by Jack Lynch
“I don’t think so. He was a pretty loyal fellow in his way. I’m sure Mr. Barker is the only one he worked for here.”
All the plugging along was beginning to pay off. I felt now I had a pretty good idea what it was all about, and could almost understand the cold fury of an ex-cop’s daughter who believed the things Debbie Caine must have. Barker almost deserved whatever he got. I didn’t feel any sympathy for him any longer. Just for the little girl who had to get in the middle of things.
“Thank you, Harmony. I guess that tells me what I wanted to know. There is one more thing, but I couldn’t expect you to know about that.”
“Might as well ask, Lucky, as long as you’re here.”
“There was a girl who used to live in town here. About your own age, I would guess. She was in town last summer, asking questions about Moon and Armando.”
“You mean Debbie Caine?”
“Yes, but how did you know?”
“We both grew up here. We were never close, but we knew each other. I hadn’t seen her in years. She came out here to the Truck Stop last summer, like you said. When Ma found out who she was, she made her leave. But I was in town a day or so later and ran into her. We talked awhile. That was about all.”
“What did you talk about?”
“Nothing much. But I remember she did ask where Moon was. So I told her.”
“What did she look like?”
“Nothing to make you turn your head. She was about my size, but didn’t know how to do anything to her hair or face, or didn’t care to. Doubt if she’d be your type. Why are you interested in her?”
“I think she’s the root of my problem. She found out Moon had been depositing sizeable sums into an old savings account he had while he was still a cop. She figured out her dad had been set up by Armando for the bribe charges that got him tossed off the force. She figures that’s what turned him into a lush, and ultimately, a suicide. She’s now in the process of taking a little revenge.”
Something about the night air had changed. And then I saw the winking green and red lights in the sky out over the desert beyond the Grey and heard the unmistakeable flop-flop-flop of helicopter engines. I bent to kiss the top of Harmony’s head.
“And now I got a plane to catch, honey.”
“But that’s wrong.”
“I know. I wish I could stay around and become really good friends, but…”
“No, I mean about the bank account.”
The flopping in the sky grew louder.
“What do you know about the bank account, Harmony?”
“Well—” She took a drag off her cigarette. It went into her lungs wrong and she gagged, then started a fit of coughing. I whacked her back a couple of times. The helicopters had switched on searchlights. Their beams crisscrossed the desert floor ahead of them. They were making a beeline for the Colonel’s airport.
“Come on, Harmony, what is it?”
She took a wheezing breath and coughed some more. I sprinted across to the trailer and clambered inside. I was surprised at how neat she kept it. I filled a glass with water, held one hand across the top of the glass to keep it from slopping and ran back out to where Harmony sat, doubled over and gasping. She took the water thankfully and sipped it, then took a deep breath.
“Whew, thanks. I sure have to quit inhaling like that.”
“Harmony, the bank account!”
The noise of the overhead copters was beginning to make it hard to carry on a conversation.
“Moon didn’t make the deposits for Armando!” she hollered.
“That’s why I asked you if he ever worked for Slide!” I shouted back.
“But he didn’t do it for Mr. Slide neither. He did it for me!”
I sat back down on the table as the helicopters slapped past and on over toward the airport.
Harmony’s face was lined with thought. “Come to think of it, maybe he was working for Slide in a way, only he didn’t know it at the time. Because I guess it turns out I was working for Slide in a way.”
“Maybe you’d better tell me about it, Harmony.”
“Well, it was to keep the Mafia out, you know?”
“Yeah, I’ve heard everyone around town was working on that one.”
“That’s what Slide said. He asked me up to his office there one time. He knew I was Moon’s girl. He said he’d had his eye on me, you know, and maybe sometime I could come work at his place, if I ever broke up with Moon. He said I might meet some really rich old boy there that I’d never have a chance to meet here at the Stop and all. But in the meantime he said I could do a favor for the town in general. You know, helping to keep out the Mafia and all.”
“Sure.”
“He said Debbie’s daddy was working undercover to keep out any fellows who might be connected with the Mafia. He said it was sort of a hush-hush operation that Mr. Caine was doing for a bunch of the local businessmen. But he said it took money. For him to pay informers and all. That’s what the money in the bank account was for.”
“But how did Moon end up making the deposits?”
“Mr. Slide said that’s the way you had to do things when fighting the Mafia. He said you had to be as devious as they are. He said the money had to pass through several hands, so it couldn’t be traced back if the Mafia ever caught on to what was going on. He said that was how the CIA did things.”
She looked at me, trying to get some idea if maybe she’d done something dumb.
“It’s okay, Harmony. That’s how the CIA does things.”
She nodded, a bit relieved. “Anyhow, he asked me to have Moon make the deposits, only I wasn’t to tell Moon where the money came from or what it was for. Actually, Moon didn’t have to do anything but go into the bank and hand an envelope to one of the tellers. I guess there was a deposit slip already made out inside the envelope. I went in with him once when I was in town shopping. It wasn’t anything all that wrong, was it?”
