by Jack Lynch
"A man named Robert Dempsey. You might have met him during the investigation down south. At the same time that funny things were going on in Santa Barbara. I understand that was common gossip too, at least around the locker room of the Santa Barbara cops at the time."
Stoval took a deep breath and stared glumly at the asphalt, as if I'd just stolen his last secret.
"I can't tell you anything more about Lind. I didn't tell you he was working on the money because I didn't know for sure myself if that's what he was doing when he left town. And I have a personal interest in the case. You already seem to know that I was in on it from the start. Naturally, the company would like to recover as much of the money as it can. We took a substantial loss."
"Make me weep, Emil. Loss rates are adjusted; premiums are boosted; life goes on."
"Sure, but I'd still like to recover the money."
"Why didn't you follow up on it yourself, instead of putting Lind on it?"
"I called the bank in Santa Rosa. I figured it for a fluke is all. But I told Lind he could come up and nose around some if he wanted to."
"Then why have you come up here now? I can't believe you're looking for Jerry."
"No, I'm not looking for Jerry. The kid can look out for himself, so far as I'm concerned. Maybe he was looking for the source of the money, sure, but Lind did other things that could get him into trouble."
"What other things?"
"He ran around a lot. With other women."
"How do you know that?"
He looked at me, trying to decide something. "Because my wife told me so," he said quietly. "She models in the city. Uses the name Faye Ashton. She never told Jerry she was my wife. And my wife, in one of her usual destructive moods, wouldn't tell me if it was her or one of the other girls in the agency Jerry was seeing. But he was seeing somebody there."
"Okay, so you don't have any great love for Jerry Lind. You still haven't told me why you're up here."
"Another of the bills turned up. In New Mexico. I just heard about it Saturday. The bill was just two serial numbers removed from the one that the doctor in Willits had."
"Why didn't you go to New Mexico?"
"It's not in my territory. The only angle I had to work on was up here. So up here I came. But I haven't had much luck so far."
"Neither has the cop, Dempsey. Did you know him?"
"Sure. What do you mean?"
"I just found his body inside a burned-out car up in the hills. Somebody made a hole between his eyes."
Stoval looked as if he were going to be ill.
"Personally, Emil, I think you're getting a little clumsy for this sort of work. A man could get killed. Now get up and show me where your car is."
"Huh?"
"Don't grunt, just show me your car."
Stoval struggled to his feet. He led me across the lot to a tan, late model Cadillac and unlocked the door.
"Good, Emil. A really subtle car. How long has it been since you did field work?"
"What difference does it make? What did you want to see it for?"
"What do you suppose?" I asked, jotting down the license number. "I know it's supposed to be a free country and all that, Emil, but if I see this automobile again in the course of my current job, I'm going to track down the man driving it and physically abuse him. Think about it some."
I bought a bottle of bourbon and checked into a comfortable motel over near the highway. It had a swimming pool, but I didn't feel as if I needed the exercise. I took a long shower, shaved and dressed, then poured myself a walloping big drink and settled down to watch the six o'clock news show that Janet Lind was on. There were two male newscasters who handled the routine stuff, then they would use Janet Lind for things of a more lighthearted nature. Still, with all her elbow cocking and eyebrow curling she made the things she talked about seem more complicated than they were. I wondered why they let her get away with that stuff and found my mind drifting back to the Jerry Lind thing. It soured me some hearing about Lind and Stoval's wife, or if not her at least one of her co-workers. More and more, any personal concern I felt was shifting from Jerry's circumstances to his young wife. She deserved far better than she was getting. I just hoped she'd be able to handle that okay when she found out about it.
Janet Lind was back on doing one of her field reports. I wondered what sort of person she really was beneath the flutter and makeup. She was interviewing a guy who had walked on the moon. He was in town for something going on at the space facility at Moffett Field. She asked him how he felt about it—the moon walks—these years later. He said he still had dreams about it. I got up and fixed myself another drink. Then I turned off the TV and leaned back and wondered if somebody had meant to kill me and the boy the day before along the Stannis River.
SIXTEEN
Allison was waiting for me when I drove up. She came down to the car and got in before I could even make the gesture of going around and opening the door for her. She wasn't wearing her brown Levi's and tan jacket over a white T-shirt advertising the Lodi Buckeyes. No, sir. This time she was wearing a taut pair of white hip-hugger pants and a red and white striped jersey top. It fit closely around her neck but had a high waist.
"My God," I murmured.
She leaned across to brush a kiss past my ear. "You like?"
"I like."
"That's why I wore it. I thought you might like. And it doesn't seem we get a chance to spend time together during the day, when these duds would be more appropriate."
"There is that problem," I agreed. "Where can I take you looking like that and not get into a fistfight?"
"I thought of that," she told me. "There's a place down at the cove. A lot of people come in by sea and tie up for dinner. Nautical attire is quite appropriate. I don't suppose you brought along a captain's cap by any chance?"
"No, but I've got some wet hiking boots in the trunk."
"That won't do at all. Anyway, I wanted to show off a bit for you. We can go there and I can do that and nobody will bother us."
