"And now, Mary Magdalene?" he said.
She came up on him, the gun level. Trace was gonna get to see Jesus faster than he might want to, his cap pealed in the bargain. Wilma then patted him down thoroughly and looked like she was enjoying it. Trace acted like he wasn't. "Now get in the car you came in and go back to Los Angeles. Tell Weems what happened, don't spare the details, you hear?"
Trace finally took off his coat. He put it over his arm and went off, walking directly through the bushes and all.
"Uh, what the fuck are you doing?" I pointed after him.
Wilma was walking toward the shed. "What can Weems do, Zelmont? He sent those two up here for something, but it's definitely off the books, right?" She tried the door of the shed but it was locked.
"Yeah," I said, not really sure what she meant. I stepped up and leaned on the door.
"We have to make it seem like we were never here," she said.
"I know." The door caved in after a few knocks with my shoulder. It wasn't too busted up, so it would look pretty normal when we shut it back, I figured.
Wilma went inside the room. Sunlight came in through the dirty windows. She found a switch and put on the light, "Weems is up to something," she said, sensing I was still confused about her sending Trace off like she did. "If he reports Randy's death, then he has to explain what those two were doing here. And he doesn't want that."
After a few seconds, I said, "Stadanko can't call the law 'cause they're after him, and big-stick-up-his-ass Weems can't 'cause his slippery shit will come out."
Wilma was looking around. "Exactly. Ironic, isn't it?"
"Very"
Inside the place was what you'd expect to find in a tool shed. There was a power drill, a rake, a push broom, and a big table with those little drawers built in to a long rack above it. A vise was lying on the table next to all kinds of parts. Standing there I felt kinda sad. It was like the workplace I'd always imagined my dad would have had when I was a kid. Like we'd be together in it while Moms cooked dinner, working on a model car. Or he'd be showing me how to fix a faucet family shit like that.
"Damn," I said quietly.
Wilma wasn't paying attention. She was looking around very carefully. If she picked something up she was sure to place it back just where it had been. I did the same.
''Wouldn't his records be in the house?" I opened a big roll-away toolbox. The thing was filled with shiny socket wrenches and all kinds of stuff. None of them look liked they'd ever been used.
I know how his mind works, Zelmont. He thinks he's much more clever than he really is."
I worked on trying to figure out what she meant as I searched around. We kept it up for an hour but didn't turn up zip.
"We have to check the house," I said, leaving out "and then book." I didn't want Wilma to think I was scared, but hanging around in a house we broke into with a fresh corpse buried in the yard was not my idea of a good time.
"I already checked it. There's a safe in the master bedroom. Weems must have given Trace the combination because its door was laying open. But they must not have found the files inside."
"When'd you find that out?"
"When I went to see how I might get in the house I saw that the alarm had been turned off. I knew something was up so I got out my Sig." She nodded her head at the gun, which was on a stool. I went through the house slowly. When I was in the master bedroom, I heard you going at it with the Hardy Boys."
"So they came outside when they heard us coming up?"
"Or," she snapped her fingers, "there was some reason for them to be searching outside."
I followed her out and we stood there next to the shed. She had her hand up to block the glare of the sun as she scanned the area. "What would make them go outside?" she mumbled.
"Maybe we can find what it is up in the bedroom."
She winked at me and we walked into the cabin through the back door. Upstairs, Stadanko's bedroom was outfitted like I figured the big show-off would have it. There was a bearskin with the head on it on the floor. The bed looked like it had been handmade from logs. There were Indian-type rugs tacked on the raw wood walls. At the foot of the bed was a long black lacquer box about the size of two hope chests put one on top of another. Some kind of stereo unit, I figured. He even had deer horns tacked over the bathroom door. I cracked up. "This is some shit right out of Bonanza. Stadanko ain't never been hunting in his life."
I was standing over the spot where the safe was sunk into the floor. The rug had been thrown back and a section of the floor removed, revealing it. Inside the safe were a lot of packets of greenbacks and some other stuff. I crouched down to help myself.
"We're not here for that," Wilma said sharply. "You need to keep your mind focused."
As broke as I was, I knew she was right. From where I was squatting I could see through the sliding glass door and the railing of the balcony. Beyond that was the plants, shrubs, and the shed. There was also an opening off to the right between a bunch of green. Trace probably had good eyesight like mine. I saw what he must have seen. Standing up, the gap in the plants and leaves wasn't that noticeable.
"Come on."
"What?"
"Come on." I was already heading for the door. Back outside we went through the greenery in the direction I saw from upstairs. The bite Randy had given me had stopped hurting and it almost seemed like it happened a long time ago. Almost. We got to the place I'd been looking at.
"What in the hell?" Wilma said.
It was a pumpkin patch. The funny thing was, the area was surrounded by a high fence of barbed wire.
"To keep out coyotes?" Wilma touched the fence.
"It's damn near seven-feet high," I said. "That's a pretty big goddamn coyote to keep out." There was a gate in the fence, and it had a heavy lock on it. "I bet he would have put an alarm on except the rabbits and other animals around here would keep setting it off."
She wrinkled up her face. "What are you getting at?"
"I know a little something about Stadanko too." I walked around the outside of the patch. "See that pumpkin over there? Ain't there a crack going around the top?" I pointed to the one I meant.
"I don't see anything."
"I do." I went back and got the ladder from the shed. Then I leaned it on a tree near the patch. From the top of the ladder I dove over the fence into the patch, coming up in a roll. We couldn't cut the wire, as that would have tipped our hand to Stadanko.
"How are you going to get back over?" Wilma stood by the barbed wire, a smart-ass look on her lips.
"You'll see." I touched the pumpkin I'd been looking at. "It's plastic."
"No shit," she said.
I kicked at a few. "Most of these are real, though."
I opened up the bogus pumpkin. Inside were some computer disks. Bingo. I took them out. "Won't he check on these when he has his meeting this weekend?" I asked.
"We'll put some disks from the house in there. He has a computer and plenty of blanks in a box. He might look inside the pumpkin, but I'm betting he won't take them out to check them."
That sounded right to me. I found more disks in two other fake pumpkins hidden with the real ones. She got some same-colored disks from the house and I stuck them in the pumpkins.
"Now how are you going to get out?" Wilma put her hands on her hips, a little smile on her lips as she blew me a kiss. "You're so smart."
"Take the ladder and turn it sideways between the barbed wire." I pointed to where I meant.
She brought the ladder over and we got it jammed in place. That created enough room for me to ease through the opening.
"Shit." The barbs had caught me as I went through the gap. A chunk of meat was ripped from my back. I fell to the ground, beat.
We got the ladder back to the shed and Wilma took me inside again. She had me take off my shirt and told me to lay on Stadanko's bed. What the fuck. I did, and she dabbed at the wound with something on a washcloth she'd gotten from the bathroom. As she took care of me I was looking at this dresser off to the side. On it were a bunch of videotapes.