“It’s all right, Harmony. The important thing is what Caine’s daughter thought. You’ve been a big help.”
“I hope so. I’d sure hate to see Debbie get into any more trouble. That sure is one star-crossed family.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, you heard about Mr. Caine, didn’t you? Taking his own life and all?”
“Yes, I heard.”
“Then Debbie herself, of course.”
“What about Debbie herself?”
“Oh, it was a long time ago. When she was a kid. But it must have left a scar. Sure would have with me.”
Somebody dropped a trapdoor in the bottom of my stomach. I guess my face showed it.
“What’s wrong, Lucky?”
“What was it that happened to Debbie Caine when she was a kid?”
“She got raped. Several times over. One day on her way home from school. It was a dreadful thing.”
I was up and running again, along the path back to the Truck Stop. I was almost there when the Colonel’s Beechcraft flew overhead and out into the bleak desert night.
TWENTY-ONE
Back in the truck stop I tried to phone Armando. There was no answer in San Francisco. Maybe he’d broken his crutches and his trick knee kept him away from the telephone. Maybe he was lying in the middle of his polar bear rugs with a bullet through his ear. Maybe he was on his way to Hawaii. Maybe I was the dumbest, most gullible private detective ever duly licensed by the state of California.
I asked for another Early Times over ice and put through a call to the Mission Academy for Girls in San Rafael. Bobbie—at least the girl I knew as Bobbie—had picked up Beverly Jean a couple of hours earlier. I hung up and called Bobbie’s apartment. I didn’t expect her to be there. But I had to try. I had to let her know the little girl’s life she might be fooling with was her own half sister.
Nobody answered. I hung up. Ma Leary came back into the bar. Business was picking up and she looked around approvingly. The truckers were taking turns standing watch outside. Those not on guard
were bringing the bar and casino back to life. She saw me and came over.
“What’s wrong with you?” she asked. “You look as if someone just kicked you where your legs part company.”
I drank from the drink. “I always look this way when I realize how riddled with dumb my brain is. How regular is the air service out of Spring Meadows?”
“I don’t think there’s any more tonight, if that’s what you mean. But they have some guys who’ll fly charter out of there. I’ll get you the phone book.”
I phoned around and made arrangements for a flight down to Phoenix. It was about the same distance to Salt Lake City, and Salt Lake was closer to San Francisco, but I figured Phoenix was the bigger city and, hopefully, might have more flights out. I asked Ma if she had a handgun I could borrow. She went away and I dialed the hospital and asked for Cathy Carson. She had left for the day. I called her at home. She was there.
“I’m about to leave town,” I told her. “You said to call. You could even help me leave town, if you’re of a mind to.”
“How is that?”
“I’ve blundered badly. The little girl I told you about?”
“Yes?”
“I’ve practically handed her on a platter to the person I think is behind all this ugliness. I have to get back to San Francisco in a hurry. I’ve arranged a charter flight out of Spring Meadows. I could use a fast ride there. My own car isn’t working.”
“What happened to your car?” She didn’t try to keep the suspicion out of her voice.
“It just broke down on me. You never know with some of these rental outfits. How about it?”
“I want to hear more about your car. But all right. Where should I pick you up?”
“I’m at the Truck Stop. I’ll meet you on the road out front.”
“Fifteen minutes,” she told me.
Ma came back down with a .32 caliber pistol. It wasn’t as big as I would have liked, but it was a sight better than just me and my mighty fists, if I encountered Lou and Soft Kenny. Ma promised to have my car picked up, repaired and returned to Spring Meadows when things quieted down. I tried to leave some money with her, but she still was grateful for the night before and refused it. Then she led me out to a garage behind the barracks building and backed out a brand new Cadillac to give me a ride out to the road. There was a lot of traffic moving along it now. Busses from town had gone out to the airfield to transport the Army troops who had flown in. There probably were more Army units with their own transportation coming over the Sanduskis.
I got out and thanked Ma for her help. “And tell your girls to get a good night’s sleep.”
“What for? I don’t even know if I’ll be in business tomorrow.”
“With all those soldier boys in town? Don’t worry, you’ll be in business. The officers will drift into the Sky Lodge and the ranks will find their way out here.”
“I’ll have to raise my prices some, losing out on what the shed operation paid me.”
“That’s okay. Nobody expects a cut-rate whorehouse these days.”
She turned the car and drove off with a wave of her hand. Five minutes later Cathy Carson picked me up in her red Ford. She was still in her nurses’ uniform. I climbed in beside her and we roared off toward the freeway.
“I should have asked you to throw some things in a bag,” I told her. “In case I could talk you into flying up there with me. I could actually use your help. That’s until I clean up the mess I’ve made of things. Then we could play.”
“How could I help?”
“Did you know Debbie Caine? John Caine’s daughter?”
“Not intimately.”
“But you could recognize her?”
“Maybe. Girls can do lots of things to change their appearance.”
“I’d like you to try anyhow.”
“You think she’s in San Francisco?”
“I know she is.”
“And you’d want me to identify her, if I could.”
