by Rex Bolt
So where else? Heck . . . could they still be in Chico, for gosh sakes?
That was an obvious possibility he’d never thought of. But of course if he was remembering it right, the way it played out up there as he tried to scare both of them, his strong recommendation had been a) above all, stay out of Beacon and the central valley period and b) aim toward moving out of state.
So something told Pike they weren’t in Chico anymore either.
Bottom line, the whole thing should be easy enough to track down on the internet . . . Which was good and bad. Good that he could make sure they were all okay, especially Mrs. Milburn. Bad that knowing anything about the new Audrey could open a major can of worms.
And that part felt unnatural, like you were violating some unwritten rule. Not that different, Pike was thinking, from an adopted child growing up and tracking down a birth parent who didn’t want to be tracked down, and maybe messing up a whole bunch of people’s lives as a result.
So you had to leave it alone. Didn’t you?
Pike knew you did, but that didn’t help him miss Audrey any less right now.
A dad showed up on the field with his kid and they started throwing the football around. You could see the dad was pretty athletic the way he moved and handled the ball. He was making it fun for the kid, who was about 10.
Pike watched them for a few minutes and decided what the hay, and he climbed down out of the stands and went out there and asked the dad if he could see the ball. The dad was happy to throw it to him, and Pike started warming up with the guy, tossing it back and forth, getting loose.
It had been a while since he’d touched a football and it felt good. They spread out and Pike started cutting it loose and the guy was having trouble hanging onto some of the passes, but he was a good sport and kept apologizing and was trying hard.
Pike asked him if wanted to run some routes and the guy said sure, and Pike started working him with 6-yard, then 10-yard, then 15-yard out patterns. They finished it off with a couple of deep posts and flags, and the dad did okay actually, considering the ball was really flying at him.
“Wow . . . do you play?” the dad said, when they wrapped it up. He was sweating profusely, which the little kid seemed to be getting a kick out of.
“Hamilton, yeah,” Pike said. “Though we got beat in the second round of the playoffs. So it ended kinda bittersweet there.”
“So you’re a senior . . . or junior . . .what?” the guy said.
“Senior. Meaning that’s probably it for me . . . That’s why this was a lot of fun just now, to be honest.”
“I don’t get you.”
“Only that it’s nice doing stuff sometimes that doesn’t have to lead to anything else.”
“Got it now,” the dad said. “But . . . you have a talent, that’s obvious, you should think about nurturing it if possible.”
“Well I appreciate that,” Pike said. “Do you mind if I ask you something?” This guy seemed reasonable, and like the kind of person who would do you a favor and give your question some thought.
“Not at all . . . fire away.”
“Okay this is going to sound out of left field, I think,” Pike said. “But if you were going to stop a guy from playing high school football . . . how would you do that?”
“You mean like Bradley here for instance?” the dad said, affectionately rubbing his son’s head.
“Fine,” Pike said.
“It’s interesting that you pose that question actually, because it’s something my wife and I consider frequently. Her older boy Jasper--this is a second marriage--he found his way in music and theater and it worked out well for him, he’s finishing at Cornell.”
“Ivy League, that’s impressive,” Pike said. He remembered Audrey, before the accident, having her heart set on going back east to college . . . and he got lost in that thought for a moment, hoping it might work out for her now.
“Though they’re all different,” the guy was saying. “With Brad, who does love sports, maybe it’s the media overblowing it--and who am I to say, since it’s obviously worked out fine for you--but we’re concerned about the concussion issue.”
“So you’ll, what . . . channel him into something else?”
“Try to, yes. Lacrosse, for one, is not a bad alternative. It provides them the rough-and-tumble aspect they like, but hopefully without much of the head-injury factor.”
“Wait,” Pike said, “there’s no lacrosse team at Hamilton . . . or any other schools around here, as far as I know.”
“Yeah we’re from Modesto though,” the dad said. “Our league has it, and it’s picking up steam with the younger age-groups as well.”
“Ah,” Pike said. “What are you doing in Beacon today then?” Meanwhile he was pretty darn sure there was no lacrosse option in San Francisco back in the day for Henry’s poor brother.
“My wife has family here. Her sister, there’s a birthday thing. Brad and I broke away for a little while, to get some exercise.” He smiled and tossed the ball underhand to the kid.
“You got a lot of it,” Brad chimed in.
“So bottom line,” Pike said, “cut ‘em off early I guess, so they don’t spring football on you at the last minute.”
“Exactly. If you can immerse them in another sport, even tennis or golf, the hope is they take enough pride in it that their interest in football wanes.”
“How about bribing them not to play, would that work?”
The dad laughed. “I hadn’t thought of that . . . it’s possible.”
“Well thank you,” Pike said. “I didn’t mean to take up your Sunday . . . Where’s your family live anyway? Your wife’s.”
“Over on Ortega,” the dad said.
Why did this not surprise Pike.
“You know the address?” he said.
“I’m sorry, I don’t . . . Let me think, the 800 block.”
“Brick house, middle of the block? Big oak tree at the bottom of the driveway, with a branch crossing over it?”
“Why, yes,” the dad said, slightly shocked. “You know them then? The Ashfords?”
