"Did you sell them the crank?"
"I told em to get the fuck outta here and don't ever come up in my hills again or I'd feed their ass to my dog."
"Whaddaya think he was doing with the marine?" Otto asked.
"Whadda you think?" Billy Hightower said. "He was scorin some crank to get the kid loaded so he could fuck him. What else you do with a nineteen-year-old marine?"
"So after you read about them finding the Watson car down on the other side a the canyon, what'd you think?" Sidney Blackpool asked.
"I worried it was one a my guys that shot him. Man, we don't need that kind a heat up here. I'm tryin to get these rednecks organized into some legit bidnesses. Look at the Hell's Angels. They're makin toy runs for the poor every Christmas. Pretty soon there's gonna be Hell's Angels teddy bears and Hell's Angels Cabbage Patchers. We can learn from them, I tell my people. Then I fronted them off about the Watson kid. I interrogated em one by one. And I scared the fuck outta the ones that scare easy. I got nothin. Nothin at all. I know none a my people shot the kid. So I think, okay, how about the sissy and the marine? Terry was up on the hill that night. But I also think, well, maybe he's got nothin to do with it. Maybe some righteous kidnapper snatched the Watson kid and somethin went wrong and they shot him and jist picked our canyon because it was on their way home to Vegas. So I don't worry about it for a few days."
"Then what?"
"Then Watson comes on T. V. and offers a fifty-grand reward. Then I say, fuck it, Terry's a long shot, but for fifty grand you take a long shot. That's when I made the call. -
"You called Palm Springs P. D. ?-
"I don't know em so I don't trust em. I called somebody I trust and told him about Terry, and his car, and the gay bar where I met him."
"What kind a car was it?" Otto asked.
"A Porsche Nine-eleven," Billy Hightower said. "Black on , black. I figured it belonged to one a Terry's sugar daddies."
Sidney Blackpool looked at Otto who'd been a cop long enough to play it like aces wired. He sipped his beer and said calmly, "Who was the cop you trusted? Who'd you tell all this to?"
"Only one cop I do trust. Harry Bright over at Mineral Springs P. D. Now I'm trustin you guys cause it's my on'y chance for the reward."
"Why'd you trust Harry Bright?" Otto asked.
Billy Hightower smiled and said, "You ever met Harry Bright you wouldn't ask. If I worked for a guy 'like that when I was on the job I'd still be on the job. He s a cop's cop and he's a good guy. To this day he's the only cop ever walked over and sat down and bought me a drink in the Eleven Ninety-nine Club. Till you guys did it tonight. They all think I'm some kind a killer-freak dope fiend or somethin. I met Harry when I first joined the Cobras. He even tried to get me on Mineral Springs P. D. when it was first formed, but you don't get hired after you put a police captain in jaw wires and plastic surgery. Whether the motherfucker deserved it or not. I spent lots a time with Harry Bright the last six years. Lots a drinks, good cop stories and laughs. Jist him and me."
"Where? At the Eleven Ninety-nine?"
"I wouldn't do that to Harry," Billy Hightower said, shaking his head. "I wouldn't want the others to see him bein too friendly with a guy like me. He had his career. He was too close to a pension to get it flicked up. When Harry'd wanna sit with me in the saloon I'd make some excuse and leave. Jist to protect him from any trouble. I'd visit with Harry right here."
"In this house?"
"Right in this house. Some nights when the graveyard shift needed a sergeant, or one a their guys was sick and Harry had to cover, he'd come up here and talk to me. Park his unit down the road and stroll right on in, in full uniform. One night, I had a guy here almost had a heart attack seein Harry walkin up the road with his five-cell flashlight. We'd sit'n drink, Harry and me. He always drank way too much. I worried more about his job than he did. Sometimes he'd get so tanked he'd sleep in his patrol unit right down where you met Gina."
"How old a man's Harry Bright?" Sidney Blackpool asked.
"I happen to know cause he's eligible for retirement this Christmas. They're on the state pension. Two percent a year and go out at fifty years. Harry'll be fifty years old in December. Poor Harry. He ain't gonna know it when he does get that pension."
"When'd he have his stroke?" Otto asked.
