by Jack Lynch
After their initial shock they went about their jobs very professionally. One of them administered a quick examination of her limbs and exchanged brief words with her to learn where it hurt. Finally, they lifted her off the bed, while I held the gurney steady.
“Pete?” Shirley said.
“Right here.”
“You gonna be around?”
“I’ll be around. I’ll close up your place and make arrangements for somebody to clean it up. Then I have a few more things to take care of. I’ll be up to see you later at the hospital.”
They carried her out onto the pier. I found her purse and got out a set of keys, then locked up. The men were moving slowly. It was a little bumpy for the gurney, so finally they lifted it and just carried her. I trotted up to help out. We made pretty good time.
I thought she’d lapsed into unconsciousness again, but just as we started to slide her into the rear of the ambulance she began to cry, very softly.
“Why me?” she asked of nobody in particular. “I never hurt anybody…”
I felt a wrench inside of myself. One of the grim-faced young men clambered in back with her. The other went around quickly and got into the cab. He was on the radio before he pulled out of the parking area, probably relaying information to the hospital.
I drove up to my apartment on Bonita and took the Colt .45 automatic out of the little metal locker where I kept it and a couple of other handguns. I took off the sweater and strapped on a shoulder holster for the Colt, then put on a sports jacket. Then I drove up to Peacock Gap, trying not to think too much about things. Like the way Shirley had been frightened and had asked to stay at my apartment for a couple of days. There was no reason I couldn’t have let her do that, especially since I was out of town myself.
I parked in the Anderson driveway and went over to ring the front doorbell. The door was opened a moment later by Paul Anderson. We were both surprised to see each other, but I’m glad we did. I had a couple of things I wanted to ask him about as well.
“I’m here to see Terri,” I told him. “Is she around?”
He drew himself up in a fatherly way. “She’s out back by the pool. What do you want with her?”
“She hired me to find Duffy, who in case you hadn’t noticed ran away from home like an eight-year-old the other day. I found him, and I’m here to tell your daughter that. But don’t bother, I think I can find the way.”
I turned and started around the corner of the house. He stepped quickly after me. “I’ll come with you.” He hustled to catch up, and as we went back alongside the house he called out ahead of us.
“Terri! Mr. Bragg is here. Are you decent?”
I heard a small whoop of laughter from a lounger beside the pool. Terri sat up, snapping on the top of her suit with a sad little smile.
“Christ, Father, you’re a scream. Mr. Bragg and I are both grown-ups, whether you can bring yourself to accept that or not. In fact, the other night I begged him to take me to his place and let me spend the night. But he’s a real gent, with principles and all, and wouldn’t do it. But so far as I’m concerned, he can take a look at my boobs or anything else he wants just by snapping his fingers.”
Paul Anderson had stiffened beside me. I didn’t need to see him to feel the humiliation.
“I think I’ve done what you asked me to do,” I told the girl. “I’m here to tell you about it. Since you’re the one who hired me, do you want me to talk while your father is here?”
“Why not? We’re not a family to keep secrets from one another, are we, Father?”
It wasn’t an innocent remark, the way she said it. I pressed on.
“Your brother has spent a couple of days outside of Cloverdale at the Wagon Weed Ranch with his ex-wife, Elaine.”
Anderson looked at me sharply. I ignored him.
“Some other people there tried to prevent me from seeing the boy. I had to go into town and buy a shotgun so I could show them how serious I was when I went back.”
Terri grinned. “You bought a shotgun and went back?”
“That’s right. They wouldn’t let me see him the first time. When I finally got Duffy off for a talk, he admitted he’d been down on the Dustin boy’s boat the night he was killed. He’d learned from another party where Red’s father was. Red wanted to get in touch with his father and had roughed up Duffy earlier trying to get the information.”
“What made him think Duffy knew where to find him?” Anderson wanted to know.
