A Far Gone Night (26 page)

“Some bad medicine going down.
Don’t know what. So you went up to the
rez
last night?
Without me?”
The tone was accusatory.

“It was useful, an information-gathering excursion. Here’s what I learned.”

For the next fifteen minutes I filled Moon in on Ted
Hornung’s
involvement in Cindy Stalking Wolf’s murder, the actual murderers, my sources, and the magnetic ambiance of Mike’s Asylum.

“Mike’s sounds like one of the dives we’ve been in,” Clancy said.

“Mike’s is a five-star establishment compared to a couple of the dives we’ve been in,” I said, thinking of one outside Clark Air Base in Angeles City, Philippines. We were there Temporary Duty, kicking back after completing a minor mission when a rat ran across the bar and knocked Clancy’s beer into his lap. He snagged the rat, bit off its head, spit it out, threw the body against the mirror behind the bar, and told the bartender to clean up the joint. Ah, memories.

Moon leaned forward in his chair, the leather creaking. “So the man who shot Cindy is dead. What about the man with him, the one who told you what happened?”

“I spared his life.
Part of the deal.
We’ll never see him again. Ted
Hornung
is the one who ordered Cindy’s murder.”

Moon and I locked eyes. He said nothing. I said nothing. There was an edgy look there at first, but it faded, and a sense of resignation and acceptance replaced it. Finally, he gave a short nod and leaned back in his chair. He said, “Let’s go kill Ted
Hornung
, then. And anyone who tries to stop us.”

“Now you’re
talkin
’,” Clancy said, “but we need
intel
and a plan. I’m here to help. One way I can do that is go up on my own to the reservation, take a fresh look, hang in the casino, listen a lot, go into the Pony Club and check out their security. I can acquire additional sources. I can do that. And I can definitely fade into the background. Then I’ll come back and we can put together a mission that will get us this
Hornung
asshole, any of his buddies stupid enough to take us on, and a clean exit strategy when we’ve got him, or he’s dead.”

“Or both,” Moon said.

A knock on the door interrupted our meeting. It was Rachel, poking her head in and saying, “Moon, those men from the State Bureau of Investigation want to talk to you. And you, too,” she said, nodding at me.

Moon nodded and stood up. Clancy and I stood, too. On the way out, I introduced Clancy to Rachel in a multicultural exchange rare in
Rockbluff
—a half Dominican, half Irishman meeting a Jewish German waitress supervisor. Oh, the joys of diversity. Maybe I could get a grant from the government to perpetuate the moment.

We followed Moon down the short hallway from his office to behind the bar as Clancy and I stepped into the ambiance of The Grain. I turned to say something to Clancy, but he had slipped away, maybe to the men’s room. I grabbed a jelly doughnut, looked at Rachel and, when she said “One dollar,” I dug into my pocket and came up with four quarters and dropped them into her hand.

The agents looked over at Moon and me and signaled for us to come over. I waived back at them and smiled, then waived some more with great exuberance, as if I had just recognized them from across the room at a high school reunion. I raised up on my tippy-toes a couple of times in false delight. They were not amused. One stood and came our way. He was in his 40s, I’d
say,
fit looking, and wearing a nice suit with a lovely paisley tie. Dark hair cut close, parted on the left side, clean shaven.
Cold blue eyes.
Perfect teeth as far as I could tell.

“I’m Special Agent Kelvin Massey,” he said, “State Bureau of Investigation. Would you please join
us.
” It was not a question.

I took a bite out of my jelly doughnut and some of the raspberry filling oozed out. I grabbed a napkin from the neat stack next to the Holy Grounds Coffee Shop display and dabbed at my mouth, then followed Massey and Moon over to the booth, finishing off the doughnut on the way. Moon slid in next to Sheriff Payne and I sat next to the other agent, a black guy with a shaved head and a spare frame. He said his name was Hector Ortiz. His suit was well cut and his red tie matched his suit handkerchief.
Married, obviously.
Maybe fifty, fifty-five.
He was not smiling. Massey brought a chair over and set it at the end of the booth’s table.

“I need to see some I.D. before we talk,” I said, smiling and licking traces of raspberry filling from my fingers.

The men sighed, looked at each other and held out their little leather badge holders, flipped them open, snapped them shut right away. I said, “I need to
see
some identification. Those could be Secret Decoder Badges from the Intergalactic Observatory. Come on, guys.”

