North of Nowhere

by Steve Hamilton

  I moved the truck a couple of houses away, facing his driveway. Time to wait some more. Then a horrible thought came to me. Maybe Swanson was spending the afternoon with Vargas’s wife somewhere. They could have been at Vargas’s house even. Hell, for all I knew, he was banging her on the floor of her custom kitchen at that very moment.

  I didn’t have long to think about it, as a dark blue Acura pulled in the driveway. A woman got out. On the way in the front door, she opened the mailbox and took out the contents. Mrs. Swanson.

  When I got out of the truck, my legs were as tight as piano wire from sitting in my truck so long. I went to the front door.

  The woman who answered was about my age, maybe a few years older. She had dark hair just turning to gray, big brown eyes behind a pair of rimless glasses. She smiled and said hello, and asked if she could help me. I instantly felt sick to my stomach. This was a woman who didn’t know her husband was screwing one of his clients.

  “Is Dougie home yet?” I said.

  “Dougie?” she said. “I haven’t heard anybody call him that in years.”

  “We’re old friends,” I said, picking right up on that one. “I was in the neighborhood, thought I’d stop by. He’s still in practice, right?”

  “Yes, he is. He’s at the office right now, but he should be home in a few minutes. Would you like to come in and wait for him? I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

  “Alex,” I said. “Alex McKnight.”

  I spent the next half hour sitting in her kitchen. It was a nice kitchen but nothing like a Vargas custom job. Mrs. Swanson cut me a piece of the best homemade carrot cake I’d ever tasted, and even asked me if I’d like a beer. We talked about my cabins, how my father had built them himself, and how he had worked for Ford Motors for thirty years. Her father had worked for General Motors. Every minute I spent with her, I hated her husband a little bit more. By the time he got home, I was ready to hit him right in the mouth.

  I waited in the kitchen while she went out to meet him in the living room. “Douglas,” I heard her say, “there’s a man here waiting for you. His name is Alex McKnight.”

  Swanson appeared around the corner. He was vaguely familiar—mid-fifties, in good shape for a man who worked behind a desk most of the day, and of course the silver hair any good lawyer in his fifties had to have. I had seen him around town a few times, and I was pretty sure I had been introduced to him once, but I was quite sure I had never seen him as angry as he was at that moment. “What the hell are you doing in my house?” he said.

  “I’m eating your wife’s carrot cake,” I said. “Having a nice conversation.”

  “You’ve got three seconds to get out of here before I call the police.”

  “Honey, what’s the matter?” his wife said.

  “Your husband’s a real kidder,” I said. “He always does this to me, every time he sees me. In fact, tell him about that time in college, Dougie.”

  “I’m counting,” he said, picking up the phone. “One.”

  “Dougie was in this hotel room,” I said. She looked at me with wide eyes, and then at her husband, and then back at me. “There’s a knock on the door. He opens it and it’s room service.”

  “Two,” he said. “I’m dialing.”

  “The waiter has a big tray with a bottle of champagne on it. Dougie says, ‘I didn’t order any champagne.’ The waiter says, ‘Compliments of the house, sir.’ And then the waiter loses his grip on the tray and wouldn’t you know it, he dumps the whole thing right on Dougie’s head.”

  Swanson stopped dialing. Either he forgot what comes after two, or I was getting to him.

  “What do you say, Dougie? You want me to tell your wife the rest of the story?”

  “What do you want?” he said. “Why did you come here?”

  “We need to have a little chat.” I said. “Is there someplace we can go?”

  “In here,” he said. He opened a pair of glass doors. There was an antique desk in the room, and enough law books to fill two entire walls.

  “I want to thank you, ma’am,” I said to Mrs. Swanson. “I apologize if I upset you.”

  She just shook her head. She didn’t say a word. As soon as I stepped into his office, Swanson shut the doors tight.

  I sat down on the guest chair. Swanson kept standing by the doors, his back to me, like he was deciding what to do next.

  “You call my office,” he said, finally turning around. “You harass my secretary. You come to my house and threaten me in front of my wife.”

  “I didn’t threaten you.”

  “That little story about the champagne bottle, what was that?”

  “Just an amusing anecdote.”

  “What do you want?” he said. “If you want money, you can just forget it. I will not be blackmailed.”

  “Who said anything about blackmail? I just want to ask you a couple of questions.”

  “Cut the crap, McKnight. I know who you are. I know why you’re here. I’m telling you one more time. You will get nothing from me. Not one dime.”

  “Will you sit down for a minute? You’ve got the wrong idea. I’m not here for money.”

  He looked at me for a long moment, the way a man looks at someone he thinks may be demented. Then he slowly sat himself down in the chair behind his desk. “What is this about?” he said. “I know you’re Leon Prudell’s partner. And I know he’s been following Mrs. Vargas around the last few weeks.”

  “I’m not his partner anymore,” I said. “I’ve got nothing to do with that…. How did you know he’s been following her around, anyway?”

  “Come on, like she’s not going to notice this big clown with orange hair following her everywhere? I knew he had to be a private investigator, and since there’s only one PI firm in town, it wasn’t hard to figure out who Vargas had hired to watch her. The listing I saw said ‘Prudell-McKnight Investigations.’”

