"Tell me, dammit," Vic was irritated. "I'm not leaving this stool until you do."
"Fred," Jinx said, and Fred Bauer's chest heaved. He turned on his stool to look at Vic. "You all know I was down in Oklahoma for a day or two this week. I was in Oklahoma City, Victor, meetin' with a supplier friend of ours—sells fertilizer—and we were havin' a nice little dinner in a cute little Mexican restaurant. He left early and when I come out of the restaurant this young punk comes up behind me and puts a gun in my back. I give him my wallet, just like he asks, with two thousand damn dollars inside. Then, when he was openin' it to see what was in there, I grabbed for his gun. I know it was dumb, damn sure was, because he smacked me on the head with the thing and took off runnin' with my wallet. But he dropped somethin' behind him. I don't know if it fell from his pocket or what, but I seen it layin' there when he run off so I picked it up."
"What?" Vic said.
"Looked just like what Ed confiscated out of that car from Colorado last month. Those two drunken boys who run over Sadie Hamm's cow? Damned thing got loose and was out a wanderin' the highway. Anyway, them two boys run off, but not before he got all the booze and this other stuff from their car."
"What?" Vic repeated.
"We ain't real sure," Jinx said. "Maybe you can tell us what it is." He reached under the counter and came up with a small, carefully wrapped plastic bag. He handed it to Vic. "We think it's some kind of dope, but we ain't altogether certain."
Vic looked, tasted a bit from the bag then began to nod. "Yeah, it’s definitely dope. This is cocaine, gentlemen. Is this it?"
Jinx shook his head. "We got more in the back. That there is just what Fred picked up in Oklahoma."
Vic frowned. He was looking at a gram. "How much more?"
"I'll get it," Jinx said. "Ed didn't know what it was when he took it off the boys. Never did get around to callin' the sheriff, did you, Ed?"
Ed shrugged and looked at nothing. "I was embarrassed about 'em gettin' away. And I had to get Sadie's cow out of the road."
Vic nodded. He could see Ed being embarrassed over such a thing. In the next second his eyes rounded when Jinx came out and dumped what had to be a kilo of coke on the counter in front of him. "Christ," he breathed.
"Probably seen a lot of this stuff in your cop work, huh?" Fred Bauer said.
"Yes," Vic admitted. "A lot." They didn’t know anything about his being kicked off the force. He hadn't even told his father the entire truth. He had mentioned taking money from the gangs to look the other way during their drug deals, but he hadn't said a word about stealing the confiscated coke. Nobody but Nolan knew.
"A shame," Jinx said. "Ain't much of a tradeoff for Fred's two thousand dollars and Sadie's milk cow. Probably ain't worth much, is it? 'Bout fifty bucks?"
Vic nearly choked. "More than that," he managed to get out. A lot more. Theft or not, he had paid a few bills with the coke he had stolen—mostly by using some punk to sell it back to the guys it had been confiscated from. Then he'd have the same guys busted again while they were out on bail from their first bust, and the coke would be confiscated yet again. The scheme worked great for a while, with the coke never making it onto the street. But coke was always out there. Take one dealer off the street and see three more come in to replace him. From Los Angeles, New York, Florida, Jamaica—not to mention a thousand home-grown kids just waiting for a shot at some quick and easy cash.
"Think we'd get some kind of reward if we turned it in to the sheriff?" Fred asked Vic. "It's really gonna hurt the town without that two thousand."
Vic looked at Fred's warty, pathetic face and shook his head. "No. I'm sorry Fred, but they don't give rewards for turning in dope. They probably should, but they don't."
"Well, damn," Kent Vogel said loudly. "That just don't seem fair to me. Here we are, hard up as a declawed cat in a birdhouse and can't do a damn thing with a bunch of cheap powder. Sadie without her cow and Fred without seed money."
"Seed money?" Vic repeated.
"For crops and gardening," Fred explained his expression miserable. The town buys all the seed for local folks. I had the money and I lost it. Won't be nothin' for no one now and everyone's goin' to blame me. I never shoulda had that money with me in that wallet. I'm real sorry, boys."