“Red thought Duffy knew somebody who might have the information, and it turned out he was right. Now keep still a minute. This report is to your daughter. Anyway, when Duffy went down to Red’s boat that night, he said Red already had been shot. He was afraid he’d be hung for the killing, so he took off for Cloverdale. I tried to point out to him that his story would check out and that he should return home and straighten things out with the Sheriff’s Department. I told him to take along an attorney when he went in, and he probably wouldn’t have to spend even a night in jail. That’s about it.”
“But I wanted you to clear him,” Terri told me.
“He can do that easily enough himself, just by coming back and facing up to things the way we all have to from time to time.” I turned to Paul Anderson. “And that goes for some other people, as well.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that with the report I just gave your daughter, I’ve about finished all the chores I’d promised I’d do for other people. And now I have a job of my own I’m going to take care of. I’m not absolutely certain, Mr. Anderson, but I think that it probably involves the Marinship Shores project. I think a lot of the dirty things going on hereabouts have involved the Shores project. I would like you to tell me what is going on down there.”
“We are putting up a convention and hotel complex, that is what is going on.”
“Maybe that’s what it started out to be, but no more. I was down there just after you and a man I suspect works for Elliott Fitzmorris dropped off the change in plans for plumbing and stuff in the main center. I had a little talk with Joe Sidjakov about it.”
“What were you doing there?”
“What I’m doing now. Asking questions. Sidjakov said you’d put on the captain’s hat and were trying to run things in Andy Dustin’s absence.”
“That’s right. Somebody had to take charge, if Andy is going to be so irresponsible as to run off…”
“Don’t wear out the spinning wheel, Mr. Anderson. I saw and talked to Andy Dustin last night, up in Oregon. It was my unpleasant task to tell him his son had been murdered.” I glanced at my watch. “He should be getting back here right about now.”
It’s not too often you actually see a person’s mouth gape with surprise. But I saw Anderson do it then.
“And after I talked to Andy Dustin, I had a quiet talk with his girl friend, Gloria. Or ‘Glory,’ as Dustin calls her.”
Anderson looked as if he might be sick. He took a step backward. Terri got up from the lounger and stood beside me, staring at her father with fascination.
“Gloria told me that all the while she’s been whooping it up here and there with old Andy Dustin, your apparent daughter-in-law-to-be has been mailing her checks from yourself, Mr. Anderson. I’m curious. How does she show up on the payroll of the Shores project. Rest and Recreation?”
He licked his lips and looked away.
“I really wish you’d tell me about the Shores project, Mr. Anderson. I intend to find out. I think in the long run you might be doing yourself a favor by letting me hear some of it from you.”
He shook his head briefly, but said nothing.
“There’s one other reason why I’m sticking myself into things, Mr. Anderson. A girl living on one of the houseboats at Marinship Basin was savagely beaten last night. I mean, she was beaten in a manner I’ve never seen before. Two men worked her over. She used to be a beautiful woman, Mr. Anderson. I doubt if anyone will ever think that of her again. I’m bringing in a p
lastic surgeon to work on the case, but he’ll never be able to put her face back quite the way it was before, I suspect. Something will always look a little lopsided. And all she wanted was to be left alone, to live on her boat, along with the others down there.”
“Is she anybody I knew?” Terri asked quietly.
“I don’t know. She was a cocktail waitress at the Sea Deck. A tall, leggy thing with dark red hair. Her name was Shirley McAteer.”
“I know her,” said Terri with pain in her voice. “She’s so pretty…”
“Was pretty,” I corrected her. “No more. Not ever.” I turned back to Anderson. “When they put her into the ambulance a little bit ago, she was whimpering. Not to anyone in particular. She said, ‘Why me? I never hurt anybody.’
“I’m going to have trouble sleeping nights for a while remembering that little moment, Mr. Anderson. The girl was a friend of mine. Not close and of long standing, but about the way I know your daughter here. Enough to call her a friend and to take great exception to what somebody’s done to her. I think that’s all a part of the Shores project as well. Why don’t you tell me about it?”