  “Old listing,” I said. “I’m out of that now.”

  “So it’s just him doing this? Following her around like some sort of lowlife stalker?”

  “I think you can rest easy,” I said. “I don’t think Leon ever got the money shot he was trying for. You know, the one of you with your pants around your ankles.”

  “Could this possibly be any less your business, McKnight? My relationship with my wife? Or whatever might be happening between Mrs. Vargas and myself?”

  “Aside from feeling bad for your wife, I don’t care. I don’t even want to think about it.”

  “Then why the hell are you here? I swear to God, I was sure you were going to put the squeeze on me, try to work both sides against the middle. Believe me, I’ve heard about private investigators pulling this scam. Some people will do anything for a little easy money.”

  “I’m here because I was the lucky guy who took your place at the poker game,” I said. “I’m here because I want some answers.”

  “What kind of answers could I possibly give you? I don’t know anything about it.”

  “One of the gunmen turned up dead this morning.”

  I watched him carefully. He narrowed his eyes, as if honestly confused. “One of the men who broke into Win Vargas’s house?”

  “Yes.”

  He shook his head. If he was acting, he was doing a good job of it. But then, that’s what lawyers do. That’s why lawyers were put on this earth. “I don’t understand,” he said. “What does this have to do with me?”

  “Somebody set up Jackie, Bennett, and Gill,” I said. “I’m trying to find out who.”

  “I knew they were arrested yesterday,” he said. “What makes you think they were set up?”

  “Are these your friends or not? Do you really think they were involved in this?”

  “All three are friendly acquaintances,” he said. “Men I play cards with once in a while. I’ve seen enough to never be surprised by what people will do, McKnight. Especially when money is involved.”

  “Let’s talk about that money,” I said. “You’ll
agree with me that whoever put this together had to know about the money in Vargas’s safe?”

  “That makes sense.”

  “Vargas claims he only mentioned the money in the safe once, at a poker game two months ago. Not even his wife knew about it.”

  “Therefore you assume,” he said, “that one of the men present at that poker game must be responsible for the robbery.”

  “Yes.”

  “And that the same man must also be responsible for this frame-up you think these three innocent men are presently caught up in.”

  “You’re doing beautifully,” I said. “Keep going.”

  “And that if it was not in fact Jackie, Bennett, or Gill, it must have been either Kenny or myself. The two of us being the only other men who knew about the safe.”

  “I don’t think it was Kenny,” I said.

  “It wasn’t Kenny.”

  “Kendrick, actually.”

  “Kendrick. It wasn’t Kendrick.”

  “You’re almost home,” I said. “One more step.”

  He threw his hands up. “You’ve got one man left,” he said. “Swanson must have done it.”

  “Did you?”

  “I’m not under oath here.”

  “Just tell me,” I said. “Did you do it?”

  “No,” he said. “I didn’t. Why would I?”

  “You said it yourself. People will do anything for a little money.”

  “I said easy money. There’s a big difference. It’s only easy if you know you can get away with it.”

  “I didn’t see you get arrested yesterday,” I said. “So far, you’re getting away with it just fine.”

  “Let me ask you something. Let’s assume I set this up. You didn’t see me there, did you? I must have hired three men to break into his house.”

  “Apparently, yes.”

  “These three men, aren’t they entitled to some of the money?”

  “Yes,” I said. “I’m sure they are.”

  “How much money are we talking about? What did it say in the paper? Five thousand dollars?”

  “That’s what Vargas told the police. You and I both know it was more.”

  “Certainly. So let’s say it was what, fifty thousand dollars? A hundred thousand dollars? Let’s say it was a million dollars. A cool million in cash. That’s a pretty good haul, wouldn’t you say? I’m gonna hire three men to go in with guns to steal a million dollars, and then have them deliver it to me. Which of course they’ll do, because even though they’ve just ripped off a million dollars, they’re men of honor and they’re gonna stand by their promise to me. But now what do you think their cut should be? You think they’ll let me have a full share of it? Even though all I did was tell them about the safe, and then sit here in my easy chair while they committed armed robbery? Sure, let’s say they cut me in for a full quarter. Now I’ve got a quarter-million dollars. I’ve risked my entire legal career, which by the way will probably gross between five and ten million more dollars before I retire. I’ve risked going to prison for what, twenty or thirty years? Everything I own, every person in this world I care about…I’ve risked it all for two hundred fifty thousand dollars. Is this the way you see it, Mr. McKnight? Is this what you think really happened?”

  I didn’t say anything. I sat there in the chair.

  “Please, Mr. McKnight. I’d like an answer. If the answer is yes, I want to make sure I exclude you if you ever come up on jury duty. Because you’ll obviously believe anything.”

  “You don’t have to get cute,” I said. “I’m sure it didn’t happen exactly that way.”

  “Then how did it happen?”

  “That’s why I’m here. I’m trying to find out, and I thought you could help me.”

  “I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

  “As soon as you heard my name,” I said, “you ran for the hills. Do you blame me for being suspicious?”

  “If you had told my secretary why you had wanted to see me, we could have avoided all this.”

