“I suppose anything’s possible.”
“Could someone like that have taken one of your pieces?”
“Might have.”
“And planted it in your car?”
“That’s far-fetched.”
“We’ll play hell getting the feds to release a list of witness protection clients,” I said.
“Penrod said the same thing when I suggested he look into it. No, the cops are content to have me. They don’t need anyone else. Case closed. Job well done. You used to be in that business, Stan. Isn’t that how it works?”
“That’s how it works. Can you get me a list of your clients? You can leave out the movie stars and other famous people. Just the ones with vague backgrounds.”
“That won’t be a long list. I’ll get it together and send it to you.”
“Was Vitole’s wife there when you visited?”
“No. He said he was alone.”
“That’s what he said when I visited. I guess she works. Too bad. She could have told the cops he was alive when you left.”
It was time to get into the difficult parts of the case.
“Now,” I said. “We agreed that I should chase down any lead, any hunch, whatever.”
“Yes.”
“What about the ladies in your life? Missy and Serena?”
Buford paused. “I never gave that the first thought.”
“I did. Do I chase it?”
“Chase it,” he said, taking another sip of his drink.
“Even Missy?”
“Especially Missy. She’s very protective and has the balls and brains to do something like that. Serena is dumber than a bag of ball peen hammers and doesn’t think about anything past her hairdo, nails, and makeup.”
“And what do I do if it starts to look like Missy?”
He stopped and thought about it. “You tell me,” he said. “I handle it from there.”
I started thinking about opportunity, who had it, who was likely to use it.
“While you were out that morning, did the others have a way to get over to Vitole’s house?”
“Yeah. There are several SUVs here. And both the girls have their own cars.”
“Were they here when you got back?”
“Don’t remember.”
“Were Sanford and Ramon?”
“Don’t remember.”
That brought our meeting to a close. I finished my drink and started to struggle to get up from the easy chair, Ramon was there in a flash helping me up.
“Does he hear everything we say?” I asked Buford.
“I do not listen, Señor. I only watch.”
I hoped he was telling the truth. I wasn’t ready for him and Sanford to know they were suspects.
Chapter 17
I lay in the bed on my back, still in pain. Almost everything hurt. I got a cigarette from the pack on the nightstand and fumbled with the book of matches tucked under the cellophane. Nothing is easy when only one hand works. Bunny sat up next to me, took the pack, extracted the matches, and lit my last cigarette ever.
Rodney had dropped me off at Ray’s the day before, and I wound up here at Bunny’s. I’m not sure how that happened, but I was glad.
“It’s good to be back,” I said.
“It’s better when you can move,” she said. She got up to get me an ashtray.
“You always wanted to be on top anyway.”
She handed me the ashtray. I put it on the bed next to me, and she stretched out again.
“I thought you quit smoking,” she said.
“Tomorrow.”
She pulled the sheet up over herself.
“You don’t want me looking at you?” I said.
“You’ve seen better. You married better.”
That hit a sore spot. “Don’t remind me. Besides, what’s wrong with your looks?”
“Stretch marks. Cellulite.”
“They’re nothing compared to my scars.”
“On a guy they look tough. On us we just look old.”
“Tough?”
“Well, not yet. They have to heal and scar up. Right now you look like you’ve been in a chainsaw fight.”
“But I’ll look tough? Hell, I’d have paid money for that.”
“Wait’ll you get the hospital bill.”
We lay quiet for a while, looking at the ceiling while I smoked my cigarette.
“You want to talk about us?” she said.
“About us? We’re here now. What’s to talk about?”
“Tomorrow.”
“I always left that up to you.”
She rolled over on her side and faced me.
“Maybe that was the problem, Stan. Maybe you shouldn’t have.”
“You’ve got a point. It never turned out good when you were in charge of tomorrow.”
“Give me another chance?”
“Don’t I always?”
“You do.”
“And then next thing I know you’re gone again.”
“That’s happened.”
“Why would this time be any different?”
“It could be,” she said. “Maybe it will be.”
“You making a promise?”
“No,” she said. She got out of the bed. “I got to get to work.”
“Me too. Help me get my clothes on?”
“Why not? I helped you get them off. Do you want to take a shower?”
“Not with all these bandages. I’ll get a sponge bath later at home.”
“You want one now?” she said.
“Thanks, but I really have to get to work. A sponge bath would take a long time.”
“I’d hope so.”
We got dressed with Bunny dressing both of us. Damn, I felt useless. I was able to get to her car without help. She lived on the first floor. She took me to Ray’s for breakfast.
Afterward I called Rodney to come escort me to the office and help me up the stairs. He was there in a heartbeat. Always eager to please.
“You remember Rodney,” I said to Bunny.
“Oh, yeah. The nephew. I liked the other shirt better, Rodney, but the shave and haircut is an improvement.”
We walked across the street. The olive drab Chevy was there again. They were still watching. I considered calling Bill Penrod, but by the time we got up the stairs I had forgotten about it.
“Good morning, Willa.”
“Good morning. Amanda called. Just checking up. I didn’t know where you were, so she was worried. Rodney said he left you with Bunny, so I figured you were okay.”
“Did either of you think to call my cell phone?”
“I didn’t want to get you out of the middle of somebody.”
Man, that Willa had a mouth on her.
“Rodney,” I said, “can you get us one of those whiteboards with felt-tip markers? We’re going to need one for talking points for this case. The office supply store should have them.”
“Yeah, I can get one. Am I helping you with the case?”
“Yes. I’d like to bounce some of my ideas off you, and I need the board to organize them.”
“Man, that’s cool. Can I get a badge like yours?”
“Sure. Google ‘private investigator badge’ and you’ll find them. Mine cost about thirty bucks.”
“I’ll do it when I get back,” he said. “Do I have to pay for it myself?”
“You do.”
“What about a gun?”
“No gun.”
“Why not?”
Kids always whine and ask why not whenever you tell them they can’t have or do something. Usually, “because I say so” is a sufficient answer, but in this case I had the law on my side.
“Because you have to be twenty-one to get a carry permit, is why not. Now go get the whiteboard.”
Willa gave Rodney some money from petty cash, and he headed out.
I went into my office and got Roscoe out of the safe. It hadn’t been cleaned in a long time. I took it out of the holster and unloaded it. My gun cleaning kit was in a desk drawer under a bunch of other junk. I got it out and carefully cleaned the piece, enjoying the procedure and the unmistakable scent of gun oil.