The classy little holders came out again from breast pockets, flipped open, and held out for me to see. I grinned and nodded. The men returned the badges to their coat pockets. This was fun.

I looked from Massey to Ortiz, to Payne, over to Moon, and back to Massey, on my right. “Now, what can I do for you
Special Agents
this fine Iowa winter morning?”

“You can start by telling us everything about your involvement in the Cynthia Stalking Wolf case from the time you saw the body until you came back from
Chalaka
last night,” Ortiz said.

“Sorry. I don’t talk with Special Agents without my lawyer.
Basic common sense.
Don’t you guys ever watch ‘Law and Order’?”

Steely glares.

“‘Castle’?”

“Tell us about the alleged bullet holes in the girl’s head,” Massey said.

“‘Closer’ re-runs? That’s one of my
faves
. Don’t you guys ever watch
any
crime shows on television? I mean,” I said in false exasperation, “the
perp
always blabs without an attorney present and practically hangs himself. One of my friends, an attorney, once told me, ‘Thomas, don’t ever answer questions in any investigation, even if you’re totally innocent, without an attorney there to counsel you.’”

“Are you a
perp
?” Ortiz asked. More glares.

“Look, guys. I’m sure you’re fine people with beautiful families. You probably even have minty breath and coach a variety of team sports for little boys and girls when you’re not out making the world safe for the rest of us, but I’m through talking with you. But I do recommend the Loony Burger, if you decide to stay for lunch.
Sniptious
good, as one of my Georgia friends would say.”

Ortiz turned to Moon. “What were you doing up in
Chalaka
on November 26
^th
, eleven days ago? We already know your arm was broken. What happened?”

Moon’s face was impassive. He gestured toward me. “I’m with him,” he said, and folded his arms across his broad chest.

Ortiz took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Gentlemen, we’ve been chatting with Sheriff Payne here. All of us have been speaking with former deputy Stephen
Doltch
. Sheriff, would you like to tell these men what we discovered?”

Payne looked sad and broken. He pressed his lips together and said, “Stephen
Doltch
has been going up to
Chalaka
on a regular basis on his time off, partying at the Pony Club, frequenting prostitutes, and gambling at the casino. He was in deep at the casino, enormous debts he could not repay. Ted
Hornung
approached him and offered to buy his debt. All Stephen had to do was, um…”

At this point my mind was racing as Harmon choked on his words. So
Bunza
Steele had been right—
Doltch
was gambling and losing, a lot. I was afraid to hear what was next from Harmon, but I was also drawn to it.

“Anyway,” Harmon said, shrugging his shoulders and sighing, “all Stephen had to do to be free of debt to the casino was to give
Hornung
the photos and the fingerprints taken by Dr.
Jarlsson
on the night of November 18
^th
. Stephen took them from the evidence room at the department. I should have suspected one of my people, Stoltenberg or
Altemier
, or one of the others, but I didn’t think, I mean, um…”

Ortiz stepped in. “Stephen
Doltch
has been arrested and placed in custody. The charges are obvious. He’s cooperating fully. He confessed. He’s remorseful. He will be spending his best years in prison. Sheriff Payne is fully cooperating and working with us to get to the bottom of Cynthia Stalking Wolf’s murder.”

I looked at Harmon. He would not look at me.
Doltch
and I had not exactly been best buddies, but I was still surprised. And I was sorry for Harmon. His judgment had gone bad and I was thinking he would be ready to resign out of shame and humiliation. It was right under his nose and he didn’t see it. I had, all along, suspected some outsider connected to the murder and kidnappings was behind the disappearance of that evidence. Human nature knocks me down again, but not as hard as it hit Harmon. You’d think I’d learn.

Massey turned to me and leaned forward. “I understand you have a history of sticking your nose in official law enforcement investigations, Mr. O’Shea, and I am pretty sure you’re into it again, and I’m telling you, don’t do it. Stop now and get the hell out of our way or you will be very, very sorry. I promise.”

“I’ll bet you put two exclamation points after big points in your written reports,” I said.

“What does that mean?” Massey asked.

“Anyone who says ‘very, very’ is obviously overdoing it. One ‘very’ is enough. I get the point,” I said. I smiled my best smile but it did not melt Massey’s look of disapproval.

“I also heard you were a bit of a wise guy,” he said, leaning closer, his face barely a foot from mine, “and I’m warning you to butt out.”

