‘Right there’s Mary Ann,’ said the woman, pointing.
Malcolm turned. A yellow Volkswagen Bug was turning into the driveway. At that moment his cell chimed. Steve.
‘Hey, buddy,’ Steve said. ‘Heard you were looking for me.’
‘I was.’
‘Abbie said something about me being in danger.’
Malcolm watched as a dark-haired woman, a little chubby, got out of the Volkswagen. ‘Sorry. I was being an asshole. I was trying to get hold of you, and I figured that would get her attention. I had a couple more questions for you – want to meet up for coffee, maybe at that Denny’s?’
‘Sure thing. Let’s say in a couple, three hours? I’m with a client right now. I’ll get back to you on that.’
‘Okay,’ said Malcolm. ‘Fine.’
The woman went round to the back of the Volkswagen and opened the trunk. She took out a couple of grocery bags.
‘Wanted to talk to your wife,’ said Malcolm loudly into his cellphone although Steve was no longer there. ‘She’s right here in front of me. Okay, great!’
The woman turned and looked at Malcolm. ‘What?’
‘I’m a friend of Steve’s. Malcolm, Malcolm MacGregor. You must be Mary Ann.’
She smiled. ‘Yes.’
Malcolm walked over to the Volkswagen. ‘I’ve been trying to reach Steve, that’s why I’m here, and then he called me just now. Here, let me help you with those bags.’
He picked up the two biggest, one of which seemed to be mostly an economy size of Charmin toilet paper, and followed Mary Ann round the side of the house. Mary Ann balanced her bag and unlocked the door. He followed her into the kitchen, big and full of light. Geraniums bloomed in the window over the kitchen sink, amazingly lush.
‘You can set them right there,’ she said, pointing, ‘on the counter.’
He put the bags down where she said and noticed that up close the amazingly lush geraniums appeared to be polyester.
‘Nice place you have here,’ Malcolm said.
‘Now I know who you are,’ said Mary Ann. ‘The investigator. That poor woman sitting in that empty house all alone all night. What a stupid trick. Honestly, some people. But Steve’s enjoyed meeting you. He doesn’t know any policemen.’ She smiled, dimples flashing. ‘I guess it’s kind of a vicarious thrill.’
‘Well, your husband’s quite a guy himself. I noticed his trophy over at the office. Wow, I was really impressed. He got any more of those?’
Mary Ann laughed. ‘He’s so proud of that, but, wait – yes, he does have more. You haven’t seen the half of it. Come on, let me show you.’
He followed her into a big room, a den, fireplace on one side and on the other a glass case with a display of medals.
‘Wow,’ said Malcolm ‘How’d he get all these?’
‘The military. He trained as a sniper. He’s proudest of that one,’ said Mary Ann, pointing to the one in the middle. ‘It’s for expert shooting. It’s the highest you can go in the military.’
‘How long you guys been married?’ Malcolm asked.
Mary Ann almost, not quite, blushed. ‘Two years. My first husband died a few years ago.’
‘Carrie. Carrie Cooper. Does that name mean anything to you?’
Mary Ann shrugged. ‘No. Why? How?’
‘Someone Steve might know?’
‘I don’t think so. He had a girlfriend once named Carrie, but not Carrie Cooper.’ She paused. ‘I only heard about her through a friend of his. He never talks about her – I guess ’cause she broke his heart. Or not.’ She giggled. ‘Maybe he broke hers. I know Steve seems like a good old guy that nothing really bothers, but underneath he’s really sensitive. And now that I think about it, I’m not even sure her name was Carrie. I think it might have been Sally.’
‘That Steve,’ said Malcolm. ‘You know, when I was talking to him we found out we knew some people in common. I’m wondering, who was the friend that told you about Carrie – or maybe Sally?’
‘The friend? It was Randy, Randy Wells. But Steve called him Elephant.’ She giggled. ‘He was just a tiny bit overweight.’
‘Randy Wells!’ said Malcolm. ‘Elephant! Hey. I think I know him too. You got a number for him?’
‘I’ve got a number. It’s his cell.’ She recited it, and Malcolm put it in his contacts. ‘He calls Steve all the time. He lives in the City. They were friends from years ago.’
