Page 24
There was a shoe box on the bureau top, full of correspondence that looked carefully picked through. Drawers were open. A pair of rubber gloves was draped over the top one and the chair was pushed out as if someone had just gotten up from it. Sam Barreras work, halffinished. Maybe it was possible that even Barrera got the creeps, alone in a dark house, going through paperwork with a dead man right next to you on the bed. Maybe even Barrera had to take a Corn Pops break from that kind of work.
I didnt throw up. I somehow made it all the way back down the stairs, back into the kitchen where Barrera was still eating, one hand holding the . 22 flat against the tabletop.
"Can I sit down?" I asked.
Barrera examined my face, maybe saw that I wasnt doing so hot. He waved at the stool opposite his.
I sat, took a few breaths. "I take it you havent called the police. "
Sam lifted his right ear just slightly, like God was telling him something. "Blanceagles been dead two days. He can wait another few hours. Now Im going to ask you what I asked Erainya: Whats your business with Blanceagle? With Les SaintPierre?"
I stared at Barreras cereal bowl, the little gold ball bearings in the white grease. My stomach did a somersault.
Barrera said, "Try some. Itll help. Corn products are good. "
"No thanks. Erainya doesnt have any business with Blanceagle. Im on my own. "
"On your own," he repeated.
"Thats right. "
"Unlicensed. "
I nodded. Sam shook his head and looked sour, like his worst assumptions about human nature had just been confirmed.
"Tell me everything," he ordered.
"And then?"
"And then well see. "
I told him the basics. Sam asked a few questions— what did Jean look like, what exactly had Les Saint Pierre told Milo Chavez about his plan to force Tilden Shecklys cooperation. Twice Barrera dug out handfuls of dry Corn Pops from the box and ate them, one pop at a time.
When I was done talking he said, "Ive already spoken with Detective Schaeffer at SAPD. Ill talk to the Hollywood Park police. You were never here tonight. You are not working on this anymore. "
"Just like that. "
"Tell Mr. Chavez hell have to do the best he can for his artists. Tell him Les SaintPierre will probably show up on his own sooner or later and theres no problem with Tilden Sheckly as far as you can determine. "
"And that Santa Claus is getting him a nice tricycle for Christmas. "
Barrera frowned at me. He flexed his fingers and the gold rings rubbed together with a sound like seashells.
"This thing with the singer, Miranda Daniels," he said. "This is a sideline. Forget it. You think it has anything to do with SaintPierre disappearing, you think a guy like Tilden Sheckly would waste his time with murders over a recording contract—" Barrera paused. "You dont know what youve stepped into, Navarre. Im telling you to step back out. "
"Therere some shipments going through the Indian Paintbrush," I said. "Something from Germany—big heavy cylinders. Blanceagle said the arrangement has been going on for about six years. Les SaintPierre found out about it from Julie Kearnes, who probably got it from Alex Blanceagle. Les threatened to expose the business to keep Sheckly from pressing his claims on Miranda Daniels. Les miscalculated—either how bad the information was or how violently Sheck would react. Now Les has disappeared and the two people who helped him get his information are dead. How am I doing?"
"Not well," Barrera said. "Shut up. "
"You spoke to Alex Blanceagle at least once before— he told me another investigator had been poking around. You were in Austin Saturday night arguing with Julie Kearnes after I knocked off surveillance. At the time she wouldnt cooperate? she shooed you out of the house with a gun. By Sunday night, after Id rattled her too, maybe after shed gotten some calls from Shecks people, she was scared enough to set up a meeting with you in San Antonio. Somehow Sheck found out about it. Julie still didnt trust you so she came armed, without any information written down. She got to your rendezvous a little early or you got there a little late and she got shot in the head.
You got there, found a murder scene, and decided it was safest to drive on by and ask questions later. Who are you working for, Sam? What is Sheckly hiding thats worth killing people?"
Barrera stood up slowly, checked his gold watch. "Gather your stuff. Go home and stay there. Im going to call it in. "
"Youve got five fulltime operatives just at the San Antonio office, fifteen more regionally. Youve got a dozen national clients subcontracting investigations through you. If youre here in Blanceagles living room yourself, taking trips up to Austin to argue with Julie Kearnes in person, this has to be big. Something your friends on the Bureau lined up for you, maybe. "
" Your other option is that I turn you over to some of the agencies involved. "
"Some of the agencies?"
"People far out of your league, Navarre. They could make very sure you stay quiet.
They would also have some hard questions for Erainya Manos about the way The Widowers Two it Step 169
that youre operating. We could be looking at a revoked license for her, a guarantee your application never comes up for review. Thats all before we bring in the D. A. "
"Youd be such a bastard?"
Sam looked at me dispassionately. There was no implied threat. It was a simple multiplechoice test.
"All right. " I started to gather up my money, my burglars tools, my photos and paperwork. I stuffed it all into my backpack. My fingers didnt work very well. My stomach still felt fluttery, warm.