“Not the family, but the house,” Pike said. “Of course you grow up in a hick town like this, everything starts looking familiar I guess.”
The dad considered this, and said, “I had a similar outlook when I was your age. I grew up in a small town too, Turlock, and I was raring to get out of there . . . Once you do, and you put a little mileage on, sometimes that place you had to get away from’s not so bad.”
Pike shook hands with the dad, and the kid too, and he watched them cross the field toward the parking lot, and he tried not to make a big deal about the business with the house on Ortega.
Chapter 4
He was starting to feel guilty about still not returning Dani’s message. She hadn’t said anything, it turned out, other than get back to me when you can. Still, there was an ominous feel to it all, and Pike held onto the thin hope that his imagination was running away from him.
He’d intended to call her from the grandstand at the polo field, but once he came down and got into the football thing it seemed better to get out of there, probably to just go home.
He jogged back a different route, Soda Springs Road along the river which was pleasant enough, and when he got to his house his mom and sister Jackie and little brother Bo were happy to see him but they were involved in some project in the kitchen, which was good. His dad was supposedly out playing golf.
Pike took a shower and headed down to The Box. The Box was developed to save Hannamaker’s drumset, which had been causing trouble in his own house. From there The Box evolved into a kind of private, quiet space as well. Ironic that a drum room would be a quiet spot, but there you were.
Pike was happy that it fell into place, since he’d grown to like Jack as a result, which would have been very unlikely otherwise. In fact, a couple of realities ago, Pike broke Jack’s jaw and it had to be extensively wired back together, but no point worrying about that
anymore.
The Box also had the distinction now of doubling as a point of departure, since the Chico business had initiated from there, and it worked out. Pike hated the word portal, which Mitch liked to use. But somehow . . . some way . . . he was getting where he needed to go, and he had to accept that fact, even if he still didn’t completely buy in.
Pike had read a book that Mitch recommended called ‘Psychic Discoveries Behind the Iron Curtain’, which documented experiments from the 1960’s in mental telepathy and so forth. He had a little easier time justifying what he was doing by keeping this book in mind, kind of latching on to some of the principles. Bottom line, if you put a gun to his head and asked him how he accomplished it, the simple answer would be mind over matter.
The more complicated answer, of course, especially according to Mitch, would be that the amalgam filling, which he was fortunate or unfortunate enough to have stuck in his tooth when the old one fell out in Albuquerque, contains trace metal that may have been affected by a UFO, which somehow has empowered him.
If you can believe that.
Anyhow . . . It occurred to Pike this was the first time back in The Box since Chico, and he climbed the outside rope and swung over the top and dropped in. He eased into one of the beanbag chairs they’d recently added, and his nose perked up. There was a distinct fragrance of perfume, and it sure seemed fresh.
Hmm . . . You had to hand it to Hannamaker, once again he didn’t waste any time. The dude’s fingers still had to be raw from trying to hold back the door against Old Lou last night, but today he’s evidently hooked up with someone else, like nothing ever happened.
The perfume seemed slightly familiar and Pike was trying to place it, but he realized all perfume seemed slightly familiar. Jack was probably back with Alicia--in fact they likely never broke up, that was simply Jack running his mouth trying to defend the college girl thing . . . Or conceivably he’d moved on already, from Alicia and Lou’s girlfriend both, and Pike figured he’d hear about it soon enough.
Either way, he had his own problems and it was time to call Dani.
She picked up.
“You answered, and on the first ring,” Pike said. “Always a good thing . . . You remember last time, I was joking, how I guess I was lucky to reach you, only because you were out on bail.”
“That wasn’t last time,” Dani said, “that was a few times ago. And it didn’t go exactly like that.”
“Well you get what I’m saying,” Pike said.
“The thing is,” she said, “I am out on bail.”
Pike had the phone wedged between his cheek and his shoulder, and he felt his jaw go slack as his mouth drooped open.
“Jeez,” he said.
“You’re not surprised . . . Right? I mean we can kid around about it, but like I told you, they claim they have something this time . . . so my concerns came to fruition.” Her tone cracked slightly on the middle syllable.
“Well . . . who bailed you out?” Pike said. It was a dumb question, not important, but it was the first thing that popped into his head.
“My ex-husband,” she said.
And the surprises just kept on coming.
“Oh,” Pike said.
“I can tell you’re chewing on that . . . I probably never brought it up because there was no need. We were high school sweethearts and got married at 18. Stupidly.”
“How long did that last?” It was totally irrelevant, but curiosity was getting the better of him.
“You really want to know?”
“Sure.”
“Two weeks . . . The important part being, he has money . . . and I didn’t know where else to turn.”
“He had money back then, or he made it since?” Another obnoxious question, ignoring the possible magnitude of her situation, but he asked it.
“He earned it, though his methods are a bit shady if you ask me . . . He’s one of those real estate gurus, on late-night TV infomercials . . . Tony Block, that’s his fake name.”
Pike said, “Wait a second . . . the Dee-Stress King? . . . Jeez, I know that guy, I enjoy him.”
“Unh-huh, he has quite an act,” Dani said.
