Claudia got out of her ancient Honda Accord, walked along the gated entryway. A car pulled up to her left and she stepped to where she could see the driver’s fingers enter a code on the keypad. It looked like 2249. She stood, arms crossed, like she was waiting for a friend to pick her up, studying the far end of the street. She waited until the car had driven in, noticed that the crossbar fell almost immediately.
She got in her Honda and drove up. Tried the code of 2249. Didn’t work. She tried 2248. This time the cross bar creaked up and she quickly drove inside. She nosed into a visitor parking space near the community pool. She tucked her service revolver into her purse. Number twelve was Buckman’s. A single dim light glowed, a light left on in the kitchen. She pressed an ear to the door.
The soft fuzzy murmur of television. She rang the doorbell.
After a moment, the door swung open. A tall redheaded woman, pretty, wearing a T-shirt that said TOPAZ in glittery cursive, the T-shirt one size too tight. Loose jeans. And a loose look in her eyes, wine or beer or pot working its easy magic.
‘Hi,’ Claudia said. ‘My name is Claudia Salazar. I’m sorry to bother you so late in the evening, but I’m a freelance writer doing a book on Energis and I’m trying to get an appointment with Greg Buckman. His number’s unlisted, but a friend of his told me he lived here.’
‘He’s not here and he doesn’t talk about Energis,’ the tall redhead said. ‘Sorry.’ She started to close the door.
‘He’s been treated like garbage in the press. I want to fix that,’ Claudia said. The door stopped, the redhead watching her. ‘People at certain levels at Energis, their reputations have been savaged. They can’t get real work again. But they couldn’t have all known about the accounting abuses, because folks would have blown the whistle earlier, right? People like Mr Buckman were following orders. He didn’t really do anything wrong.’
The redhead gave a slight nod, surprised at this heartfelt monologue.
Claudia let a beat pass. ‘I want to tell that story. Defend the people who got their reputations assassinated, even though they never faced a criminal charge. That’s not the American way. They need a forum to clear their names.’
‘Out of the goodness of your heart?’ Now the gaze wasn’t so vacant, a little smarter.
‘Out of an interest in fair reporting.’
The redhead studied her. ‘I’ll see if he’s willing to call you.’
‘Are you his wife?’
‘Girlfriend,’ she said with a smile. ‘I’m Robin Melvin. Don’t misspell it in your book. Can you mention me in it? My mama would absolutely die.’
‘I’m sure you want Greg to have options in his life again, Robin. Go to work for another energy company, right? Command the respect and salary he had before.’
‘Yeah.’ Robin bit her lip. ‘That’d be nice.’ A stab of guilt touched Claudia’s heart for misleading Robin, but this seemed the shortest distance to the end.
‘Could you and I talk now? I’d like your insight on this; how it’s affected you. I can meet Greg face-to-face when he gets back. Make my case in person to him. I know talking about Energis is painful. But my book might be a big help to him. Let me fire a shot in his defense.’
Robin considered. ‘Well. Okay. You and I can wait for him. He should be home soon. You want a glass of wine?’
Claudia nodded and stepped inside.
The townhome was high-end, one of the nicest Claudia had ever seen, but Buckman’s furnishings were sparse. Clean. Minimal but expensive. A leather couch, an entertainment system with more controls than a flight simulator. A stack of DVDs. She glanced at the titles while Robin Melvin fetched the wine. It’s a Wonderful Life. Mr Smith Goes to Washington. The Sound of Music. Greeting-card movies, not what she had expected from a suspected killer. A long line of books on a shelf. All by Chad Channing. The Art of Be. Sail Through the Goal Posts of Life! I Make Me Happen. Self-help tripe. The books’ spines were all cracked and worn with handling.
Robin brought massive goblets of chardonnay, filled nearly to the brim, already sipping from one. ‘Oh, those,’ she said, seeing Claudia inspecting the books. ‘You can see how depressed he’s been, reading that junk. It lifts him up.’
She handed the wine to Claudia; a trickle sloshed onto Claudia’s hand. ‘Does it?’ Claudia asked.
‘It’s a comfort blanket,’ Robin said, ‘that guru whispering in his ear. It’s like a conscience-for-hire.’
‘This is a very nice place. What’s he doing now to keep the mortgage paid?’
Robin shrugged, sat down on the couch. ‘Consulting. Bucks’ got friends who keep him busy.’ A note of bitterness crept into her voice.
‘Bucks?’
‘That’s what his friends call him. Not too many people call him Greg.’
Claudia sat, took a sip of wine, unsure of what to do now. ‘Robin. In doing my research, I understand there were three of Bucks’ friends at the company who were murdered a few weeks before the Energis story broke.’
Robin nodded. ‘Horrible.’ But a new wariness was in her eyes.
‘Well, I’m sure that must have been very upsetting for Bucks. Did he ever say that anyone at Energis was involved?’
‘Like had them whacked?’
Whacked. Not killed. ‘Yeah,’ Claudia said. ‘Whacked.’
Robin took a solid gulp of her wine. Those guys were his best friends at work. Bucks was crazy with worry. I didn’t really know him well then. He and his friends frequented the place I work, I knew them as really good customers. After his friends died, well, I guess I felt tender toward Bucks, we started spending time together.’ She stopped, as though embarrassed about displaying this corner of her heart.
‘Where do you work?’
‘Club Topaz. I’m a stripper.’ Claudia liked that Robin said stripper, not entertainer, not exotic dancer. ‘But I’d like to finish college and sell real estate. I like big houses.’ She gave a little off-key laugh.
Claudia played her first card. ‘See, in my research, I’ve found who would have wanted those guys dead. And I don’t want to scare you, but Bucks might be in danger.’
Robin’s eyes widened.
‘There’s a crime ring in Houston, the Bellinis. They used to be Mafia up north. Have you heard of them?’
Robin grew very still and Claudia knew, suddenly, she had made a mistake. But better to press on, see it through. ‘The Bellinis benefited from the Energis double-accounting. They unloaded a lot of stock in the weeks before the stock fell.’ She made this up on the fly.
‘They’re not crooks,’ Robin insisted.
‘But the Bellini family owned a lot of Energis stock, and…’
‘So did lots of other people. If you lived in Houston, you owned Energis stock.’ It sounded like a platitude that Bucks had taught her. ‘Bucks went to school with Paul Bellini. I know Paul. He’s a super nice guy, he’s not a crook.’
‘His dad is. Or was.’
‘My mother is a beautician,’ Robin said. ‘You see me styling hair?’
‘Bucks worked with the three guys who got killed, and I’m wondering if he knew details that they knew. But he doesn’t know the information’s dangerous, you see, he wouldn’t necessarily know that the Bellinis were involved in the deaths.’ It was a neat little theory, constructed out of nothing, but she wondered if it would resonate with the young woman. A complete lie that had a terrible, recognizable possibility to it.
Robin frowned, the silence drawing out, and then a key slid into the front door.
‘He’s home,’ Robin said. ‘Why don’t you ask him?’
37
‘They shot me up,’ Gooch said. ‘To keep me quiet, then to get me talking. My arms feel like stone right now and a while back I had a conversation with Mahatma Gandhi. I’m pretty useless.’ He opened his eyes for a moment, closed them. He lay on the couch in Charlie’s house. ‘There’s a spiderweb up there Charlie needs to clean. Or am I hallucinating?’