"So she stood here, I'd guess," Meyer said.
"Out in the early morning, looking for her pin," I said. "Yes. And so what?"
Meyer shrugged. "I don't know what. Every action we take, every thought we have, they are all based upon some form of information. We know more now than we did before. It is difficult, I think, and erroneous, to try to decide in advance whether additional facts will be useful."
"So if she stood here, and heard the motor and stepped out in this direction, okay, the car would pass close, and the passenger would be three feet away, as she said. And we could backtrack the vehicle to old Herm's house. Incidentally, coming around to the airstrip overland instead of on the road doesn't mean much. The people who own those four-wheel-drive brutes like to take them bouncing through the fields and woods. It does something for their glands. It could be preference instead of secretiveness. On the other hand, he did avoid meeting Mrs. Ladwigg, and the two men ate in the guest wing. Anyway, Meyer, where the hell are we going with all this?"
Roaring at Meyer seldom does any good. He
The Green Ripper gave me the mild smile, the bland nod. 'let's see where we've been. On the thirteenth of December, two days before Toomey and Kline paid a visit to you, a Mr. Ryan visited Bonnie Brae. I do not think the Federal Aviation gets into the business of tracking down small planes which endanger scheduled airline flights. I think that is the Civil Aeronautics Board's chore. And, whoever was looking into it, surely if there was danger of a collision, somebody would have picked up the idenffficaffon numbers of the small airplane. They are required to catty the numbers in very large con- trasting colors. Additionally, the customs people are monitoring all small planes in flight along this coast. And, finally, there seems to be a telltale monotony about the names of the three alleged offlcials Howard C., Robert A., and Richard EL. If any more turn up, we can expect William B. and Thomas D."
Meyer will never cease to astonish me. That heavy skull is loaded with microprocessors. Informaffon is subject to constant analysis, synthesis, storage and retrieval. But when this makes him seem too intellectual, too somber, I have but to recall him at Bailey's, our neighborhood disco, cavorting like a dancing bear with three blond chiclets who adore him, and who listen to him when he sits like a hairy Buddha, declaiming instant legends and inventing instant folk-song lyrics. The dancing Meyer, pelt gleaming under the disco lights, little blue eyes shining, is the antidote to the data-processing machine under the skull bones.
We moved over into the semishade of a young live oak. The shadows had no edges under that white fluorescent sky.
He leaned against the tree. I sat on my heels and poked at the hard dirt with a piece of branch.
"It's too much!" he said irritably.
"How do you mean?"
"Pretend for one moment that Gretel never told us about Brother Titus. She might not have said anything, you know. Then where would we be? You would have accepted their story that they were looking into something that might be going on at Bonnie Brae. Let's hope they accepted your state ment that Gretel had told you nothing. The Ryan person convinced them out at Bonnie Brae that he was what he said he was. Toomey, Kline, and Ryan were mopping up. There is no other answer. Ladwigg and Gretel were both lolled."
'Lao!"
"Yes, Travis. Both deaths were made to look routine. An accident and an illness. They would not make waves. It was somehow terribly important that no one be left alive who could talk about Brother Titus. The secrecy of the whole business indicates that there might be people who might possibly recognize him. It was a remote chance, but one that X could not accept. Remember, I am using X to indicate an individual or an organiza
The Green Ripper lion. of the emphasis on secrecy, I am assuming some link between Brother Titus and the twenty acres on which the Morgen Group made a down payment."
"But there wouldn't be any point in killing Gretel! What if she did recognize him? No matter what is going on, isn't that one hell of an overreaction to being recognized?"
"That's where I draw a blank, Travis. I have been trying to think of something big enough and bad enough and important enough for an organized group and believe me, they are organized to wipe out every possible trace of a vis* from an offlcial of an obscure religious sect. Eradication per se would not be difficult if one had the stomach for extreme measures. Float you out on the tide, and me also, to be totally safe. Eliminate Catherine Ladwigg, Stanley Broffski, Morse Slater, and anybody else Gretel worked with. Eradication of every trace without arousing suspicion is a lot tackier. It requires thought and organization and great care. If Gretel had not talked to you, it would have been successful. If you had been entirely truthful with Toomey and Kline, it would have been successful because they would have dealt with you."
"Melodrama."
Y l~now. I know. But fit the facts together in any other way and you get more nonsense instead of less."
"So the Morgen Group was going to build some kind of top~secret installation at Bonnie Brae. Or a heroin refinery. Or maybe Brother Titus was the fellow behind the grassy knoll in Dallas. Come on, Meyer. How many coincidences can we string to- gether?"
I stood up and headed back across the field to the new asphalt road. I saw something glint in the grass, and bent down and pushed the grass aside and picked it up. I had seen her wear that pin several times when we had gone ashore from The Busted Flush during our long slow trip back around the peninsula It was of Mexican silver, framing a three-dimensional Aztec face carved out of a mottled hard green stone. It was crudely made, and the clasp was not very secure.
