by Jack Lynch
“What are you doing for him?”
“Trying to trace a guy who skipped town owing him some money.”
“How much money?”
“Eighty thousand dollars.”
“What the hell kind of swimming pool does this Trench build?”
“It was more than one. The guy who skipped was a housing developer. Trench put in several at a tract cluster in Sonoma County. That’s north of San Rafael.”
“What’s the name of the missing developer?”
“Virgil Graham. At least that’s the name he used in Sonoma. He’s supposed to have relatives here.”
“Have you talked to the local police?”
“No. I just got into town.”
“What were you doing out at Ma Leary’s?”
“I was thirsty. It was the first open place I saw on my way in.”
“Why did you crunch Kenny’s windpipe?”
“He’d already smashed in the face of one of Ma’s girls. He was about to stick a burning cigarette on one of Ma’s sensitive places.” I nodded in the direction of Mottle-face. “That was all after this guy here told Lou to keep Kenny from handling the help.”
Slide frowned at Mottle-face. The tall gunman raised his palms.
“I didn’t know what sort of beef it was,” I continued. “But Kenny seemed a little out of control. So I stopped him.”
Slide stared at me for a long moment, then bought it. “Okay. Do you have any complaints about the way you were treated here?”
“Of course not.”
Slide nodded to Mottle-face, who came over and unlocked the handcuffs.
“Get going,” Slide told me, shoving my wallet across the desk.
I opened it and counted the money.
“Don’t you trust me?” Slide asked. The cat squawked at being shifted around.
“I want my pistol, or I might have a complaint about the way I was treated here.”
Slide snorted. “It wouldn’t matter much whether you did or not.” But he took out my .45, removed the magazine and shoved it across the desk. I tucked it back under my shoulder and left.
Up in my room I found my bag had been opened and gone through. I closed it up and took the elevator back to the lobby. There I told the clerk to give me back my dollar for membership in the Monopoly Lounge, because I hadn’t found it satisfactory. He gave it back. I went out and got my car and drove over to the next block and parked it. From under the front seat I took out a spare magazine for the .45, locked the car and walked back to the Sky Lodge. There was a loading dock around back next to the parking lot. I went in and worked my way through the kitchen and service area until I found a stairway that led up to the mezzanine. I walked around until I found Slide’s office and knocked softly. It opened and I went in with my gun out. Mottle-face was the only one still there with Slide. I told him to take a hike and locked the door behind him. Then I told Slide to move out from behind the desk and to sit in the chair I’d been in and put down the fucking cat and keep his hands in his lap.
He did all that, then told me grimly, “You’re a dead man.”
I settled on the edge of his desk. “Not yet.”
The cat came over and jumped up on the desk to nuzzle me. It was a fickle cat.
“Why did you come back?”
“I have a job to do. Because of Soft Kenny and my beating, I can’t do it subtly any longer. There isn’t any swimming pool contractor named Arlington Trench.”
“I might have known.”
“How did you connect me with the Truck Stop?”
“Lou described you. Frenchy on the desk spotted you. We have a TV monitor in the bar. We all agreed you fitted the description.” He made a gesture with one hand. “Maybe we should have asked some questions before jumping on you that way.”
“That’s not why I’m here. Why the rally with all the boys out at Ma Leary’s?”
“Ask her.”
“I did. She doesn’t want to talk about it.”
“I figure you to be working for her.”
“No. I’m working for Armando Barker.”
“The one’s the same as the other.”
“Not the way they tell it. And if I were working for Ma, Soft Kenny would have a bullet in his belly.”
He thought about that for a moment. “Then there’s no need for you to learn why the boys busted up her joint.”
“I’m not sure. Anyhow, I like to get the feel of a new town I’m working. I’m beginning to get a pretty good idea about this one, but I’d like you to tell me some more about it.”
“Ma’s is a sleazy operation. It could give the town a bad name.”
“Illegal gambling and whoring? I don’t see that it’s much different from what you have going on downstairs.”
“It’s more than that. We’re trying to make this a nice tourist town. Get a little spillover from Vegas. We keep it clean. No mob elements.”
“Who were those guys who tore apart Ma’s place and beat up on me, the Welcome Wagon?”
“That’s different. They’re just temporary manpower working day rates. They won’t be around long.”
“How long?”
“However long it takes.”
“What takes?”
“Closing up the truck operation.”
“What have you got against truckers? They like a good time the same as anyone else.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about.”
“What are you worried about, Mr. Slide?”
“Things that would give the town a bad name. Look, Bragg, you’re sitting here in my office with a gun on me, but we both know it’s just a temporary situation. You’re in my town. Unless you know some way to make yourself invisible my boys would eventually find you, and at that time, so far as the rest of the world is concerned, you would indeed become invisible.”
“Knowing that, if you’re not cooperative, there’s no reason for me not to put a bullet through your head before I leave here.”
“You wouldn’t be apt to do that, or you wouldn’t have that photostat of a license in your pocket.”
“That’s only partly true.”
“Can I sit back at my desk now?”
“No. What is it that worries you? You never told me.”