"Last March, I think it was," Billy Hightower said. "I went to see him twice in the hospital. I even cleaned up and wore a suit so I wouldn't panic the little candy stripers. I couldn't stand to see him like that. Harry was a big of corn-beef daddy cop. Like the daddy you always wanted instead a the motherfucker you ended up with. Harry was everybody's old man on that police force. Paco's the boss but Harry's the daddy and Paco listens to him. And now I wanna know somethin from you."
:Anything we can tell you," Sidney Blackpool said. Where'd you get that kid's picture?"
"From Victor Watson's house. The houseboy found it and gave it to us in the hopes it might be a lead we could develop."
You mean to tell me, in all the reports and follow-ups, there ain't no mention a me or my tip on that kid Terry?"
"Well there might be," Sidney Blackpool lied. "We haven't seen everything. Maybe the Palm Springs homicide dicks just put that in a separate file we haven't seen. You know how dicks carry notes hanging outta every pocket."
"Yeah, well, I can't believe Harry Bright wouldn't a told them about it. He was too good a cop to ignore a tip like that. So I want you to run this down and get back to me about it. If that kid's involved in this I got a right to the bread."
"Okay," Sidney Blackpool said. "Too bad we can't talk to Harry Bright."
"Nobody's ever gonna talk to Harry again," the biker said. "Last time I saw him he looked real bad and I heard he's deteriorated since then. Jist stares straight ahead. Don't even respond with blinks they tell me. I can't stand to see Harry Bright like that."
"Who knows him best?" Sidney Blackpool asked. "I mean, besides his family?"
"Harry ain't got no family," Billy Hightower said. "Lives alone in a little mobile home over the other side a Mineral Springs. Always invited me to visit him, but I wouldn't do that. I wouldn't want him to be seen with me. Told him I'd come for supper the first week after he had a lock on his pension. Then I wouldn't give a shit what people said to the mayor or the district attorney. He lived all alone. Divorced."
"Who knows him best?" Otto asked.
"That's easy," said Billy Hightower. "The other sergeant. Coy Brickman knows Harry best. He used to work with Harry at San Diego P. D. years ago. He's Harry's best friend, far as I know."
"One other thing," Sidney Blackpool said. "Earlier tonight we saw you drive your bike down toward the tamarisk trees where they found the Watson car. Why'd you do that?"
"The other day I saw that young cop O. A. Jones nosin around the canyon. I got curious if there was somethin new after all this time. Then today before it got dark, I was comin in from the post office and I saw another cop back there goin over the place. It looked like Coy Brickman, and I think, what is this shit? Then tonight I see your Toyota back there. I already heard all about you from the other night at the Eleven Ninety-nine."
"You don't miss much, Billy." Sidney Blackpool grinned.
"Mineral Springs ain't much, man. We reduced the size a our world considerably."
Suddenly they heard footsteps on the gravel outside and Billy Hightower held a thick finger up to his lips. He tensed, and then smiled and said, "Come on in, Shamu, you clumsy motherfucker, before somebody shoots you down like a coyote."
The door opened and a man entered who was just a little shorter than Billy Hightower. He weighed less than a tractor. He wore a Greek sailor's cap over black hair that could scour every griddle in the House of Pancakes. A gray-streaked black beard exploded from a grimy face studded with blackheads. He wore the inevitable boots and filthy denim. His belt buckle was turquoise and silver, about the size of a turkey platter. He wore turquoise and silver Indian rings on six fingers so scarred and bat
tered they looked like chunks of jagged coral. And he was drunk. Mean drunk with a wired look as though he'd been mixing booze and crank.
"Where's Gina?" he said, glaring at the two detectives. "Takin a shower," Billy Hightower said.
"In here, baby!" Gina yelled from the bathroom. "I washed my hair! I'll be right out!"
"What the fuck these porkers doin? Gina told me you sent her to bring em up here!"
"They ain't dope cops," Billy Hightower said. "They're workin on that murder where the Rolls was dumped in the canyon.
"Cops is cops," Shamu said, and he lurched sideways when he tried to lean on the doorjamb. "They all smell the same."
"Gina!" Billy Hightower yelled. "Come on out here and get Shamu home to bed. He ain't in a good mood tonight. How bout a beer, brother?"
"You got no right to bring em up here," Shamu said, and now he was glaring at Billy Hightower, his lip sullen and drooping.
