Dawn Patrol (27 page)

Just get this case over, deliver Tammy Roddick to court, get back in time to get into the big swell. The ocean is simple—not easy, but simple—and a wave is something you know how to handle.

Just stay in the water, never come out.

But it isn’t that simple, is it?

A woman’s been killed, a pedophile is out there, and somebody has to do something about both those things. Dan Silver has to go down for Angela Hart’s murder—Johnny will be on that until he gets it done—and Teddy D-Cup has to get squared for his little trips to
Mister Roger’s Neighborhood
.

First things first, though, Boone tells himself as the water starts to boil. He takes the kettle off the heat before it whistles and wakes Pete up. First get through the night, then get Tammy to testify, then clean your head out in the big waves.

Then see to Dan and Teddy.

Yeah, except …

He sees movement through the edge of the kitchen window.

Out on the pier.

He pulls the curtain back for a better view and sees them out there, moving like cats hunting in the night. One of them is edging along the pier railing on the near side; another one takes the opposite side. Boone thinks he can make out two more on the base of the pier, but he’s not sure.

And now a Hummer rolls slowly past in the street.

It’s hard to really see them in the dark and the mist, but just by the way they move, Boone can see they’re Hawaiians.

He touches Petra’s arm and wakes her up.

She looks around the room, not knowing where she is.

“Go into the bedroom,” Boone says. “Shut and lock the door behind you, lie down on the floor.”

“What—”

“Just listen,” Boone says, and to her surprise, she does. “If you hear shooting, take Tammy and go out the window. You can swim into shore easily.”

“All right,” she says. “Will you—”

“I’ll be fine,” he says. “Go.”

He waits until she goes into the bedroom and he hears the lock click.
Then he walks over to the cottage door, checks that he has a round chambered, and waits.

Tide, he thinks, what did Eddie offer you?

Love’s a funny goddamn thing.

Makes you do shit you’d never thought you’d do.

Then suddenly you’re doing it.

In Teddy Cole’s case, it makes him take the chauffeured ride home, go to his garage instead of the house, take one of his other Mercedeses and head straight for the strawberry fields. He knows he’s not going to find her there at night—she’s never there at night—but it’s the best shot he has, so that’s what he does.

Love is a funny goddamn thing.

Red Eddie sits in the back of the Hummer and watches the guys move up the pier toward Boone’s cottage. He checks out the two others lingering around the base of the pier and knows that for every one he sees, there are probably two he can’t.

Large respect for the Samoans guarding Boone Dawg from harm. They’re good at what they do.

Respect to Josiah Pamavatuu also.

The guy went the other way. Bad for his icehead cousin, to be sure, but good for him. Gonna be rough on the big man, though; Samoans are huge on family.

And Boone Daniels is a cockroach—you just can’t kill the
kanaka
.

Eddie had actually been very relieved when he got the word that Boone wasn’t charcoal. It’s a blessing. What is a curse is Dan Silver, who is
gripping
.

“She testifies tomorrow,” Dan says. “She saw everything—she’ll kill us.”

Red Eddie draws the herb smoke deep into his lungs, holds it for the count of three, then exhales. He passes the blunt to Dan as he sings, “Oh, Danny Boy, the lights, the lights are shining.… Relax, Daniel Spaniel.”

“You relax,” Dan snaps, shaking his head to refuse the smoke.

Red Eddie shrugs. “I will.”

Relax and think.

Relaxation, Red Eddie knows, is the prerequisite for efficient thought. No sense in getting all geeked up—you just cut off the flow of blood to your brain exactly when you need it the most. So he takes another hit of the weed to boost his intellectual capability, and then comes to a conclusion.

Eddie turns to Dan Silver and says, “Sorry, chief. You’re out of luck.”

Danny doesn’t want to accept it. “You telling me your guys can’t take a bunch of Sammy gang bangers?”

The Hummer is full of very
moke hui
boys and another car, also packed with muscle, waits just a block away. Doubtless they could do some serious damage to the Sammies and blow their way into Boone Dawg’s crib, Eddie knows, but that’s the problem—the last thing in the world Eddie wants is to trigger a transoceanic war.

And that’s what it would be, too. Let one of these Sammy guys get scratched, it would start a blood feud, with obligations for revenge. So the Sammies would crack a Hawaiian, then Eddie would have to crack back, and it would never end. And not just here, either; it would speed back to Honolulu in a heartbeat, and there’d be aggro there and in freaking Pago Pago, too. It would get out of freaking control, cause a lot of heartache, and interfere with business.

