Liquid Smoke

by Jeff Shelby

  “What?”

  “Have you hired another attorney?” “He doesn’t want one.”

  He nodded, satisfied. Then he looked at me in a strange way.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I had you all wrong.” “How’s that?”

  “Family member appears here, in this situation, they are usually desperate. Desperate to figure out a way to stop the train. But I don’t see that in you.”

  I pulled the keys out of my pocket. “What do you see, Detective?”

  Kenney stepped away from the car. “I see someone who’s really confused.”

  “I always look that way.”

  He made a face and shook his head. “Funny, but I don’t believe that.” His eyes hardened. “Be clear on one thing, Mr. Braddock. There’s nothing to be confused about. Russell Simington is as bad as they come.” He waved a hand in the direction of the prison. “And this is where he belongs.”

  THIRTY-NINE

  As my plane descended half an hour late into San Diego, thick rain clouds bounced us around, and lightning was visible out the windows when we touched down.

  I was walking through the terminal, getting ready for the wet sprint to my Jeep, when I felt someone fall in step next to me.

  “Shitty weather we’re having, huh?” Landon Keene said, smiling.

  I stopped, unable to hide my surprise.

  Keene’s smile grew. “Welcome home.” He nodded toward the parking lot. “You wanna keep walking? I saw your Jeep out there.”

  A subtle message that he knew what I was driving. A surge of adrenaline kicked into gear.

  “Sure,” I said, trying to regain a little composure. “You can stand right behind it, and I’ll throw it in reverse.”

  He laughed louder than necessary, tossing his head back like I’d told him the funniest joke he’d ever heard. His laugh died off, and he shook his head. “Sounds like your pop’s been telling you some stories about me.”

  He was doing a terrific job of sticking his finger on my buttons.

  “What the fuck do you want?” I asked.

  “Just wanted to make sure you made it home okay. That trip from San Fran can be a tricky one.” The subtlety was gone. “I made it just fine,” I said.

  Keene nodded. “Good, good, my man. Hope nothing will be waiting at home for you this time.” He winked.

  I stepped in closer, looking down at him. “I’m not some degenerate gambler, Keene. I will take you outside, break off each of your limbs, and set the rest of you on fire.”

  Keene stepped back, not because he was intimidated but so I could see his face. “All in good time, my man.” He snapped his fingers, like he’d just remembered something. “By the way. Your mother is looking excellent these days.”

  My right hand curled into a fist, and I set my feet to throw a punch. But I knew what he was doing, and I didn’t want him to win this battle. I forced my hand to unclench.

  “Thanks for the update,” I said. “I’ll tell her that.”

  The smile drifted off his face, and he couldn’t force the fake laugh. It looked like my refusal to engage had confused him.

  An announcement came over the PA. Something about a flight delayed due to the weather. Neither of us paid attention, caught in a staring match.

  “Amazing what a guy will tell someone when he’s facing the death penalty,” I said, turning the tables. Irritation flashed across Keene’s face.

  “I mean, nobody wants to take their guilt to the grave,” I continued. “Have to unload things, you know? Things like gambling, smuggling. Killing.” I shrugged. “Guys even feel compelled to name names.”

  It was like I had transferred my anger right into his body. The relaxed, confident demeanor he had arrived with was gone.

  “Careful, kid,” he said, his voice much harder than before. “You don’t want to step into this.”

  I threw my hands up like I was confused. “Step into what? I thought we were just talking.”

  “Worst thing you can do is talk,” Keene said, shuffling a little closer. “You know what’s good for you, kid, you better forget you ever heard dear old dad’s voice in the pen.”

  “Why’s that? Worried about something? Maybe I should ask Ben Moffitt about it.”

  Keene shook his head like I was brain damaged. “Only time I’m warning you, kid. Stay out of it.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  He took a couple of steps away from me, heading for the exit, the smile creeping back onto his face. “Then things are gonna start blowing up in your face.”

  FORTY

  Keene had gotten into my head.

  As I drove away from the airport, sheets of rain falling across the windshield like a dam in the sky had burst, I was no longer sure of what I needed to do.

  I spent the night wrestling with that and awoke the next morning to torrents of rain. I grabbed a jacket for the first time in forever, ignored Miranda snoring on the couch, and headed out into the crap, puddles splashing around me as I drove.

  I stopped the Jeep in front of Carolina’s house. Through the rain, I could see a light on in the living room. I turned off the engine, threw open the Jeep door, and dashed up to the front door and knocked. I looked like I’d jumped in the shower with my clothes on.

  Carolina opened the door. “Noah? What are you doing out?” She stepped out of the way and motioned for me to come in.

  I came into the entryway, water snaking off me onto her floor.

  “Hold on,” Carolina said. “I’ll get a towel.”

  She came back and handed me a yellow bath towel. I wiped my face. It smelled like the laundry detergent I remembered her using as a kid, but I couldn’t place the name.

  I dried off my hair and rubbed the towel over my arms before handing it back to her. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. Why are you out in this?”

