by Jack Lynch
“Sidjakov said he has, and the men don’t like it.”
Dustin was quiet a moment, then nodded and took a sip of his drink. “I’ll give Joe a call tonight. What’s the rest of it?”
“It’s a little different, but it might be tied into the rest of it too. Sidjakov thinks it could be.” I hesitated. There was no good way to do it, just gradations of bad.
“Mr. Dustin, how long has it been since you’ve seen your boy?”
“Red? Why hell, it’s…”
That’s when he got it. That fast. He looked at me and stiffened. “The bad part, that isn’t about Red, is it?”
“I’m afraid it is, sir.”
“God damn it,” he said harshly. He turned to one side, staring angrily at the carpet, his free hand jammed straight down at his side. “How bad?”
“Very bad.”
His head dropped, and he grimaced. “Dead?”
“I’m afraid so. It was quick, but he’s dead.”
He didn’t move for a minute. He was a man of remarkable control. He finally took a deep breath and relaxed. He took a gulp of his drink and turned back to me. “I told him it was time to get out of the Middle East. Ever since they tied the can to the shah, I told him…”
“It didn’t happen in the Middle East. He was back in Sausalito, living in Marinship Basin on an old fishing boat. He was using a different name and doing some snooping around the Shores project. He and Sidjakov had talked about it some. Somebody went aboard his boat a couple of nights ago and shot him in the back of the head. They don’t know who yet, or at least they hadn’t known when I left there. Probably they still don’t. The same night that your son was killed, somebody deliberately started a fire out at the end of one of the piers where the houseboats are moored. One of the homes burned to the water line. Two others were badly damaged. The people living there just managed to get out with their lives. Somebody had poured a lot of gasoline around before touching it off. There had been some other examples of intimidation down there. Somebody’s trying to force out the houseboats.”
Dustin sat back in the chair and put the glass on the table beside him. He leaned forward with his hands clasped in front of him.
“What else can you tell me about my boy?”
“Not much. Like I said, he’d been asking questions. The day of the killing, he’d been trying to shake your whereabouts loose from some people who might have known. One of them was Melody Moss.”
Dustin frowned.
“She’s supposed to be friends with your…with Gloria.”
He nodded curtly.
“When she wouldn’t tell him where you and Gloria were, he started working over Duffy Anderson. Duffy and the Moss girl are engaged now, and Red figured Duffy might be able to pry your whereabouts out of Melody for him. Melody did know. She finally told Duffy.”
“How did Melody know?”
“Apparently she keeps in touch with Gloria. Or vice versa.”
Dustin pursed his lips and waited for me to continue.
“During his talk with Duffy, Red shoved him around a little. Then some people down on the docks saw somebody who looked like Duffy, maybe about the time the killing took place. Melody thinks he went there to tell Red the information she’d given him about you and Gloria. Whatever happened, Duffy withdrew ten thousand dollars out of the bank the next morning and dropped out of sight. He’s a prime suspect to the people investigating the matter. Others, who know the boy, doubt that he’d be capable of it. But when the deputies find out Red’s sister used to be married to Duffy, it’s going to look worse for him.”
“You know about Elaine too?”
“I talked briefly to her a few days ago.”
He was quiet a moment, thinking things out. “Did you see where it happened? To my boy?”
I gave a curt nod. “I’m the one who found the body. I’d been wanting to talk to him about another matter. When I learned Red was your son, I had kind of a premonition, and found a way to get aboard the boat.”
“Were there signs of a struggle?”
“No. He was just half sprawled across his bunk. He probably knew whoever it was did it. Not necessarily Duffy.”
“No, I don’t think so, either,” he said slowly. He took another deep breath and looked up at me. “Well. I should say thank you, for finding me. But how the hell do you say thank you to somebody bringing news like that?”
“Don’t try,” I said, getting up. “I’ve wanted to meet you anyway. I told Sidjakov I wouldn’t charge for the first twenty-four hours. I’m practically doing this for free.”
“No, no. None of that.” He got up and walked me to the door. “What made you want to meet me?”
“Terri Anderson, first. She speaks of you in pretty glowing terms.”
That brought a brief, weary smile to his face. “Yeah, she’s a crackerjack, that one, ain’t she? Can’t wait to get away from her family. She’s the only one in it with any sense.”
“Then I met a girl living down on the houseboats. One of Red’s neighbors. She told me about some of the funny business going on down there. I’ve gotten a little curious about it myself. Thought you might tell me, if you knew.”
“I would, but I don’t know anything about the houseboats.” He opened the hall door and put out his hand. “Maybe we’ll be seeing more of each other, then. I’ll be starting back first thing in the morning.”
“Fine. Should I tell Sidjakov, or are you still planning to phone him tonight?”
“Why don’t you call for me? I’m not ready to talk to anyone else just now.” He took out an address book and gave me the foreman’s phone number. “Then maybe you can find Glory for me. I was going to join her for a drink before dinner. But tell her if she’s hungry to go on and eat without me. I won’t be down for a while yet. I want some time to myself.”
“I’m sure she’ll understand. I’ll tell her.”