"That's all right, Fred," Tom Hamm said, and he put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Coulda happened to any one of us. We'll just take our lumps and go without. I'm goin' to see my boy in New Mexico next week. Maybe I'll take along that old pocket watch my daddy give me and pawn it."
An outcry arose. Vic listened as Tom's friends shouted in dismay and asked him not to sell his treasured heirloom.
"That thing's for your boy, Tom. Don't be sellin' that."
"It's the only thing your daddy give you, Tom. We'll be all right without the seed. Don't sell that watch."
Finally, Vic lifted a hand. "Hey. Why don't you just keep the money you offered for the hay in my barn. You can buy some seed with that."
"That's a real nice offer," Jinx said. "But we can't do it. I was meanin' to talk to you about that, Vic. Here back, we had to rework a combine or two, and it ran into more money than we expected. We just got the bill this week and we're likely to be strapped to pay you what we offered for that hay. But don't you worry, we'll do 'er somehow. The town of Denke ain't reneged on a deal yet. If I have to go to the city and peddle that dope there, I'll pay you that money."
Vic smiled at the image of the bald, wrinkled Jinx going into the drug business.
Jinx was laughing at himself. "By golly, now why didn't I think of that before? Just find me some young hood and get rid of the stuff once and for all. What's it worth, Vic? Think I can get our two thousand dollars out of what we got here? Damn it all, that's what I'll do. Tom, I'm comin' to New Mexico with you. Get me a pea coat and paint my head purple and I'll go downtown and make me a sale!"
Everyone was laughing now. Everyone but Vic. He was watching them. When the laugher died down he said, "Jinx, you're not serious."
"Why not?" Jinx threw one skinny hand into the air. "I got no moral qualms on this issue. Probably should, but I don't. I watch the news and I see what's goin' on in the world. Damn junkies get the stuff no matter what anybody does to stop 'em. You know that Vic, you were a big city cop. These same junkies come killin' our cow and stickin' up one of our own and what am I supposed to feel? That they're sick and need my help? Well, I don't feel that way, mister. They got themselves into whatever jam they're in, and I didn't have a damn thing to do with it. Now unless you want to hand me over to the sheriff, I'm goin' to New Mexico with Tom next week. Maybe some of them artists down in Santa Fe can use the stuff. We sure as hell can't."
Vic nervously rubbed his jaw. He didn't like this. He didn't like it at all. Jinx couldn't possibly know the dangers involved. "You don't know what you're talking about, Jinx. You can't just walk up to someone and ask if they want to buy some coke. What if you're caught and arrested?"
"What if I am?" said the old man in a defiant tone. "Ain't goin' to live that much longer anyway."
"These people," Vic tried. "They're not like you and me, Jinx. People who use it are sometimes desperate and usually on the edge. To them you'll appear to be a foolish, unarmed old man with a kilo. You could be hurt or even killed."
Jinx looked at the faces lining the counter and grinned. "Sounds excitin', don't it?"
Some of the men chuckled. Vic frowned and turned to them. "It's not exciting, it's dangerous. This isn't a game, people, if you want my opinion, based on my years of experience in vice, then I'd say turn the coke over to the sheriff and forget it."
"So noted," Jinx said. "I knew we shouldn't have told you. Guess we'll call for a vote now. All those in favor of turnin' the dope over, raise your hand."
Ed Kisner alone raised his hand. Jinx eyed him before going on: "All those in favor of me gettin' back our money with the dope, raise your hand."
One by one, the hands lifted. Jinx nodded. "I motion we c
lose the vote and go with the majority."
"I second the motion," said Kent Vogel.
Jinx smiled. "Meeting adjourned."
"Wait," Vic said with a groan. The bunch of old fools were crazy. "I can't change your mind? I'm serious. This isn't like television, you know. This is a criminal act with severe penalties."
"Are you gonna turn me in?" Jinx asked, suddenly worried.
To Vic he appeared completely helpless. An aged turtle going out for a swim in shark-infested waters. He had no idea how much that kilo was worth, no idea of how to approach a potential buyer, and no idea how to get his money without being cheated, beaten, or robbed. Vic couldn't knowingly let that happen. He couldn't. Goddamn the crazy old bastards.
