Clark approached the blanket, shaking his long hair out. He still wouldn't look at her.
"This ain't good." Cecil kept sneaking peeks at Arturo and Vlad. "This ain't good at all."
"Hush."
Cecil got heavily to his feet, stuck his hands in his pockets. "You tell them I didn't do nothing you didn't want me to do."
Missy reached into the cooler, pulled out a can of beer for Clark.
"You tell them I'm family," said Cecil.
Clark walked right past the blanket, met Arturo and Vlad halfway. Missy could see them talking, but she couldn't hear what they were saying.
"Dang it," said Cecil as the three of them headed toward the blanket. "Dang it."
Missy tossed Clark a beer, smiled as he caught it one-handed. "I get you boys a brew?"
Vlad shook his head and Arturo didn't even respond.
Clark popped the beer, took a long swallow, and wiped his mouth.
"You sure know how to ride that board," said Cecil. "You could probably turn pro if you wanted to, Clark."
Clark belched.
Arturo laughed and Cecil's face got even redder.
Clark picked up a towel, dried his face. He stood there, gazing off toward the water. "Arturo said one of our Riverside houses got taken down yesterday." He blew salt water out of his nose. "Lost about five pounds of crank."
"I told you Guillermo was going to-"
"We don't know it's Guillermo, Missy." Clark took another swallow of beer. "We just know we lost about five pounds of crank, and two cookers got wasted."
"Well, who else could it have been? Nobody else would have the balls-"
"Arturo and Vlad are going to find out who did it," said Clark, water droplets glistening on his shoulders.
"I guess maybe now Cecil's going to get some credit for what he did last night," said Cecil. "Maybe I can come along with Arturo and Vlad-"
Clark bounced the beer can off Cecil's head.
Missy had no idea what new dope Clark was on, but it had sure turned him into major alpha dog. It was kind of nice, as long as he didn't get carried away with himself. "Clark, honey," she said, blotting his broad back with the towel, "you got to admit this would be a good time to put down Meachum, maybe his wife, too, make an example of them."
"I'm not admitting anything until Arturo and Vlad tell me who wasted my cookers." Clark looked at Missy, and it was like looking into the eye of a storm. "Motherfucker who did it took one of my new recipes."
20
Thorpe shadowed Ray Bishop around the half-built housing development for a half hour, followed him as he made his rounds up and down the cluttered work site. Bishop limped slightly, stopping to clock in at regular intervals with his ID card. Orange Industrial Security kept their rent-a-cops on a tight leash. Quite a comedown, going from lead detective at the Riverside PD to an unarmed security guard with a badge the size of a dinner plate on his chest.
Thorpe waited until Bishop sat down on a nail keg, pulled out a steel thermos bottle, and poured a cup of coffee, waited until he pulled a pint bottle out of his jacket, sweetened the cup. Bishop didn't even know he was there until Thorpe softly spoke his name. The poor bastard bobbled his drink, splashed his pants. "First time I ever drank on the job," he stammered. "I got this cough that-"
Thorpe held his hands up. "I'm not checking up on you."
Bishop wiped his mouth. He was an ugly man with a broken beak and bad skin, a tough guy aging badly, gone soft and sallow. "You're not management?"
"Don't insult me," said Thorpe. Bishop smiled. It didn't make him look any better, but Thorpe was glad to see he still had it in him. "My name is Frank. I want to talk to you about Clark and Missy Riddenhauer."
Bishop stopped smiling. "That's a mistake," he rasped. "You local or federal?"
"I'm not a cop."
"Yeah, right." Bishop looked out at the half-built homes, the piles of wood debris and curling tar paper. "How did you find me? I thought I covered my tracks."
"You had to get bonded for this job."
"That's right, I had to pass inspection to guard lumber and Sheet-rock." Bishop fingered the buttons on his gray uniform. "Old partner of mine from Riverside runs the security firm. Matt said I didn't meet their standards but that he would make an exception. Acted like I should have kissed his fat ass in gratitude." He spit. "If he asked, I would have, too."
Thorpe had gone to the computer after seeing Betty B on TV this morning. Getting run down the same day her column came out was probably just a coincidence, but Thorpe had a suspicious mind. He kept following the threads on the insurance-industry database, half-expecting the Engineer to send him a message, but he was all by himself on the Net. An hour later, he hit pay dirt, but it gave him no pleasure, just a sick feeling in his stomach. Three years ago, Clark Riddenhauer had won a $1.2 million judgment against the Riverside Police Department, and Detective Ray Bishop, for malicious arrest and prosecution. The arrest had been for production, sale, and distribution of methamphetamines. The PD's insurance carrier, Liberty State Mutual, had settled out of court. Thorpe had read the judgment, hoping that Bishop was an inept cop who had busted a couple of innocent civilians and stepped on his dick instead. So far, Bishop was living up to his advance billing.
"The Riddenhauer case, that was an impressive example of poor police work, Ray." Thorpe picked up a small chunk of concrete, chucked it across the site, and dinged an empty tar bucket. "No wonder you lost your badge and pension. I think the Academy uses you as an example on how not to pump up your arrest stats."
Bishop scowled, and Thorpe got an idea of what he had been like before he had taken the long fall. "What's this about?"
"A one-point-two-million-dollar settlement. The Riddenhauers must have had quite an attorney. Of course, you being a falling-down drunk, that didn't help, either."
"I was never impaired on the job, and that didn't have nothing to do with it anyway." Bishop pulled at his wrinkled jacket. There was dried mud on the cuff of his trousers. "It's a little late for the department to be coming after me now. I ain't got anything you want."
"I told you: I'm not a cop."
"What are you, then?"
Thorpe ignored the question. "If you made a good bust, how did Clark and Missy beat it?"
Bishop sat down on the nail keg, looked past him.
"It's life-and-death, Ray."
"Maybe you ain't noticed, Frank, but I don't do life-and-death anymore." Bishop sat there, and Thorpe gave him all the time he needed to rediscover his courage, or anger, or resentment, whatever it took to start him talking. Bishop took off his cap, wiped his forehead. "I busted Clark for buying crystal meth precursors from a chemical supply house." He shook his head. "Just prior to trial, the main prosecution witness, a clerk at the supply house, recanted. He told the judge that I had threatened him, forced him to finger Clark. That the whole thing was a setup."
"A witness who gets cold feet… that's what depositions are for."
"Recanting cost the clerk his plea bargain. It meant three years in Vacaville, but he jumped at it. That gave his story serious credibility." Bishop looked up at Thorpe. "I hope you know what you're doing. Missy and Clark… you really don't want to mess with them."
"Too late."
Bishop fingered his cap, turning it round and round in his hands. "Sorry to hear that."
"They might have killed someone last night. If they did… they may not be done."
"Oh, those two are never done." Bishop looked past him again. "They fooled me in Riverside. You seen them, right? Nice-looking couple. No history of violence. Only reason I busted Clark was so I could turn him. He turned me inside out instead." He cleared his throat. "The clerk at the chemical supply store… day before he was supposed to testify, the pastor of his church disappeared, him and his whole family. Neighbors didn't see anything, didn't hear anything. The pastor, his wife, and their two little girls, just up and gone." His face sagged. "Funny thing, they left their clothes behind. Left their toothbrushes and their bank account, too. Church had a prayer circle for them, asked God to do something. That's how the clerk found out. He got this phone call, and suddenly he changed his story. Never did find that family, so I guess God had a previous commitment." He stared at Thorpe. "You don't look so good."