I clapped my hands and grinned. “You DO have minty breath! I just knew it!”

Massey sat back and continued to glare. I said, “Come on, Moon, let’s go.”

I stood and Moon stood, but not before placing his hand on Harmon’s shoulder, an out-of-character display of affection and concern that had me wondering about Lunatic’s testosterone levels. I said to Harmon, “Let me know what I can do to help you,
Sheriff,
” emphasizing the designation of his profession to let him know that’s what he was, and is. Moon stood and we walked away, back to the bar, where Clancy was chatting up Rachel.

“Is it too late for lunch?” he asked. I looked at the clock behind the bar. It read almost 11:30. “I’d like to try one of those Loony Burgers Irish brags about.”

All three of us agreed to have lunch right then, and Rachel set to filling our nutritional needs. We walked over to a booth as far as we could get from the one where Payne was sitting and I realized I was living in
Rockbluff
, Iowa, major crimes capital of the world. Something they could add to the signs coming into town. All kinds of things to investigate—murder, fraud, kidnapping, more murders. All we need now is a serial killer and a race war, but since there’s only one race, that probably won’t happen.

We conversed for a little while about my information gathering trip, Clancy asking plenty of questions as his mind began formulating strategies for our mission, and Moon listening intently. I knew he was disappointed that someone else had killed his niece’s killer, but it was clear to me that he had moved on to dealing with Ted
Hornung
, the one behind it all.

Rachel brought us our Loony Burgers and fries,
then
asked for drink orders. I suggested Clancy try Three Philosophers, so that’s what we ordered. Moon ordered a Sam Adams Boston Lager. Rachel had them for us quickly. Clancy sipped the Three Philosophers and nodded at me in appreciation, then held up his tulip glass and said, “Here’s to our mission, and less complicated lives!”

We all drank to that and then, by means of destroying the efficacy of his toast, Suzanne
Highsmith
made an entrance, looked around, and headed for our booth.

“T
homas, I am so sorry about last week!” she said, sliding into the booth, bumping Moon farther over with her hip. He made room. She reached across the table and touched my hand. “I am so ashamed of myself, that’s why I’ve been keeping to my rooms and just writing. Please forgive me. That wasn’t me the other night.
Embarrassing.”

“Sure looked like you.”

Suzanne was wearing an unbuttoned violet cardigan with a white blouse underneath, unbuttoned three down. Her throat was lovely and delicious-looking. She was lightly flushed in memory of her attempted seduction.

“What caused you such shame, beautiful lady?” Clancy asked.

I looked over at him and saw that look I had seen a few times before, when Clancy Dominguez was on the precipice of a deep and long-lasting love affair that would terminate in three weeks, more or less. He was, frankly, staring at her.

“Excuse my shocking lack of manners,” I said, looking from Clancy to Suzanne and seeing a look on her face that indicated her first impression of Clancy would lead to private, adult interactions. I couldn’t believe it. From him, yes. But reciprocated? Love at first sight. Oh, boy! I continued and introduced them.

“No need to go into specifics about what happened last week, Clancy,” I said. “Suzanne’s a lady, and always will be. Besides, that wasn’t Suzanne who told me she wasn’t wearing any underthings, frilly or otherwise. And that wasn’t me who didn’t follow up.”

“You are such a gentleman, Thomas,” she said, her voice sweet and sincere, her eyes locked on Clancy. “Such a gentleman,” she repeated. “And what brings you to
Rockbluff
, Mr. Dominguez?” Her eyes might as well have been the hands of a private masseuse.

“Please call me Clancy,” he said, “and I’m here because I am into private protection services, and you most certainly look like the kind of stunningly beautiful woman who would benefit from my profession. Did I just say ‘stunningly beautiful’?”

He’d just added “stunningly” to his second “beautiful” reference in less than thirty seconds. I thought I would throw up, but I kept that to myself. I knew where this was going.

“Clancy’s an old friend of mine from back in the day when we were spending our nights at the library translating
Serbo-Croation
poetry. Lots of war stories about verbs and antecedents,” I said.

“I’ll bet you’d be better translating French poetry,” she said. I was feeling invisible and thrilled, when we were interrupted by a question from Lunatic Mooning.

“Would you like something to eat?” he asked.

Suzanne looked startled. “Oh, yes, please. I’m starving. May I have a chef’s salad and a Perrier? Thank you, Moon.”