For a moment his face seemed to show honest agony. He made a plaintive gesture with one hand. “I can’t tell you much. I honestly don’t know. I just follow orders.”
“Whose orders?”
“Elliott Fitzmorris’s. He’s taken over the financing of the project.” He stared at the ground a moment. “He who pays the piper, I play his tune.”
“Why? I thought you had a good thing going with Andy Dustin.”
It took him a moment to weave an answer to that one. “Oh yes, I had a good thing going with Andy Dustin. A project here, a project there. Tucson and Denver and Redding and Chico. I’m never home, Mr. Bragg.”
He tried to meet my gaze then. “I haven’t been home for what seems like twenty years or more. Meanwhile, my wife sits here, quietly, stoically drinking herself into the grave; my son grows up a weakling; and my daughter…” He looked over at Terri, then stared into an overhead tree. “God only knows what my daughter has become. I don’t know her. I don’t understand her.”
Terri started to say something. I grabbed her arm and held her still, as her father continued.
“Elliott Fitzmorris offered me a permanent managerial position at the Shores project once it is completed. No more travel. No more being a ghost to my family. I know it’s far too late for my children. But maybe there is still time to help their mother.”
He stood clenching and unclenching his hands. He was pretty good, but I didn’t believe a word of it.
“What are the Fitzmorris plans for the Shores project?”
“I don’t know. He has certain associates, I believe.”
“From around here?”
“No, not from around here.”
“Had you and Andy Dustin ever worked with Fitzmorris before?”
He shook his distinguished gray head. “No, he…I believe Arthur Moss and Herman Beamer got onto him somehow.”
“Was it Fitzmorris who suggested that the girl Gloria get Dustin out of the way?”
“Yes, of course.”
“What’s Dustin apt to do when he gets back and finds out what’s happening to the project?”
He looked at me. “It won’t matter by now. Fitz is effectively in control. He can throw Dustin’s men off the job and bring in another construction firm. Maybe if Andy’s on his way back I should give Fitz a call.” His eyes flicked toward the house.
“You’ve really sold out to him, haven’t you?”
“I’m sorry. I had no idea it would lead to all this. I thought I was doing the best thing.” He held up a hand, searching the air for a better explanation. “My family…”
In a moment he turned and walked back to the house. I didn’t have to articulate what I felt about his story. His daughter did it for me. She came close and rested her hands on my shoulder, leaning on me a bit as she watched her father cross the lawn and go inside.
“That is just so much hot air, you know. What my father told you about having to abandon his dear family while he soared off to put together his big deals. It was true with Andy Dustin, I guess, but not dear Father. Most of his work could be done on the phone and with a couple of weekend trips. But he enjoyed it all. He couldn’t wait for things to start so he could wing off for weeks at a time to join the local golf and tennis club wherever they might be working, and play Mr. Big Britches among the local hotshots. He lapped up the attention and modest fame of being the big-time developer. He looked forward to returning to the bosom of his family about the way he craved next year’s IRS audit.”
“Why do you suppose he did it? Sell out to Fitzmorris, I mean.”
“Easy street.”
I looked at her.
“Sure. He figures he’s the only one in the family who doesn’t have it made. Because of Grandfather Burkette’s money.”
“Maybe so. He was lying as well about Arthur Moss or Beamer being the ones to bring in Fitzmorris. Dustin said your father is the one who wanted to give him a piece of the action.”
Terri made a little sigh and shook her head. “That’s my daddy.”
TWENTY-TWO
From Peacock Gap I drove over to the Marin County Hall of Justice at the civic center. I went up to Otto Damstadt’s office. When he saw who it was, he pulled me inside and closed the door behind me.
“What’s that all about?” I asked him.
“I have an idea I don’t want too many people around here seeing you visit with me.”
“How come?”
