That made sense, but something else didn’t.
“Why do you want me?” I asked.
“Before Willy and the others showed up,” Caroline said, “we searched a few mines ourselves. But there are scores of mines in that area, and it’s just too much for me to carry all the equipment and help Grandpa up and down the slopes.”
Soames squirmed, embarrassed.
“But why me specifically?”
“We trust you,” Caroline said.
“Sure you do.”
“Let’s put it this way,” Soames said. “We distrust everyone else.”
“Including your old neighbor Willy?
“Especially him,” Soames spat out. “He’d cut my throat the minute we turned up the gems.”
“What about Helen Ester? Don’t you trust her?”
“Hell yes.”
“Hell no,” Caroline said with enough heat to turn my Wonder bread to toast.
Soames shrugged. “There you have it. Besides, Helen wouldn’t be much help in the mountains.”
“Does she know about the jewels?”
“No,” Soames said. “You’re the only one we’ve told.”
“And suddenly I’m your partner.”
“It’s not suddenly. Me and Caroline have been talking it over for the past few days. You’re the only one involved who’s got more on his mind than the Lochemont jewels—namely, trapping whoever killed Meacham.”
“Rueben Archuleta,” I said.
“Whoever,” Soames said and gave me a wry smile. “But he’s probably the same man Caroline saw following her. You can protect us and save your skin at the same time.”
Soames was right about one thing: When the jewels surfaced, so would Archuleta. And then would be my best chance to nail him.
“There’s another little problem,” I said. “Legally, those gems belong to National Insurance.”
“Legally, hell!” Soames yelled, startling Caroline. “I paid for those jewels with twenty years of my goddamn life.” His eyes blazed for a moment, then the fire went out and the brief flush ebbed from his face, leaving it prison-gray. He stared down at his beer can. “Twenty goddamn years. That’s a third of a man’s life, Lomax, gone forever, and no amount of money can bring it back.”
“Grandpa …”
Soames gave her a weak smile.
“Sorry, honey,” he said, then to me, “You’re right about the jewels, Lomax. Besides, if word got out that I had them, there’d be nowhere for me to hide.”
With a fortune in gems I could think of a few good places. Not that I’d try it. Not much.
“So we’ll turn them over to the insurance company,” Soames said magnanimously, “and collect the ten percent reward. Which is another reason we need you. National wouldn’t give me a dime, and Caroline neither, being my kin. But they’d have to pay you. Ten percent of five million is half a million bucks, of which we’d let you keep ten percent—fifty grand.”
I could have explained to them that a dishonest partner might keep the entire five hundred thousand for himself, maybe even the entire five million. But why start a partnership on the wrong foot?
“When do we begin?”
“Tomorrow,” Caroline said.
We talked over a few of the details, then Caroline cleared the table. Soames didn’t speak until we heard her running water in the kitchen sink.
“Quite a girl, eh?”
“She’s nice,” I said.
“Nice? That’s all you think about her?”
“I think she’s nice,” I said. “I like her.”
“You like her. Do you think other men like her?”
“What are you getting at?”
“Other men do like her. They call her and ask her out on dates, but she won’t go. I met one of them, a young fellow she works with, a real nice guy, good manners, good-looking. But she won’t give him the time of day. The others neither. Know why?”
I shook my head.
“Because I’m the only man in her life,” he said bitterly. “She wants to take care of me. And the truth is I can’t even get a job, since nobody’s going to hire an aging ex-con. Since she can’t support us both on what she makes now, she’s been talking about getting a second job and working nights.” Soames drank some beer, wiped his mouth with his hand, and wiped his hand on his pants. “Before she told me that, I wasn’t sure I’d even look for the jewels.”
“Come on.”
“It’s true,” he said. “It was enough for me to know that nobody else would get them. But not now. Those jewels are for her, for what they’ll buy her. A life, Lomax. Something I got robbed of. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I was beginning to.
