Wayne shrugged. Wayne played it frosty. Fritsch lit a cigarette. Gilstrap bummed one.
Fritsch coughed. "You didn't care much for Officer Moore."
Wayne shrugged. "He was dirty. I didn't respect him as a policeman."
Gilstrap lit up. "Dirty, how?"
"He was drunk half the time. He pressed people too hard."
Fritsch said, "By your standards?"
"By the standards of good police work."
Gilstrap smiled. "Those boys do things their own way."
Fritsch smiled. "You can tell a Texan."
Gilstrap said, "But not much."
Fritsch laughed. Gilstrap slapped his knees.
Wayne said, "What _about_ Moore? Did he show up?"
Fritsch shook his head. "That question is unworthy of a smart boy like you."
Gilstrap blew smoke rings. "Try this one on. Moore didn't like you, so he went after Durfee himself. Durfee killed him and stole his car."
Fritsch said, "You got a six-foot-four nigger in an easily identifiable hot rod and a tristate APB out. Tell me it's anything else and you're stupid. And tell me the first cop who spots him won't kill him, just so he can brag about it."
Wayne shrugged. "That's what DPD thinks?"
Fritsch smiled. "Them and us. And we're the only two who count."
Wayne shook his head. "You find the half-dozen Dallas cops who aren't in the Klan and ask them what they think of Moore. They'll tell you how dirty he was, how many people he pissed off, and how many suspects you've got."
Gilstrap picked a hangnail. "That's your pride talking, son. You're blaming yourself because Durfee got away and killed a brother officer."
Fritsch stubbed his cigarette. "DPD's working it hard. They wanted to send one of their IA men up to talk to you, but we said no."
Gilstrap said, "They're talking negligence, son. You scuffled with Moore at the Adoiphus, so he went out solo and got himself killed."
Wayne kicked a footrest. An ashtray flew.
"He's trash. If he's dead, he deserved it. You can tell those redneck cops I said that."
Fritsch grabbed the ashtray. "Whoa, now."
Gilstrap scooped up butts. "Nobody's blaming you. You proved yourself to my satisfaction."
Fritsch said, "You showed some poor judgment, _and_ you showed Some stones. You did your reputation in this man's police department a whole lot of good."
Gilstrap smiled. "Tell your daddy the story. Running fire with one baaaad mother humper."
Fritsch winked. "I feel lucky."
Gilstrap said, "I won't tell."
Fritsch grabbed the chief's desk bandit. Gilstrap pulled the handle. Gears spun. Three cherries clicked. Dimes blew out the chute.
Gilstrap caught them. "There's my lunch money."
Fritsch winked. "You mean there's rank. Captains get to steal from lieutenants."
Gilstrap nudged Wayne. "You'll be a captain one day."
Fritsch said, "Could you have done it? Killed him, I mean."
Wayne smiled. "Durfee or Moore?"
Gilstrap whooped. "Wayne Junior's a fireball today."
Fritsch laughed. "Some folks don't think so, but I say he's his daddy's son after all."
Gilstrap stood up. "Tell true, boy. What did you spend that cold six on?"
Wayne grinned. Wayne said, "Liquor and call girls."
Fritsch stood up. "He's got Wayne Senior's blood in his veins."
Gilstrap winked. "We won't tell Lynette."
Wayne stood up. His legs hurt. He had fucking tension cramps. Gilstrap walked out. Gilstrap whistled and jiggled his dimes.
Fritsch said, "Gil likes you."
"He likes my father."
"Don't sell yourself short."
"Did my father tell you to send me to Dallas?"
"No, but he sure liked the idea."
o o o
He worked them back-bait-and-switch-diversion. His heartbeat hit 200. His blood pressure soared. "Lone assassin"-shit. I SAW Dallas.
Wayne drove home. Wayne dawdled. Fremont was packed. Rubes waved bingo sheets. Rubes hopped casinos.
Wayne was brain-fucked. Wayne was brain-fucked off Dallas.
Pete says, "Kill him." He can't. He runs PD checks. He gets Pete's name. He queries three intel squads: L.A./New York/Miami.
Pete Bondurant: Ex-cop/ex-CIA/ex-Howard Hughes goon. Current mobbed-up enforcer.
He runs hotel registrations. 11/25: Pete and Frau Pete hit the Stardust. Their suite is comped. Pete's mobbed up. Chi-Mob connections implied.
Car traffic was bad. Foot traffic ditto. Rubes lugged highballs and beers.
_Tail Pete. Do it discreet. Hire a patrolman. Pay him in Land o'Gold chips_.
Wayne circled back. Wayne recruised Fremont. Wayne dodged Lynette and his dinner.
Lynette was running trite. Lynette ran trite lines verbatim. Jack was young. Jack was brave. Jack _realllly_ loved Jackie.
Jack and Jackie lost their baby. Circa '62. Lynette fell for them then. He didn't want kids. Lynette did. She got pregnant in '61.
It froze him up. It shut him down. He froze her out. He told her to get an abortion. She said no. He addressed the Latter-day Saints. He prayed for a dead baby.
Lynette caught the gist. Lynette ran to her folks. Lynette mailed off chatty letters. She came home bone skinny. She said she miscarried. He went along with the lie.
Daddy Sproul called him. Daddy waxed revisionist. Daddy dropped details. He said Lynette got scraped in Little Rock. He said she hemorrhaged and almost died.
The marriage survived. Trite shit would tear it for real.
o o o
Lynette set up TV trays. LBJ crashed their dinner. He announced some Warren probe.
Wayne killed the sound. LBJ moved his lips. Lynette toyed with her food.
"I thought you'd want to follow it more."
"I had too much stuff going on. And it's not like I had a stake in the man."
"Wayne, you were _there_. It's the kind of thing people tell their grand…"
"I told you, I didn't see anything. And we're not in the grandchild business."
Lynette balled her napkin. "You've been nothing but sullen since you got back, and don't tell me it's just Wendell Durfee."
"I'm sorry. That crack was ugly."
Lynette wiped her lips. "You know I gave up on that front."
"Tell me what it is, then."
Lynette turned the TV off. "It's the new sullen you, with that patronizing attitude that all the cops have. You know, 'I've seen things that my schoolteacher wife just wouldn't understand.'"
Wayne jabbed his roast beef. Wayne twanged the fork.
Lynette said, "Don't play with your food."
Wayne sipped Kool-Aid. "You're so goddamn smart in your way."
Lynette smiled. "Don't curse at my table."
"You mean your TV tray."
Lynette grabbed the fork. Lynette mock-stabbed him. Blood juice dripped and pooled.
Wayne flinched. Wayne hit the tray. His glass tipped and doused his food.
Lynette said, "Shit."
Wayne walked to the kitchen. Wayne dumped his tray in the sink. He turned around. He saw Lynette by the stove.
She said, "What happened in Dallas?"
o o o
Wayne Senior lived south-Paradise Valley with land and views.
He had fifty acres. He grazed steers. He butchered them for bar-b-que meat. The house was tri-level-redwood and stone-wide decks with wide views.
The carport covered an acre. A runway adjoined it. Wayne Senior flew biplanes. Wayne Senior flew flags: The U.S./the Nevada/the Don't-Treadon-Me.