“And I don’t think I will. Get it from Ma Leary or Armando.”
“I don’t think Armando knows or cares, except however it might affect his own privacy. That of course is why I’m here. Somebody’s been affecting his privacy in San Francisco.”
“I never get up that way.”
“Somebody from around here does.”
“So ask around.” He tilted his head in a speculative fashion. “Maybe he really is in the dark about things. Maybe instead of getting tough with me you should get tough with his partners.”
“He doesn’t have any. He gave Ma Leary a cash loan so she could buy the Truck Stop. But on paper the joint belongs to Ma.”
He shook his head. “She owes him money. He could still shoulder his way back into town if he wanted. And I’m not so sure that isn’t what he’s planning.”
“What makes you think that?”
“You being here.”
“That’s not why I’m here.”
“So you said. So whether you are or not, if Armando doesn’t know what’s going on over at Ma’s and out at the airport, he should. If he knows and doesn’t care, then it shouldn’t be any concern of his or yours what steps the responsible elements around town take to clean it out.”
“Responsible?”
“Exactly. Now that’s it, pal, scram.” He got up and went around to sit at his desk. “That’s a lot more than your big gun should have bought you. But if you’re at all leveling with me, it might be to my interest that Armando finds out how things are.”
“How did you and Armando get on when he was around town?”
“We had a cool and distant relationship. We tried not to get into each other’s way.”
“Did it work out that way?”
“Usually. Anyhow, that’s all past history.”
“I understand Armando and your brother had differences over a girl.”
Slide’s face turned wooden. “Yes, they did. But both Burt and the girl are dead now, and I don’t like to think about it. There’s the door, over there behind you.”
The cat stood on the desk and stretched, arching its back. They both were tired of me.
I checked into a motel where the Grey River came out of the Sanduskis, near the town bend where the business section gave way to residential. It was the convenient sort of location where you might drop out-of-town relatives and friends you didn’t want staying at your own place. The comfortably plump fellow with pipe and slippers at the registration desk didn’t particularly like the beat up look to my face.
“I tripped and fell down,” I told him.
He grunted. I paid for a night, got a waxed carton bucket of ice and carried my suitcase to the upper unit I’d requested. I didn’t like people walking overhead in the morning. The unit was comfortable. I got comfortable, cleaned up my face and got the traveling bottle out of my bag. I made an honest drink and stretched out on the bed to think about things. Then I decided that was a waste of time. I didn’t know enough to think about things yet. I looked at my watch. It was nearly one. But I’d been on Mountain Time since crossing the Nevada border. It was midnight back in San Francisco. Bobbie had asked me to call her when I settled in for the night. She said she would make whatever excuse was necessary to be at her own apartment instead of at Armando’s. I gently touched my throbbing ear. I would have to use the other one for the phone, but it would be nice to hear a friendly voice. I used my credit card and she answered immediately.
“Hi. Pete Bragg here.”
“Oh, wow. I’d about given up on you.”
“How come?”
“It’s late there. I looked you up on a map. Saw that it was an hour later there.”
“What did you look me up on the map for?”
“I like to keep track of my friends. You’re about the only friend that I have right now. So I want to keep extra good track of you. Okay?”
“Okay.” I smiled to myself and had some of my drink. I was as vulnerable to this sort of stuff as the next slob. I just tried not to show it.
“How are things going?” she asked.
“It’s an active little town. Been here the one evening and already seen one roadhouse torn apart by a gang of toughs, and been worked over some myself.”
“Worked over?”
“Beat up. I got some bruises around where you were tracing your finger last night.”
“Oh, Pete, that’s awful.”
“It could be worse. What’s happening up there?”
“Not much. Armando talked to the police some more. And he spent a long time on the phone with Beverly Jean. But I didn’t have to make any excuses to come home. He complained of a headache himself. I’ve been here since nine. Been thinking. Quite a bit.”
“What about?”
“Things. You and me. I’ll tell you when you get back. When do you think that will be?”
“It’s hard to tell. This town’s a lot more complicated than you’d think. It might take a couple days to sort it out. But you’ve made me curious. This thinking you said you were doing. About you and me. What’s that all about?”
“Oh, boy-girl stuff. Dumb things like that. I’d rather be able to reach out and touch you when I talk about it. You don’t think you could get back tomorrow, huh?”
“Afraid not. But about this boy-girl stuff. I enjoyed last night, Bobbie. I mean, really enjoyed it. But I’ve lived alone for a lot of years now. Kind of like it that way. A guy gets into a comfortable routine.”
“I know, Pete. I could tell. But I’m not asking you to marry me or let me move in, dope.”
“What are you asking?”
“I don’t know. But I think I’m going to quit my job with Armando soon. I mean, I won’t just run out on him when he’s in the middle of some big crisis. But later.”
The whiskey was beginning to make me feel better. It and the girl’s voice over the phone talking about nutty things was beginning to make the hurt go away.
“Pete, you there?”
“Yes, Bobbie. I’m here. Just relaxing. Enjoying myself, listening to you talk nonsense kid stuff.”