"I use my own judgment," Billy Hightower said, his voice as soft and cool as a prison yard. "I'm the president.-
"You're a smart-mouth fuckin nigger that's jist gettin too big for your boots is what you are," Shamu said. "Where's my woman?"
"She ain't your woman, brother," Billy Hightower said. "She's her woman. She can do what she wants on this hill. With anybody she wants to do it with. Remember the rules.-
"GINA!" Shamu bellowed, as Otto waited for the windows to shatter.
Otto was one unhappy Hollywood detective a long way from home. Shamu looked like one of those Cossacks who only drank champagne so they could eat the glass.
The girl came out fully clothed, drying hair that now looked sandy instead of mousy brown.
"Get your ass home, you cunt!" the boozy giant said. "I din't tell you to come over here'n jump outta your clothes."
"I'm comin Shamu, just lemme get . . ."
He hit her so hard with his open palm that her body jerked sideways and knocked over a table lamp before thudding to the floor beside the sofa. She lay there weeping.
"You jist insulted me," Billy Hightower said, standing up very slowly. "You jist used violence in my house on one a my guests. You broke the rules.-
The bearded behemoth looked as though he wasn't mad anymore. He started to giggle, as though he was suddenly in a wonderful mood. He lowered his head and charged. The crash of bodies sent nearly six hundred combined pounds of outlaw flesh hurtling into the tiny kitchen, collapsing the table like a shoe box.
Both detectives leaped up and started to come to Billy Hightower's aid, but in the hug of Shamu, and writhing in pain, he yelled, "STAY OU'FTA THIS!"
Then the two bikers, grunting like grizzlies, staggered back into the living room where Shamu braced against the wall and got Billy Hightower in a very good choke hold.
"Jist . . . jist . . . like . . . like the cops do it!" he grinned, as he applied the forearm and bicep to Billy Hightower's throat, pinching the carotid artery.
Sidney Blackpool was making a move to use a kitchen chair on Shamu's skull when Billy Hightower took three short strangling breaths, puffed his cheeks, dropped his chin and clamped down on Shamu's hairy forearm with those huge broken teeth.
It took perhaps three seconds, but then Shamu began howling. He leaped away from Billy Hightower as if the Cobra leader was on fire. Billy Hightower, with Shamu's blood dripping down his chin, fell back against the wall wheezing and holding his throat.
"MY ARM. LOOK AT MY FUCKIN ARM!" the bearded biker roared.
There was a flap of skin and muscle hanging loose, and Otto Stringer thought he could see a tendon wriggling like a nightcrawler. Shamu was still staring in shock and pain at his ravaged arm when Billy Hightower drove his fist straight in like a saber thrust. He hit Shamu in the solar plexus and the giant crashed back against the wall blowing like an elephant. Then Billy Hightower did it again. The same shot in the same spot and Shamu's head shuddered and his teeth cracked shut like a trap and he genuflected. Then Billy Hightower stepped back and affected a grin with black blood-flecked lips and said, "Don't . . . don't never try to choke out a . . . a hard-core street cop!" Then he added, "I gotta . . . gotta mark you for this. Sorry, my man."
He took a step and kicked the giant in the side of the face with his boot. Shamu hit the floor like an anvil. Sounding like one lung had collapsed and the other was going.
"Shamu!" Gina cried, running to the fallen giant. "Baby, baby!"
"You guys better go now," Billy Hightower said. "I kin handle this."
There wasn't anything to say so they didn't try. Sidney Blackpool and Otto righted some of the overturned furniture as Shamu rolled over on his stomach. Attempting to kneel. Attempting to breathe.
"I kin do that," Billy Hightower said when Otto plugged in the lamp and put it back on the table.
The bearded biker was now braying in pain and sobbing, "Gina! Gina! I hurt!"
"I know, baby!" she said. "I know." Then she said, "Billy, help me get Shamu outside."
Billy Hightower grabbed Shamu around the belt, saying, "Okay. It's okay. I got ya. You're okay."
"I'm sorry, Billy," Shamu blubbered.
"I know," Billy Hightower nodded. "We jist gonna forgit all about it tomorra."
That was the last the detectives saw of them, the troglodyte and the tattooed girl, hobbling down the road to their shack where the shower didn't work but wasn't needed very often.
