He brought in the newspaper from the porch. It was Wednesday. Not a game day for Little League, not a practice day for his team. Rusty Ingles should be at work. Either he was an insurance salesman, or he had his own agency. Jaybird fumbled in his wallet and found the card. Yes, his own agency. Jaybird stared at the card, then at the video camera. The camera didn’t lie. Ingles was a damn pedophile; he fondled and jacked off little boys. Not a chance Jaybird was going to let him continue as a coach. He had to be eliminated. How?
Jaybird knew a blast from his trusty MP-5 would do the job. He lifted his brows. That was the first time he’d thought of killing the bastard. That was what Ingles deserved. How many of the team had he fondled since the practicing had begun? None of them must have told their parents or he’d be long gone.
Jaybird kept shaking his head. “That fucking bastard!” he exploded. He went to the second bedroom and took a .38- caliber two-inch-barreled revolver from the bottom drawer. He fitted it into a holster and strapped it on his left ankle. His pants covered it fully, and made it easy for him to draw it in a rush. He still didn’t like the idea of shooting the fucking queer pedophile. Something slower, much slower.
Black’s Beach. Jaybird grinned. Appropriate. Yeah. That was the nominally nude beach, where the city winked at nude swimming and sunning. It was hard to get to. You had to climb down the La Jolla cliffs on a treacherous trail, or walk down from Torrey Pines State Beach to the north. It was at least a two-mile walk and most people didn’t bother. Yes, the beach would be perfect.
He thought of calling Rusty and taking him out to dinner so he could talk about the team and get caught up on what they had been doing. No. He hated the thought of being with the damn queer pedo that long.
A drink and get caught up. Yeah. There was a bar in Del Mar called Harley’s. They would meet there at eight, have a drink, and then outside, he’d pull the gun and make Rusty get in Jaybird’s Chevy and they would drive. Jaybird had a folding military-type entrenching tool in his car that he used for getting out of sand traps. Perfect.
He made the call, got Rusty on the second try, and made the date for the drink. Rusty seemed relieved that Jaybird was home. Said he was going crazy trying to coach. He didn’t know the game that well. Jaybird told him he’d take care of that for him at the next practice tomorrow.
They met at eight o’clock. Jaybird was early, and stopped Rusty outside the bar. No sense being seen with him in the bar. Jaybird said it was too noisy in there to talk, so they went to Jaybird’s car to talk about the team. Once in the car, Jaybird pulled out the .38 and aimed it at Rusty.
“What the hell?”
“We’re going for a little ride, Rusty. I’ll explain on the way. You try to get out of the car, I’ll shoot you dead. That’s my job, killing people, and I’m good at it, so don’t give me an excuse.”
“Christ, man, what are you saying? We’re friends. We’re coaches.”
“Rusty, while I was gone, my video camera has been planted in the men’s rest room at the Little League field. Every time somebody talks in there, it snaps on and records until the sounds stop. Make you stop and think?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure, and there really is green cheese on the moon. You’re the star of the show, you fucking queer bastard pedophile. I saw you fondling one of the boys before I left. Now I’ve got you on tape, and I’ll be glad to turn it over to the Vice Squad and let them spread your face and your pedophile name all over the newspapers and TV news casts.”
Rusty gasped, then didn’t say a word as Jaybird drove down from Del Mar on the coast highway and took the road to Torrey Pines State Beach.
“Where the hell we going?”
“What difference does it make to you, child molester? You’re going to have fun in the water.”
“Hey, I don’t even swim good. I couldn’t keep up with you. You’re a damn SEAL.”
“True. You don’t have to swim.”
“Oh, thank God.”
“At least,” Jaybird said. He parked at the far end of the strip along the surf next to the slope down to the beach. His was the only car there. No late-night swimmers and no blazes going in the fire rings.
“Out of the car slowly. I can outrun you, so don’t try. I’d just as soon shoot your ass right here, but you might want to live a little longer.”
“Look, man. I’ll do anything you say. I’ll close up my business and move to another town. I’ll give up coaching. Anything you want me to do.”
“I want you to walk down to the hard sand and turn left and keep walking.” Jaybird carried the fold-up shovel in his left hand.
“Come on, Jaybird. I’ve been straight with you. It just happens now and then. I’m not a nut about it. Just a feeling I get and I got to do something about it. Like when you really need a woman.”
“Keep walking.”
They moved down the beach for thirty minutes, then were in the middle of Black’s Beach. Absolute privacy. Hundred-foot cliffs rose in back of the beach. The tide was out and coming in. There was no good access to the beach for three miles to the south and two miles north. As private as it could get and not a person in sight.
“Right here should be fine,” Jaybird said. Rusty turned toward him, and Jaybird hit him with a roundhouse right fist that knocked Rusty into the sand. Jaybird dropped on top of him, rolled him over, and bound his wrists and ankles with plastic riot cuffs he had used for years.
“What the hell? Jaybird, I don’t understand.”
“Right, you don’t understand. That’s why you fucked the little kids. But you won’t do that anymore.”
“I promise I won’t. Get these things off me.”
“No.” Jaybird watched the surf coming in. He was about halfway down where he could see high tide had been that morning. It would peak about midnight. Just right.
He moved in front of the pedophile and began to dig.
“What are you doing?” Rusty screamed.
“Didn’t you ever go to the beach and the kids covered you up with sand right up to your nose?”
“You can’t, you wouldn’t. For the love of God, Jaybird. I’m a human being here. Just one little quirk. That’s all, just one.”
Jaybird went on digging. The soft sand moved quickly. There was no water yet when he was two feet down. He dug a trench six feet long, then added another foot. It was three feet deep when the seawater started coming in. He rolled Rusty into the grave, then turned him over and pulled his shoulders to the near end so his head was just above the level of the sand.
Rusty was sobbing. “You can’t do this, Jaybird. You can’t.”
“Who the fuck is going to stop me? You’re just another vermin on this old planet that the SEALs have to wipe out. It won’t hurt much at first.”
Jaybird used his knife, sliced the plastic strip off Rusty’s ankles, and put it in his pocket.
“You keep your legs right there or I’ll club you on the head with the shovel. Got that?”
Rusty sobbed and nodded. “You can’t do this.”
Jaybird shoveled the sand back in the hole, covering up Rusty’s legs. Rusty pulled one leg out of the sand and Jaybird stepped on it, forcing it back down in the loose sand. By the time Jaybird had two feet of sand in the trench, Rusty couldn’t move his legs.
Jaybird took his knife and laid it along Rusty’s throat. “I should slash your carotid and let you bleed out. But not this time. I’m cutting off the band on your wrists. You let them move from your lap where I put them and I bash you with the shovel. Just like with your legs. You get it?”