"No," he said finally. "I'm not going to turn you in, Jinx. If you're determined to go, if you're not joking about this or pulling my leg, then I'll go with you. My conscience would kill me if I didn't."
Jinx's smile was grateful. His muddy eyes moistened. "Damned if you ain't just like your daddy and got the biggest heart in the world." He wiped his eyes and looked slightly embarrassed. "All right, now. That's enough of business. Who wants a cold beer?"
Vic did. He needed something to wash down one of Doc Stade's generic tranquilizers.
CHAPTER 20
Cal sat on the ground outside the garage and attempted to repair his net made of old window screens. It worked great for a while Monday night, but eventually the ancient, rusted wire had given way and allowed his catch to escape through the resulting holes. Nolan laughed and said it was a good idea while it lasted. They caught enough fish by rod to fill the freezer, and everyone was tired of eating fish anyway.
That was the last time Nolan had spent any time with him. Nolan was there all day, always within yelling distance, but he never wanted to do anything with Cal. Cal spent the entire week playing kiddie games with Christa and Andy and he was sick of it. He wished he knew what he'd said or done to make Nolan mad. He didn't think he had done anything. And worse, Nolan didn't act mad at him. He didn't act anything. He was just different. Right now he was sitting on the porch swing, reading some book he found in the house. He didn’t even bother to look up when Cal approached him earlier for a game of catch, he just said, "Maybe some other time."
"Hi, there."
Cal lifted his head to see his mother smiling down at him. "Hi, Mom."
"Did you find more screen in there?" She gestured toward the garage.
"No, I took it off a window on the trailer." Cal put the project down. "Mom, have you talked to Nolan about me?"
Her smile died. "Why do you ask?"
"No reason. I just thought since you didn't like him you might've told him to leave me alone."
"I wouldn't do that, Cal. I know you like him. If he hasn't been paying attention to you it's not because of something I've said. He hasn't been paying attention to anyone, really. I don't know why he's still here."
"Because Vic asked him to stay," Cal said. "I heard him. He was crying. I don't think Nolan knew what to do."
His mother sighed. "Vic certainly seems to be going through some changes."
"So does Nolan," Cal muttered. "Where do you suppose he goes at night?"
"I didn't know he went anywhere."
"He does." Cal stood and dusted his hands on the seat of his cutoffs. "I've woken up three times this week and found his fan in my room. When I go to look in his room he isn't there. But the fan is always gone in the morning when I wake up. It's back in his room again."
"I thought you shared it."
"We do," Cal said. "But he brings it to my room on the nights that he's supposed to have it. He must be sleeping somewhere else."
"Where? It's too hot outside, even at night. I hear we've got a chance of more rain tomorrow. The last one helped, but it wasn't nearly enough."
The weather. His mother never talked to him about the weather. She was thinking of something else and talking to him about nonsense to keep him from guessing her thoughts. He knew her mental processes as well as he knew his own.
"You think he's going out looking for those guys in the gray Buick?"
She took a deep breath and gave him a wry smile. "The thought did cross my mind, yes. It sounds like something he would do. The best defense is a good offense and all that male jock-cop-commando bull."
Cal put his hands on his hips. "He's concerned. It bothers him that they've given up so easily."
"You and I know they haven't," she said. "There's never been any set timetable to their attempts. I think the presence of two men has made them very careful, that's all. Your grandmother doesn't pay them by the hour, you know."
"I know," Cal said. He glanced toward the side of the house. "But I'd feel terrible if something happened to him, Mom, if something happened while he was trying to help us. What if they got him? We'd never know."
She put a hand on his arm and gave it a squeeze. "Have you ever seen him use that pistol? He's very good, Cal. And he loves himself far too much to deliberately put his own precious hide in danger."
"You're wrong," Cal said to her. He straightened as he watched her brows rise. "He's not like that. He's not like Dad was. That's why you don't like him, I know, but you're wrong. He's already proved that, but you don't want to see it. Did you know he's been shot three times, burned twice and broken a leg and an arm all in the line of duty? If that's not deliberately putting himself in danger, I don't know what is. Dad would never have been in any situation where he might be hurt. He was the one who loved himself too much. Nolan is different."