25
WHEN I GOT HOME, there was a furniture truck parked in front of the apartment. Two beefy dudes were hauling my new stuff inside and shoving it into the proper rooms. I told them not to worry about being too careful, since I liked that used look. They obligingly banged the shit out of the doorframes.
After they’d gone, I gave my new couch a trial run—I stretched out on it and fell asleep during the second half of the Broncos’ game. The phone woke me.
“Meet me at your office right away.”
It was a man’s voice, vaguely familiar.
“Who is this?”
“Can’t talk now,” he said and hung up.
I tried putting a face with the voice. The closest I could come was Detective O’Roarke, although I couldn’t imagine why he’d act so mysteriously. I guess I’d have to ask him.
But neither O’Roarke nor anyone else was waiting anxiously outside my office. I went in and checked my machine for messages. There was one from Helen Ester, asking me to call. She answered on the first ring.
“I’ve been trying to reach you all day,” she said. “I’ve decided to leave town.”
“You can’t,” I said, keeping my voice calm. “I need you in court with me on Thursday.”
“I know.”
Someone began pounding on my office door. I covered the mouthpiece and yelled at whoever it was to wait a minute, then I spoke softly to Helen.
“You promised you’d be there. If you’re not, things could go badly for me.”
“I know, Jacob, and please don’t worry. I’ll be there. But ever since Archuleta threatened me, I haven’t felt safe in Denver, so—”
Suddenly the office door burst open, kicked in by big Tom Two Hawks. He charged in, followed closely by his father and brother. Young Mathew pointed a gun at me, and Willy closed the busted door. I finally put a face on the urgent and mysterious caller: Mathew Two Hawks.
I showed them all the phone. “Be with you in a minute, guys.”
“What is it, Jacob?” Helen said in my ear.
Before I could answer, Tom came around my desk and ripped the phone cord out of the wall.
“That just unplugs, you know.”
Willy sat in the visitor’s chair, his dark shades in place, his chin whiskers awry.
“Don’t open any desk drawers.” he said.
“Don’t worry about it, the cops have all my guns.”
“Who’s worried, hombre?” Mathew said and waggled his revolver. It was a .22-caliber Colt Peacemaker with a nickel finish and a long barrel. Some people don’t get nervous around .22’s, but I’m not one of them. When I was on the force, I knew cops who said they’d rather get shot with a .38 than a .22. One in particular, a Sergeant Mobley, explained to me that with a .38 at least you’re either dead right away and out of your misery or else wounded in one particular spot that the doctors can patch up. But a .22 slug is so fast and light that it can bounce around inside you like a steel ball in a pinball machine, ringing bells and racking up points. Ironically, a few weeks after Mobley told me that, he entered a liquor store during a holdup and some punk kid shot him with a .22 rifle. The bullet hit Mobley in the collarbone, ricocheted down through his left lung and kidney, hit another bone, and exited through his lower abdomen. He was in surgery for si
x hours and died the next day. I’m sure Mathew Two Hawks had never heard of Sergeant Mobley, but he was aiming at my collarbone.
“Are you boys here for a chat?” I asked. “Or did you want to play Cowboys and Indians?”
“Don’t get smart with Pop,” Tom said, and slapped me hard across the back of the head.
I guess I’d had my fill of being hit in the head, because without even thinking I swiveled around and came out of my chair, driving my shoulder into Tom’s midsection, knocking him off balance into the wall. I stayed close to him and hit him a few short chops under the ribs while he hammered me on the back. Willy was screaming and Mathew stepped up and shoved the muzzle of his Western-style gun in my face. “Sit down!” he yelled as Tom came off the wall with a huge right that I tried to duck. It caught me on the ear and knocked me back into my chair.
Mathew got between me and Tom and trained his dandy six-shooter on my midsection. I considered making a grab for it, but I didn’t want it accidentally going off and reaffirming Sergeant Mobley’s theory of vectors.
“Everybody just settle down,” Willy said. “We came here to talk.”
