Part 53 (1/2)
As they'd worked Jack had told them how he'd come into possession of Tara Portman's key ring-leaving out names, of course, and sidestepping mention of his knife fight with Eli Bellitto.
Lyle began counting off on his fingers. ”First you meet Junie Moon, you bring her here, you step across the threshold, and awaken Tara Portman. Two days later someone hires you to watchdog someone he says is his brother but who you later learn is an only child. In the course of guarding the brotherless man you snag a key ring off him which just happens to belong to Tara Portman.” He shook his head. ”Talk about wheels within wheels.”
And no more coincidences, Jack thought glumly, wondering at the purpose behind all this. And why was Gia involved? This whole situation was giving him a very unsettled feeling.
Lyle pried a Frisbee-size remnant of paneling from a two-by-four stud and scaled it onto the growing junk pile at the back end of the cellar.
”But just having Tara's key ring doesn't make this guy her killer. He could have found it on the sidewalk or picked it up at a garage sale.”
Jack wondered how much he could tell these two. Since they lived on his side of the law, he decided to trust them with a little more.
”What if I told you that I saw him s.n.a.t.c.h a kid while I was watchd.o.g.g.i.ng him?”
Charlie gave him a wide-eyed stare. ”You frontin' me, right?”
Jack shook his head. ”I wish. And if that's not enough, this guy has a whole cabinet full of kids' junk. Like a trophy case.”
”Oh, man.” Lyle had a queasy look. ”Oh, man. What happened to that s.n.a.t.c.hed kid?”
”I uns.n.a.t.c.hed him.”
”Yo! Yo!” Charlie pointed a waggling finger at Jack. ”The Vietnamese kid! That was you?”
”I'd rather not say.”
”It was you!” Charlie grinned. ”You a hero, G.”
Jack shrugged and turned back to the stud he'd been prying loose from the blocks. Words like ”hero” made him uncomfortable. Like ”art,” it tended to be thrown around a little too easily these days.
”You'd've done the same. Anybody would have.” He s.h.i.+fted the talk away from himself. ”I'll bet anything there's a link between this guy and the late, great Dmitri Menelaus. If I'm right, I'm afraid we can count on finding more than just Tara Portman's remains down here.”
Which would work right into Lyle's PR plans.
Lyle leaned against the wall. ”A serial killer.” He didn't sound happy.
”More than one,” Jack said. ”A ring of them maybe. If I can establish a link with Dmitri...”
”What then?”
He found a groove between two blocks behind the two-by-four and slipped the pry bar into it. To the squealing accompaniment of protesting nails and the crackle of splintering fir, he wrenched the stud free with a vicious yank.
”A few people are going to wish they'd never been born.”
Lyle stared at him. ”Someone hire you to do that?”
”No.”
Jack still wanted to know who'd hired him to watch Eli Bellitto, but no, no one would be paying him for what was going to happen to Bellitto and his crew.
”Then why're you going after them? I thought you were a pay-or-play guy. Fee for service, and all that. Why the freebie?”
”Because.”
”That's not an answer.”
”Yeah, it is.”
”Praise the Lord!” Charlie said. His eyes glowed like a miniature sun had lit in his head. ”Praise the Lord! You see what's goin' down here, don'tcha?”
Lyle said, ”I'm almost afraid to hear this.”
”Jack, you an instrument of G.o.d.”
”Yeah?” He'd been called a lot of things since he'd started his fix-it business, but never that.
”True that! The guy hired you to hound this killer? A messenger from G.o.d, yo. He point you at the killer so you be there when that little kid need you.”
”Really. What about all those other kids this guy's done? The ones like Tara Portman and who knows how many others?”
”Dawg, don't you see? G.o.d sent you here to even the score.”
”You think so,” Jack said.
Lyle laughed. ”Hey, that's one a.s.s-backwards G.o.d you've got there, bro. Where was he when Tara needed him? I mean, he's not paying attention. If he was, there'd be no score to even. Too little, too late, if you ask me.”
Charlie glowered at his brother. ”Didn't ask you.”
”And what happened to this demon you were talking about?” Lyle said. ”First you tell us we've got a demon sent by Satan, and now we've got Jack sent by G.o.d. Which is it?”
Jack wanted to tell Lyle to ease up on his brother, but it wasn't his place. What was it with Lyle anyway? He seemed wound as tight as that clock Jack had bought yesterday.
”That's it.” Charlie threw down his pry bar. ”I'm outta here.”
”No way. We have a deal. Two days.”
”Yo, I ain't standin' here listenin' to you trash the Lord. Blasphemy wasn't no part of the deal.”
Jack watched them, wondering what the h.e.l.l they were talking about.
Lyle held up his hands. ”All right, I'm sorry. My bad. I was out of line. It's been a tough day. Truce, okay?”
”Truce sounds good,” Jack said. ”Let's keep at this. We've only got a little ways to go before it's all down.”
”A'ight,” Charlie said. ”We keep at it.”
”If we're going to do that, can we change the music?” The endless progression of cuts from Miles and Bird and now Coltrane was getting on his nerves.
Lyle frowned. ”Don't tell me you don't like 'Trane.”
”I guess I'm not cool enough for jazz. Or maybe not smart enough.”