  “I just got back from San Francisco.”

  Apprehension trickled onto her face. “Oh.” She pointed toward the sofa. “Sit down.”

  “Simington told me a little more this time,” I said, falling onto the couch.

  She sat down next to me. “Is that right?” She was trying to mask her anxiety, but it seeped into her words. I couldn’t blame her.

  “I know you said before that you only heard from him twice after you told him to get lost,” I said. “Did he ever mention the name Landon Keene?”

  She thought hard for a moment, then shook her head. “Not that I recall. Our conversations were brief. The second time was a little longer I guess, but it was because I was reluctant to give him your address.” She shook her head again. “No. He didn’t mention that name. Why?”

  I hadn’t decided yet what to tell her about Keene. But it didn’t seem like I had any choice other than to tell her exactly who he was.

  “Simington worked for him,” I told her. “And he claims that he killed the two men in El Centro because Keene threatened us.”

  “Us?”

  “You and me.”

  She tilted her head, curious. “I’m not sure I understand.”

  I repeated Simington’s story, not getting to the current threats Keene was throwing around.

  Carolina shrugged when I finished. “I believe it. The people he hung around with—I’m sure they were capable of making threats like that.” She paused. “And carrying them out.”

  “But do you think that would’ve been enough for Simington to carry out the murders?” I asked. “Threats to us?”

  She leaned back into the sofa and folded her hands in her lap. “You mean, would he have cared enough about you and me to go to jail?”

  I nodded because that was exactly what I was asking. The more I thought about Simington’s story, the more I got hung up on thinking that protecting Carolina and me was enough justification for committing murder. Maybe he’d sent some money. Maybe he’d kept track of us. But I wasn’t certain that meant he cared about our well-being if it meant putting his in jeopardy.

  “Honestly,
I don’t know,” she said. “I’m inclined to say yes, though. As many bad things as he was, there was some good, too. When he called me the second time, to find out where you lived … he was like the man I met in the bar.”

  “Which was?”

  “Sincere, kind. Almost apologetic for who he was, like he knew he couldn’t help it.” She looked down at her hands. “I’m not a great judge of character, but I don’t think he was playing me that day.” She looked back to me. “He truly wanted to know where you were, to see what his son looked like. That’s why I gave in and told him.” She shifted on the old sofa cushions. “And I think he has always cared for me. He just couldn’t do it the way I needed him to.”

  FORTY-ONE

  We sat quiet for a few minutes, listening to the water tap against the roof and windows.

  “I need to tell you something else, then,” I finally said.

  “You certainly know how to light up a room,” she said, raising an eyebrow and smiling.

  I appreciated her attempt at humor. The more time I spent with her when she was sober, the more I started to forget about our past and focus on how much I enjoyed being around her.

  “I’m like a beacon of sunshine,” I said.

  She laughed quietly. “Always.” She held up a hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to interrupt. Something else, you said.” “I seem to have stirred Keene back to life,” I said. “Which means what?”

  “Which means I think we need to be careful.”

  The humor was gone from her expression now. “Why?”

  “Because he told me that. Personally.”

  “You’ve spoken to this man?”

  I recounted what Simington told me and my encounter with Keene at the airport.

  “I don’t think he’s kidding,” I said. “He doesn’t seem like the type. He killed the lawyer. There’s no reason to think he won’t kill again if he feels it’s necessary. He was at the airport to show me how close he can get to me.”

  She wrapped her arms around herself like she was cold. “A beacon of sunshine.”

  “I’m sorry,” I told her. “But I felt like I needed to tell you.”

  She nodded. “No, no. It’s not your fault. I was teasing you, and it was inappropriate.” She put her hands on her knees. “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m not sure yet. I need to think some things over.”

  Her eyes zeroed in on me. “Don’t let him go because of me, Noah. I’ll be alright.”

  I didn’t respond.

  “If he killed that lawyer and he’s partly responsible for Russell’s situation, you should do what you can to make him pay,” she said. “Do not back away from this because of me. If you have other reasons, that’s fine. But don’t do it on my behalf.” She reached out and touched my arm. “I can take care of myself.”

  I wasn’t sure that she could, but I appreciated what she was saying. Something else was nagging at me, though.

  “Would he lie to me?” I asked. “Simington?”

  A rumble of thunder echoed outside, the rain still slapping against the windows.

  “Probably,” Carolina said. “I’d like to think that, with where he is now, with not much time left, he wouldn’t. At least to you. But that might be wishing for too much.”

  That was what had been running through my thoughts since leaving the prison. What if he was trying to manipulate me? To get me to do something he wanted done? What if the facts weren’t as he presented them? What if he knew by pushing me in the right direction, I’d go after Keene? Was there something in it for him?

  “I just can’t help but think he’s doing this for some other reason,” I said.

  “Doing what?”

  “Talking to me. Telling me these things about what happened and about Keene. Is there something in it for him?” I looked at her. “Why does he give me Keene’s name to begin with if he knows that Keene is a threat?”