Moon turned to snag Rachel but she was already there. She took Suzanne’s order and hurried away. Clancy and Suzanne were staring and oblivious again. Moon and I exchanged glances. He responded with a nearly imperceptible shaking of his head. I had to smile. He had seen it coming, too, even though he didn’t know Clancy.

“I was about to ask you what kind of work you do,” Clancy began, his eyes moving all over Suzanne’s face, taking her in. “But then I thought, you probably don’t have to really do, but merely be, and improve everything around you by your very presence, as you are now, Suzanne. And I love that name.”

At that point I was overtly rolling my eyes and turning my attention to my Loony Burger and Belgian ale. Suzanne was enthralled.

“Thank you, Clancy, but I do
do
something. I am a professional writer,” she said, her hand slipping into her purse and extracting her business card which she slid across the table, maneuvering it around the food and drink and pushing it toward Clancy with her right index finger with the deep red polish. He picked up the card after brushing his hand across hers.

“What do you write about?” he asked.

“Dangerous men in dangerous situations.
I even wrote a book about Thomas
here,
and some unpleasantness last year that he corrected. It’s called Something’s Rotten in
Rockbluff
, and you can pick up a copy down at
Bednarik’s
Books. I’d be glad to sign it for you.”

“You should write about Clancy,” I said, able to restrain myself but unwilling to do so. “He’s a for real former SEAL.
All kinds of adventures.”

“A SEAL?”
Suzanne asked, her wide eyes widening even more, threatening prolapse. “So you used to be what they call a snake-eater?”

“Some people called us that,” he said, “but not so much anymore. And I never ate a snake, although I know how.”

“Clancy, show Suzanne your scar from that anaconda that tried to kill you,” I said. I bit into my Loony Burger and sat back to enjoy the story.

“I didn’t think anacondas had teeth,” Suzanne said. “I thought they just crushed people to death. Show me your scar! Where did it bite you?” She asked leaning forward in her seat. Rachel brought her chef’s salad and Perrier. Since Suzanne didn’t notice, I thanked Rachel, who winked at me. I love it when women wink at me.

“Irish and I were down in Southeast Asia on a mission, and it required that we approach our target through water, and there was this big river we had to cross,” Clancy began. “And so we’re about chest deep when this goddamn anaconda swims by. It must have been fifteen feet long.
Me
and Irish exchanged looks, grateful it kept going, because this was one big snake. Then it came back and went after me, and you’d be amazed at how quickly they can get a couple of loops around their prey.

“Well, I knew I was in trouble, so I grabbed for its head and the damn thing bit me in the hand and it hurt like hell and I couldn’t pry open its jaws, one reason being I was losing strength because I couldn’t breathe very well. The damn thing had gotten another loop around me and I could not freaking believe how strong it was. Every time I breathed out, it got tighter and I knew I was in some deep stuff, if you get my drift. So Irish lunges over and manages to pry its jaw open, and then the next thing I see is this guy with his candy bar in hand, cutting off the snake’s head. It gave a couple of spasmodic shivers that nearly crushed my rib cage, then relaxed and floated away. And so I’ve got this bleeding hand wound and we hadn’t even gotten into the mission yet.”

Clancy slid the sleeve of his sweatshirt up and offered his right hand for inspection, turning it over so the two fang marks on top and the two fang marks on the bottom could be seen. The story was true. Suzanne was enthralled. Moon was looking at the scar, too.

She said, “Thomas, how did you cut off that snake’s head with a candy bar? Are you kidding me?”

“He means a
Ka
-bar, a kind of military knife with a nine inch blade.
Razor sharp.”

Suzanne said, “Clancy, you must have lots of stories that I could write about, stories about things you did as a SEAL, and even now with your private company. We need to talk,” she said, and tore into her salad. Suzanne had found someone more interesting than me, and I was thrilled.

“Ask him to tell you about killing the pirates in the Indian Ocean,” I said. I turned my attention to the remains of my Loony Burger. Rachel, ever vigilant, brought me a second Three Philosophers.

“You’re kidding!” Suzanne
gulped, her mouth full of chef’s
salad. She pushed some of the lettuce back in her mouth. “Listen, if you don’t mind, why
don’t you
pick me up at my place tonight. I’ve rented a suite at the
Rockbluff
Motel. Can you come by around seven? Maybe we can go someplace, grab a bite to eat, and you can tell me about the pirates and any other adventures you’ve had. My room number is thirty-eight. Can you remember that, or do I need to write it down on the back of my card?”

