by Rick Riordan
Page 5
"Garrett needs a lawyer. "
Lopez bopped his fists together, hotpotato style. " Course not, Mr. Navarre. I appreciate yalls candour. And I promise you: I will nail Jimmy Doeblers killer. "
"You treat every case with this much enthusiasm?"
"I knew Jimmy. I liked Jimmy. I used to work patrol out at the lake, knew all the folks out that way. "
"And his family has a few gazillion dollars," I added. "Jimmys cousin was talking to the sheriff today. "
A safety valve clicked shut in Lopezs eyes.
"W. B. Doebler isnt my concern. " Lopez gave the initials their proper Texas pronunciation, dubyabee. "You know Jimmy, you know he had a pretty shitty life—that family of his, the stuff with his mom, the clinical depression. Seemed like he was finally coming out of it when he got roped into this business deal with your brother. "
He let his smile creep back to full intensity. "But hey, that doesnt matter. Jimmy and Garrett were quarrelling, your brother was mad enough to discharge a weapon, Im sure thats not important. "
I looked back at our driver, who was staring at me through the windshield—giving me the look of death.
"Dont mind him," Lopez said. "Some of the guys, they heard about that little accident down in Bexar County, you shooting that deputy. Doesnt play well with the uniforms.
You understand. "
"And with you?"
Lopez made a pish sound. "I got no sympathy for bad cops. That asshole was corrupt: you took him down. Good for you. I believe in weeding out the bad, Navarre. Dont care if its a friend or a relative or what. I hope were on the same page with that. "
I looked up toward Garretts apartment door.
"Im on your side, man," Lopez assured me. "I wouldnt want this to get around, but the people I know in San Antonio—they say youre all right. They say when it comes down to a fight, youre a guy who can be counted on to choose the right team. "
"I see your point," I said. "We wouldnt want that to get around. "
"You got my card. " Lopez turned to go, then looked back, as if hed forgotten something. I hate it when cops do that. "And Navarre? The discrepancies in those statements you and your brother gave us? Im not thinking much of them. For instance— were you with your brother when you heard the shot or not?"
I didnt answer.
"I dont know why your brother failed to mention that he and Jimmy were arguing at dinner, like you told me. Its probably nothing. Just—bad form when the statements dont agree, isnt it? I hate going back later, using WiteOut. "
"I know my brother. "
Lopez smiled. "Of course you do. Where does he work again— RNI? Oh, no. Thats right. He quit that job over a year ago. "
Up on the secondfloor walkway, one of the apartment residents waddled out in his jockey shorts and a tattered Waterloo Tshirt. He yelled down to us that his neighbour was throwing his sofa off the back balcony and we should stop him.
Lopez grinned. He told the guy he would have to phone it in to the APD dispatcher.
The guy began cursing at us.
Lopez gave me a wink. "My point is—an okay guy like you, you could help me out a lot, maybe help your brother, too. We could be straight with each other and get this thing resolved. You could give Garrett some advice on how to play it.
If there were hard choices to make, I trust you would make them. "
"You want my brother in jail, Lopez?"
He laughed. "They told me you had a sense of humour. Thats great. See you around, Mr. Navarre. "
Then he climbed into the patrol car.
I watched it back up, disappear around the corner of 24th.
The guy on the second floor kept yelling at me to come stop his neighbour from pitching his furniture off the balcony.
Every day is a love fest when you live at The Friends.
CHAPTER 5
Garrett hadnt hired a maid since my last visit, five months ago.
Fastfood containers littered the kitchen counter. The living room was a tornado zone of paperback novels, electronics parts, CDs, laundry. A dead tequila bottle stuck out from the seat of our fathers old leather recliner and the carpet was fuzzy with birdseed from Dickhead the parrot, who scuttled back and forth on the window ledge at the top of the vaulted ceiling.
Garrett sat in the far corner of the room, staring at his twenty oneinch computer monitor.
"Computers get static?" I asked.
The gray fuzzy light made Garretts face crawl, his eyes hollow.
"Not usually. " He slammed the monitors off button. "I need a drink. "
I waited for him to explain the computer problem. Not that I wouldve understood the explanation, but that was something Garrett always did. This time, he didnt.
I went to the bar, got down his bottle of Herradura Anejo and a couple of moderately clean glasses. "Detective Lopez just got through telling how much youre not a suspect in Jimmys murder. He was very agreeable about it. I got the feeling hed let you plea just about any degree of homicide you wanted. "
Garrett took the tequila. "Lopez has had a hardon for me for years. "
"Really. "
"Dont give me that tone—like you assume Im stoned. Back when Lopez was on patrol, he made a lot of calls to Jimmys place, had to chew us out for drunkanddisorderly crap. We got into some namecalling. But you know I didnt kill Jimmy. I couldnt. "
I drank my Herradura, found it made a pretty bad chaser for garlic bagels. "Lopez gives you credit for mobility—a lot more credit than hes giving our statements. "
Garrett shoved his keyboard drawer closed. "Somebody finally believes in me, and its a homicide cop. "
I ran my finger across the kitchen counter, making a cross with a dustless shadow where a picture frame had stood for a long time. I remembered the photograph. It had been the twin of the one in Jimmys house—Garrett and Jimmy at the seawall in Corpus, a year or so before Garretts accident.