How many coincidences can we string together? Sure. If, retracing her jogging route, she had found the pin before Ladwigg drove Titus back to his airplane if she and her ax-husband had not traced her sister-in-law to that California encampment if she had found a different job in Lauderdale...
Looking down at the primitive green face in the palm of my hand, I felt dizzy. The world was all tied together in some mysterious tangle of invisible web, single strands that reached impossible distances, glimpsed but rarely when the light caught them just right.
The biggest if of all. If she had never met me. Because I had brought her here.
If her mother had never met her father.
The Green Ripper
If her aunt had wheels.
An empty path to walk. It leads toward superstition and paranoia, two whistle stops on the road to incurable depression. Once upon a time I took a random walk across a field. I went hither and yon, ambling along, looking at the slay and the trees, nibbling grass, kicking rocks. The first jeep to start across that field blew up. So did the people who went to get the people who'd been in the jeep. And I stood right there, sweaty and safe, trembling inside, while the experts dug over ninety mines out of that field, defused them, stacked them, and took them away. That's the way it goes sometimes. Philosophy 401, with Professor McGee. Life is a minefield. Think that over and write a paper on it, class.
I put the pin in my pocket. Talisman of some nd. Rub the tiny green face with the ball of the thumb. Like a worry stone, to relieve executive tensions. The times I remembered seeing it, she had worn it on the left side, where the slope of the breast began. She had bought *, she said, at a craft shop in San Francisco at Girardelli Square. I hadn't been there with her. All the places I hadn't been with her, I would never be with her. And at those unknown places, at unknown times, there would be less of me present. There can be few things worse than unconsciously saving things up to tell someone you will never see again.
"Coincidence," I told Meyer. "Maybe there was somebody thinning about hustling her on her way, but they didn't have to. She got sick. And antibiotics wouldn't touch it. And she died."
"Maybe," he said. "Maybe it was that way."
My phone aboard the Flush rang at eight fifteen the next morning, and when I answered it I heard the click of someone hanging up. Fifteen minutes later it rang again, and when I answered it, a voice said, 'remember this number, McGee.
Seven-ninetwo, oh-seven-oh-one. Go to a pay phone as soon as you can and call this number. Seven-nine-two, ohseven-oh-one."
He hung up. The voice was soft. There was no regional accent. I wrote the number down and finished my coffee while I thought about it. Then I locked up and walked to a pay phone.
The same voice answered. "This is McGee," I said.
"What was your mother's maiden name?"
'l~evlin. Mary Catherine Devlin."
"Drive to Pier Sixty-six and park in the marina lot. Walk to the hotel and go in one of the lowerlevel entrances that face toward the marina, the one nearest the water. Turn right and walk slowly down the corridor toward the main part of the hotel."
"Why?"
After a pause he said, "Because you want to know why somebody died."
'who the hell are you?"
The Green Ripper
"Can you remember what I told you to do?"
"Of course."
He hung up. I went to Meyer's stubby little cabin cruiser, the John Maynard Keynes, and roused him. He came out, blinking into the sunlight, carrying his coffee onto the fantail, looking grainy and whiskery. I repeated the two conversations as accurately as I could.
Mother's maiden name. Standard security procedure. Not generally available."
'A know that. Somebody wants to tell me why Gretel died."
"You're going, of course."
"That's why I came over to tell you. So you'll be able to give somebody a lead if I don't show up back here. If somebody wants to take me out, forget the hotel. It will be the marina parking lot. Drop me there at long range, and untie the lines and take off."
'Y'll come along."
"If you wouldn't mind. He didn't say to come alone. You could wait in the truck. Armed."
'Tut not very dangerous."
'~What we will have are those stupid walkie-talkies, the little ones you bought as a gag. With fresh batteries. The mysterious strangers are probably in one of those rooms. I am assuming more than one. I can keep my unit in my pocket. Without my aerial up you should be able to read a signal from me based on Off-On. We can test them here."
With fresh batteries we found out that he would receive a definite alteration in the buying sound when my unit was turned on, even at a hundred yards. I could give him numbers. Short bursts for numbers from 1 to 9. A steady blast for a zero. Room 302 would be dit-dit-dit duaaa~ nitwit.
"In a building with a steel frame?" he asked.
"Listen harder. They'll take it away from me pretty quick, I imagine. I'll give you the room num- ber soon as I can."
There are a lot of trees in that parking lot, and it has a considerable depth. I circled around the back of it, walking swiftly through the open areas. Then I circled back to an arched entrance, went in; turned right, walked slowly. The rooms were on my nght. So they could have watched me through a window.
I kept my hand in my pocket, finger on the switch. A door opened behind me and I spun around. Room 121. Very easy. A sallow young man, tall, with a lot of nose and a lot of neck, mo- tioned to me to come in. He wore pale-blue trunks, and he had a bath towel around his neck. His hair was still wet from his morning swim.
The familiar voice was right behind me, and I had neither heard him nor sensed him. "Hand out of the pocket. That's nice. Move right on in. Fine. You're doing fine."
