“Cal?”
“Sorry. Thinking. Ron, you’ve been a big help, and I’m not kidding. I’m in the crosshairs here. I heard a rumor the contract on me is for half a mil, so this is serious. You’ve got to bring the heat over here. Promise whatever you have to on my behalf. There has to be an open DEA investigation of Houdini. He’s too big not to be on someone’s radar. If I get immunity for Mickey and me, I’ll open all my files and tell them everything I know.” Well, not quite everything.
“I’ll run it up the flagpole, Cal, but I wouldn’t hold my breath.”
“Thanks, little bro. I owe you.”
“Big time. Hey, I’m getting waved at. Love you.”
“Love you too. Bye.”
That made me feel immensely better, like I wasn’t alone anymore. I might be a minnow in a shark-filled sea, a stalking horse or maybe even a tethered goat, but at least it seemed like someone heavy might be hunting the Houdini tiger, to mix a bunch of animal metaphors.
Hell, I could fort up like the M&Ms said and wait it out. See if the feds or SFPD scared anything out of the bushes, make my move later.
Yeah, right. I wasn’t a sit-on-my-ass kind of woman, unless it was strapped firmly into the bucket seat of a rally car.
I dialed my house, but it went to the answering machine. I pleaded for my mother to pick up in case she was there but still sulking.
Nothing. Damn.
Time to get busy.
First, I opened my floor safe and sorted out the more than forty grand in cash it held, taking enough with me to pay off my two creditors plus five large in expense money, just in case.
“Saddle up, boys!” I called loudly enough to be heard on three floors. The two big men came hurrying to meet me in the main office. I handed Meat a wad of green. “Here’s five days in advance. Keep track of expenses. You’re driving. Follow me.”
The M&M’s lifted coal-roller didn’t have ballistic armor, but in every other way it was a tank. Run-flat tires taller than my waist, wraparound reinforced steel grill-guard with winch, heavy-duty roll bar sporting a battery of lights, a rack in the back window holding a shotgun and a rifle, legal and registered even in gun-phobic San Francisco due to their bail bondsmen’s licenses…yeah, we were loaded for bear and I liked it. If my nemesis wanted a crack at me, I’d make myself a hard target.
I sat sandwiched in the middle of the truck’s bench seat, bitch-style, but I was glad of it today.
Our first stop was my motherless house, where I set out long-term water and food dispensers for the animals and made sure the tiny doggy door was unlatched. I also left a note to call me right away, and signed it “Please forgive me – Cal.” Hopefully Starlight’s return and the ending of her admittedly justifiable snit would coincide and things would get back to normal between us.
I also grabbed my bondsman’s gear – weapons, body armor, stuff like that – out of Molly.
Next I paid off Molly’s title loan, and then headed for Vyazma to do the same with Sergei. Meat double-parked in the street, glaring at the human scum who stared idly at the monster truck while Manson walked me in and waited at the door for my return.
“What now, jefe?” Meat said as I climbed in between them again.
“Head east on 580. We’re going to the foothills.”
Three hours and one gas-and-food stop at Dan’s Barbecue in Waterford later we rolled into Granger’s Ford. Even in the dry warmth of a San Joaquin Valley midafternoon, the Old Mill parking lot showed half-full as we turned off the main road, so I guess losing Kerry Lindquist as manager-cum-drug-dealer hadn’t hurt business much.
I had Meat cruise down a sleepy Main Street past the tattoo parlor, but no Harleys were parked there. Next roll-by was the sheriff’s substation. I didn’t see Mike Davis’ cruiser, and I debated with myself for a moment before hopping out and going in.
The town dispatcher, cougar and all-around gossip Marilou Monroe – she pronounced it MON-roe in her affected Southwestern drawl – sat in her office chair, staring at an old thirteen-inch color TV with honest-to-goodness rabbit ears on top. It played some game show rerun from at least twenty years ago.
“What, you don’t get cable?” I asked as I walked through the wide-open door.