Clancy looked down at Suzanne’s chest and said, “I think I can remember thirty-eight, Suzanne.”

She grinned, actually giggled, and went back to eating. I stifled my gag reflex.

“How are you going to pick her up, Clancy?” I asked, “Since you have no car.”

“May I borrow your truck, Irish? I’ll be good.”

“I wouldn’t do it,” Moon said.

“Will you be back early?” I asked. “You know there’s a curfew that goes with the keys.”

“Hard to say,” Suzanne interjected. “I think Clancy and I have a lot of communicating to do.”

For the next few minutes, Moon and I ate and drank silently, allowing Clancy and Suzanne to entertain us with their double
entendres
and witty ripostes. And then she was finishing her meal, such as it was, and sliding out of the booth and establishing when Clancy would pick her up all over again. Seven o’clock.

After she left, Clancy said to me, “That is some kind of woman, Irish.”

“You can say that again,” I muttered.

“Oh! It just occurred to me! She isn’t, wasn’t, I mean…”

“Fear not, dude, she isn’t, wasn’t and never will be, you know, my cuddle-bunny.” Moon snorted and I smiled at his snorting. “She’s all yours to pursue and conquer.”

“I am relieved,” Clancy said, noticeably relaxing. “So, let’s talk about the next couple of days. To review, if it’s okay with you guys, I’ll go up and hang around
Chalaka
for a day or two, see what I can learn, come back and get debriefed. Then, depending on a lot of variables, we’ll make a plan where the end game is to kill or capture, or both,” he said, nodding at Lunatic, “Ted
Hornung
and bring him to justice.
Anybody else hanging with him, too.
A cleanup job that will leave no evidence
who
did it but leave the clear message that this was because of the murder of Cindy Stalking Wolf. Agreed?”

We agreed, finished eating, and left, after my leaving a nice tip for Rachel and Moon telling us all four meals were on the house. I wasn’t sure why he was in such a generous mood, unless he was just grateful for our help going after his niece’s killers, and encouraged about cleaning up Ted
Hornung’s
gang.

“You leave first, Irish, and I’ll saunter out in a little bit. Those guys really haven’t taken notice of me, yet, and I don’t want me to be linked with you,” Clancy said, indicating with a nod the Special Agents still interrogating Harmon.

I left and ambled out the front door. I strode straight to my truck and drove slowly around the parking lot until Clancy appeared and hopped in, ducking down as he did. We drove back to my place. It was only 1:30 in the afternoon.

“What did the SBI guys want to know, Irish?” Clancy asked as we got out of the truck and headed for the front door of my home.

“Everything,” I said, opening the door and going inside, Clancy right behind me.

“What did you tell them?”

“Nothing.
After I asked to closely examine their identification.”

Clancy laughed. “Good. You haven’t lost a thing, man. By the way, I enjoyed your prompting that story about the anaconda. I’ve had a couple of bad dreams about that since it happened. They show up at weird times. Probably have another one tonight.”

“Suzanne ate it up.”

“That, she did. I’m glad she’s not your woman, man, but I don’t understand why not. Apparently she tried to knock you over a few days ago and you declined.”

“She was drunk.”

“She’s an adult.”

“I wasn’t drunk. Sometimes I suffer from annoying attacks of conscience.”

Clancy smiled. “You and that Jesus thing, I guess.”

“Probably.
Thank God.”

“Seriously?
You’re glad you didn’t have sex with Suzanne?”

We dumped our coats on chairs and flopped down in the twin recliners in front of the dormant fireplace. It was stacked with gray wood and needing only a match to start a nice fire on a cold winter’s day in northeast Iowa.

“Here’s the thing,” I said. “I thought about how I’d feel the next day if I did sleep with Suzanne, her being drunk and all. And I thought about how I’d feel the next day if I just tucked her safely in her bed and came home. Very quickly, I chose the latter.”

“That’s what I like about you, Irish. Besides the skill set that obviously I’ve witnessed and benefitted from, you have scruples, and you’re surprising. I’m thinking, since you’re a Christian, you could just go ahead and enjoy that woman and then ask the good Lord to forgive you. I’m no theologian, but wouldn’t that work?”