With the voice still behind me and the room door
The Green Ripper closed, the swimmer patted me down and took the little gadget out of my pocket. He read the label on it aloud. "Junior Space Cadet." He grinned and tossed it onto one of the double beds. "Clean," he said.
"Sit right down aver there, in the straight chair by that countertop, Mr. McGee," the voice said. Large room. Ivo double beds. Pile carpeting. Small refrigerator. Recently redecorated. Between the half-open draperies I could see beach chairs and a table on the tiny ground-level terrace outside sliding doors, and I could look out toward the marina parking lot.
When I sat down I got my first look at the voice. Like Swimmer, he seemed to be in his late twenties. Mid-height, with the shoulder meat of one who works out with weights. Glossy dark hair, square jaw, neck as broad as the jaw. Metal-rimmed glasses with a slight amber tint. A pleasant smile.
"My name is McGee," I said.
'I think well try to get along without names."
He took the toy off the bed, inspected it, pulled the sectional aerial to full length, and went over and opened the sliding door. "Dr. Meyer? Every~ing is in order here. Why don't you come on in?"
When there was no answer, he tossed the unit to me. I pushed the little piano key and said, 'Jo rea- son why you shouldn't, Meyer."
"Okay." The voice was tinny and remote. "ShaU I bring your hat?"
"No. Leave it in the car and lock up. Room One-two-one."
When Meyer arrived, Swimmer frisked him, declared him clean, and then winked at me and said, 'I was looking for your hat."
"Was it all that obvious?" I asked.
'~Don't worry about it," Weightlifter said. Yt's good procedure. Simple and useful. Keep it. Because it doesn't work with us doesn't mean it isn't any good. But, Dr. Meyer, I'm CUfiOUS."
"Just Meyer, please."
"Fine. What if he'd asked you to bring his hat?.
"There are several ways he could have asked me to bring it. Each one is an option. If he felt the two of us could handle things, I would have been ready when I came through the door, and so would he."
'~ice. Very nice," Swimmer said.
"You seem to know a hell of a lot," I said.
Weightlifter shrugged and sat on the edge of a bed, and motioned Meyer over to a wing chair by the sliding doors. "Not as much as we tried to find out. I'll give you credit. You have some very solid friends around that marina, McGee. We didn't have much time to work on it. We put a lot of people on it. We pulled your military record. We put some tourists into that Bahia Mar Marina We had somebody at Timber Bay. We sent somebody to Petaluma. We know or at least we feel able to assume that you are not wanted anywhere, that
The Green Ripper your identity is correct, that you are not into the coke or grass trade, and that you are not political."
"Who is we?" Meyer asked.
'Eve won't go into that. Just as I told Mr. McGee, we won't go into names either. And we won't show identification. And if you check the register later, it won't do you a bit of good. And, 111 be frank with you, the names and the connections wouldn't mean much to you. We are going to ask questions. Lots of them. This might take a long time. But we start with evidence of good faith."
Swimmer went to the closet and came bac} with a nine-by-twelve manila envelope and handed it to Weightlifter.
"Before I show you these," Weightlifter said, Y must explain how we happened to luck out. Dr. Tower reported the symptoms to the Center for Disease Control in Atlanta They have had standing orders for over a year to report any case which has those same symptoms to a certain branch of the Federal Government. An expert in forensic medicine flew down to Atlanta from New York, starting about an hour after word came to Washington. When it became obvious to Dr. Tower that Mrs. Howard was going to die, he phoned Atlanta. The expert came down here in time to participate in the autopsy. He found what we had instructed him to look for. Take a look at these prints."
I had been watching him covertly. He was lefthadded. He wore a sport shirt that hung outside his trousers, and once when he moved I had identified the bulge on his right side, halfway between the belly button and the point of the hip bone.
He handed me the print, and when he turned to take the other one over to Meyer, I let mine slip to the floor, moved quickly behind him, locked his left arm, and reached around and under with the right hand and yanked the belly holster out, gun, belt clip, and all, and then slammed him into Swimmer, who was heading for the closet. They went into a lamp table and snapped a couple of slender legs as they brought it down.
By then I had the short-barreled revolver properly in hand, and Meyer was standing beside
me.
"Slow and easy," I said, and they did indeed move slowly as they separated themselves from each other and from the pieces of lamp and table. There was nothing pleasant about their faces, but nothing ugly either. No sign of strain or worry. A watchful competence, like a very good boxer waiting for the opening.
I have to go on instinct. Sometimes it has betrayed me. Never fatally, fortunately. Most of the time it works for me.
I said, "Well play it your way, gentlemen. I didn't want you to go away with the impression we're a pair of clowns. It is a matter of pride with me. Let's say our relationship has reached a new level. First names would help."
The Green Ripper
I tossed the gun onto the nearest bed and extended my hand to Weightlifter. As he tools it and I pulled him to his feet, he said, "Max. He's Jake."
John D MacDonald - Travis Mcgee 18 - The Green Ripper Page 6