“You keep finding bodies.”
“That’s not the reason.”
“No.” He gestured me to a chair and went around behind his desk. He was a man of medium height with a stocky build. He was part German, part Welsh, and his angular face and puttylike nose was a good advertisement for the rock-hard men who attack seams of coal in that part of the United Kingdom. He had a mop of kinky, light brown hair that looked as if he ran a wire brush through it every morning.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“Marinship Shores. Elliott Fitzmorris. Paul Anderson. Fitzmorris associates from out of the area. I think I want to take them apart.”
“Oh boy,” sighed Otto, staring at the ceiling and swinging one leg over the arm of his chair.
“I’m not entirely sure why, just yet. But I think they’re behind some things. I think they’re behind the fire down on the docks the other night. I think they were behind a particularly vicious beating two men administered to a friend of mine last night while I was out of town. She was a very pretty girl, a cocktail waitress in Sausalito. Nobody’s ever apt to whistle at her again.”
Otto didn’t say anything. His lips were in a tight line and he stared at the ceiling. The leg over the arm of his chair swung loosely back and forth.
“I think it very possible they also were responsible for the killing of a man who went by the name of Red Dewer, who lived on a fishing boat down there named the Donita Rose.”
He still didn’t say anything, but he nodded his head to let me know he knew about it all.
“I think probably they were responsible also for the murder of another man, a black man from Marin City whose body was pulled out of the Marinship Basin a couple of hours ago. And maybe another in Tam Valley I’ve already told you about. I don’t know the why of any of it. You said something a few days back that made me think maybe you could tell me the why of it.”
He came out of the chair in a quick, fluid movement and went to the window to stare out at distant hills. “Oh no, pal, not me. Huh-uh.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ve got fifteen years behind me in the department, that’s why. I also have a wife who I’m pals with and three youngsters who would be in a very bad fix indeed if Daddy lost his job in these days of economic thrashing about.” He turned and briefly pointed a finger in my direction. “And you might as well know, that’s the reason I don’t want a lot of people ar
ound here seeing me chatting with my old buddy Peter Bragg. I suspected you were going to end up doing something like this.”
“Don’t hold it against me. I knew the girl they beat up. She was frightened. She wanted to spend a few days at my place. I wouldn’t let her.”
He stared across at me. The pain rose in his face. “Jesus,” he said quietly. He went back to his desk and stared at the blotter on top. “I guess you’re serious,” he told me.
“I guess I am. Red Dewer’s father is coming back today. His name is Andy Dustin. He runs the construction outfit on the job. I understand Fitzmorris plans to run them off and bring in another outfit if Dustin makes a stink over how things are going. And he will. I’ve met him. I suspect he’s apt to launch a broad, frontal assault. While everyone’s watching that, I figure I can go in and blindside them. But I need more than what I suspect and what logic tells me. I need to know more about what they’re up to, and why.”
Damstadt nodded. “I don’t know if I’ll be doing you any favors or not. There are some formidable individuals involved in all this.”
“I’ve met that sort before. Try me.”
The lieutenant shook his head. “No, not me,” he said, reaching for the phone. “Are you up to a little drive over to the city?”
“If it has to be that way.”
Otto consulted a small address book inside his desk drawer and dialed a number. When somebody answered, Otto kept his voice low and swung his chair away from me so I was staring at the back of his head. He talked briefly, then waited. In a moment he began speaking again, quietly, rapidly. I heard my name once. There was a pause. Otto looked at his watch and wished the party a good-bye. He turned back and replaced the receiver, drew a sheet of memo paper out of a tray on the desk blotter and scribbled something, then handed it to me.
“You should go talk to a Captain Brian McDonnough on the fifth floor of the Hall of Justice. He’s head of the San Francisco Police Intelligence Unit. He’s expecting you. And he’d appreciate your getting there as soon as possible. He has a busy day, but he’ll see you for a few minutes.”