And Eddie’s all about the business.

No, the High Tide dude was smart, Eddie thinks. He figured all this out and put a screen around his boy Boone. A screen of
ohana
that he knew I would never attack.

Round to you, Tide.

“Sorry,” he says to Dan. “It just ain’t on, man.”

“That cunt’s going to testify in the morning,” Dan says. “God knows what’s going to come out of her stupid fucking mouth.”

“You better hope,” Eddie says, “she confines her remarks to the little pig roast at your dumb-ass warehouse.”

Because Dan has dumped him in the shit, letting this
wahine
see things she shouldn’t have seen. And the timing couldn’t be worse—he has a shipment due to come in tomorrow night, and he doesn’t want Dan’s sloppy business practices shining a spotlight on that part of his business.

“That’s why I’m saying,” Dan says. “Let’s go in and take her now.”

Eddie shakes his head. Ain’t gonna happen. Not only are the Samoans standing in the way, but there’s Boone to consider. No way is Boone going to stand aside and let Danny cancel that girl’s reservation. Eddie’s already told his boys: If they have a clean shot at the
wahine
, take it, but nothing,
nothing
, better happen to Boone Daniels.

Now nothing’s going to happen at all.

Not right now anyway.

“So what am I supposed to do?” Dan asks.

“Try using your head for a change,” Eddie says. His cellie goes off. “What?”

“Five-oh rolling up,” one of his guys in the other car says. “One cop, a Jap.”

“Time to take the party someplace other,” Eddie says.

The Hummer rolls out.

Johnny makes the Samoan gang bangers right away.

O’side—Samoan Lords—Tide’s old crew.

Which is interesting, what the hell High Tide has to do with all this. Johnny fronts one of the kids. “Call your
matai
. Tell him Johnny B. wants
to go through and he’s not in the mood to take any shit.” The kid gets on the phone, talks in Samoan for a second, looks at Johnny with undisguised hostility, and says, “It’s cool.”

“Thanks so much.”

Johnny walks down the pier, goes to Boone’s cottage, and bangs on the door. “Boone, open the damn door! It’s Johnny!”

Boone opens the door.

“You’re a dick,” Johnny says.

“No argument.”

“You had a lot of people worried, Boone,” Johnny says. “I thought I was going to have to organize a paddle-out for you. You could have called your friends, let them know you’re okay.”

“I’m okay.”

“Does Sunny know?” Johnny asks. “That she doesn’t have to grieve for you?”

“She knows.”

“I guess Tide must have told her, huh?” Johnny says, gesturing generally to the gang bangers, who seem to have melted into the landscape.

“What do you mean?”

“The Samoan Lord bodyguards,” Johnny says.

“I thought they were Hawaiians,” Boone says, feeling stupid and ungrateful for thinking that Tide had sold him out.

“They all look alike to me, too,” Johnny says. “Can I come in, Boone? Or are you going to keep all your friends out in the cold?”

“You have a warrant?”

“Not yet,” Johnny says.

“Then I guess I’ll stand out in the cold with you.”

“So you have Tammy Roddick,” Johnny says.

Boone doesn’t answer.

“How did we end on different teams on this thing, B?” Johnny asks. “I don’t think we have divergent interests here. You want Roddick to testify against Dan Silver in a civil suit tomorrow morning. The SDPD could care less. We just want to talk to her about Angela Hart’s death. Hell, I’ll walk her to the courtroom myself.”

“If she was still alive.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Boone hesitates.

“You got something on your mind,” says Johnny, “say it.”

“Dan Silver got the word pretty fast that it was Angela and not Tammy dead at the motel, Johnny,” Boone says. “I’m worried he got it from cops.”

“Fuck you, Boone.”

“I didn’t say it was
you
, Johnny.”

“Fuck you, Boone,” Johnny says.

“Okay, fuck me.”

“You think it was Harrington?” asks Johnny. “He’s a lot of things, but he’s not dirty.”

Boone shrugs.

“Sanctimonious asshole,” Johnny says. “Only Boone Daniels knows the truth, because he walks on water.”

“Jesus, Johnny.”

“So to speak.”

“Can you protect her?” Boone asks.

