The Complete Bragg Thriller Box Set

by Jack Lynch

  “I hate to seem like a little girl on a long trip,” she told me, “but could we stop somewhere? I’d like to visit a powder room and maybe have a cup of coffee.”

  “Or a drink.”

  “Or a drink.”

  I took one of the Corte Madera exits and pulled into a restaurant and bar next to a motel. I’d been in there a few times and thought Erica might be amused by it. It looked like something they’d crated and shipped up from Southern California. It had a carpeted lounge area with a sunken pool in one corner ringed by a cushioned seat. Underwater jets made the pool bubble and little gas jets provided dancing flames on the surface.

  “A little gross, isn’t it?” Erica asked.

  I led her to a corner booth of the lounge area. “I think it’s cute. Wait until you get a load of the cocktail waitresses.”

  When one came over to get our order she saw what I meant. They wore white satin gowns with plunging necklines and slits up the gown to about where their gunbelts would hang if they wore gunbelts, and in those outfits they almost needed them.

  “How did you ever find this place?” Erica asked after the girl had taken our order.

  “It’s handy to the freeway.”

  “Do you date the waitresses?”

  “Never gave it any thought. It isn’t why I come in here.”

  “Oh come on, Peter, don’t tell me you don’t even take notice. They practically tumble out of their little tops when they bend over.”

  “They put on a nice show,” I agreed.

  She excused herself and went to the powder room. By the time she got back the girl had brought an Irish coffee for Erica and some bourbon for me. Erica sipped the drink.

  “Mmmmm. Good.”

  I nodded. “It’s a little surprising. They make pretty good drinks here despite all the other monkey business. And you should see their daiquiris. They have a tub of ice cream behind the bar they use in them. I almost choked the first time I saw that.”

  “Why?”

  “There was a place in Sausalito I tended bar at a few years back. We thought we had a pretty toney operation, but nobody ever mistook it for a soda fountain.”

  Erica smiled and sipped her drink. She still was in a detached mood. It was several moments before she spoke again.

  “Peter, what do you really think about all this?”

  “All what?”

  “The missing chess piece. That traveling man story. Do you really believe Mr. Battersea?”

  “I can’t think of a reason not to.”

  “But that business about the—what was it, abo? Trading his keepsake for a silly money clip?”

  “Actually, it makes sense. I’ve read a little bit about those people. Before the British showed up and got them all tangled up in their civilization whole families of aborigines would sit around the better part of a year carving a sort of boomerang. They were throwing sticks, not meant to return to the thrower, but to fell birds and small game. Kirras they were called. Then when they had a supply of these things they’d take a long, circuitous trip to visit other families and tribes swapping the sticks they’d carved for ones just like them that the other people had sat around all year carving. They all were pretty much the same, of course, but they sort of assumed what the other guy had made was better. And everybody seemed to believe that about the sticks carved by everybody else. It was the basis for a lot of social interaction. Quality of the product didn’t matter all that much. The swap was the thing. I guess things haven’t really changed all that much for Kwalli and the others of his generation.”

  “That’s the silliest thing I ever heard of.”

  I shrugged. “Don’t forget, there are still people on this planet who shrink human heads.”

  Erica put down her drink. “Peter, stop it. Then who on earth could this traveling man be? You dismissed it all too casually back there.”

  “Noticed that, did you? Frankly, Erica, I was hoping that once we got away from there you might remember something more about that yourself. I think Harry probably knew. You’re sure he didn’t say something to you about it?”

  “Peter, honestly, I hardly knew any more about it than you did when this first started. Harry was a fiend for secrecy. I knew almost nothing, except that if Harry were successful we would come into a very large sum of money. Most of what I’ve learned came from Mr. Bowman, the morning after Harry was killed when we spoke on the phone.”

  “Did you know it was a chess set involved before you spoke to Bowman?”

  “Yes, I did know that, but not very many days before. I think it was when we knew Buddy was coming out that Harry first mentioned it.”

  I waited for more, but she went back to her drink and looked away.

  “You said you looked through Harry’s studio after his death.”

  “Yes, the morning after he died, before I came to your office. I was looking for Catlin’s address or phone number. That was after I spoke with Mr. Bowman also.”

  “Did you see anything that might have referred to the chess set when you were rummaging around?”

  “No, but then I wouldn’t be able to recognize it anyway, probably. I told you Harry had a strange way of recording things. And he wasn’t very tidy or organized, either.”

  “I think I’d like a chance to go through his studio myself, if you’ll let me.”

  “Of course. When?”

  “I don’t know. Tomorrow, maybe. I don’t expect there to be time for that tonight.”

  She looked up with a little smile. “Why? What are we going to do tonight?”

  “Forget that, Erica. I still want to find Catlin. If he isn’t at your place I’m going out looking for him. And if I’m going to be of any use to anybody tomorrow I have to think about getting some sleep myself sometime.”

  “Then we were just talking ragtime, on the way over to Port Costa.”

  “Don’t get started with that again, Erica. You were doing most of the talking.”

  “And a little groping, and when I was doing that, I thought you responded some.”

