyebrows.
She makes you sound good. Are you?
Prick.
Mimi sat, leaned in, reached up to lay a hand on my arm.
“Rafferty, we’re here to help these people. Right?”
I could take Charlene’s anger and blind devotion to her son despite evidence to the contrary, but the disappointment I saw in Mimi eyes with the mere thought that she couldn’t rely on me, cut me to the core.
If Hilda ever laid a move like that on me, I’d be a broken man.
I patted Mimi’s hand. “Charlene. Ray. Sit down. Please.”
They cautiously joined us, sitting with chairs pulled out, not yet ready to commit.
I filled them in on the last seventy-two hours. Hilda and I getting jumped on the street, my conversation with Imani, and subsequent ejection from the house by her father. Imani’s background in Houston, my aborted visit to Bradley, and a stirring account of my overnight stay in the DPD hotel.
About the time I was finishing, the same time I realized how thirsty I was, fresh beers and a bottle of scotch appeared on the table courtesy of Cowboy.
Good man.
“Before we go any farther,” Charlene said, “I need to know what you’re doing here, Mr Rafferty. Are you trying to help my boy, or not?”
I blew out a breath. “In the beginning, when you hired me, I figured it was going to be easy to connect the dots between Bradley and the shootings.”
“You took my money and deliberately tried to prove that my boy did this?” Charlene screeched.
I met her glare. “If you remember, I was quite adamant about not being able to help you, but you and your lawyer insisted.” Charlene looked like she wanted to deny that, but sat there with an open mouth instead
. “And you need to start listening to what I actually said before jumping off the deep end like that.”
The open mouth turned to a hard line.
“I said that I wanted to connect the dots, not that I would deliberately make it look like he was guilty. This isn’t a cheap crime novel, for chrissake.”
Charlene said, “What are you talking about?”
“I’m saying that it shouldn’t matter to you what I’m looking for, only that I’m looking at all. It makes sense, if you think about it.” Now it all started to get clearer in my head. “I’ll even bet that’s something else Paul had in mind.” Cowboy nodded almost imperceptibly. “You’re so convinced that your son is innocent, so Paul didn’t much care how he got me on the case. He just wanted me to find whatever there is to be found. And if you’re right, then all my work should give Paul what he needs to defend Bradley in court.”
“That still doesn’t answer my question. Are you here to help Bradley?”
“I’m trying to find the truth. Whatever that is.”
“Are you here—”
“Charlene. I can’t decide what you think about what I find, and whether it helps Bradley or not. But think about this … I’m the only one looking. And, if Paul’s right, he needs something quick, before Hernandez gets to court.”
“He didn’t do this. I just know it. He couldn’t have.”
“Unfortunately,” I said, “that’s not enough. Even if Paul hasn’t said that to you.” Charlene drew in a breath. I rolled on. “The cops don’t have a lot. But, a duffel bag left behind at the scene makes it look an awful lot like there was a third shooter. Bradley’s the only one who fits that role and the other two shooters aren’t around to say different. And his prints were on the gun that killed four people. Circumstantial it may be, but it doesn’t paint a great picture.”
As some moments are wont to do, we all reached for our drinks at the same time.
“So, you’re asking the wrong question,” I said. “What you should be asking is whether you want me to keep digging, or not. I hope you can tell that I don’t much care either way.” That wasn’t totally true, I wanted—needed—to get the Mustang out of hock, but I didn’t want to seem too eager.
I sat back and waited. Ray touched Charlene on the shoulder and jerked his head. They both stood and walked to the front room. Now that I’d stopped talking, I could hear the low murmur of the crowd out front.
It took a while, and another beer, before Charlene stood in the kitchen doorway again, Ray hovering behind her.
“Keep digging, Mr Rafferty. Save my boy.”
Half an hour later, we’d hammered out a plan.
I couldn’t go anywhere near Bradley; it’d be a race to see whether Ed or Hernandez would be faster coming down on me like a ton of bricks, but I still needed to hear his side of the story.
Charlene and Ray, with Paul’s help, would get in to see Bradley and get as much of the story as they could from him. I still didn’t share Charlene’s staunch defense of the boy, so I pulled Mimi aside and told her to tag along and bring me back the unvarnished truth. She told Charlene that she wanted to meet Bradley and the last thing I heard was them concocting a story about Mimi being an aunt from Abilene so that she could be passed off as family, just in case anyone asked.
Geez, people who don’t have to rely on subterfuge as often as I did seem to find it a lot more exciting.
Cowboy would look after the house while we were all out. He sounded like he hoped the crowd outside would decide to storm the place while he was there alone.
I deliberately didn’t go into detail about what I’d be doing while everyone else was otherwise occupied. My plan was to peel back Imani’s surface and see what was underneath. I still figured she was lying to protect Bradley, but I didn’t need Charlene to start up with the histrionics again. I’d had enough of those for one day.
Also, I’d only know what the truth was once I’d managed to get it from Imani, so I could report that the following afternoon.
Ah, my ignorance is truly magnificent to behold.
Revel in its glory one and all.