“Lucky for me.”
“He’s a smart ass, Pop. Let me knock his fucking head off.”
“You keep still, Tom, or you can go sit in the car.”
Tom pouted. Willy smiled from behind his shades and shook his head.
“You shouldn’t rile that boy,” he told me. “Sometimes I can’t hold him back.”
“I’ll try to keep it in mind.” Which wouldn’t be too tough, since my throbbing ear felt as big as Tom Two Hawks’ fist.
“Do that,” he said, “because this is the last time I’m going to tell you to stay away from Charley Soames.”
“Why? I like Charley. He’s a fun guy.”
“You’re begging for trouble, Lomax.”
“Can’t I spend time with my new pal?”
“You’re after the jewels,” Mathew put in. “Just like the rest of us.”
“I think my boy’s probably right.”
“There are no jewels,” I said, trying to sound convincing.
Willy grinned. “Oh, there’s jewels, all right. And Charley Soames knows right where they are.”
“If that’s true, Willy, then why hasn’t he dug them up?”
“Because he’s having trouble with his recollection, maybe on account of too many people hanging around. Or maybe on account of that damn granddaughter of his. He listens to her too much, if you ask me. Either way, he knows where they are.”
“You’re wasting your time,” I said. “Rueben Archuleta got away with the jewels twenty years ago. You can look it up.”
Willy snorted, fluttering his chin whiskers.
“Hell, I spent eight years in the cell next to Charley and talked to him every day and listened to every damn detail of his life. I heard it all so many times I could tell when he was lying and when he was telling the truth. He knows where he dumped that satchelful of gems. Maybe not the exact spot, but close enough to find it. He just won’t admit it, at least not yet. But when he finally digs it up, he’s going to give a fair share to his old pal Willy. And no son of a bitch like you is going to mess things up.”
“Is that what you told Lloyd Fontaine?”
“Who?”
“He was hanging around Soames when somebody shot him in the head with a twenty-two just like Mathew’s.”
“Mathew never shot nobody,” Willy said indignantly. “Tom neither.”
“Then maybe it was you.”
“I don’t even know this Floyd whoever.”
“Lloyd Fontaine.”
“Whoever. Which ain’t to say I never killed no one before.” He cocked his forefinger at me.
“Is that what you did time for, Willy?”
Willy shrugged. “It was a fair fight. The jury just didn’t see it that way. But we’re talking about you, and I’m telling you now, one last time: Stay the fuck away from Charley Soames.”
“Or what? You tell your son to commit murder?”
Mathew swallowed hard and glanced at his father.
“I’d take care of that job myself,” Willy said.
“Then you’re dumber than I thought. If you kill me, Soames is worthless to you.”
“Huh?” Willy’s eyebrows arched up from behind his shades.
“Pay attention, Willy,” I said, making it up as I went along. “The police think I killed Zack Meacham on orders from Soames because Meacham was threatening him. They’re keeping an eye on both of us. Anything happens to me and they’ll be on Soames like ticks on a dog. You won’t be able to get within ten feet of him without stepping on a cop.”
Willy chewed the inside of his cheek. My confidence rose.
“With me gone, the cops won’t have anyone to pin Meacham’s murder on but Soames. And since he’s already a convicted murderer, a jury will take about twenty minutes to send him back to Canon City. And that would put an end to your fantasy treasure hunt.”
“Don’t listen to him, Pop,” Tom said from behind me. “Let’s finish him now.”
“No, I think maybe he’s got a point.”
I saw Mathew relax, and I breathed a bit easier.
“Now you’re getting smart,” I said to Willy.
“You’re right, Lomax, we don’t want any bodies lying around attracting cops. Besides, we don’t have to kill you to keep you away from Charley Soames. We can just cripple you.”
“Now you’re talking, Pop,” big Tom said. He sounded as excited as a kid ready to climb on an amusement park ride.
26
WILLY TWO HAWKS CAME around the desk and took the pistol from Mathew.