‘Well,’ said Malcolm, ‘I’d better run. I’m very impressed with those medals, by the way. I’ll have to tell him. We’re meeting for coffee a little later.’
Mary Ann laughed merrily. ‘What? You’re going to drive to Phoenix?’
‘Phoenix?’
‘That’s where he is. He said he was going to meet you for coffee?’
‘Yes.’
‘Don’t take it wrong; he’s really a joker, you know. He’s at some real estate thingy. He was kind of in a hurry; it was a last minute decision. He left last night. He’s at the Something Garden Resort.’
‘Desert Garden?’ said Malcolm.
‘That’s it.’
‘A real estate thingy. Like what? A conference?’
‘Sure. I mean, probably. He goes to them all the time. Give him a call and ask him. Now, what was it you wanted to ask me?’
‘What?’ said Malcolm. His cell gave a little blip, text coming in. He ignored it.
‘You told Steve on the phone, I heard, you said you wanted to talk to me.’
‘Oh, that. Never mind.’
He called Steve, back out in the rental car. There was no answer. Then he called Frank Cruz of Mesa PD and reached him at his home number.
‘Mac! Hey! Where you at?’
‘New Jersey.’
‘Of course.’
‘What’s up with you?’ Malcolm asked. ‘Are you busy?’
‘I’m just torturing a few illegals, then I thought I’d have some breakfast.’
Breakfast. It was three hours earlier in Arizona. ‘Look, could you check out something for me? See if there’s a real estate conference at the Desert Garden Resort and, if there is, see if there’s a guy named Steve Anderson registered. Then get back to me as soon as you can.’
‘Sure thing.’
He called Kate again; no answer there. He called information and got the number for the Dudley Natural Foods Co-op. It rang and rang, then a recording came on. It didn’t open till nine thirty. More than an hour away.
Damn, damn, damn.
He called the number for Randy Wells, but of course no one answered there either. Just in case, he texted Kate:
Know anybody called Randy Wells aka Elephant?
He was booked on a flight late tonight, red-eye special. He needed to get back there sooner. Airport. Standby. Son of a bitch. He hit the steering wheel hard as he could.
FORTY-THREE
Steve knew plenty of people at the Desert Garden Resort. Even though he hadn’t slept all that much last night, he was up and about at seven a.m. – which, after all, was ten a.m. his time – having breakfast at the long breakfast bar set up specially for the conference with overcooked scrambled eggs, dry bacon, burnt coffee, waffle batter and an assortment of tiny boxes of cereal. He filled his tray, took it to a tiny table, sat down.
‘Hey, Steve, buddy, didn’t know you’d be here. How’s it hanging?’
Steve looked up. ‘Ron Partridge, Madison, Wisconsin! Hey, hey, hey. How are you, man?’ Ron Partridge was a bore.
‘Good good. And you?’
‘Fine.’ Steve crunched a slab of bacon, for some reason thinking of the movie Groundhog Day. He edged away with his tray and spotted someone else he knew across the room: Samantha Crowley from Duluth, Minnesota. He waved in a desultory fashion and she waved back.
He was thinking:
One – see at least three people who know me.
Two – pick up name tag.
Three – good to go.
He’d promised himself when the whole thing with Carrie went down tha
t he would make her pay. He’d loved her, he’d treated her well, and she had dumped him like he was nothing, nobody, and for who? A fucking insurance salesman. He’d waited for his revenge. He knew he had to wait until everyone had forgotten he and Carrie even knew each other. He thought about it all – how things had seemed to work out, then how things had screwed up. Kate. He couldn’t believe it! Kate, of all people, walking down the street in Dudley. One-date Kate.
‘I’m sorry,’ she’d said. ‘I’ve forgotten your name.’
She’d recognized him all right, just didn’t know why, out of context like he was, but she might remember, any time. He hadn’t been able to take that chance, still couldn’t.
He headed out to the parking lot, got into his rental car. Three and a half hours to Dudley. Three, if he really stepped on it.
‘Kate, Kate. Hey, Kate, wake up.’
Kate opened her eyes. Dakota was standing there.
‘What?’ Kate said.