“That’s a plan then,” I said. “We’ll hit it bright and early tomorrow.” Turned to Cowboy. “Since you’re gonna be here all on your lonesome, what say we head out front and lean on these turkeys, show them the rules of the game when they play with the big boys. Make sure they don’t get any bright ideas.”
Cowboy grinned like a split watermelon.
“No, I don’t plan on shooting anyone,” I said.
The grin fell.
“For the moment.”
“Atta boy. Day ain’t over yet.”
I left my jacket draped over one of the dining chairs. It was getting cold as the day leaked away, but I wanted the assembled multitude to see the shoulder holster, and the ensconced .38.
I figured the crowd couldn’t miss the Ithaca, as I stood on the front porch and thumbed shells into it. Yeah, I had to go through the process of emptying it inside the house before we stepped out, but there’s nothing like a good bit of theater to brighten up the day.
Thought about pulling out the .38, breaking it open, checking and then spinning the magazine, decided that would be overkill. Plus, Cowboy was already doing the same thing with his Ruger Blackhawk and I didn’t want him to think I was copying.
“You ready?” I said.
“Shore thing, boss-man.”
“Let’s do it then.”
“Ah yuh.”
I touched down on the first step as Cowboy laid his hand-cannon on the porch top rail, eyeballed the crowd, and worked the slide on his shotgun.
Goddamn, I loved that sound.
By the time I made it down the steps and was standing on the grass below, and a little to the side of Cowboy, the crowd had congealed and started to move towards me. I hefted the shotgun and they slowed a touch.
“Okay,” I called. “This ain’t a gang bang. Who’s the stud duck here? That’s who I’ll talk to.”
They all stopped moving at that. Feet bone connected to the brain bone, and only one could work at a time. Lots of glances sideways and I felt the individual righteousness dial back to a simmer. Some murmurs here and there, more glances, and quite a few people backpedaling away from being volunteered for a major role in the proceedings.
“It’s not a difficult question, people,” I said. Heard Cowboy chuckle behind me. “Either someone’s in charge, or none of you have the faintest idea why you’re here. If that’s the case, you’ve gotta be the dumbest bunch of people I ever laid eyes on.”
They thought about that for a while, then a bunch of them turned their backs on Cowboy and me to discuss it.
Simple shits.
I breathed a bit easier.
The crowd parted, and Dark Hair and the fat, middle-aged woman I spoken to on day one stepped out. The space they left filled and the wall of people followed their duly-appointed dignitaries slowly up the lawn. They got to about ten feet and I worked the slide on the Ithaca. Tried not to laugh at the combination of the thrill that went through me and the reaction from all the faces looking my way.
“Hey smart-ass,” Dark Hair said. “You gonna start by telling us who you are?”
I didn’t need to look at Dark Hair for long before he dropped his eyes.
“How’s your buddy’s shoulder?” I said. I registered movement on the far right, which I guessed was said Buddy reaching for said shoulder. I didn’t look. Cowboy would have it covered.
“Listen,” I started again. “This is not the Treaty of Versailles. We are not going to engage in meaningful discussion and arrive at mutual agreement. I’m going to tell you how it is, and you’re going to listen. That’s all. Got that?”
No answer from the two in the front row.
“I’ll take that as a yes. The time has come for this occupation to end. You’ve had your fun, you’ve made your point, you’ve …” I ran out of things they may have accomplished. “It’s time to piss off.”
&nb
sp; “And if we don’t?” Dark Hair tried for belligerent and missed.
“Not a whole hell of a lot I can do to make you …” I shrugged. “But … if anyone moves closer to the house than this truck …” I swept the shotgun across the crowd towards Cowboy’s truck parked sideways on the drive. The collective intake of breath lowered the oxygen content within a block. “… or makes a move with, or towards a gun …” A few men buried in the crowd dropped their hands from their belts “… then we will assume you intend to attack.”
A bird called in the silence and I noticed for the first time you could hear the low drone of the freeway, fifteen blocks away.
Dark Hair crossed his arms and looked at me. Big Butt decided she’d take the lead.
“And what? I suppose you’ll shoot us.”
I thought about trying to move this whole mess into an intellectual sphere, explaining the concept of actions and consequences, then remembered where I was and who I was talking to.
“Yep,” I said. “So, I’d be real careful about where you walk and what you hold in your hands. Okay?” About half the crowd tried to step backwards. More than a few of the skittish were standing in front of people who wanted to hang tough so the whole crowd kind of stumbled and jostled while they tried to get their feet back underneath them.
I brought the shotgun back front and center.
“Make sure you’re not moving toward those sidearms, boys.” I put a touch of country twang into it. Cowboy would appreciate that. “Things could get real ugly real quick.”
Stepped forward and looked Dark Hair dead in the eyes.
“And I’m holding you responsible for any shit that goes down here. Got it?”
To his credit, he nodded. And swallowed. Maybe he was smarter than he looked.
I started to step backwards up the lawn.
Hell with it. I turned my back on the lot of them and walked back to the porch. By the time I was headed up the steps, the majority had moved back curbside and seemed to be huddling a touch closer than before.
The door of one of the news vans banged open and a guy dropped out hefting a camera to his shoulder.
Wright & Wrong Page 19
