Part 6 (2/2)
He shook his head. ”Didn't mean about the fiddle, but I appreciate that too.” Holding out his hand, he said, ”Like you to have something. Got this when I was overseas, what they call in country, and it's been with me ever since. Want you should take it with you. Be your good luck charm.”
A tiny cat carved out of sandalwood.
CHAPTER NINE.
DAWN BEAT ITS PROUD pink breast as I and Chariot chugged to a stop. International news on the radio, a couple of ads for car dealers, now suddenly Jeremiah was a bullfrog, joy to the world.
Another mansion on the hill. Two cars, Mercedes, Lincoln, in a garage remarkably free of clutter. Ancient weeping willow like a bad sixties haircut outside, smell of fresh-brewed coffee from within. Older man in a terrycloth robe sitting at a table just inside gla.s.s doors from the patio. Winegla.s.s of orange juice, possibly a mimosa, before him. Basket of bread, bowl of fruit. Scatter of woven rugs on what looked to be Saltillo tile and spotless. Mexican furniture in the room beyond. Lawn sprinklers went off behind me as I peered in.
Snooping about, I found a breachable window in the utility room and took advantage. Stood just inside listening, then slipped the door and listened some more before stepping through. No footsteps or other sounds of movement. Soft ersatz jazz from a radio out in the room by the patio.
He was tearing the horn from a croissant as I came up behind him and put thumbs to his neck.
”Compress carotids,” I said, ”and you shut off blood supply to the brain.” I told him what I wanted to know. ”We can talk when you come back around,” I added, adding pressure as well, as his hands fell onto his lap and the others entered the room like silk. One of them facing me, the other one, the one that mattered, behind. Where they were before, I've no idea. I would have sworn he was alone.
Catching a glance from the one in front, I managed a half turn before the one behind closed on me and I joined the older man in darkness.
I came awake with a woman's face above me. The guy who had been standing behind me was male, no doubt about it. Not much doubt, either, that I was on the floor. Turning my head to the right, I saw swollen pink feet rising towards bare legs topped with a hem of terrycloth robe that in my confused state put me in mind of Elizabethan ruffled collars. Turned my head to the left and saw a body desperately attempting to drag itself out of harm's way, though at this point most of the harm it was likely to withstand had already befallen it.
”You're okay,” the woman above me said. Not a question. Shortish dark hair pulled back. Hazel eyes in which glints of green surfaced and sank. She sounded pretty certain. I'd have to take her word for it.
”Mr. Aleche has agreed to call off his dogs. That right, Mr. Aleche?”
From high above terrycloth and tabletop, out of the clear blue sky up there, came a ”Yes.”
”One of his dogs seems to have taken bad,” I said, glancing left again.
”Other one's a bit the worse for wear, too.”
”Terrible shame.”
Her face broke into a smile. Before, I'd always believed that to be merely a figure of speech.
”And lest you wonder, Mr. Aleche says these are the two men you're looking for. He seems to be under the impression that I know what's going on and that I am somehow your partner in this enterprise.”
She held out her arm at a ninety-degree angle, inviting me to take it and lever myself to a sitting position. We grasped hands thumbs-over and, leaning hard into strong forearm and biceps, I pulled myself up.
”Mr. Aleche has also been kind enough to agree that by way of reparation he'll cover all medical expenses for your fellow officer and dispatcher. And he hopes you'll accept his apologies for his employees' misguided enthusiasm.”
It's over, then, is what most people would think. But, even as she helped me up, I saw that she knew better, saw her clearly: the stance, feet planted squarely, center of gravity kept low, eyes taking it all in even as they appeared not to.
”You're a cop.”
”That obvious, huh?” Again the smile. ”I'm also your daughter.” She held out a hand. ”J.T. Burke.”
Lots of scatlike noise and harrumphing from Sam Hamill back at the station, words to the effect that here was another fine mess I'd gotten him and MPD into, one shouldn't lie down with dogs, and it would be best if I were out of town by sundown.
”No sign of Judd Kurtz, huh?” Tracy Caulding asked. She'd stayed behind for her own counsel once Sam was done with me, then followed me out to the parking lot.
”Doubt there will be. Hope it didn't go too bad for you in there.”
”About as you'd expect. What the h.e.l.l was I thinking, tuck in the corners, it better not come back to bite his b.u.t.t. Then he said, 'You need any help with thisa”st.i.tches show up in the works, anyone whosoever tries giving you griefa”you call me, you hear?'”
”Don't guess he added he'd be happy to have me back on the job any time?”
”I don't believe that came up. Take care, Turner.”
We surrendered J.T.'s rental Buick at a drop-off on Lamar, grabbing coffee to go at a Greek diner next door. The cups were shaped like Shriner's hats and, inexplicably, had rabbits on them. Not cuddly little bunnies, but huge kangaroo-thighed jackrabbits.
”Obviously they think a lot of you back at the station house,” J. T. said as we pulled into traffic.
”I'm a legend here on the frontier.”
”Must be nice.” She stared silently out the window. ”It all starts looking the same after a while, doesn't it? Same streets, same victims, same impossible stories and apologies.”
We pa.s.sed a car with the hood up, driver leaning into it. As we came abreast, he hiked his middle over the rim and slid in further. It looked as though the car were swallowing him piecemeal.
”If that's what you're looking for, an apology, I don't have one.”
”Good. I've had enough of those, plenty to last me. And I'm not looking for anythinga”well, I was looking for you. But I found you, didn't I? So now I'm not.”
”And how, exactly, did that come about, the finding me?”
”I talked to some people in town, learned about the cabin, and went out there. There was a woman sitting on the porch.”
”Val.”
”I'd figured just to look around, maybe wait till you showed up. But I introduced myself, told her who I was, and we got to talking. She told me what's been going on, and that you were up here. I was waiting to turn in at the motel when I saw the Jeep pulling out.”
”So you followed. Keeping well back, from the look of it.”
She shrugged. ”Old habit. Check exits before you go in, try to figure what's going down before you step in it. Like that.”
”Cop thinking.”
”You know how it is. Kind of takes over after a while.”
Later, after one last stop in the city, well out of it and coming abreast of a long line of tarpaper shacks bordered by a service station and a church whose white paint had long ago gone to glory, we'd pick up the conversation. J. T.'s head turned to read the sign that told us we were entering the town of Sweet.w.a.ter.
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