  “Of course I responded some. I would have had to have been dead not to.”

  She gave me a mugging face and finished her drink. “I suppose I should treasure that,” she told me, pushing her glass away and reaching for her purse. “It should warm me through the night.”

  “You’re overwrought,” I told her, getting up and pulling away from the table.

  “And you’re a stinker,” she replied, brushing past me.

  On the way over the hill Erica retreated into herself again. I still didn’t know what to make of her. One minute I had the feeling she was holding back all sorts of things. The next minute I figured she was more in the dark about things than I was. She didn’t rouse herself again until we passed the lights in front of the Sand Dollar bar and restaurant near the main intersection of Stinson Beach. I drove on down to the beach frontage road. When we reached the Shank home there still was no sign of Catlin’s camper, but that didn’t mean much. He might be inside or he might not. I parked and switched off the lights, but Erica didn’t move to get out right away. The rain had started up again and it was beating against the roof and windshield.

  “Peter, will you tell me something, honestly?”

  “Probably.”

  “Did you ever used to think about me? Before this all started, I mean. Before Harry called and asked you to meet Buddy at the airport.”

  I thought about it a moment. If I answered her I’d be back at the edge of that deep pond I didn’t want to fall into. On the other hand a straightforward reply might be what she needed in order for her to be honest about some other things.

  “Not so much during the walking-around hours I didn’t. But at night, Erica, yes, I did. Clear back even to when I used to work at the Chronicle, I used to have some pretty zesty thoughts about Harry Shank’s young wife.”

  “But you were still married then.”

  “Yes, I was still married then. The end was in sight, but I was still married
.”

  “Why in God’s name didn’t you ever say something?”

  “I had a pretty toe-the-line upbringing. That still plays a role in how I behave, even today.”

  “Things might have been so different…”

  I couldn’t see her face in the dark car, but she reached out for my hand.

  “That explains a lot, Peter.”

  “About what?”

  “About you. About how you reacted this evening when you saw I’d been staying with Bryan.”

  “In your casual attire.”

  “What was I wearing?”

  “A skirt and a bra. Sure that explains some of it, I suppose.”

  She groaned. “God, how could I have been so unthinking. You were jealous. And Bryan’s character didn’t have anything to do with it. You would have been jealous of anybody.”

  “Maybe you’re right. But look, Erica. That was another of those juvenile reactions I’ve never been able to shake over the years. And talking about it like this only makes me feel like a goddamned fool.”

  She leaned forward then until she was lying between me and the steering wheel. “I only have one more thing to say, Peter.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Hooray for the goddamned fools.”

  She pulled down my head and we kissed, and you would have thought it was the first chance either one of us had had to do that in a couple of years. It went on for a while, and in the course of it she moved one of my hands and laid it across her breast and held it there. She was only the second woman to have done that my entire life.

  We ran out of stamina, finally. Erica made a throaty little sound and sat back up to reach into her purse for a cigarette. I used the car lighter to light it for her.

  “Whew,” she said, blowing a strand of hair from her eyes. “If we ever do get together it’s going to be awfully, awfully good, you know that, Peter.”

  “I had a little trouble breaking it off just then,” I admitted. “If we were back in high school…”

  “Peter, if we had the glands we had back in high school we’d be screwing our heads off.”

  “Let’s get out of here,” I suggested.

  I got out and went around to open her door. I could see her face in the light as she swung around in the seat. Her strawberry-colored skirt had hiked up nearly to her thighs. I was tempted to go back around to the other side and clamber into the car again. She was grinning when she looked up at me. She tossed her cigarette out onto the wet gravel and held out her hands for me to pull her to her feet. She came out and up in a smooth movement, locking her hands behind my neck and pressing herself close to me. Rain splashed off her forehead but she didn’t pay any attention to it.

  “Oh, God, it’s wicked to want so much,” she told me. “If I didn’t give a hoot about the money I could have you now. But I want everything. The money, you, travel abroad. Maybe I’m too greedy, Peter.”

  “Maybe. But what the hell, you’re just pursuing the great American dream, Erica. The only difference is, you might get it if you lay back and play your cards right.”

  “I’d lay back for you any time, darling.”

  She let go and I closed the door. We ran on up the narrow walk as the skies overhead opened up again. We shook ourselves out in the sheltered area at the front door. Erica had a little trouble getting her key into the lock.

  “Shame on you, Peter, you’ve made me all twitchy.”

  “Look who’s talking. You have me feeling as if my pants don’t fit right,”

  She giggled and got the door open finally. “To hell with the money,” she whispered as we stepped inside.

  “You wouldn’t feel that way in the morning.”

  “No,” she agreed. “I wouldn’t.”

  She shut the door and turned on more lights. “Mr. Catlin? It’s Erica Shank. Peter Bragg is with me. Are you here?”

  Nobody answered. I helped her out of her raincoat as she called out for Catlin again.

  “He must not be here,” she said finally.

  “Maybe he’s asleep in the bedroom.”

  “I’ll look. Take off your coat, Peter. Let it dry out.”

  “No, if he isn’t here I’m going out looking for him.”