“Why Cally Corwin from the big city, you are a sight for sore eyes,” the heavily made-up woman exclaimed. “Every since that foo-fra with Kerry and Linda, things been boring as all hell. And cable costs money, which we ain’t gonna have until the new PD gets set up and funded. You think I’m gonna pay for it, what with the commercial rates? Besides, Comcrap sucks ass, and that’s all they got up here.”
“Well, things might be getting interesting again, Marilou. I need to talk to your son Eric.”
Her face pinched. “Hope you ain’t lookin’ to get with him. Hook up, I mean?”
“Um, no. It’s a case.”
“He in trouble again?”
“Talking to me might keep him out of big trouble.”
“What kinda trouble?”
“I’m not at liberty to say. Could you set up a meet and keep it quiet? Really, Marilou. If the wrong people hear about it, someone might get hurt.”
“Okay. I’ll call him and give him your cell number. Don’t worry, I can keep my mouth shut.”
I didn’t comment on that obvious fallacy, hoping that this time she could restrain herself for a day or two at least. “And is Mike around?”
“He’s down at Tuolumne Park, last time he called in.” She reached for the radio. “I’ll tell him you’re looking for him.”
“Yeah, I’m in that silver one-ton out there.” I pointed through the doorway.
“Who’s your banger friends?”
“Just friends.”
“They look like they oughta be eatin’ tacos and driving a low-rider, not a monster truck.”
“Their El Camino is in the shop, and everybody likes tacos.” I couldn’t resist a little stab. “You know my grandma was Mexican, right?”
“Hey, no offense, hon. I just call a spade a spade and a jack a jack, and those boys look like they know their way around both.”
I puzzled my way through that. Spades as in digging graves, and jacks as in stripping parked cars? “You’re the queen of honesty, Marilou, and if you want, I’ll introduce you when we have more time.” Or not, but I wanted to keep her on my side.
“Mm, they do look edible.” She hitched up her ample breasts, exposing more cleavage than Yosemite Valley. “You with one of them?”
“No. Not my type.”
“Good. More for me.” She stood up as if to walk out the door and start the hunt.
“Hold up, Marilou. Really. I’m on the job here.” If I let her and the M&Ms interact, I might have to wait an hour while at least two of the three satisfied their mutual lusts somewhere unsanitary.
She put on a pout and sat back down with a sigh. “Oh, all right.”
“Next time,” I said, waving myself out.
Chapter 8
When we rolled into Tuolumne Park I spotted Davis’ cruiser in the shade of an old eucalyptus and directed Meat to park nearby. The deputy narrowed his eyes at the outlandish vehicle, but his expression smoothed when he saw me jump out.
“Hey, Cal,” he said from behind the wheel.
“Hey, Mike. How’s Linda?”
“Still in the locked facility in Fresno. Making progress.”
“Glad to hear it.” I’d already apologized a dozen times for shooting his homicidal daughter, but it still felt awkward.
“What brings you up into the hills?”
“Someone’s trying to kill me, Mike. A pro, possibly an older woman who favors poison.”
Davis rubbed his jaw. “Who’d you tick off this time?”
“Probably the same person as last time. You do remember that bullet through the car window when I was coming back from the quarry, right?”
“I remember. Forensics inconclusive. Slug fragmented when it struck the opposite door. Standard .308, though.”
“If it came from an assault rifle, I’d have thought whoever it was would’ve put a dozen rounds into the car before you got away. One bullet argues for a high-power bolt-action hunting rifle, scoped.”
“Lee Harvey Oswald killed Kennedy with three shots in two seconds from a bolt-action rifle, Mike.”
“Clip-fed, though.”
“True enough. I’m still wondering why he only took the one shot.”
“Maybe the gun jammed. Or the second shot missed completely. Or you drove out of sight.”
“Maybe.”
Mike rubbed his forehead. “I found the shooter’s location. Top of a hill with good sight lines. He used brush to wipe out all traces, no shell casings, but I picked up some motorcycle tracks a hundred yards away that might have been him.”
“What kind of tread?”
“Dirt bike. Common tire pattern.”
“Another dead end.”
“Data point in a mosaic.”
“Any more on the tweaker? The one that took a dive off the cliff?”