“Can
you
?” Johnny asks. “I mean, you can in the short run, but what about
after
she testifies? Have you thought of that? You think Dan Silver’s just going to forget she just cost him a pile of money? You’re going to devote your life to protecting this girl?”

Boone’s thought about it. It’s a problem.

“It’s an insurance company, Boone,” Johnny says. “They’ve got lots of jangle; they can afford to take a hit. Roddick was right to run. I only wish she’d run farther, because the company doesn’t give a shit what happens to her
after
she lays it down for them, do they? Her only chance is if I put Dan in the hole, and that isn’t going to happen on the arson charge. But if she’s a witness on a capital case, I can protect her.”

“We each have jobs to do, Johnny.”

“So fuck Angela Hart, right?” Johnny says. “Tag it a suicide. Just another dead stripper. ‘No humans involved.’ ”

“She’s not my job.”

“No, she’s mine,” Johnny says. “Put your hands behind your back.”

“Really, Johnny?” Boone says.

“I have reason to believe that you are interfering with an ongoing investigation,” Johnny says. “I have reason to believe that you have knowledge material to at least one homicide investigation. I’ll get the warrant to search your place, but in the meantime, I’m taking you in on a vandalism charge.”

“Vandalism?”

“Pushing your van through a municipal guardrail,” Johnny says. “Causing a fire on a public beach.”

Boone turns around and puts his hands behind his back. Johnny gets his handcuffs out.

“Cuffs, John?”

“Hey, you want to
act
like a skell …”

“Is there a problem, Officer?”

A woman comes to the door. Dressed, sort of, in Boone’s clothes. Her hair is damp, as if she just came out of the shower. Johnny recognizes her as the woman Boone was with when he arrived at the Crest Motel, the woman who went over and looked at the body. Her accent is clearly English.

“Who are you?” Johnny asks.

“Petra Hall, attorney-at-law.”

Johnny laughs. “Boone’s
lawyer
?”

“Among other things, yes.”

From the looks of her, Johnny has a good idea about what the “other things” are. It’s unlike Boone to sleep with clients, but it’s hard to blame him in this case. The woman is a stunner, and the voice and the accent are … Well, it’s hard to blame him.

“Sorry, Boone,” she says now, “but I couldn’t help but overhear a bit of your conversation. I don’t know what you think you saw, Officer—”

“Detective,” Johnny says.

“Sorry,
Detective
,” Petra says, “but I can assure you that Mr. Daniels was not on any beach tonight. I can … quite personally … vouch for the fact that he’s been snug and warm right here all evening. As for removing Mr. Daniels in handcuffs, I can also assure you that my client will have nothing further to say, that, based on my representations, you no longer have a justification for detaining him, and that, if you do so, I will have a writ of habeas corpus awaiting you when you arrive at what I believe you refer to, somewhat quaintly, as ‘the house.’ Release my client, Detective, immediately.”

Johnny lowers the handcuffs and clips them back on his belt. “Hiding behind women, now, B?”

Boone turns around to look at him. “I’ve evolved.”

“Apparently,” Johnny says. He looks at Petra. “Tell your ‘client’ that I’ll be back with the appropriate paper. Advise him not to go anywhere,
Counselor
, and I suggest you further advise him that he’s risking his PI card with this bullshit. And on the topic of ‘cards,’ I’m sure you know that any attorney, as an officer of the court, who lies to the police in the course of an ongoing investigation—”

“I know the law, Detective.”

“So do I,
Counselor
,” Johnny says. He looks at Boone, “I’ll be back with a warrant.”

“You do what you have to do, Johnny.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Johnny says. “I’m glad you’re alive, Boone. But you’re riding this one all wrong, selling out for an insurance company. It’s turning you into a real jerk.”

He turns and walks down the pier.

Boone watches him go.

Wondering if he’ll have
any
friends when this is over. This case is tearing The Dawn Patrol apart, Boone thinks, and he doesn’t know if they’ll ever be able to put it back together again.

Teddy D-Cup stumbles through the reeds.

Trips, falls, picks himself up, and pushes toward the light of a small campfire in the clearing in front of the little caves.

He’s greeted with a shotgun. A teenage boy grabs a machete and gets up. The old man just sits by the fire and looks up at him. Then the man with the shotgun sees Teddy’s face and lowers the barrel. “Doctor …”