"I felt I had to make a deal first."
Her dad said, "My little girl."
They were on the patio with Jack Daniel's over ice, the sun going down.
Her dad had told her often enough it was Walter Huston's favorite time of day in The Virginian and Walter was right. This evening he didn't mention it.
"Burdon naturally was suspicious. He said, "Girl, are you trying to run some kind of game on me?" I said, "All you have to say is yes or no." He said, "You come up with the Cuban you can call your shot." He got there about twenty minutes later. He took one look at Chirino and got his surveillance guys to take him away. He had to ask how I got an escaped con to lie on the floor, but didn't act surprised or make a big deal about it."
"You sandbagged him," her dad said.
"I don't think I'd be civil with you either."
"He had to decide what kind of attitude to have, how to treat me, and he wasn't sure yet. He talked to Adele, asked her a lot of questions.
She was pretty cool about the whole thing. I was surprised."
"If anybody was cool," her dad said, and raised his glass to her.
Karen sipped her drink. Her eyes raised to her dad and she said, "Once you're into it and you're pumped up and you know who the guy is and you know you can't give him one fucking inch… He has the choice, you don't."
"You tell that to Burdon?"
"No, but he said, "Let's go have us a cold beverage and talk some." We went over to the Cardozo for about an hour."
"What's he drink, water?"
"Yeah, Evian, one of those. He warmed up. For the first time since I've known him he came down from heaven and acted like a normal guy. He asked me if I would've shot Chirino if he didn't drop the gun. I said yes and he said he believed it. He wanted to have dinner. He's asked me before, but always made it sound like he was making my day. Wow, I get to go out with Daniel Burdon. I turn him down and he thinks it's a racial thing with me. When I was in college almost every black guy who asked me out was like that. I'd say no thanks, 'cause the guy was an idiot or an asshole or had bad breath, and he'd accuse me of being racist."
"What's Burden's problem?"
"He thinks he's irresistible. He wants to get me in bed, that's all, and I don't see any future in it. Ray Nicolet is the same way, he's getting around to it. All those macho guys… Jesus, give me a break."
Her dad said, "I don't want to know everything, okay?" He sipped his drink looking out at the lawn. After a bit he said, "How come we don't play catch anymore?"
She smiled at him.
"Anytime you want. How's your arm?"
"I don't know, it's been so long."
Twelve years old she had her own glove, a Dave Concepcion model, and they'd throw a hardball at each other out on the lawn.
"You discovered boys and quit playing ball."
"I didn't want to show them up."
"You could've, too, you had an arm. You never threw like a girl."
They were quiet for a while in the last of the day's light. Her dad said, "I don't want to lose you. I think I'm gonna live forever and I need my daughter around. I lost your mother, that's enough." There was a silence again. This time he said, "You're too smart to pack a gun and deal with felons. You're too smart and you're too nice a person."
Karen got up, went over to his chair and kissed him and stayed there, hunched over, her arm around his shoulders. She said, "I didn't go out with Burdon 'cause I wanted to stay home with you. Before that, the plan was to see Adele and come right home and be waiting for you. You know why?"
"Because you love your dad."
"Because I love you and because you have an idea how to find Buddy."
"You gave me the idea. Remember you said what if Buddy's his real name?"
Karen got up.
"And it is?"
"No, but it was something to go on."
Karen turned to sit on the wrought-iron cocktail table, facing him now.
"I called my main source." Her dad paused to sip his drink.
And Karen said, "Gregg, the computer whiz. Just tell me, okay, don't drag it out."
"That's what I'm doing"-acting a little offended-"I'm telling you. I called Gregg, I said, "What can you do with this combination? Your search criteria's the name Buddy, bank robbery or armed robbery, and California between 1970 and 1990." I told him Buddy got out of Lompoc either this year or last year, but we don't know how long he was in."
Karen lit a cigarette. Her dad took it from her, for himself, and she had to light another one.
"You happen to have any grass?"
"I don't do that anymore. Come on, what about Buddy?"
"You start with a nickname it looks impossible, doesn't it?
But if you can add a few facts, and if you're lucky… Gregg used, I don't know, Nexis, Lexis, one of the programs he has, and came up with Orren Edward Bragg, arrested March 22, 1985, and charged with robbing a branch of City Federal on Sepulveda in Los Angeles, three months before. And how did they find him? The way they get most of those guys, on a tip.
LAPD got an anonymous call that turned out to be from the guy's sister, of all people. One of the detectives quotes her as saying, "It was Buddy Bragg who robbed the City Federal bank and some others, too, may Almighty God forgive him." That was the only reference to a Buddy associated with bank robbery, buried way down in the news story, and Gregg had it in about five minutes, printed it out and faxed it. It's inside."
Karen stood up and then sat down again.
"We don't know for sure, though, do we, if it's our Buddy?"
"I called Florence-you met her one time-still one of my best sources. I said, "See if you can run an Orren Bragg for me in Dade, Broward or Palm Beach County." I called her from the club, the same as I did Gregg. I come home, both faxes are waiting. Orren Bragg has accounts with Florida Power and Light and Bell South His phone number's in there too. Buddy resides in Hallandale at the Shalamar Apartments on A1A, he's in 708."
"That's our Buddy," Karen said. She stood up again.
"My sources," her dad said, "will bill you about fifty bucks each. I'll give you the invoices when they come."
Karen stood facing him, nodding and then saying, "Why do you suppose Buddy's own sister ratted him out like that?"
Her dad said, "She felt it was for his own good. Or maybe she never liked him. He was a brat, made her life miserable when they were kids."
"Foley said she was a nun, or used to be."
"I don't know," her dad said, "I always liked nuns. They're so clean.
They never seem to sweat."
She finished her drink and saw her dad watching her.
"You're not thinking of calling, are you? Ask if your friend's there?
Please don't tell me that."
Karen said, "Okay, I won't."
It was an idea, though, she did think about. Call Buddy's number and ask for someone, a name, any name, pretty sure she'd recognize Buddy's voice, or Foley's if he answered, if he was there, and they'd tell her she had the wrong number and hang up. She was tempted, wanting to do it. But if they recognized her voice… She thought of asking her dad to call and decided no, go by the book. So she called Burdon. He was cool, wanting to know how she came about this information, and after she told him he said, "Karen, you're for real, aren't you?
You can come along if you want." He'd stop by the home of a judge friend for a warrant, get a SWAT team together and meet her at the Shalamar Apartments as soon as they could make it.
He said, "Karen"-not calling her «girl» this time" get a key from die manager, if you would, please."
Karen was aware of details she would tell her dad about later this evening.
The smell of sauerkraut in the manager's first-floor apartment His watery wide-open eyes as she assured him the residents wouldn't be disturbed. Telling him this as she imagined their reaction to the SWAT team invading the place.