  She went down the hall and called out a moment later. “He’s not in here. Maybe he’s at one of the local bars.”

  There were only two of them. If that didn’t produce anything I’d have to start driving up and down wet roads looking for his camper. Erica came back into the room wearing a pair of fluffy red slippers. She’d also slipped out of her skirt and blouse.

  “You’re going to catch cold, Erica.”

  “Don’t worry, darling, I know you want to find Catlin. I’m just going to dive into the shower as soon as you’ve gone. I am freezing, since you took your arms from around me. If you find him and he has something important to tell you, will you come back and let me know?”

  “Probably not,” I said, turning to the door. “I’ve got to get back over the hill. And I don’t know if I’d be able to overcome all these same temptations again.”

  She stood on tiptoes to kiss my cheek. “You nice man, you.”

  I got on out of there and waited until I heard her bolt the door and put the chain on, then went back down the walk to my car. A clap of thunder made me wince and look up at the sky just before climbing in. I got out my keys and was about to turn on the ignition when I thought I heard something else. A scream, maybe. I got half out of the car again to look around and listen. And then through the rear kitchen window of the Shank house I got a glimpse of a figure running through the front room. I couldn’t even be sure if it was Erica or somebody else, but I started back up the walk again at a run, pulling the .45 from its holster. I was nearly to the front door when Erica ran out from the sheltered area. She was naked but not even thinking about that. There was terror on her face as she hurled herself into my arms.

  “It’s Catlin,” she cried. “In the shower. He’s dead!”

  SIXTEEN

  I took off my raincoat and wrapped it around her, then led her back into the house. She wasn’t very anxious to go inside again. I left her shivering in front of the wall heater and went down to the bathroom. It fronted the ocean side of the house, the same as the front room. The shower curtain was partly open. The room had a combination tub and shower. Catlin was crumpled on his back in it. There was a dark hole on one side of his forehead. Blood was puddling beneath the back of his head. It was warm and sticky. His flesh was warm to the touch. This was a very recent killing. I kept my gun out and went quickly through the rest of the house, looking under beds and carefully searching closets. His rifle was in the kitchen, standing in one corner, but there was nobody in the house except for Erica and myself. She still stood sniffing and shivering in front of the wall furnace, clasping my raincoat together in front of her. It was a whacky time for a thought like that, but it occurred to me she’d never looked more provocative.

  “It must have happened just before we got here, Erica. Within the past hour at most. Maybe just as we drove up. I checked the rest of the house, there’s nobody here now. Go get dressed and put some stuff together. You’ll have to spend the night somewhere else.”

  She nodded and sniffed again. “Could anyone be hiding in Harry’s downstairs study?”

  “How do you get to it?”

  “It has a separate entrance. Harry had the only key.”

  “Where is the key now?”

  “It was with the rest of his things when I picked them up from the coroner.”

  “See if it’s where you left it.”

  She nodded and padded down the hall in her bare feet. I went back into the kitchen to puzzle a second time over Catlin’s rifle standing in the corner, as if he’d put it down while fixing himself something to drink, or a sandwich. There were remains of both in the kitchen sink. I started down the hall toward the bedroom, then paused. The hallway carpet had a dark stain on it. It could have been blood.

  I went ba
ck to the bedroom. Erica had tugged on a pair of jeans and a turtleneck sweater.

  “The key’s where I left it,” she told me.

  “Get it for me. I’ll want to look down there later. And grab what clothes you’ll need and get them out of here. I want to turn off any lights that weren’t on when we arrived.”

  She scooped some things out of a drawer. “This is all I need. I forgot my bag. It’s still in your car.” She crossed to the light switch.

  “Shoes,” I told her.

  She sniffed and went to the closet, grabbed up a pair of boots then turned off the light. There was still enough light to see by coming from the bathroom.

  “Was the bathroom light on when you came in?”

  “Yes. And the door was open. The shower curtain was closed. I was all ready to step in and pulled back the curtain and…God, my heart leapt into my throat. I never screamed so loudly in my life.”

  She started to tremble, thinking about it. I held her tightly a minute. “Steady, Erica, steady. You’re strong enough to do what has to be done. And it does have to be done. There’s more of the night left for both of us.”

  She looked up at me. “What has to be done?”

  “You’re going to have to drive over the hill and spend the night somewhere in a motel, by yourself.”

  “Oh, God, Peter, I could never do that. Not some strange place by myself, not after this. I’d have a nervous breakdown.”

  “Well you can’t stay here. I don’t want the sheriff’s people to know you were anywhere near here tonight. That’s why I wanted the lights out. Go fix yourself a drink, why don’t you? I’ll tidy up some before I call the sheriff.”

  “What will you tell them?”

  “I’ll think of something. But I need a little time. And you can’t be a part of it, unless you want your life getting very complicated.”

  She carried her spare clothing to the sofa and managed a little smile. “You do care about me, don’t you Peter?”

  “Of course I care about you, Erica. And about that drink, I’ve got a better idea. The sooner we get out of here, the better. Fix yourself a whopper that you can sip on your way over the hill. I’ll get your bag.”