  She squeezed my arm. “I don’t know. With Russell, I could never tell.”

  “I mean, he gives me Keene’s name. He knows I’ll look him up. Why give it to me at all and then tell me to stay away from him after I found him?”

  “It may be just like he said. Maybe he was hoping that this man would be dead and gone. Maybe he wanted to know that, to give him some peace before his own death. I’m not saying he’s incapable of telling the truth, Noah. What he’s told you may be exactly as it is.”

  I knew she was right. I would have to make my own decision based on what I wanted to do. No one else was going to give me a reason. I needed to own the decision. That didn’t make it any easier, though.

  “Noah?” Carolina said.

  “Yeah?”

  Her fingers pressed into my skin. “It’s okay to be upset about this.”

  “I know,” I said.

  “Do you? It doesn’t seem like it.”

  I turned away, watching the rain slide down the glass. Again, Carolina had surprised me with her ability to read me.

  “I don’t want to care if he dies,” I said. “I really don’t. I know that if he lived, we wouldn’t have a relationship.” I hesitated. “But it’s like … it’s like I want to just know he’s around. So I can be pissed off at him. I don’t think I can be angry at him after he’s dead.” I turned back to Carolina. “Dumb, huh?”

  She slid her hand to mine and forced her fingers into mine. She covered our hands with her other. “No, it’s not dumb. It’s exactly right.”

  We sat there, listening to the thunder and the rain, thinking about that.

  FORTY-TWO

  I left Carolina’s and spent a couple hours busying myself with errands—groceries, gas, mail. But nothing cleared my head and I eventually found myself pointed in the direction of Coronado. I wanted to see Liz. After seeing Simington so isolated, I didn’t want to be alone, not even for a night.

  The rain was splashing off the bridge, billowing into the bay like small explosions as I crossed over to the island. The normally bright lights of downtown were muted and murky.

  I ran up the path to Liz’s house, and she opened before I could knock, waving me in from out of the tropical weather. She handed me a towel.

  “I was wondering when I was going to hear from you,” she said.

  I wiped off my face, dropped the towel, and pulled her to me, kissing her. Her hands were on my chest at first, protesting being pushed up against a soaking wet human being, but then her hands slipped around my neck and she forgot about my wet condition.

  When I finally let her go, she stepped back and put her hand to her chest. “Wow. Nice to see you.”

  I smiled. “You, too.”

  “What brought that on?”

  “Seeing you.”

  “Ah.”

  “I’d like to see more of you. Right now.”

  She reached out for my hand, an electric charge between us that I’d never felt.

  “This way,” she said, pulling me toward the bedroom.

  Our clothes were off before we made it to the bed, and our bodies clung together like magnets. All of the anger and sadness that had permeated my existence for the last few hours dissipated as I lost myself in Liz, the one person I knew for certain wanted nothing from me other than for me to be who I was. And as we moved together, everything feeling right and simple, all I wanted was to love her.

  When we’d finished, we lay there in the dark, the rain moving down her window in silver streams. Her head was on my chest, and her breathing was in rhythm with mine. I put my face into her hair, taking in the scent of coconut, mint, and sweat. I kissed the top of her head.

  She rolled over so her head was on my shoulder and she could see me. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but was there something in the water in San Francisco?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Because if there is, we should bottle it and start selling it. Sales will dwarf every other sex drug on the market, and we’ll be able to bathe in the money.”

  I laughed and rubbed her back. “I jus
t missed you.”

  She wrapped an arm around my chest. “I missed you, too.”

  The rain tapped against the window like it wanted in.

  “How’d it go?” she asked.

  “It went.”

  “That bad?”

  “I don’t know, Liz,” I said, sighing. “I don’t know if was bad or good or something else.”

  “You wanna tell me?”

  I didn’t want to talk about it, but I wanted to tell her because if anyone could make sense of it, Liz could. I trusted her.

  I told her about my conversation with Simington and then meeting up with Keene in the airport. None of it sounded any different than when I’d spilled it all to Carolina.

  Her arm tightened around my chest when I’d finished. “Rough,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

  I nodded awkwardly, my head sunk into the pillow.

  “Simington didn’t know about Darcy’s death?”

  “If he did, he didn’t show it.”

  “You believe what he said about Keene?”

  “I guess. I don’t think I can know for sure, though,” I said. “He could be maneuvering me, but so far what he’s said seems to be true.” I pressed my hand into the small of her back, feeling the heat of her skin up against me. “Keene’s a bad guy. That’s one thing I’m positive of.”

  She threw her leg over mine beneath the sheets. The rain was tossing awkward shadows into the room, and I stared over Liz at the window. The moon was obscured by a thick rain cloud.

  “Simington was definite about not getting another attorney?” Liz asked.

  “Yep.”

  She put her hand on my cheek and moved my face down so I could see her.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  I nodded without saying anything. I tried to look away, but she held my face in place.

  “I’m sorry that you’re having to deal with all of this,” she said, the intensity in her eyes clear even in the dark. “But it doesn’t change who you are.”