EIGHTEEN
Gloria was down in the bar sitting by herself at a table in a back corner. She was listening to the lounge pianist, who was playing the sort of music that’s vaguely familiar yet never distinctive enough so you can remember the title. I flagged a waitress and asked her to bring another of whatever Gloria was drinking and a cup of coffee for myself. Gloria’s smile, when I sat down, was automatic, as if it could have been me she was waiting for instead of Andy Dustin.
“He’s going to be a while,” I told her. “He said if you get hungry to go on in and eat. He’ll join you later.”
“That’s okay; I’m in no rush. Are you joining us?”
“No. Have you talked to Melody today?”
“Melody? You know Melody?”
“Yeah. We’re pretty good friends.”
“Boy, talk about your small world. But no, I haven’t spoken to her today. I call her on Mondays and Fridays.”
The drink and coffee came, and I paid for them.
“You can just put them on your room bill, you know,” Gloria told me.
“That’s okay. I don’t have a room here.”
“No? Then what are you doing here?”
“I had to talk to Andy. Had to bring him some bad news.”
A little frown wrinkled her forehead. She didn’t look as if she’d had to frown too many times in her life. “What sort of bad news?”
“His son had an accident. He died.”
“Oh.” She said it quietly.
“He’s going back to the Bay Area tomorrow.”
“Oh.” She said it low-key. “Well, I guess it couldn’t go on forever. Too bad it had to end like this, though.”
“Yeah. You’ve been having a good time, have you?”
Her face lit up again. She wasn’t too complicated, this one.
“Oh, wow. Have we ever. Did he tell you where all we’ve been?”
“He told me some of it. Old Andy treats you all right, does he?”
“He’s a sweetheart, that one. And he keeps himself clean too. This has to be the best work in the world.”
I nodded and
took a sip of the coffee. I felt like I was twirling around the room with her in a tricky waltz. If I said something to her the wrong way, she’d close her mouth for good.
“Is Melody the one who asked you to the barbecue last summer?”
The girl took a sip of her drink and nodded vigorously. “She said she had this super date for me, and if things worked out the right way I might get a long engagement.” She looked around her and gave me a brief smile. “Things obviously worked out.”
I nodded and had another sip of coffee. “You know, I’ve been around some myself, but I never knew how this sort of thing worked. Never had much money, myself.”
She reached out and gave my hand a reassuring pat. “Don’t worry about it. You’ve got tough good looks. A person can’t have everything.”
“You’re right, of course. But I’m still curious. Does Andy pay you?” Then I held my breath, waiting to see if the ceiling would fall in on me.
The girl pushed aside the remains of her old drink and picked up the one I’d bought. “No. Not this time. I mean, he pays for all the travel and all. The hotels, food—things like that. And he likes to buy me presents. Clothes and things. But it’s all very discreet. Andy and I never talk about it.”
“Melody pays you?”
“Not exactly. Mr. Anderson gives her cashier’s checks. Melody just mails them on to me.”
I nodded slowly, as if it all made sense to me finally. It didn’t completely, but it raised a couple of intriguing possibilities. I sipped my coffee and looked around the room some more. The lounge had deep burgundy-flocked wallpaper. It seemed to clash with the view of woodsy outdoors and river through the windows. Then I thought of something else. Maybe it was the wallpaper that did it for me.
“You’re a good-looking kid, Gloria. You ever make any movies with Melody?”
“You know about that, huh?”
I nodded. “I have a friend in San Francisco who makes movies. He’d like Melody to go work for him sometime.”
“I don’t wonder. She’s gorgeous. But no, I never did. I’m a lousy actress. At least that way. I tried it one time, just a test, you know? But I was always thinking about the camera. Melody said I couldn’t walk across the room even and make it look natural. Of course, I think your friend is out of luck. Melody doesn’t act anymore, either. She puts them together herself now. Said she’s always wanted to get into the administration end of things.”
“I guess she’s smart enough to do it.”
“You bet.”
“Well, what—I mean, do she and Cookie Poole work together on them then?”
“You know Cookie too? Jeez, you know everybody.”
“I live in Sausalito.”
“Oh. Did you used to date Melody?”
“No. Never have.”
“Oh. Well, Cookie, I mean, he doesn’t know any more about putting together a movie than I do. Melody does. She’s had training. But Cookie, he’s sort of a blowhard. More of a front man. He likes to go around telling people he makes movies, but he just handles some of the chores that always come up in something like that. Getting stuff and people together. Finding locations, sometimes. Which really doesn’t take any more brains than being able to go out and rent a motel room or something. I don’t know what Melody sees in that guy, to tell you the truth. But then, they’ve known each other a long time. And he does come in handy from time to time.”
“He does?”
“Sure. Like, you know, when Melody and I used to get dates down on Bridgeway a couple years ago.”
“Right. What about it?”
“Well, you know, sometimes some real jerk would stop and start to give us a bad time. Didn’t really want a date at all. Or tried to talk us into doing it for free or something. It was handy having somebody like Cookie around who could sidle up and tell the jerk to get lost. He’s pretty good for things like that.”
“I’ll bet he would be. He’s a pretty cool customer.”