  “Yeah, but I wouldn’t have experienced your wife’s carrot cake.”

  “I think we’re done, Mr. McKnight. The door behind you leads right outside. I suggest you use it.”

  “Please thank your wife again for me.”

  “I’ll try to remember.”

  I left through his office door, walked across his lawn to the street. Some kids came by on their bikes. Somebody started up a lawnmower. I got in the truck and stared out at nothing for a while.

  Swanson was right. It was a tough way to make money, and riskier than hell.

  So maybe it wasn’t about the money after all. Maybe it was something else.

  Whatever it was, I hoped it would come to me before they measured Jackie for a prison uniform, or before my friend with the sweet cigars decided to make himself at home in my cabin again.

  Or before somebody else got murdered.

  It was time to go for broke. I picked up the phone and dialed Leon’s number. Then I started the truck and headed straight for Vargas’s house.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Leon picked up on the first ring.

  “I’m on my way to see Mrs. Vargas,” I said. “Is she going to be home now?”

  “Alex, what are you talking about? You can’t do that.”

  “I’m doing it, Leon. You’re the guy who spent the last few weeks following her around, so I’m sure you know her routine. Will she be there?”

  “I can’t tell you that, Alex. I’d be crossing a line here.”

  “What about Vargas? Will he be there?”

  “I can’t tell you that, either.”

  “You’re just looking out for your client,” I said. “If he’s there, it could get ugly. You want me to have to hit him in the head again?”

  “I knew that must have been you…He wouldn’t say so, but I knew it.”

  “Just tell me who’s gonna be there.”

  “Vargas shouldn’t be there for a couple more hours,” he said. “He should be at the store. He only goes down three days a week now. It’s such a long drive.”

  “Okay, so his wife is there alone. That’s good.”

  “I wouldn’t assume she’s alone, Alex. I’m afraid that when she knows her husband isn’t going to be home…”

  “Relax,” I said. “I know Swanson isn’t there right now.”

  “Alex, what are you doing?”

  “I’m just driving around, asking people questions. What are you doing? How come you’re not tailing her anymore?”

  “Vargas sort of lost interest in that. He seems to have his mind on other things right now.”

  “Yeah, I bet. And you’re just sitting by the phone, waiting for him to call you?”

  “I don’t deserve that, Alex. I’ve been helping you out here. I didn’t have to do that.”

  “You’re right,” I said. “I’m sorry. It’s been kind of a long day.”

  “Just don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

  “Too late,” I said. I hung up.

  I came down off the hill, heading northeast to the river. There were golfers putting on the green as I passed, and then I saw Vargas’s house. A blue Miata was in the driveway. I parked behind it.

  When I rang the doorbell, I expected to hear my little friend start barking, but the sound never came. Cynthia Vargas answered the door and stood there looking at me, with no Chihuahua running around at her feet.

  “What is it?” she said, holding her cigarette out just so. She squinted a little, the kind of look a smoker gives you when she’s annoyed at you and the smoke is in her eyes at the same time. She was blonde, perfectly put together, just what you’d shop for in a second wife. Vargas had already done it once, and now Swanson was apparently looking to pick up her option. It wouldn’t have bothered me a bit if I hadn’t just spent the only decent thirty minutes of the day in the company of Swanson’s wife.

  “Good afternoon, ma’am,” I said. “I’m sorry to bother you.”

  “Uh-huh?” She took a
drag off her cigarette.

  “I was wondering if I could bother you with a couple of questions.”

  “Don’t tell me,” she said. She looked me up and down. “Your name is Alex McKnight.”

  “I think we spoke on the phone the other night.”

  “Yeah, and you were here for the poker game,” she said. “You were one of the hostages.”

  “I don’t know if I’d say we were hostages. They just encouraged us to stay out of their way…”

  “Come on in,” she said. “You want a beer or something?”

  I very much did. But I took a pass.

  She walked right through the house, out onto the back deck. I assumed I was supposed to follow her. It was my second back deck of the day, and the second time I was spending time with another man’s wife. This time felt a lot different. Mrs. Vargas still looked a little flushed and untucked, like maybe she’d spent the whole afternoon with her underwear hanging from the chandelier.

  She sat down on a recliner, put her cigarette out in the ashtray on the table next to it. She was facing west, where even at seven o’clock in the evening the sun still hung high over the horizon. She put her sunglasses on. “Sit down,” she said.

  I pulled another recliner over and sat down on the end of it. I wasn’t about to recline. As I looked west, I noticed the cardboard still covering the broken window on the second floor.

  “I don’t see your dog anywhere,” I said. “Usually he’s so glad to see me.”

  “That’s not my dog,” she said. “That’s Win’s dog. He even takes it to work with him.”

  “That’s funny. He told us a few times it was your dog.”

  “He tried to give me that dog the same day he bought me that stupid little car out there.”

  “Mrs. Vargas, I won’t take much of your time. I just need to ask you something.”

  “You’re friends with those three men who got arrested,” she said. She looked out at the river.

  “Yes, how did you know?”

  “I overheard Win talking about you on the phone. You’re the one they didn’t get.”