His mother shook her head. "No, Cal. None of those things make Nolan different. He's still the same type-T personality as your father, just in another way. He's a thrill-seeker, not a hero. And he's just as incapable of caring and committing as your father was. He has no responsibilities other than to himself and that's just the way he likes it. I admit that at times he can be one of the most incredibly charming and irresistible men on earth—he can even sound like a mature, sensible adult when he wants to—but that doesn't change the facts."
Cal's chin jutted. "What do you know about facts? You can't even be honest with yourself. I've seen the way you look at him."
"Physical attraction is one thing, Cal. Someday you'll learn that it isn't everything. Not by a long shot. If I learned anything from your father, I learned that."
Cal snorted. "I suppose you'd rather have someone like Vic, who has a nervous breakdown the first time life shits on him."
"That's enough," his mother said firmly. "I'm not going to talk about this with you. You're hurt because Nolan is snubbing you and you think it's my fault. It's not. If you want an explanation, ask him. And don't ever let me hear you speak that way about Vic again. You're being completely unfair."
"You don't know Nolan," Cal argued. "He cares about people and he likes to help them. He cares about Vic and that's why he's still here. He just doesn't know how to help."
"Is that any big surprise?" his mother responded in a sharp voice. "Nolan wouldn't know a crisis if it bit him in the ass. He's never been threatened with the loss of anything dear to him. He's never known anything but cold beer, stupid women, and cheap civil-service thrills."
"You're wrong," Cal repeated.
"No she's not," a familiar voice said. "But they weren't all stupid.”
Cal watched his mother's face turn scarlet as Nolan sauntered around the side of the house. He was still holding his book.
"No reason to be embarrassed, Myra. From what little I heard you seemed to have hit the nail right on the head. For a second there I thought my mom had dropped in for a surprise visit. You sounded just like her. Cal, can I talk to you for a minute? I want to show you something."
Cal went to meet him. He heard the pantry door slam a moment later. His mother. He started to explain to Nolan, but he was cut off.
"I'm not interested, Cal. I know what she thinks of me and that's okay. She's entitled."
It wasn't okay with Cal. "She didn't mean it. She wa
nts to like you but I think she's afraid. She wouldn't get so upset if she wasn't. Maybe if you'd be nice to her for a change and work on the physical angle she'd come around."
Nolan looked at him. "The what?"
"You know." Cal felt his cheeks flush.
A teasing light entered Nolan's eyes. "Cal, I'd be afraid to turn my back on that woman, let alone crawl in bed with her. Now, I want you to look at this thing." He held up the book. "I found it in a box in the top of my bedroom closet a few days ago. Naturally, I put it aside when I saw the cover, but I opened it again this morning and found some interesting information inside."
Cal looked at the cover. It was a family Bible.
"On the Kimmler’s?" he asked.
"Nope. The Denke bunch. Seems this is the site of the original Denke home place. Did you know that?"
"I didn't know there was a Denke home place. I thought it was just the name of the town."
"Me too. But there's a whole family tree in here, and in the back I found a hand-drawn copy of someone's plans for building over the foundation of the old place once it was torn down. Right now we're standing in front of what used to be a stable."
Cal reached for the book. "Neat. But why did they leave their Bible here?"
"That's the interesting part. From what I can tell, it looks like Vic's great-great-grandfather was adopted by a Denke."
"But he kept his own name," Cal said, confused.
"All of them did," Nolan told him. "One happy couple in particular adopted about nine kids, all of them with German-sounding names." He flipped to a yellowed page at the beginning. "Look at the names and see if any of them ring a bell."
Cal looked. "Vogel, Bauer, Schwarz, Stade, Nenndorf, Hamm, Kisner, Lahr . . . and Kimmler. They all ring a bell.
Those are the people in town."
"That's what I thought," Nolan said. "Thank God there's no Wulf in there. The inbreeding must be terrible around here. Does Denke have a phone book?"
"Not that I know of," Cal said. "You really think the people are inbred?"
Nolan laughed. "It was just a joke. But yeah, it's pretty strange that all these descendants are still living here. And whoever recorded the marriages of the adopted apparently felt the wives' maiden names weren't important. But they had to come from somewhere. There weren't enough Denke daughters to go around."
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