"W. B. Doebler was at the sheriffs office," I told him. "If the Doeblers start throwing their weight around, demanding action—"
"Fuck W. B. Its a little late for the Doeblers to decide they care about Jimmy. "
"You need help, Garrett. "
"And I dont recall asking you for any, little bro. Ill make the calls. Ill take care of things. "
"What—youre going to buy a bigger gun?"
"Forget it, man. You didnt like the ranch being mortgaged. You aint going to like the rest of this. "
"I didnt drive up here to build a kiln, Garrett. I sure as hell didnt drive up here to sit on the sidelines while they charge you with murder. "
Garrett dug out his wallet, pulled a twenty and wadded it up, threw it at me. "Gas money. Sorry I wasted your time. "
I counted silently to ten. Every second was one more I succeeded in not putting my fist through my brothers wall.
The downstairs neighbours cranked up their stereo. Nine Inch Nails throbbed through the carpet. Up on the windowsill, the parrot ruffled his feathers.
"Lets try to cooperate," I said. "For Jimmys sake. You told them you were with me when that shot was fired. Your book was face down on the sleeping bag when I woke up. You were already gone. Where the hell were you?"
Garrett wore last nights cutoffs, and when he shifted, the stub of his right leg peeked through at the end—a pointed nub of flesh like a moles nose.
"I was sleeping in my van. With the doors locked. "
"Why?"
He rubbed his thumb against his forefingers, rolling an imaginary joint. "In Jimmys house, I woke up in a cold sweat. I have phantom pains and I get these weird dreams—like somebody has been standing over me in my sleep. I wouldve felt stupid waking you up. I thought Jimmy was sleeping upstairs. So I went to the one place I feel safe and mobile—behind the wheel of my van. I locked myself in, put my gun on the seat next to me, went to sleep. The shot by the water woke me up. What was I going to tell the police? I was afraid of ghosts so I locked myself in my car?"
"It wouldve been better than lying, Garrett. Im going to need an explanation for Detective Lopez. "
His eyes flared. "You need an explanation. Well, lets just stop the goddamn world.
Lets drop everything and make sure Tres is okay, because my little brother needs an explanation. He needs the ranch. He needs to know where Garrett is twentyfour hours a day. Well, maybe for once, little brother, you aint going to get everything you need. "
The counting wasnt helping anymore. Downstairs, Nine Inch Nails went into their next song, the bass line massaging the soles of my boots.
"Did you see anyone last night?" I asked.
"No. "
"You must suspect someone. The banker guy. "
"Matthew Pena," Garrett murmured.
There was something in his voice I hadnt heard often—pure hate.
"You think hes capable of murder," I said. "An investment banker?"
Garrett pressed his palms against his eyes. "I dont know. "
"What about Jimmys ex? Ruby McBride?"
He hesitated. "No. No way. "
"But?"
Garrett stared at his monitor. "There are reasons I didnt talk to you sooner, little bro.
Not just because I wanted you in the dark. "
"I snoop for a living, Garrett. Let me help. "
"In all the years Dad was sheriff, do you ever recall me asking him for help?"
"Maybe you should have. He wouldve done damn near anything if youd ever called. "
"Here it comes, the guilt trip from the good son. Forget it. I dont want you in my problems because I dont want you hurt, man. And believe me, you would get hurt. "
I looked at Garretts clock—Dads clock. Id been in Austin twentyfive hours. The ranch was still mortgaged. Jimmy Doebler was dead. My brothers life was falling apart. And he didnt want me involved because I might get hurt.
I set my shot glass on Dads army locker, which served as Garretts makeshift coffee table. I stared at Dads recliner, thought about Dads old saddle that hung on Garretts bedroom wall.
Not for the first time, I had to swallow back a comment about hypocrisy. Garrett always insisted Id been Dads favourite, the model son, and yet I owned almost nothing of the Sheriffs. Garrett, who had always railed that he wanted nothing to do with our father, lived surrounded by his things.
"You dont want my help," I said, "at least get a lawyer. You want some names?"
He gave me an uneasy look. "I told you, man. Ill handle it. "
"Fine," I said. "Just primo. "
I was halfway out the front door when he called, "Tres. "
The sun through the skylights made his beard glow almost blond.
"Youre right about cooperating for Jimmys sake," he told me. "But youve got to trust me, little bro. Ive got to handle this without you. I just cant—"
He looked at me as if he was trying to explain a smashed vase. "Do you understand?"
"Im trying, Garrett. I am. "
He held my eyes, searching for some stronger commitment. When he didnt find it, he turned and wheeled himself into the bedroom.
I pulled his front door locked behind me.