“That’s right.”
She thought about it some. It was a nice car she had, and she recognized the urgency of the situation. We were doing almost 80 miles an hour up the Lodi grade.
“If you promise to try very hard not to get either one of us killed,” she said, “I’ll do it.”
“I promise. I’ll even buy you some new duds when we hit town.”
“You needn’t bother. I keep a bag filled with basic outfits in case I’m called out of town in an emergency. I put it in the car trunk after you called.”
“How did you know I was going to ask you to come to San Francisco with me?”
“I just thought you might. I hadn’t made up my mind to do it, but I thought I’d be ready. You did surprise me by telling me I could help out in some way. I guess that made the difference.”
I studied her in the soft glow of the dashboard lights. They made her look even more as if she played in a pixy band than she did in the daylight. She noticed me watching and gave me a brief smile.
“I hope,” I told her, “that the plane we’re catching in Spring Meadows is big enough so we can sit together in back and neck all the way to Phoenix.”
“I’m not exactly sex starved, Mr. Bragg. That isn’t why I’m making the trip. I made some fast phone calls after I heard from you, making arrangements for other girls to fill in for me in the event you should ask me to leave town and I should decide to do it. I called in every favor owed me over the past four years. We’d just better, Mr. Bragg, have a swell time in San Francisco.”
As it turned out, we couldn’t have necked all the way to Phoenix even if she’d been agreeable. There was turbulence, and the pilot I’d hired was determined to find the middle of it and stay there. It was like flying in an old-fashioned cocktail shaker. At the Phoenix airport we wobbled over to the commercial counters and a half hour later were on a Western Airlines flight to San Francisco.
At San Francisco International I tried again to phone Armando. This time somebody answered the phone. At least they lifted the receiver, but they didn’t say anything.
“Hello, this is Peter Bragg. Who is this?”
Whoever it was hung up. I did not like the implications of that. On the day I left town I’d been lucky and been able to park in the garage just behind the passenger terminals, instead of three miles down the road where you then had to catch a jitney bus back. We got my car and I took off for Armando’s place in the city. Roaring up the Bayshore Freeway I told Cathy where we were going.
“I want you to wait here in the car until I make sure things are under control inside the house.”
“What is it that might not be under control?”
“How should I know?” I left traffic behind.
San Francisco had a freeway revolt of sorts several years ago. It prevented the crosstown construction of any more concrete ribbons. The Bayshore ran north-south up to the Bay Bridge. Off this were fingers curving around the edges of the downtown area into the city proper. I took the one that emptied into Franklin Street. About eight minutes later we were parking in front of Armando Barker’s Pacific Heights home. I left Cathy and went up the walk to listen at the front door for a minute. Things sounded quiet inside. Lights were on. I rang the bell and waited.
Bobbie was the one who answered the door. We were surprised to see each other. For half a heartbeat she might have been the same lonely kid who had started to leave my place in Sausalito one night but came back. For that half a heartbeat I think we felt the same way, and she made a move as if to reach out to me, but my brain warned me to keep my shoes flat on the pavement or I might end up a dead man, and the moment passed.
“You’re back much sooner than I expected,” she told me.
“And later than I should have been. Where’s Beverly Jean?”
“In a safe place.” She was staring past me to the street. “Who’s with you?”
“A new acquaintance.” I turned and signaled for Cathy to join us. Bobbie went back inside. Cathy and I followed a moment l
ater. Armando was in the playroom, slumped in a chair with one foot propped up on a cushion atop a hassock. He looked as if he were tired of holding up his head. A pair of crutches were on the floor beside him, and there was an empty glass on the stand next to his chair. He looked as if he’d been drinking. He didn’t break out into any grin when he saw me.
“Some dick you turned out to be,” he said slowly.
“You wouldn’t know until you heard how I spent the day. How’s your knee?”
“Glorious.”
“You’re both acting kind of funny,” I said. “What’s going on?”
Armando started to raise his head, but then it slumped again, as if to explain things demanded too much of him. Cathy Carson gave me a tug on my sleeve.
“What is it?”
She nodded across the room to where Bobbie was fixing herself a drink at the bar.
“That’s the girl you were asking about,” she told me. “She’s done a lot to her appearance, but that’s John Caine’s daughter.”
Bobbie glanced up. She continued swirling amber liquid around ice in her glass with a tight little smile on her face. “You know, Armando, he really isn’t a bad detective at all. In fact, he’s almost too good. I thought it would take him at least several more days to learn that.”
“Has she told you she was John Caine’s daughter?” I asked Armando.
He sat a little more erect and wagged his head. Bobbie came out from behind the bar and crossed to where Cathy and I stood.
“I don’t know you, do I?” she asked Cathy. “But you must be from Sand Valley.”
“I am.”
“Huh,” said Bobbie. “Small world.” She turned toward Armando. “Would you care for a drink, love?”
He gurgled something unintelligible.
“There is something very wrong here,” Cathy said quietly.
I took out the .32 Ma Leary had given me. “Bobbie, go sit down over there while we talk about things.”