The detectives were standing in the darkness when Billy Hightower said, "Kin you walk back to your car? I ain't feelin too good."
"You oughtta go to a doctor," Otto said.
The outlaw biker shuffled bent and wounded toward the door. He turned and watched the detectives walking down the gravel road. It obviously hurt to speak but he said, "I . . . I didn't mind talkin to you guys tonight. Maybe some time we could . . ." Then he thought it over and shook his head and started to shut the door. But at the last second, just before it closed, he said, "This ain't a bad life. These people, they want me.
Chapter 13
OMENS
SIDNEY BLACKPOOL CHAIN SMOKED ALL THE WAY BACK to the hotel. Otto had to open the window to breathe, shivering in the night air that blew through the canyons.
"Making any sense yet, Sidney?" Otto finally asked.
"I dunno. Sometimes part of it does, then it doesn't."
"A dope dispute? Naw, we ain't talking big dopers. How about a straight rip-off by the Cobras? They set up the gay boys in the bar, bring them up to the canyon with a promise of low-priced crank and waylay them."
"Why two cars then? Why was Jack Watson in the Rolls and Terry and the marine in the Porsche?"
"Yeah, and why wouldn't Terry step up and tell his story right away if he saw somebody kill his pal? Especially after the reward was posted."
"Maybe he was already outta town by then. Anyway, Billy Hightower says he's sure his people didn't do it. Billy does seem to have effective interrogation methods."
"And what's Harry Bright got to do with it? And why's Coy Brickman nosing around out there now that we're stirring things up?"
"There's always the possibility that Terry planned the kidnap and ransom of his pal Jack with the help of Bright or Brickman," Sidney Blackpool said.
Should call this place Urinal Springs, you ask me," Otto said. "The whole place stinks, far as I'm concerned. It's like the city of Gorki, closed to foreigners. And we're foreigners, baby.-
"First thing tomorrow let's work on the uke. We'll call the manufacturer. See what they can tell us. I wonder how many music stores there are in this valley? Not many, probably."
"It's hard to imagine Harry Bright involved in a murder, ain't it?" Otto said.
"You never even met Harry Bright."
You re right. This place is making me goofy. It ain't real hard to think a Coy Brickman icing somebody down. Those eyes a his, probably the freaking buzzards got eyes like he's got."
"We gotta get this connection between Harry Bright and Coy Brickman. Maybe it started back in San Diego P. D. "What?"
; "Whatever might make one a them or both a them kill Jack Watson."
"We're getting real close to where I say we call Palm Springs P. D. and cut them in on this, Sidney. We coulda bought it tonight, if that creature from the black lagoon turned on us instead a Billy Hightower."
"Another day, Otto. Let's see how it develops after one more day."
"One more day," Otto sighed. "Wonder if it's too late for room service. I think I got me a live one after all. Something in my stomach just did a two and a half forward somersault, with a full twist."
Sidney Blackpool wasn't able to sleep. A double shot of Johnnie Walker Black didn't help a bit. He could hear Otto snoring in the other bedroom.
He tried the technique taught by the police department to reduce stress. He concentrated on his toes, feet and ankles, gradually working up until his shoulders and. neck and jaws began to relent. Sometimes he imagined himself in a meadow or in a solitary cottage in an isolated valley. Tonight he thought of lying on a blanket under a tamarisk tree, the shaggy branches wafting like an ostrich fan as his body contour settled into the warm sand. He slept soundly until just before daybreak when he had a dream.
It was a joyous dream, a triumph, a wonder. Of course, the dream took place before Tommy died. In the dream, Sidney Blackpool was alone, ankle deep in cool sand, atop the tallest dune in the desert. Though it wasn't particularly hot in the desert he was pouring sweat from every pore. It was morning and yet there was no sun anywhere on the horizon. The moon was translucent white, and directly overhead. There were a few clouds scudding in the wind. It was a Mineral Springs kind of moaning wind and he was being sandblasted so badly he thought his flesh might tear, but he dug his feet deeper into the sand until it gripped his ankles like concrete. He believed that nothing could blow him off the dune.
He could hear the savage ocean surf crashing against the Santa Rosas on the far side, and some of it even lapped over the top of Mount San Jacinto and splashed down toward the tram car.
The Secrets of Harry Bright (1985) Page 20