‘It’s almost nine.’
‘Nine?’ said Kate. She had a terrible headache.
‘You said you were working today. And you’re usually up by eight. I didn’t want you to oversleep. I have to run some errands.’
Kate showered slowly, even though she was running late, still trying to take in the fact that Rick and Hannah had been seeing each other long before she’d thought. All that time with Rick before Hannah showed up was now meaningless. Out of the shower, she saw it was close to nine thirty. She picked up her cell to call the Co-op, but it was completely run down. She’d meant to charge it last night and had forgotten completely.
The hell with it. The hell with all of it. She got dressed quickly, walked to the Co-op. She was only slightly late, and as she walked in the door she realized she’d left her cell behind on the kitchen table.
Three hours later, a tall blonde with bright-red lipstick and big dark sunglasses sauntered down Main Street, peering into the shop windows. She wore black capri pants, a black baggy T-shirt and carried a big red straw tote. She sauntered down a side street, passed the Silver King Hotel, took another turn, and there it was, the Dudley Natural Foods Co-op. A sign in the window said ‘SB1070’ with a slash across it. Another sign: ‘Humanitarian Aid Is Never a Crime’.
So, so, so, so, so, so politically correct. The sun shone on the big plate-glass window, reflecting back an image of herself. She touched her hair, adjusted the sunglasses, went inside. A hippy- looking guy, so, so, so 1960s, was at the cash register. It was two thirty p.m.
‘Afternoon.’ She was using her southern accent, the one she’d used when she played Blanche DuBois in, oh my God, high school.
‘Afternoon,’ he said. ‘Let me know if you need help.’
She nodded, not wanting to chance too much conversation. She drifted through the store knowing there was nothing here she would buy, just looking. Looking for Kate.
And there she was near the back, talking to some young guy. Satisfied, the woman with the big straw tote bag, heavier than you might expect for something made of straw, turned away and headed for the door. The Co-op hours were posted on the outside: nine thirty to six thirty. Now she would have to wait a while. No rush. Wait and watch. She had all day and into the evening. Evening was maybe best.
Not like last time. This would be close quarters, quick, before any possible witnesses would even know what was happening.
‘Have a nice day,’ the hippy guy called after her.
‘You too!’
The Co-op phone rang.
‘God,’ said Posey from the back. ‘That phone’s been ringing all day. Oh shit. Before I forget, someone called for you, Kate, right before you got here this morning. I’m sorry, we got busy and I just plain forgot.’
‘Who?’ asked Kate. ‘Did they leave a name?’
‘It was a guy, that’s all I know.’
Malcolm, mostly likely. She’d left her cell at Dakota’s. She got off work at seven. It could wait until then.
It was fantastic to be out on the street. The man with the scruffy beard, Hawaiian shirt and straw fedora sauntered casually down the Gulch, a tourist, anonymous. Well, kind of. The shirt and fedora said something; something cool, he thought. Nineteen fifties, maybe – hep cat hipster from the Islands. He loved the 1950s, loved them madly at that moment in time walking down the street in the year two thousand and something.
There were the zoot suiters too; those guys in the big suits with the enormous shoulder pads. Was that the fifties?
Chico reached the end of the Gulch and took a right, over towards the grassy park at the Mining Museum. It would be so sweet to sit on a bench and watch everything go by. He felt it coming – a change in his life. Not, of course, this obvious one, but one more subtle. No more crucified baby dolls. Something new, something different; he wasn’t sure what, but he could feel it coming. But, wait, it would be even sweeter to sit on a bench with a newspaper. It would be kind of a shield, plus it was a symbol of the old days when people sat on benches and read newspapers.
He stopped in at the Copper Queen lobby and picked up a copy of the Arizona Daily Star. Amazing how light it was; the poor old paper was dwindling fast. He carried it out into the sunlight again, down the steps to the grassy park where he took a bench. Cars and pickup trucks went by on the street; he heard the wail of a police-car siren far away on the highway that bypassed the town.
A couple passed him by, youngish, trailed by a small boy.
‘Ethan, come on,’ said the woman.
He looked at Ethan in sympathy, looked past Ethan at a tall blonde woman in the act of removing a pair of sunglasses. She held them up to the light, then took a tissue out of her red straw tote and began to polish them.