"That's nice. You're giving me all the bother I can handle at one time."
Her smile was naughty and she moved over into my arms. We kissed as if we'd just made up our minds about something. Her hand loosened my collar, then moved around to stroke the back of my neck. One of my own hands, the devil, explored her bare midsection. We were kissing deeply. Sometime later on that evening we broke off to catch our breath.
"Wow," said Allison, brushing back a few strands of hair.
"I guess we could always climb into the back seat," I suggested.
"No, we'd better go eat first. I don't want to miss out on that again."
I took a cloth from the glove compartment and wiped the inside of the windshield where it had fogged over. "What will your neighbors think?"
"If any of them are watching, they'll think we're having a grand time."
"I guess they'd be right at that." I started the car and headed for the highway.
"You're quite a celebrity around town."
"How's that?"
"Finding the boy yesterday. Carrying him out all that way."
I grunted. "The town might change its mind when it hears what I found today."
"What's that?"
"No, we'll save that for later, if at all. I'd just like to go off duty for a while."
"You should have told me. I have some nice grass back at the house. We could have smoked a joint."
"I didn't mean that far off duty."
"Do you? Smoke grass I mean?"
"Sure. But it's usually when I take a holiday out at the beach or something. It doesn't happen too often."
She directed me to a road that looped back from the highway and dropped down to the cove. We passed fishing boats and dock facilities and curved around to the far side to a long pier with several pleasure boats tied up. Across from that was a parking lot, three restaurants and a couple of bars. Allison led me into a place called The Bell. It was a low, spacious building partitioned by
screens and planters in a way to give each of the tables and booths a cozy feeling of privacy. It was done in a maritime motif, the walls draped with nets and cork floats and red and green lanterns. We were led to a table in the rear, next to a window looking out over the water and marine yards.
"Cute," I told her.
"I like it. But don't let the decor trick you into having seafood, unless there's something you really crave. They don't do it all that well."
"What do they do well?"
"What do you suppose the fellows with bellies and expensive boats who come up here from San Francisco or Sausalito or Alameda order?"
"Steaks?"
"You've got it. Under all the feel of wind-in-hair and salt spray you have here a first class steak and chop house."
She was right. After a couple of drinks we had a pair of tender filets. It was a leisurely meal, and there was nice conversation to go with it. I asked her about her work and she asked me about when I was growing up. It was a switch. And it made me remember a lot of things I hadn't thought about for a long while. After the meal we sipped coffee and Bisquit and continued to gently poke and explore for the things we wanted to find out about each other. We even held hands across the table at one point, and I hadn't done that with anybody for at least a dozen years. It was heady, dangerous stuff. And I loved it.
"You're incredible," I told her. "I feel as if I've known you for a long time."
"You have a funny tug on me too, mister. I'd like to think we could have talks like this thirty years from now."
"You're going to make it tough for me to pick up and drive back to San Francisco when I finish my work."
"Then why not stay around for a while? You could open a little detective shop in a corner of my studio. And answer the phone for me and things."
"In a corner of your studio."
"Sure. And I'll get out my hammer and saw and build you a little cupboard where you can keep your disguises and magnifying glass. And paint you a couple of signs—"The Detective Is In' and 'The Detective Is Out.'"
"Funny."
"Uh-huh. And when I was feeling a little randy and you were between jobs we could put up a sign saying 'The Detective and Artist Are Far Out' and go in to bed."
"You make it sound pretty good."
"It could be. Do you ever take a vacation, Pete?"
"Not so's you'd notice. I've been trying to get to London for about ten years now. Something always seems to come up."
"Well, if you stay around here for a couple weeks, maybe I couldn't offer you a tour of Parliament, but I betcha we'd have a pretty good time."
"I'll give it serious consideration, Miss France. That's after I find Jerry. Or learn what happened to him."
"Oh yes, Jerry."
I was sorry I'd said that. It dimmed her glow. She stared at the table top and thought about things for a minute, then lit a cigarette.
"What was it you were going to tell me?" she asked.
"About what?"
"What you've been doing. What it was that you found today."
I took a deep breath. "I suppose if you really want to hear about it..."
"Of course I do. I'm worried about Jerry."
"Yes. I'm starting to feel the same way. Don't let it hit you too hard if I find him dead. When I find him."
I gave her a terse summary about Tuffy's uncle, my visit to Rey Platte, the long-ago bank robbery and the hundred dollar bill. I told her about today's trip to Willits and my talk with Dr. Nelson. And finally I told her about going back onto the mountain for my pack, and about finding the car and the dead cop. Sketchily, I told her about finding the cop. But even before I had gotten that far, the story had started to bother her. I had been afraid that it might. That's why I hadn't been keen on telling her in the first place.
"What are your plans now?" she asked.
"I just have to wait, until at least tomorrow. The Rey Platte police are sending me mug shots of this Wesley Chase, the brother of one of the suspected robbers."
"You think he had something to do with all this?"
"It's a good possibility. The dead cop, Dempsey, was looking for him. But Dempsey told his brother and wife there was more to it than that. Something bigger. Maybe Wesley's brother showed up, or one of the other gang members, or all three of them. If Dempsey had a hunch he could recover some of the money and bag the three people who took it, that would be something bigger."