Mike shook his head. “Nothing I can prove, but I like the MC for it. All just speculation until I get some evidence.”
“Yeah. Um…”
He lifted an eyebrow in question.
“Something I didn’t tell you last time.” I related what had happened with the nomads, trying to pull me over by showing me badges. “If they really were undercover, I didn’t want to put them at risk by spreading it around.”
Mike growled, “But if not, they’re impersonating law enforcement officers. I could have picked them up.”
“At the time I didn’t know if you were clean, and later…well, I erred on the side of caution.”
“But now you need my help, so you’re getting chatty.”
I sighed. “Look, Mike, I’m sorry. There didn’t seem to be any upside to telling you.”
“Okay. Forget it.”
“You seen those nomads around lately?”
“No. All the shady types been laying low since Sheriff Bartlett went on the zero-tolerance warpath after the killings. Busted a couple meth labs and dope farms, made a big show of searching the Niners’ clubhouse in Coulterville, but didn’t find anything, which means they were tipped off. Locked up Harry from the tattoo parlor for a few days to lean on him for information on the small-time dealing. ’Course, it’s all for public consumption. He don’t really care about the petty stuff as long as he gets reelected.”
“Did you ever find out for sure if he’s on the take?”
“Not for sure, but every elected official in my experience is a politician first, a public servant second. When the PD gets set up, things will change.”
He was talking about Carol Conrad’s initiative to create a municipal police department for Granger’s Ford with Davis as the chief, which would put them out of county jurisdiction. He’d be appointed by the mayor and city council, not elected.
“Thanks, Mike. I’m getting Marilou to set up a meet with Laser. Maybe I can find the nomads through him.”
“You need backup?”
I grinned and hooked a thumb at the M&Ms. “Brought my own.”
“Try to keep any rough stuff well away from town, would you?”
“Rough stuff?”
“Like when you ‘interviewed’ Kerry.”
“Will do, Deputy Davis sir.” I tossed him a jaunty salute. “Keep your eyes open, Mike.”
“And my head down.” He winked. “Now get out of here before I arrest you for loitering.”
“Say hi to Alice.”
Davis actually blushed, so things must be heating up between him and the strong-willed diner owner.
I told Meat to cruise slowly along the river road, killing time and watching for tails until Marilou called. “Nice little town,” he said with a hint of wistfulness. “I got cousins in Knightsbridge. We used to visit as kids, swim in the Stanislaus River. A lot like this.”
“Knightsbridge? That’s supposed to be a weird little town. Isn’t that where they have some kinda witches’ gathering every year?”
“Street Witches Convention, yeah. Kinda like the Guardian Angels, tryin’ to keep the vandalism and graffiti down, stuff like that. Halloween was a blast there, though. People come from all over. I swear to you, I saw a real ghost when I was twelve, walking down the middle of the street at midnight.”
“Ay caramba, here we go again,” Manson mumbled.
“It’s true!”
My phone’s ringtone, the opening riff from Metallica’s “Enter Sandman,” quelled the brotherly bickering. “Marilou?”
“Yeah, Cally, it’s me. He said he’d meet you at Horseshoe Bend at five.”
“Where’s that?”
“Just head straight up 132 toward Coulterville. You’ll see signs.”
“Thanks, Marilou. And remember, on the down low, right?”
“My lips are sealed. Less’n one of your healthy friends cares to unseal them later.”
Glad I hadn’t put her on speaker. “Bye, Marilou.” I checked my watch. “You guys hungry? Never mind, stupid question. Turn right.” I directed Meat to the Forty-Niner Diner, set next to the railroad tracks.
Inside, I hugged Alice like an old friend. We took a booth. She brought us three water glasses and filled them. “What can I get you boys?” she said with a skeptical look at their out-of-place garb.
“Carne Asada?”
“The Mexicanest thing we got here is Huevos Rancheros. Otherwise, it’s American all the way.”
Meat shrugged. “Burgers and fries for both of us, then. Jack cheese.”
“BLT for me,” I said.
After Alice put our order in, she came back over to sit down across from me, not bothering to hide her concern. “What’s going on, Cal?”