“It’s not nonsense. But you are enjoying it? Honest?”
“I’m enjoying it. Honest.”
“Good. I don’t know what sort of life you’ve been living—personal life, I mean, but I think you need a little sunlight in it.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Just the way you are. The way you were last night. I think you need somebody like me around once in a while.”
I rolled it over in my mind, and thought about the tug I’d felt toward Harmony on the spur of the moment.
“You could be right.”
ELEVEN
An eight-year-old fire engine with freckles and a high-pitched siren woke me up early the next morning making runs along the balcony outside my room. There was a small café attached to the motel. After breakfast I drove back down to city hall. I went up to the police offices on the second floor, showed my credentials and asked to see the chief. I was ushered into his corner office a few moments later.
Chief Merle Coffey looked like an out-of-shape cowboy. He was in his late forties, with sharp features that his sitting behind a desk so much had rounded off for him. Droopy eyelids presided over a brown, seamed face that had spent a lot of time in the desert outdoors. But that was behind him now. His khaki uniform shirt was open at the throat. He wore a T-shirt beneath that, and chest hair the color of steel wool climbed over its edge. The morning heat was beginning to shimmer on the foothills of the Sanduski mountains, framed in a big window behind his desk, but there was no shimmering heat inside the office. A heavy-duty air conditioner took up the lower section of a window on the other wall and pumped cold air into the room. It was a place where a fellow’s uniform and underarms stayed dry.
“What can I help you with, Bragg?”
His voice was flat with a slight twang, as if he’d come out from Indiana to make his fortune.
“I’m working for a fellow named Armando Barker. He lives in San Francisco now, but came from here. Maybe you knew him.”
“Oh, yes, I knew Mr. Barker.”
“Were you chief of police here then?”
“I was appointed while he was still here, yes. Does your investigation involve me?”
“No. It’s just that whenever my work takes me to a small town I like to become acquainted with the local law. Let them know I’m here and working.”
“Uh-huh. Well, I think you’ll find it a nice, peaceable little town.”
“It’s an unusual town, certainly.”
He sat silent and immobile.
“I was on my way into town last night when I stopped by Ma Leary’s Truck Stop.”
“Mr. Barker used to own the Truck Stop.”
“I know. There was a little ruckus there, along about eleven o’clock. A bunch of hard guys stormed through and pretty well tore apart the place. A little after that, when I drove into town here, I saw a small army of what appeared to be police officers in riot gear down below. They appeared to be waiting around for something to happen. After that I paid a visit to the Sky Lodge. Believe it or not, I saw a bunch of the same men who’d been tearing up Ma Leary’s place earlier. And I got it on good authority that they were hired muscle from out of town.”
He sat staring at me for long enough so that when he finally cleared his throat I almost jumped.
“Mr. Bragg, are you here to file some sort of complaint on Ma Leary’s behalf?”
“Nope. I don’t work for Ma Leary. I was just comparing what I’d seen last night with your own assessment that this is a peaceable little town.”
“It is, so far as I’m concerned. We received no complaint of any disturbances out at the Truck Stop las
t night, Mr. Bragg. I check the night log every morning, first thing. In fact, last night was pretty quiet. I can let you look at the log, if you’d like.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“As for the boys outside here last evening, they were our auxiliary police. This is turning into a tourist town, Mr. Bragg. We hope to make it even a bigger one. That means crowd control on holidays and certain other occasions. So we need a large auxiliary force, and I’m not willing to just slap a badge on a man’s chest and call him a police officer. No, sir. You just happened to come by on one of their training nights. I guess last night they were drilling riot dispersal. We have a lot of those federal LEAA funds to fight crime, you know, and in a nice little town like this it’s hard trying to figure what to spend it all on. Last year we bought a bunch of riot-control equipment. This year I don’t know what to get. Maybe a tank with a water cannon. Oughta be fun to train with.”
He got up and lumbered over to stare out the window, with thumbs hitched in his pants pockets. “I know nothing about strangers in town being at the Sky Lodge, but as I say it is a tourist town and we have a lot of strangers going through all the time. A lot of them like to stay at the Sky Lodge.” He turned back to stare at me. “I have an old-fashioned view about law enforcement, Mr. Bragg. I believe in underpolicing, if anything. I don’t go out of my way showing a lot of muscle. We got a town where people can have a good time, free of outside mob influence. We got a town where the citizens are secure in their homes and on the streets. No burglaries. No muggings. And as I say, we received no complaint last night from the Truck Stop. We never receive complaints from the Truck Stop. If we did we would respond. If we received too many complaints, of course, we might start looking on that operation as a public nuisance.”
“I see. Chief, I’m going to come right out and ask, how come state law enforcement people haven’t come down on this little town for all the whores and gambling hereabouts?”
“We have cordial relations with people in the state capitol. These things you mention are often more some people’s moral feelings than anything else. There are places all over this country where people gamble and exchange money for companionship. You must know that, Mr. Bragg. The people of this town have obviously determined that it adds to the flavor they want this town to have. I just try to see that the girls are honest, and that the gamblers are honest and that the cops stay honest too.”