“Yeah.” She was turning her glass and remembering things with a little smile on her face. “Those were good times we had back then. That’s how she met Elliott.” She looked up. “You know Elliott?”
“Elliott Fitzmorris?”
She nodded.
“Yeah, we’ve met. I was out at his place in Ross the other evening.”
A small shiver seemed to cross her. “I don’t like that place. It’s like a…like a gloomy castle that would have a dungeon in the basement or something.”
“Maybe it does.”
She laughed. “Yeah, maybe. Anyway, that’s how they met. Did you know that?”
“Huh-uh.”
She was pleased to find something I didn’t really know about. “Yeah. He was tooling down Bridgeway one afternoon, Joe Cool, you know? I’d seen him go by before in his big, gray Mercedes, but he never stopped. But Melody was there this one day. He got one look at her with her thumb out, hit the brakes till they screamed and backed up. She asked if he wanted a date, and he said sure. I mean, who wouldn’t, even if you had the sort of money that guy does. It all started from that.”
“The movies, you mean.”
“Yeah, that and the Shores thing.”
“I guess I haven’t heard about the Shores thing, either. I mean, I know what all is going in there, but I haven’t heard about all the people involved yet.”
“Yeah, well. He’s putting Melody in charge of things down there when they get running. She told me even that if things cool off with Andy, I can work some of the time down there myself.”
“Really?”
“Sure. You see, that’s why Melody’s going places. She’s smart. Really smart. She doesn’t figure a girl has to look like she’s about fourteen and fresh out of a convent or something to be a success in this business. She says there’s a place for a mature woman too. And she’s putting together a string of very quality, very good-looking girls, you know? That’s why I was sort of flattered when she told me I could be a part of it too. You know, for dates and things.”
“Yeah, sure. Dates.”
I got as far back down the coast as Eureka before deciding to call it a day. I figured I could turn in early and get back on the road again the first thing in the morning. From the motel I called Joe Sidjakov and told him his boss was on his way back. He was glad to hear it. I called the Anderson home in Peacock Gap next, and got lucky. Terri was at home, and for a change she wasn’t half in the bag.
“You sound good,” I told her. “What did you do, go on the wagon?”
“Don’t try to be a bigger jerk than you already are. Where are you?”
“Eureka. I saw Andy Dustin a bit ago, up in Oregon.”
“Oh? Tell him about his son?”
“Yes. He took it about the way you’d expect. What’s going on down there?”
“Here? In this little ol’ place? Like always—N-O-T-H-I-N-G. I think I’ll run down to Sausalito and take my clothes off again. At least there won’t be anybody to interfere this time.”
“Go in and take a cold shower instead. Have you heard from your brother?”
“No, and neither has the sheriff. And they’re looking hard for him. They showed photos of him around the docks where Red lived. Two people definitely identified him as being out by Red’s boat that night, just before the fire started.”
“I think he was down there to tell Red where his father was at. Melody said Duffy got the information from her and was going to pass it along to Red. I wonder if Melody’s heard from him.”
“She said she hasn’t. I spoke to her just a bit ago. And I think she was telling the truth. She seems all shook up over things.”
“Over Duffy?”
“I doubt it. I don’t think she feels that way toward him, no matter what sort of an act she puts on. But she was definitely bothered about something.”
“Then so far as you know, nobody knows where Duffy is.”
“So far as I know, nobody has talked to him.”
“That’s not quite what I asked.”
>
“No, it isn’t. I think I might know where he is.”
“Good girl. Where?”
“The logical place. Duffy’s never had the pizazz to go off and do something completely on his own. He’s the world’s foremost ’fraidy cat. I think he’s holed up and quivering in his socks, but I think he’s doing it somewhere he’d feel just a slight edge. Among friends. Or former friends. I think he’s with his ex-wife, Elaine Anderson. Up at Old Milkweed, or whatever they call it.”
“Wagon Weed. I think you could be absolutely right. I like the way your head works.”
“No, you don’t. You think I’m a drunk.”
“Maybe you’ve got it both ways. It’s something you’ll have to work out for yourself. I’ll swing by Elaine’s on my way south tomorrow and see if Duffy’s there.”
“If he is, try not to upset him. He can be a little unstable.”
“I’ve suspected that ever since you told me he took his pistols with him.”
NINETEEN
It was a little past noon the next day when I drove into the Wagon Weed ranch property, past the hippie cows and up the rambling old home with the flecked paint. Terri knew her family, or at least her brother. The dark blue Porsche I’d seen the other night in Sausalito was parked over alongside one of the outbuildings. This time when I knocked on the screen door I heard a definite, quick movement from inside the front of the house, but nobody came to the door.
I rapped again, then backed up and leaned against the porch rail. There still wasn’t anybody ready to come throw open the front door, but I thought I spotted a whisk of movement at one edge of the bright madras cloth serving as a curtain over one of the front windows. I waited a decent interval, then went over and labored on the screen door some more. When I was backing away across the porch again, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned. The young man with the balding head and bearded chin was standing down at the foot of the stairs holding a shotgun aimed at my midriff.
“Get down from there,” he ordered.
I put my hands out to my sides, palms facing him. “I was here the other day to see Elaine Anderson,” I reminded him.
