I spent five minutes more thinking about my scenario. Unless it really had been an accident there weren’t many alternate ways Karen’s car could have been sent down the side of a steep cliff.
The tone of my cell phone brought me out of my speculating.
‘It’s Bromfield.’
‘You going to earn your two hundred?’
‘I just wanted to make sure you’d heard about Karen Foster.’
‘Yeah, I have. In fact, I’m in the hospital parking lot. She’s been in surgery for three hours.’
‘I’m doubting you think this was an accident.’
‘Do you?’
‘Hell, no, I don’t. And neither do a couple of the other officers I talked to tonight. One of them said that Showalter’s out at the casino pouring them down.’
‘What kind of car does Karen drive?’
‘Silver Camry, a couple years old.’
‘Is it hard to get into Watson’s?’
‘Not if you’re a cop.’
‘Think I could get sworn in right away?’
‘No, but I can meet you there in about twenty minutes. You know how to get there?’
‘Three blocks east of the station?’
‘Right. See you there.’
I’d paid him way too little. If Showalter ever found out he’d helped me to this extent, Bromfield would be out of a job. Or given what Showalter had probably done to Karen tonight, he could lose a lot more.
Thirty-Five
Watson’s Garage turned out to be part salvage yard, part repair shop, part gas station. Even this late at night mechanics were working in the bays and the open office door was noisy with rap music and yellow light.
I waited in my car just inside the drive. I assumed that before they let me examine the car Bromfield would have to introduce me.
Bromfield showed up about ten minutes after I arrived. He beeped and waved me on to follow him. We ended up parking directly across from the office.
As I got out of my car, the air was rich with the scents of gasoline, motor oil, welding and that accrued mixed aroma of dying and death peculiar to metal beings consigned to salvage yards.
Watson’s was prosperous enough to have two large, long trucks of the flatbed variety sitting side by side near the wall of cyclone fencing.
‘This is a big operation,’ I said.
‘You can grow fast when the city council gives you all its business.’
‘That’s what the woman at the hospital told me.’
‘If the state boys ever spent any time here seeing how this place is really run there’d be a whole lot of people doing a perp walk, believe me.’ Then, ‘This shouldn’t be any problem. Bobby Marie works the night shift. She’s the female equivalent of the good ol’ boy, right down to the chewing tobacco.’
‘Wow.’
He laughed. ‘Yeah. Wow. And she likes rap music.’
I was still trying to process all these warring personality elements when we stepped inside and I saw a peroxided thirty-something woman with an enormous bosom packed into a pink T-shirt with the photograph of a rapper on it. She was actually pretty, in a kind of fierce way. The makeup had been put on with a paint roller and the T-shirt was ready to burst, but if you just focused on the large blue eyes you saw intelligence and kindness, even if the cobra tat on her left arm said otherwise.
The rap music was deafening.
Bromfield had to half shout. ‘How’s your little girl, Bobby Marie?’
‘I’m thinkin’ of putting her in another one of those tiny tot beauty pageants.’
I’d once seen a documentary on those things. How the producers of the shows ripped off the parents and how the parents — especially the mothers — turned their innocent little daughters into frightened participants in a nightmare of exploitation. Mothers screaming at their daughters when they didn’t perform well; mothers even slapping already neurotic and scared little daughters.
I had my nice liberal speech all ready to go, but I decided that this probably wasn’t the best time to give it.
Then, ‘Just a sec.’ She turned the music way down. ‘Who’s he?’
‘A friend of mine.’
‘He got a name?’
‘Dev Conrad,’ I said.
‘You a cop, too?’
‘Afraid not.’
A true cackle. ‘Good, ’cause I can’t stand cops.’ To Bromfield, ‘So what can I do you for, Officer?’
‘Just wanted to check out a car that was brought here earlier tonight.’
‘That’d have to be that Foster gal’s. Only one we’ve had all day we had to tow.’
‘So I’d just like to look it over.’
‘Why?’
‘Why? You trying to bust my chops, Bobby Marie?’
‘No can do. Got orders that nobody sees it.’
‘Orders? From who?’
‘The boss. Gil called me even before they brought it in. Said Showalter called and said nobody was allowed to inspect it. And he meant nobody. Little Bobby Marie’s smart enough to know when the man who owns the place tells you nobody inspects it, I need to make sure that nobody inspects it.’
‘I’ve never heard of this before.’
‘Tell you the truth, neither have I. And I admit it’s kind of weird, but right now there isn’t a damned thing I can do about it.’
Bromfield shrugged and looked at me.
I shrugged right back.
Bromfield said, ‘Bobby Marie, you sure you couldn’t just give us a couple of minutes to look it over?’
‘Oh, I could. But the old man’s scared he’s gonna get laid off and my little daughter’s next pageant dress is gonna cost me a lot more than the last one, so I just can’t take a chance. If my old man gets laid off and Gil decides to fire my ass, my whole family’s in a world of hurt.’
I said, ‘Well, we appreciate your time. Sorry you can’t help us.’
Suspicion colored her voice for the first time. ‘Gil said somebody from Congresswoman Bradshaw’s campaign might stop by and try to see it. And right now I’m betting you’re that man.’
‘Yeah, I am.’
‘Well, mister, it’s nothing personal but you best scat out of here. Soon as you’re gone I have to call Gil and tell him you were here.’
We ended on that cackle of hers. ‘I’d say Showalter don’t like you too much, you know what I’m sayin’?’
When we were walking to our cars, Bromfield said, ‘Man, Showalter’s got this town sewed up tight. Bobby Marie isn’t usually scared of anybody.’
‘It’s time I talk with Showalter.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean I’m going out to the casino and calling him out on it. It’s way past time.’
He caught my elbow. ‘That’s a trip I can’t afford to take.’
‘I know.’ My smile was intended to make us both feel better. ‘But I’m sure you’ll hear all about it.’
Thirty-Six
Casinos always remind me of being on cruise ships.
They are self-contained and claustrophobic, filled with amusements that almost always disappoint. And if you’re not careful they can be dangerous.
Another point: they take as their icon Las Vegas, Nevada.
I’m occasionally dragged out there for a convention. There was even one would-be client who wanted to meet in Vegas. I backed out two days before the meeting. Vegas was bad vibes.
The Empire Casino was standard stuff. Just inside the four glass doors there was a long list of all the gaming machines (twelve hundred in total) and table and poker games (thirty total). There were, in addition, five hundred seats for bingo.