“Just heading where the trail leads me.”
“Now I’m worried.” For Mike Davis, she meant.
I stared helplessly into Alice’s eyes. “I won’t bullshit you. Bad things are happening, and bad people are still out there. Mike’s a cop. You can’t change that.”
“If you hadn’t stirred up trouble…” She trailed off.
“You don’t really believe that.”
“No.” Alice took my hand. “Sorry.”
“Look, we’re just here to interview a few people, and then we’ll leave you in peace.” I cocked my head at her. “Something particularly on your mind?”
“Mike’s gotten more…intense lately, that’s all. Angry, since what happened with Linda. He’s looking for someone to blame. Oh, not you,” she said hastily. “Someone to bring to justice.”
“Well, if anyone can keep him even, you can, Alice,” I replied, patting her hand.
“Kind of you to say so.” She stood as customers came in.
The food arrived hot and perfectly diner-greasy, and once we’d finished, I dropped a hundred on the table by way of an apology for the worry our presence caused Alice.
The trip up winding, scenic 132 to Horseshoe Bend Recreation Area took almost half an hour, and we pulled into the big parking lot with minutes to spare. I saw two Harleys near a side road, and pointed. “Over there.”
Slim, rakish Eric Monroe, AKA Laser, and his husky, glowering sidekick Pork Chop sat sideways on the standing bikes, smoking. We parked and Manson let me out, and then stood at my back. I heard Meat exit the vehicle on the other side.
Laser ground out his cigarette and stood up, all attitude. “Cally Corwin? Or is it Jones? Nice ride. Who’s your urban friends?”
“We’re the guys who’s gonna stomp on your heads if you don’t show the lady some respect,” Manson snarled, taking a step toward the two.
Pork Chop unfolded his arms to reveal a .45, which he leveled at Manson. “Back off, you shithead wetback.”
Oh, boy. I heard the chack-chack of Meat’s pump shotgun from somewhere behind me, and suddenly everyone had guns out, me included.
�
��Everybody stand down! This is supposed to be a friendly chat.” I kept my Glock pointed low, but ready.
“These two crackers best not be dissin’ you no mo’,” Meat said, reverting to his natural O.G.
“How about I handle any disrespect, okay, Meat? Watch what they do, not what they say.”
“Okay, boss.” He shifted his aim slightly downward.
Laser sniggered and slowly lowered his weapon, signaling to Pork Chop to do the same. “You got them boys on a short leash.”
“Kinda like you and your partner here,” I replied with the clear intention to communicate shades of meaning. “Now let’s sit down at that picnic table over there and talk, okay, Eric?”
We left Porky and the M&Ms to stand like three bristling wolves, and took seats across from each other. “Go ahead, babe,” Laser said.
“Someday that mouth of yours will kill you, kid,” I said.
“That’s what Mom says.”
“Your mother’s a smart woman.”
“My mother’s a gash who spreads her legs for anything with a stiff dick.”
“Like mother, like son?”
I scored with that one. His smile wavered. “Why’re we here?”
“I need to find those two nomads. The ones Porkie knocked over outside the tattoo parlor last month. The ones that chased me on their bikes.”
I could see he remembered. “And why should I tell you anything?”
“Three reasons.” I held up a finger. “One, I’ll give you a grand in cash for good intel and not warning them.”
“I’m listening.” He seemed amused by my proposal.
“Two, if you don’t, I’m gonna hold a gun on you while my guys give you the beating of your lives. You see the size of them? I bet Meat alone outweighs both of you put together. I’ll tell them to pay special attention to your hands and feet. They like breaking small bones. You might never ride again. Or walk.”
Laser laughed, getting nervous. “No way a straight like you’s gonna go that far.”
“Kid, someone put out a half-million-dollar contract on me, and those nomads might know something about it. Every minute that goes by is a minute I’m under death threat. That’s sorta changed my perspective on how far I’m willing to go.”
Slipknot: A Private Investigator Crime and Suspense Mystery Thriller (California Corwin P. I. Mystery Series Book 3) Page 7