“Put your hands behind your chair, Lomax. Tom, hold him.”
Tom stood behind me and held my wrists tight enough to cut off the circulation.
“What’re you going to do, Pop?” Mathew asked, worry in his voice. Simple assault was one thing, but whatever was about to happen was out of his league.
“I’m just gonna put him out of commission for a while,” Willy said. He stood before me and pointed the gun like an accusing finger. “You hurt me today, Lomax. My neck is still sore. I don’t forget things like that.”
He lowered the gun, aiming at my right knee. Tom twisted my wrists tighter. “Hold it right up against him, Pop, so’s you don’t miss.”
“I know what the hell I’m doing, boy. You know, Lomax, when I was in Canon City, me and another dude busted up a guy’s knees. He was in casts for two months, and when he got them off, he walked stiff-legged as a geek, probably still does.”
He pressed the barrel against my kneecap, thumbed back the hammer, and squeezed the trigger. I jerked my leg as the gun fired. The bullet creased my pants and plowed into the floor.
“Goddammit,” Tom said, and yanked at my wrists.
Willy chuckled into his chin whiskers. “You might as well be still, Lomax. The sooner this is over, the better for everyone. Come here, Mathew, and grab onto his leg.”
“What’s going on here?”
We all looked up to see Helen Ester standing in the doorway. She wore a tweed skirt and jacket and an expression of mild outrage, like a teacher who’d just walked in on a roomful of unruly students.
“Run!” I yelled. “Call the poli—”
Willy smacked me across the mouth with the barrel of the pistol—not hard, or I would have been choking on broken teeth, but hard enough to split my lip and give me the taste of blood.
“Get her, Mathew.”
Mathew grabbed Helen Ester by the arm and pulled her into the room.
“Get your hands off me.” She shoved her purse into Mathew’s chest. “Jacob, what’s going on?”
“They’re the Indians and I’m the wagon train and you’re the cavalry.”
“Shut up,” Willy said. “And you, missy, just stand there and be quiet and you won’t get hurt. We’re not going to do much here except slow down your friend.”
“It’s out of control now, Willy,�
�� I said. “There’s a witness.”
“It don’t matter,” he told me, lowering the gun to my kneecap.
“No!” Helen shouted and started forward, but Mathew wrapped his arms around her waist.
Willy looked up. “Just hold her still, son. And you,” he said to me, “move that leg again and the lady gets hurt.”
I tried not to look down. I watched Helen Ester struggling in Mathew’s arms. She pulled something out of her purse and held it under his chin.
“Stop,” she said.
Willy thumbed back the hammer.
“Right now, I mean it, tell him.” She sounded scared but determined.
“Pop, I think she means it,” Mathew said.
“What?”
“Don’t shoot,” Mathew said.
It wasn’t clear whether Mathew meant Willy or Helen. Both were pointing guns. The nod went to Helen, though, because although her gun was smaller, a double-barreled Derringer, it was shoved under Mathew’s jaw. Her left arm was hooked around the back of his neck to prevent him from pulling away. Willy straightened up. He looked mildly amused, but when he spoke, his voice was so cold you could almost see his breath.
“Put down the gun now, missy, and maybe I won’t shoot your boyfriend.”
“No,” Helen said, swallowing hard. “You let him go.” She pushed the fat little Derringer harder into Mathew’s throat.
“Pop?” Mathew was sweating it.
“She’s bluffing, son, she won’t shoot.”
“The hell I won’t.”
Even I was beginning to believe her.
“Jesuschrist, Pop!” Mathew cried.
“Okay, okay,” Willy said and let his pistol hang down at his side. “Just put away the piece and the three of us will leave quietly, no problem.”
“First let him go,” Helen told Tom.
Tom tightened his grip on my arms. “She’s bluffing, Pop.”
“Let him go now or I swear to God I’ll pull the trigger.”
“Tom, Jesus.” Mathew’s face was pale.
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