“Some answers aren’t for sale, I think you know that. First beer is on the house, the rest depends on the questions.”
Ortiz nodded. “Fair enough. Some friends of mine have run into trouble. One is missing, probably dead, the other is in the hospital beat up pretty bad. His son is missing too. For the record, I don’t give a shit how many people sitting here were part of the little party in the parking lot that was arranged for Joe Cummings. I’m here to help my friends. I turned in my gun and badge today, there are no repercussions.”
The bartender nodded and scooped up the cash. “Okay, fire away. But I reserve the right not to answer any questions I don’t like, and to throw your skinny ass out of here if I really don’t like them.”
Ortiz grinned. Even though the bartender seemed shady and probably participated in all sorts of illegal activity, Ortiz liked him. “You’re the boss. All I want to know is if you’ve heard about anything strange happening around the lake.”
“Besides kids getting dead?”
Ortiz took a long pull on his beer. “Yeah, besides that.”
The bartender nodded slowly, taking Ortiz’s glass and topping it off. “Bugsy Cronin has been coming in talking to his crew about the lake. From what I gather he thinks something is killing some of the wildlife around there. His pals think he’s gone over the deep end, razzing him about it. He also said he met that Butcher guy and that he thinks he’s innocent. That didn’t go over well. Come to think of it, haven’t seen him around lately.”
“I don’t think you will. He disappeared out by the lake. I found his empty truck up on Hospital Hill.” He let that sink in, seeing by the look on the bartender’s face that this wasn’t new news. “Is there anything else? You probably hear a lot of shit, drunk talk and nonsense, but is there anything else you can think of?”
The bartender looked thoughtful for a moment, Ortiz’s plea seemed to break through the man’s suspicious and protective posture. Suddenly his eyes went wide. “Wait a minute, this might be something. A few nights ago, maybe a week now, the McCauleys were in here with a guy I’d never seen before. Old guy, looked like a veteran drinker but he was only having soda. By the end of the night, Jake McCauley was only ordering ginger ale too.”
He said this last part with such awe, and Ortiz knew why. He’d dragged Jake McCauley into the drunk tank himself on a number of occasions. Then his brain went into overdrive cop mode, referencing everything he knew about Jake McCauley. And there was the link he’s been searching for: McCauley was at the lake when one of the killings took place in 1961, he’d seen it in Crawford’s files. “This is important: what were they talking about?”
“They were talking about the lake! At one point I almost threw them out; Jake smashed a glass on the table and cut himself. Later, they all looked like they were crying. They kept it down for the most part, but they were definitely talking about the lake.”
Ortiz downed the rest of his beer and put two more twenties on the bar. “What did this other guy look like?”
The bartender reached for the money, but pushed it back toward Ortiz. “He was older, probably seventy, gray hair. Had the look of someone who didn’t have it easy: I know that look, I see it a lot. Check Betty’s, I think I heard he’s staying there. Oh, and Chris was in earlier. Had a beer and left, never said a word.”
Ortiz reached across the bar and shook the man’s hand. “I appreciate everything, you may have saved some lives.” He turned and left the bar, leaving the cash behind.
(91)
Greymore knocked loudly on the screen door, waited a few seconds and knocked again louder. He glanced at Julie and could only imagine the terror and confusion he saw on her face mirrored on his own. But yours will be a train wreck of scars and look so much worse. Before he could push the thought from his head, the door opened and he was staring into the empty eyes of Janice O’Brien. For a moment he didn’t think she was going to acknowledge him, but then her eyes seemed to focus.
“Hello, Julie. And you must be Mr. Greymore? I’m Janice O’Brien, so nice to meet you.” She held her hand out.
Paul grasped it gently, unable to take his eyes from hers. Did I imagine the look I just saw? The one that I see in the mirror most days? “My pleasure, Mrs. O’Brien. We are looking for Denny and Billy, are they here?” Her eyes changed again and her face slackened and Paul knew he hadn’t imagined anything. This was a woman barely able to keep it together. He glanced at Julie and she just shrugged.
“They aren’t here, they went for a hike. Trying to stay out of the heat.”
Paul’s stomach flipped and his legs went loose on him. Then he heard the roar of an engine and the screech of rubber. The engine cut out. They were either at Cummings’ or Greymore’s, time to move. He took a deep breath, looking again into the eyes of Janice O’Brien, not the ghost of her. “How long ago did they leave?” He was barely able to keep his voice from shaking.
“I think… I don’t know. I sometimes lose track of time…” Her voice trailed off and Paul could see the confusion in her eyes. Then the eyes grew wide and alert again. “I told them to stay away from the old army base. They said they would but I think that’s where they went. Why would they go there? I told them it’s dangerous. My own father…”
He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. “Julie and I will go get them and bring them home. I promise.”
She looked at him for a moment as if she had never seen him before. Then she looked at Julie. “The trail starts right behind the yard, you know it Julie?”
“Yes, Mrs. O’Brien. We’ll be back soon, okay?”
She only stared, her focus gone. Paul heard the 351 engine explode to life and mag wheels spinning on the dirt road. He looked at Julie, urging her with a look that it was time to go. Then there was a firm hand on his arm.
“Wait, just one minute?” Then Janice was gone, the screen door slamming.
Paul glanced nervously down the hill, expecting the Mustang to come screaming into view. Then the screen door squealed open and Janice was handing him a flashlight.
“If they did go to that godforsaken place, you’ll need this.” Her eyes now shone with conviction. “Bring them home safely. Please.”
Paul nodded, then grabbed Julie by the arm and ran around the house to the yard. Behind them, the Mustang’s engine grew louder.
(92)
Ortiz sped through the silent town, and his thoughts moved along faster than his vehicle. He knew Chris McCauley would have already closed up his station, so he would question Betty Chandler first before going to Chris’s home. Who was this mysterious stranger? What did he have to do with what was going on? He pulled to the curb in front of Chandler’s and bounded up the steps to the front door. As he reached up to knock, the door flew open and Betty stood in front of him clutching a notebook. She uttered a surprised gasp, almost bumping into Ortiz.
“Mrs. Chandler, I’m Officer Ortiz.” A harmless lie, more of a timing issue than a lie, he thought grimly. “You look like you’re in a hurry, but if I could have just a moment…”
Betty Chandler studied him with a still-surprised look before answering. “I was actually on my way to the Police Station. I tried calling but I couldn’t get through.”
“Well, I’ll only take a few minutes of your time. I need to know if you have a guest, an older gentleman, gray hair?”
“Oh my gosh, that’s why I was calling the police. Mr. Rodman… but he’s not really Mr. Rodman, he’s Moses Blaakman!”