“Anyway, sorry,” Pike said. “Back to your deal--so he bailed you out . . .”
“Yes. 80 thousand dollars worth.”
“Wow . . . how’s that work anyway, I always kind of wondered?”
“You go through a bail bondsman. 800 thousand becomes 80 . . . 10 percent.”
“Ah . . . so if you . . . skip bail, you forfeit the 10 percent . . . Unless the bounty hunter can track you down, like in the movies?”
“Apparently . . . there may be more to it. I won’t be skipping bail though, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Pike hadn’t been thinking that, but now that she brought it up, you never knew. “Where are you at the moment?” he said. “Your apartment?”
“That would be wonderful. I’m back at the Thunderbird in Palm Springs . . . The scene of the crime, so to speak.”
“For how long?”
“Pike . . . I’m not sure I’ve impressed upon you the gravity of the situation . . . They’ve charged me with 2nd-degree manslaughter . . . I’m not allowed to leave Palm Springs, it’s a condition of my release from custody.”
“Holy shit,” he said, the full scenario beginning to register now, though the 800 thousand dollars bail should have woken him up.
“It’s okay . . . really, I’m fine,” she said, not sounding like it.
“What about, you have a good lawyer, and all that . . . who specializes in your . . . area?”
“Local you mean? Yes.”
“No I mean a . . . murder expert, or whatever.”
“I hope so . . . he’s an expensive one at least . . . thanks to the ex.”
Pike couldn’t take too much more of this. There was always drama with Dani. Though this took it to the next level, obviously.
He said, “This is out of left field, I’m still with you, but . . . he seems like a pretty good man, your Tony Block dude.”
“I suppose,” she said.
“So why don’t you just remarry the guy? Once this all blows over.”
Dani actually laughed slightly, which wasn’t the worst thing. “No,” she said, “it’s complicated . . . I know you’re looking out for me, to make better choices . . . But I can’t expect you to understand, so let it go right now.”
“All’s I know,” Pike said, “there was this couple, they got married too young, same thing. There were some early bumps in the road, but they toughed them out, and boom, 25 years later they’re going strong.”
Thinking of course of Mr. and Mrs. Milburn, Rose and Preston, and hoping that was the case.
“No, no,” Dani said again.
“That other person you mentioned last time,” Pike said, “who the cops said might have seen something? That the key to the whole mess then?”
Dani took a moment. “To me, the person doesn’t sound like a reliable witness. Unfortunately my attorney says they might be . . . It’s an odd scenario. Some man, staying in the hotel with his wife, he came forward and says I held Chuck underwater. If you can believe that.”
Pike could of course, and did.
He said, “But he kept his mouth shut when it happened? I mean you went back to Pocatello and all, with no real problem, right?”
“Yes . . . Apparently the issue was the man was spying on me in the hot tub. There were these vines that climbed up on the fence, like they have down here, which offered some seclusion. He was peeking at me through them. I was laying back with my eyes closed until Chuck appeared, and wouldn’t have noticed him anyway . . . The issue supposedly, what took him a while to come forward, was he was embarrassed to have to tell his wife what he was doing.”
“Give me a break. That sounds like a lame story.”
“I know. But regardless, he was able to provide details apparently.”
Pike couldn’t help it. “You were in a small bikini then, or whatever?�
��
“All right, that’s enough,” Dani said. Pike was picturing her getting out of the hot tub and bending over Chuck, giving him fake CPR.
“Well at any rate,” he said. “What’s next?”
“Not a whole lot. We have two weeks left in the semester, so they have a sub for my class. The next court date isn’t until January. This is going to blow off my whole school year, I’m afraid.”
Pike said, “So where’s the guy live? . . . Who said he saw you do what you didn’t do?”
“In Minnesota,” she said. Adding, with a touch of suspicion in her voice: “Why?”
Pike didn’t know why. Though he couldn’t help think of some of the Mafia shows, like The Sopranos, where they paid the guy a visit and made sure he understood not to testify.
He had to admit, something he never would have thought, but when you got a little taste of being an enforcer, it felt kinda good . . . Unique at least.
The guy in Santa Monica that time with Mitch, the lab person . . . Wayne was his name, as Pike was remembering it now . . . What he did, first he shook hands with Wayne hard, possibly cracking a finger or two. Then when they took the walk and the guy was jerking them around about why the Texas filling just happened to disappear, and what was in it, he’d grabbed Wayne by the earlobe.
That was the extent of it, but by that point Wayne understood the possibility, that Pike might keep pulling and his ear could come off, if he didn’t try to explain what happened.
Pike and Mitch went to a Chinese place on Wilshire Boulevard after that, and they didn’t dwell on Wayne anymore, but that feeling of power lingered a little since then.
“No reason,” Pike said, answering Dani about why did it matter that the doofus lived in Minnesota. “I was just wondering out loud, was there a chance the guy might change his mind, and not want to come back for a trial. And you win by default, or whatever they call it.”
“I wish,” Dani said. “But he’s in too deep now.”
Pike figured that was true. And it obviously wasn’t realistic to think that he could mess with the guy, and get away with it.