Sam Barrera watched me zip my bag. I wouldnt say he relaxed, but his eyes got a little less intense. He put his gun in his belt, behind his coat. He tilted his head sideways, stretching his neck muscles, and the little shiny black square of hair on top of his head glistened.
"You said six years," he told me. "Thats about right. Maybe someday Ill show you my file cabinets, show you how a real case is put together. Maybe I can explain to you what its like, all that buildup and documentation only to find an informant youve been courting disappeared, then another one shot in the head the day you wanted to interview him. Then to have somebody like you waltz in and act like you own the situation. Youre not doing Erainya any favours following this line of work, kid. Youre not doing yourself any favours. Go home. "
I picked up my bag, got unsteadily to my feet.
"And Navarre—" Sam said, "you didnt find anything. Nothing to indicate Les SaintPierres whereabouts. No documentation you cant explain. "
It took me a second to realize he was actually asking me a question rather than giving me another order. I stared at him until he felt obliged to add, "SaintPierre was supposed to give me some information. It wasnt up there in Blanceagles bedroom and it wasnt in Julie Kearnes house. "
I shook my head. The only piece I hadnt told Barrera about was the personnel files, and those werent blackmail material. At the moment they seemed a petty thing to hide, a grudgingly small way to get some revenge on Barrera.
"Nothing," I told him. "I found nothing. Just the way you thought, Sam. "
He scrutinized my face, then nodded. When I left, he was just starting to talk to the Hollywood Park police on the phone, explaining to them exactly how they were going to handle his problem.
24
Milos green Jeep Cherokee honked in my driveway at ten oclock Friday morning. I opened the passengers side door and said, "I dont believe it. Shes alive. "
Sassy the basset hound sat up on the seat and yawned. Her tongue rolled into a long bologna canoe. She did a little shuffle on her front paws and snorted. Maybe it was a friendly greeting. Maybe she was having a doggie coronary.
"How old are you?" I demanded. "You make a deal with Satan?"
Sassy panted. She turned her head to the left, trying to see me through her one eye that was milky with cataracts. Where the other eye shouldve been was a sagging canyon of gray
crusty fur.
"Sassys plugging along okay," Milo admitted. "Got an abscess I have to drain every week. "
He showed me one of Sassys silky brown ears that normally wouldve made a perfect size ten and a half shoe liner. Today it looked like someone had sewn a squeeze bulb into it. Sassy kept grinning and panting as Milo examined the abscess. She turned her head side to side like somebody was calling her but she couldnt figure out from where.
Id thought of Sassy as old when wed dognapped her from her abusive former owners in Berkeley eight years ago. By now Sassy mustve been pushing twenty. In canine years, shed been around since the Civil War.
It wasnt easy moving her into the backseat. Imagine a sack of bowling balls with stubby feet and bad breath. When we finally got under way Milo broke out the extra
soft geriatric dog biscuits for her and beer for us. He poured the beer into coffee cups.
We exited Loop 410 on Broadway and headed south listening to Sassy chew. Most of the biscuit fell out the side of her mouth, but she went at it with gusto anyway.
I handed Milo a single typewritten sheet of paper.
He glanced at it as much as he could without losing his beer or running off the road.
"This is—"
"My first report. "
He frowned. "Your report? Am I paying extra for this?"
"Erainya Manos is trying to instil me with some nasty habits—following procedures, writing daily reports to clients, stuff like that. "
He handed it back to me. "Give me an audio version. "
I told him about Alex Blanceagles murder. Then I told him what Samuel Barrera had said, about the party line I was supposed to give Milo to blow the case off. Sassy was apparently interested. She kept sticking her nose between the seats, trying to slobber her biscuit residue into my beer.
When I finished Milo said, "And you still think Les disappeared on his own?"
"I think its a strong possibility. I think he was using Julie Kearnes in more than one way. He got her to steal some personnel files from her temp jobs, probably sold her on the idea that theyd be running off together, even brought over a suitcase as a show of good faith. Then he ditched her. "
"And she didnt say anything to anyone. Why?"
"She couldnt go bragging about what shed been doing, helping Les blackmail Sheckly. Maybe she was hoping Les would still come back for her. Maybe she just didnt want to admit shed been had. "
"But youre not certain of any of that. "
"Thats why I want to look around Les house. "
"Youve seen what Sheckly is like, Navarre. Now Alex Blanceagle is dead. It doesnt take a genius to figure out what happened to Les. "
We drove a few blocks in silence.
Milo couldve been right. It wouldve been a lot easier on Milo to think his boss hadnt voluntarily left him waistdeep in trouble. It would be a lot easier on me to believe Les SaintPierre was just another corpse waiting to be found. Corpses are stationary targets.
Otherwise, if Les SaintPierre had adopted a new identity with Julie Kearnes help, then even with Kelly Arguello and me working overtime to find him, the chances of tracking him down were slim. The chances of tracking him down by next Friday, when Mirandas demo was due to Century Records, were virtually nonexistent. If Sheckly insisted on his bogus first option contract, there would be no effective way of challenging him. Miranda would go back to Shecklys stable. Shed become another hasbeen artist waiting to happen.