"You worked once for the DWP in L.A.," I said.
She stared silently ahead, not making eye contact. Then she began to moan softly.
"I wanted you to help me," she said between moans. "Why won't you help me?"
"You had a job in water resource," I said.
"I can't do this," she said. "I can't."
She stood up and walked out.
Chapter 47
IT WAS COOLER once the sun went down. Hawk and I sat on the front porch of The Jack Rabbit Inn drinking Coors beer from long-neck bottles, and looking at the darkening street.
"So Mary Lou told you shit," Hawk said.
"She told me I was the only one who could help her," I said.
"Probably the first guy she ever said that to."
Hawk was wearing faded blue jeans and a copper-colored silk tweed jacket over a white shirt. His mahogany-colored cowboy boots gleamed with polish. Everything fit him flawlessly. I knew that he was wearing his gun at the small of his back so as not to break the drape.
"I'm very special to her," I said.
"Un-huh. She say anything about Walker and Ratliff?"
"She said they weren't intimate."
"We believe her, don't we?" Hawk said.
"There's a lot she isn't saying," I said.
"We knew that 'fore you talked with her," Hawk said.
"Well, we know it again," I said.
"Skilled interrogation be the keystone of detective work," Hawk said.
"Yes it be," I said.
"Snooping around town work pretty well, too."
"The Dell came in for collections," I said.
"Un-huh. Two Jeep loads. Actually one a Jeep, the other one an old Scout, don't even make anymore."
"I've seen it," I said. "What time?"
"10:20 in the morning," Hawk said.
"Not early birds," I said.
"Still got themselves a worm though."
"Preacher come with them?"
"Casper the ghost," Hawk said. "Skinny? No hair?"
"That's him."
"He done the collecting," Hawk said. "Started down there, head of the street, at the Western Wear Store, and worked right down Main Street."
"How much backup?"
"Seven, besides him. Four in each vehicle. When he went in the stores, a big fat guy went with him. Carried the black bag."
"Pony," I said.
"Pony?"
"That's his name."
"Guy's big enough to haul a beer wagon."
"Maybe they're being ironic," I said.
"Tha's probably it," Hawk said. "I bet there's a tot of irony out there in the old Dell."
"What'd the other guys do while The Preacher was collecting?"
"Moved along down the street with him," Hawk said. "Stayed in the vehicles while Preacher and Pony went in."
"Weapons?"
"Handguns probably. I didn't see anything bigger."
When Hawk was engaged by something, he occasionally forgot his mocking black accent. It was how you could tell he was engaged.
"This is beginning to sound easy," I said.
"It'll be easy," Hawk said.
"They know we're here," I said.
"Probably. But The Preacher's been the stud horse around here a long time. He's so used to not having trouble that he forgot there is any. My guess, he don't care if we're here."
"You working on a plan?" I said.
Hawk nodded toward the head of the street
"We park Sapp in one car up there," he said. "And we put Bobby Horse in the other car, at the bottom of the street. Chollo in the alley there."
Hawk pointed with his chin at a point midway along Main Street.
"The little Vegas guy…"
"Bernard," I said. "Bernard J. Fortunato:"
"Him," Hawk said. "Across and down a little, between the bakery and the drug store. And Vinnie in the hotel window, top floor."
"Why Vinnie?" I said.
"Best shooter," Hawk said.
"I'm not sure he's better than Chollo," I said.
"He ain't worse," Hawk said.
"No. You're right. Vinnie's in the window. Which leaves you and me to brace Pony and The Preacher."
"Best for last," Hawk said and took a pull at his beer.
"Okay," I said. "That'll work."
"'Course it'll work," Hawk said. "You just jealous you didn't think it up."
"How hard was it to think up?" I said.
"Tha's not the point," Hawk said.
"Of course it isn't," I said. "Next week we'll implement your plan."
"Hot diggity," Hawk said.
Chapter 48
J GEORGE TAYLOR asked me to come talk with him. Except for J. George, the office was empty when I got there.
"Mary Lou says you've been questioning her," he said after I was seated in his client chair.
"She does?" I said,
"She feels you were somewhat accusative."
"And she complained to you?"
"We're friends. Since her husband's death, I have been looking out for her, sort of like a father."
"Sort of," I said.
"And I really think she needs a gentle touch. For God's sake, her husband was murdered."
"By the Dell." I said.
"Of course, by the Dell."
"You know this."
"Everyone knew that he was standing up to the Dell. Everyone knew they had threatened him."
"Who did the actual threatening?"
"The Dell."
"Which one?"
"The Preacher."
"You heard him?"
"No. It was his, ah, brute-Pony."
"You heard Pony threaten Steve?"
"Of course. Half the town heard him."
"Who besides you, specifically?"
"Oh, for God's sake," J. George said. "The mayor heard him. Luther Barnes. Mark Ratliff. Henry Brown. About two dozen other people in the bar."
"Which bar?"
"The bar at The Jack Rabbit."
"Tell me about it."
"Nothing to tell," J. George said. "Steve was at the bar, having a beer. Pony walked in and went right up to him and threatened him."
"With death?"
"Yes."
"What did he say?"
"Pony? I don't remember exactly. They had an argument and Steve was shouting, and Pony tapped him on the chest with his forefinger and said to him, `You're a dead man.' "
"How did Steve react?"
"He just stared at Pony. He wouldn't admit it later, but I think he was scared. Pony is… my God, Pony is terrifying."
"I've seen him:"
"And?"
"Terrifying," I said.
"But we've gotten off the track," J. George said. "I really wanted to urge you to go easy on Mary Lou."
"You bet," I said. "You know anybody named Morris Tannenbaum?"
J. George leaned back in his chair and looked thoughtful.
"Morris Tannenbaum," he said.
"Yes."
"No. I can't say that I have."
"Spend much time in Los Angeles?" I said.
"No more than I must," J. George said. "Will you be able to give Mary Lou a little more space?"
"Of course," I said. "Sorry I upset her."
J. George stood and put out his hand.
"I know, I know," J. George said. "Just trying to do your job. Women are difficult."
I shook his hand and smiled as if I believed everything he said. Outside I forged bravely through the heat to The Jack Rabbit Inn. Bebe was at a table having lunch with another woman. There were some papers between them. I smiled at Bebe and went to the bar. The bartender came down to me and put a paper doily on the bar in front of me.
"What can I get you?" he said.
"Were you working the bar," I said, "when Pony threatened Steve Buckman?"
"I got nothing to say about that," the bartender said.
"It's just background," I said. "I'll never quote you."
I put a $100 bill on the bar. The bartender looked at it, and then palmed it off the bar in a move so expert that the bill seemed to disappear magically.
"You do and I'll say you're lying."
"Sure," I said.
"Yeah. I was here."
"Tell me about it."
"Steve's at the bar. This monstrous big dude from the Dell comes in. Him and Steve have an argument. The Dude says to Steve, `You're a dead man.' And walks out."
"The big dude was Pony?"
"Yeah."
The bartender went down the bar and got drink orders from a couple of blond women in tennis whites. He mixed two cosmopolitans and poured them out into two glasses and it came out just right. He put the drinks in front of the blondes, rang the tab, put it in the bar gutter in front of them, and came back down the bar to me.