"What will you do when you get the photographs?"
"More leg work. Show them to people around town. See if somebody recognizes him. The doctor in Willits said the guy who passed him the bill was wearing a beard and long hair. But maybe somebody local saw him before he grew a beard. Or maybe the beard was fake. It's just something I'll have to work on. It might take several days. If so, I'll have a chance to buy you a few more dinners, even if the vacation later doesn't work out."
Allison half turned in her seat and stared out over the cove. She was clearly upset.
"What is it?"
She shook her head. "Nothing."
"Nothing my foot. You've got bells going off inside..." And just then somebody kicked me low in the stomach. "Hey, wait a minute. Santa Barbara..."
Allison crushed out her cigarette. "Please, Pete. Don't pursue this."
"What do you mean, don't pursue it? It's all I've got. The guys who pulled off the robbery, and the brother who did time. They all were from Santa Barbara. And so are you, the same as Jerry Lind. You do know something, or you remember something, don't you, Allison?"
She stared tight-lipped out over the water, the color rising in her face.
"Look, kitten," I said gently. "Your telling me isn't going to change anything except save me a little time and maybe get me to Jerry Lind quicker. I've got a wanted poster with pictures of the three suspects. And tomorrow probably I'll have photos of the brother. If any of them are around this part of the country I'm going to find them."
She turned toward me then. "No, Pete. Don't. Take my word, please. There's nothing in it. Your theory is all wrong. Those three men aren't anywhere around here."
"But the brother is?"
She didn't reply.
"What is it, Allison? Is an ex-con more important to you than the missing Jerry Lind? You said you felt motherly toward Jerry. This isn't being very motherly. And the dead cop upriver. Think about him for a minute, then tell me there's nothing in it."
"That wasn't nice, Pete."
"Neither was the way that cop looked. He had the back of his head blown away. I'm trying to keep that from happening to Jerry, if it's not already too late."
Allison raised one hand to her mouth. "Excuse me," she said. She got up and left quickly.
I got up too, and took a few steps past partitions and around bursting Boston ferns to see her go into the restroom. When I felt this close to a break in my job I hardly trusted myself, let alone anybody else. I went back to the table. The waitress came around and I told her to take away the rest of my drink but to bring another cognac for Allison and fresh coffee for myself. When the coffee and brandy came I asked her for the check. I got that and paid it and waited some more until I knew I'd waited too long, even for a distraught woman. I got up and went out to ask the bartender at the front of the house where the nearest public phone was. The guy told me there was a booth out at one side of the parking lot. I could see it through the front window. Allison was inside it speaking to somebody, gesturing with one hand balled into a fist as she talked.
I went back to our table and sipped coffee. Allison took a few minutes longer. She had regained her composure. She sat and sipped some of the Bisquit.
"Sorry I was so long," she told me.
"That's okay. Want to talk about it now?"
"No."
I stared at her until she raised her eyes.
"I can't, Pete. I just can't."
I put my coffee aside and leaned forward to clasp my hands on the table. "Allison I'm going to tell you one more story about when I was growing up i
n Seattle. It's not one I'm particularly proud of, but it's a part of me and a part of the way I feel and act today, these many years after.
"Along about the time I was in the seventh grade I got both my first bicycle and my first girlfriend of sorts. She had moved in two doors up the street from where I lived. About a block farther up the hill lived another kid our age named David Young. We all three of us attended the same parochial grade school, about a mile and a half from where we lived. Sometimes we all three rode our bikes to school together. It was a hilly, up and down route. One day we all were riding together when David stopped for some reason. Probably to fix something on his bike or to adjust the schoolbooks in his carrying rack, or whatever. Anyhow, the girl and I didn't realize he'd fallen back until we were several blocks farther on. We were talking, you know, and though I didn't really know what a girlfriend really was in those days, I was old enough to be showing off and making smart remarks. And I remember I was carrying on this pretty good routine that morning and I didn't want to interrupt it.
"When we finally noticed that David wasn't with us, we stopped to look back, but didn't see him. So we just continued on to school, figuring he'd stopped off at a friend's house or decided to go another way. Hell, I don't know what we figured. We were having too much fun to worry about it. David was a year ahead of us in school, so we didn't share the same classroom, and I didn't realize he'd never made it to school that morning. Turns out a car had hit him when he stopped. It was a hit-and-run. The driver apparently panicked. They never did learn who hit him or how it happened.
"David suffered a severe concussion. He must have laid out on the pavement for twenty or thirty minutes before somebody found him and called an ambulance. For two weeks nobody knew if the kid would live or die. It finally turned out that he lived, but he was never right in the head again after that. I've carried that guilt on my back ever since. I should have gone back to look for him.
"Anyhow, it taught me quite a lesson, Allison. That's why I had to carry that youngster down off the mountain yesterday. I just couldn't leave him, even for a few more hours, the way I left David that time. And it's the same right now, with Jerry Lind. And whatever you know, I would like you to tell me. Even a few hours might make a difference. People can die fast."