She looked familiar in a vague way. Something stirred in Chico’s mind. Familiar in a vague, important kind of way. Why was that? She certainly wasn’t a local. In spite of the bright-red lipstick and the blonde hair, one thing he thought for sure – she was ugly. She was one ugly lady. He’d seen her before, had thought the same thing, but where, where? She put the sunglasses back on and sauntered past him.
Then he remembered. Shit.
He waited until she was about a block away, nearing the post office, then he stood up and began to follow her.
FORTY-FOUR
‘You look tired,’ Windsong said to Kate out on the sidewalk after they finished up. ‘I can give you a ride – I brought my old truck today ’cause I’m helping a friend move out. He lives pretty close to Dakota’s.’
Kate got in. She was tired today, hadn’t fallen asleep till late, late, late, thinking about Hannah and Rick. Everything in the world just seemed fucked up. She had no idea what she was going to do with her life, and that seemed particularly pressing right now – making some sort of decision, though about what she didn’t even know. She sighed.
‘Cheer up,’ said Windsong as they bumped along in the pitted streets of old Dudley, tax base a bit small for excessive road maintenance. ‘Things could be worse, or they could be better – it’s a draw, so why bother even thinking at all, that’s my motto.’
‘God,’ said Kate, ‘you’re so sickeningly emotionally healthy.’
He pulled into Dakota’s. ‘I’m kind of worried about you,’ he said.
‘Why?’
‘Dunno. You take care. Maybe I’ll stop by a little later, make sure everything’s all right.’
Kate was touched. ‘Sure,’ she said, ‘if you like.’ She got out and waved goodbye. She went inside.
‘Dakota?’ she called. ‘Are you there?’
No answer.
But there was her cell lying on the kitchen table. She picked it up. Several calls, all from Malcolm. One text message. She was about to read the text when the phone rang. Malcolm.
‘Hello?’
‘At last,’ said Malcolm. ‘I’ve been trying to reach you all day.’
‘I left my cell at Dakota’s when I went to work. Sorry.’
‘Where are you now?’
‘At Dakota�
�s. Just home from work. Where are you?’
‘I just turned off the I-10 at the Sierra Vista exit. So I’m about forty-five minutes away. Listen, I found out some funny stuff about the realtor.’
‘The realtor? Are you kidding? Abbie?’
‘No, no, the guy. You never met him, as far as I know. Steve. Steve Anderson. Ring a bell?’
‘No.’
‘Shoot. I was hoping it might. He’s a trained sniper.’
‘What?’
‘It has to be connected somehow. Trained snipers don’t come by every day. Could be, he had it in for Carrie, and by extension Wes, ’cause of some failed romance, or it’s a possibility he was hired to kill Carrie and Wes. Don’t know by who. Maybe Polly Hampton.’
‘My God.’ Kate sat down on a kitchen chair. ‘What does this have to do with me?’
‘That’s what I can’t figure out. But look, Kate, he has to be the one who lured you back to New Jersey.’
‘But how did he know those things? About Ellen.’
‘Could have read that interview that I read, the one online where you talk about the Ooblecks. Researched all of you and picked the one that was dead to lure you to the house.’
‘It just doesn’t make sense!’
‘It has to – I’m working on it. Look, he’s supposedly at a conference in Phoenix right now, but he could be in Dudley. I’ll be back soon, but I want you to be careful. Stay away from the windows, lock the doors. I’ll be back as fast as I can get there. I stashed my gun in my truck when I left it at the airport, so it’s with me now, and I can be at Dakota’s straightaway.’
‘Your gun,’ said Kate faintly.
‘My gun.’
‘At least,’ said Kate, ‘Biker Bill should be around. Let me see if I can tell if he’s home without leaving the house.’ She went to the window, peered out. His motorcycle wasn’t parked in the driveway. But still, he could be back any minute.
‘Is Dakota there?’ Malcolm asked.
‘No. I don’t know where she is. I can call her.’
‘Do that. Tell her to stay put, wherever she is. Okay? Just for a little while.’
‘Did you text me?’ said Kate.
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