“And you help Lucas, right?”
“I’m not allowed.”
It was a simple statement of fact, without moral judgment or sense of consequence. He’d been told not to unbuckle someone under restraint, thus he wouldn’t.
“Please,” I said.
“Let’s just play, Carson. Puppy wants to play. He likes you.”
“I don’t want to play, Freddy. I need to get the hell out of this bed!”
His face screwed up and he started crying.
“You’re acting like Lucas does sometimes. I’m leaving.”
He turned and stomped toward the door. I called at his back.
“Freddy, I’m sorry. I’m distraught.”
He turned, wiping an eye with a finger. “What’s distroffed mean?”
“It means I like you and want you and Puppy to stay.”
Freddy’s sudden smile was wet and lopsided. He ran to the bed. I let the puppet lick my face, bounce on my belly, bark at my toes. Freddy worked the puppet up my leg.
“Walking, walking, walking the doggie…”
I said, “Could you take another look outside for me, Freddy?”
His bottom lip pouted outward. “It’s way over on the other side of heaven, past the rooms where Miss Gracie lives. Do I have to?”
“It would make me happy.”
He sighed. “All right, Carson.”
He scampered away, returning moments later. He held up the puppet like it was talking. “ Rowf! There’s no cars over there now. Puppy says it’s empty.”
I wondered what time it was. Crandell had alluded to Dani being at Buck’s place near nine p.m.
“Do you know how to tell time, Freddy?”
He stared at the ceiling, remembering. “Miss Holtkamp said there are two hands on a clock, like on a person. The big hand-”
“Why don’t you look at a clock if there’s one around?”
“There’s one in Tyler’s room.”
“Let’s see if you really can tell time. I’m thinking you can’t.”
“Betcha I can.”
He was back in a minute. He held his arms out to indicate 7:40. “It’s seven and forty, ha-ha. Here comes Puppy, Carson.”
It was getting annoying, trying to think with the puppet slapping across my arms, chest, and face.
“How about you give Puppy a break for a few minutes, Freddy?”
Freddy kept up the licking and gnawing motion.
“I can’t stop him, Carson. Watch out.”
The sock puppet gnawed on the bedrail, licked at my arm. I started to again ask Freddy to stop, but heard his words repeat in my head: I can’t stop him.
Was Puppy an independent entity? Cold sweat prickled on my forehead. I kept my voice light and even and smiled at Freddy. I had one final shot at life, the strength of the fantasy of a retarded man.
“You’ve been told not to unbuckle the belts, right, Freddy?”
“Yup. Puppy’s licking your shoulder, Carson.”
I giggled, a happy guy. “You’re right to not unbuckle the belts, Freddy. But if you hadn’t been told not to unbuckle the belts, you could unbuckle the belts. Isn’t that right?”
“I had to be told not to do it. And like a good boy I do what I’m told. Lick, lick, lick.”
I took a deep breath.
“Freddy?”
“What?”
“Has Puppy been told not to unbuckle the belts?”
CHAPTER 47
Nautilus thundered into the jail. He looked in the holding cell where he’d last seen Shuttles; empty.
“Where’s Shuttles?” Nautilus yelled to a turnkey sipping a cup of coffee.
“Interrogation.”
Nautilus ran down the hall. He saw Doria Barnes, an assistant DA, sitting on a bench and sorting through papers. “I need to talk to Shuttles,” Nautilus said.
Barnes rolled her eyes. “Good luck. Mr. Shuttles is with his new attorney.”
“Who’s that?”
“Preston Walls.”
Nautilus growled and pushed through the door of the interrogation room. Shuttles was sitting in a chair at a small wooden table, Preston Walls beside him, nodding.
“Hey, Harry,” Walls said. “How you been keeping yourself?”
Nautilus ignored the attorney and stuck his face in front of Tyree Shuttles.
“What do you know about a location B?”
Walls put his hand on Shuttles’s back. Patted it. “My client has nothing to say, Harry. Sorry.”
“Shuttles just call you, Walls?” If Crandell knew Shuttles was in jail, it was all for naught.
“Minutes ago,” Walls said. “Evidently Mr. Shuttles knows of my expertise with the wrongly accused.”
Nautilus put his palms on the table, glared into Shuttles’s eyes.
“If I don’t find out where location B is, Carson could die. How’s that, Shuttles? There a glimmer of conscience in there anywhere?”
Shuttles looked away. Walls leaned back in his chair, flicked the tassels on his shiny Italian loafers, shoes as sleek as eels.
“Maybe we can come to a deal, Harry. Mr. Shuttles, if I’m given to understand the problem, was an unwitting pawn in someone else’s game. He might have unknowingly mishandled evidence, but that was an accident. In return for anything he might tell you, my client wants immunity from prosecution.”
Nautilus glared at Shuttles. “I doubt he knows where location B is anyway, Walls. He’s low level, a gofer.”
Shuttles nodded to Walls. The attorney walked over, listened as Shuttles whispered in his ear. Walls straightened.
“He perhaps knows pieces of what you need. He knows them inadvertently, of course, not as part of any crime or conspiracy. Maybe someone from the prosecutor’s office could talk deal? I believe Ms. Barnes is in the building.”
“I don’t think so,” Nautilus said. “I’m done here.” He walked from the interrogation room with Walls in his wake. He stopped at a water cooler a dozen feet down the hall.
Come on, Walls, come on…
The lawyer parked himself a few steps behind Nautilus, his voice wheedling. “Harry, we can make a nice deal here. The kid made some kind of mistake. He’s not even sure what. You got weight with the DA.”
Walls bargaining without even knowing what had gone down.
“Bye, Preston.” Nautilus wiped his mouth, started away.
“Harry, we can do something good here. I know it.”
Nautilus paused. “Do you know what Shuttles did? Who he’s working for?”
Walls puffed out a righteous chest. “My client asserts his innocence. And that, Harry, is all I need.”
Nautilus started down the hall. A dozen feet away, he turned his head over his shoulder, said, “Crandell.” Nautilus got three steps before Walls was in front of him.
“Christ. What did you just say, Harry?”
“The Kincannons have a pipeline into Shuttles for various ongoing necessaries. Crandell’s the intermediary. You ratted Crandell out to me, Walls, remember?”
Walls looked seasick. “Harry, I did no such-”
“I’m in contact with Crandell by e-mail. I’m gonna go write him back, remind Crandell of his old friend Preston Walls from Barton, Turnbull and Pryce. ‘Rabies sloshing under his pupils.’ That’s what you said about him, right?”
Walls’s flesh had turned the color of lard. Sweat peppered his forehead.
“You can’t do this.”
Nautilus clasped the attorney’s shoulder, gave it a gentle squeeze. “If Crandell doesn’t come to me, Walls, I bet he comes to you.”
Walls said, “Let me go talk to my client. Perhaps I can-”
“Lie to him, Walls. You know how it’s done. I’ll be right here.”
Five minutes later, Walls came through. Shuttles, apparently thinking he was showing good faith for a deal agreement, wrote a return message on a slip of paper.
Loc B cnfirm. 11 pm cnfirm. IO 50G to man in? Route per rehrsl. 90 min. Don’t frgt: IO 50Gs.
A confirmation of location B at eleven tonight, two hours; “I owe 50 grand.”
Shuttles also passed along driving directions. Not far, just on the north side of Mobile. Nautilus called Forensics, had Claypool send the message from Shuttles’s computer. He took out his service weapon, checked the clip, patted the two extras in his pocket. He’d get there early, scope out the territory. Wait.