The Walt Longmire Mystery Series Boxed Set Volume 1-4 (106 page)

Meifert ignored her. “His father is an investment broker who is listed in
Who’s Who,
but his mother died when he was a child—abducted and murdered, strangled up near East Falls in the mideighties. The case wasn’t ever solved, probably drugs involved.”

“What was the mother’s name?”

“Candace Carlisle. She…”

I interrupted with a question. “Did you just say that his mother’s name was Carlisle?” Meifert nodded. I turned to look up at Gowder, who suddenly found the windows of interest. “So, his surname is Carlisle?”

Meifert nodded. “Yeah.”

“William Carlisle is Billy Carlisle, who was arrested with Shankar DuVall for trying to sell steamer trunks full of Schedule 1 of the Controlled Substance Act out of the back of an ice cream truck?” I carefully stood, walked over to Gowder, and stepped between him and the windows. “Billy Carlisle, who was in business with Shankar DuVall and Toy Diaz, whose brother was shot by Assistant District Attorney Vince ‘Oz’ Osgood in the presence of the recently deceased Devon Conliffe?” Gowder still wasn’t looking at me. “The same Billy Carlisle who was represented in his pro bono appeals case by my daughter?” I turned, and my voice echoed. “Billy Carlisle is William White Eyes?”

Katz looked at Gowder and finally nodded. “Yes.”

I shook my head. “Is there anything else in this little partnership of ours that you’re not telling me?”

Gowder looked at Katz. “Devon Conliffe was about to turn state’s evidence and implicate Oz, which will take us a little further than the current indictment and suspension.”

I stood there for a while, allowing all the lines to connect. “Then it’s Osgood.”

Gowder shook his head. “Not possible.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because I was with him at the fund-raiser the night Conliffe was killed.”

I was fully irritated now. “Then he had it done.”

Katz was watching me. “By whom?”

I was yelling now. “Toy Diaz by way of Shankar DuVall, I’d imagine!”

“You don’t have to raise your voice.” We stood there, looking at each other. “They don’t owe him any favors, and they’re not on the best of terms anymore.”

I stepped toward all of them. The ache in my ribs had receded with the increase of my anger. “Then how about William Carlisle White Eyes?”

Katz adjusted his glasses again. “It occurred to us.”

I wondered if I was up to throwing the two of them out the open window. “Partnership’s over.”

I started lumbering toward the stairwell, with Vic coming up behind me as Katz spoke. “What about the third note?”

Vic called over her shoulder. “If we find it, I’ll stop by and personally shove it up your ass.”

I only lasted two flights. Vic sat beside me on the flaking gray paint of the tread’s metal surface. After catching my breath, I spoke in a low voice. “That was stupid.”

She nodded and smiled. “I bet you feel better.”

“Not really.”

“Look, I know both these guys and, if it means anything, I don’t think they took it to heart. Anyway, they’re going to want to know about the third note, so I bet you’re forgiven by the time we get to the sidewalk.”

She was right.

Katz was waiting at the truck dock with his hands in his pockets and the ledgers under one arm. “We need that third note.”

I leaned against the concrete shelf with my good side. “Yep, and people in hell need ice water.”

He closed his eyes and gave the sun his face. “Nice day for it.”

“Where’s your playmate?”

“Caught a ride with Meifert; he’s decided you don’t like him.” Katz smiled. “On account of you getting in his face and yelling at him. He’s not used to that.”

“I’m sorry.”

He opened one eye and looked at Vic, who was standing beside me. “Yelling one of those law enforcement techniques you learned out in Wyoming?”

She was now sunbathing as well. “Yeah, that and lunch.”

Katz nodded. “Terminal?”

“Yeah.”

I hoped it was a location and not a result.

The Reading Terminal Market on 12th and Arch was created in 1892 when the Reading Railroad opened markets below the elevated tracks of the new train shed. It had consistently housed an undetermined amount of aromas since then by creating a gastronomic bazaar conveniently located at street level.

We walked past the Amish baked goods, farm produce, and fresh flowers to a little diner and sat on red leatherette stools at a stainless steel counter. I was in the middle and noticed that neither Vic nor Katz had picked up a menu. A heavyset woman of uncertain age and in oversized overalls set rolled flatware, glasses of ice water, and three cups of coffee in front of us. “What’ll it be, hon?”

The wave of nostalgia for the Busy Bee overtook me, and I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “The usual.”

She nodded. Evidently, it was a universal.

Katz slid one of the ledgers onto the counter, opened it, and glanced at the incomprehensible text. “So, you know where we can find an expert on Native American languages?”

I sipped my steaming coffee. “It just so happens…” I set it down to cool and took a closer look at the book. “He should be at the Academy; said he had to put the final touches on the exhibit.”

“Isn’t the reception tonight?”

“Yep.” I glanced at Vic. “But don’t you have to go to the opera?”

She rolled her eyes. “Puh-lease…”

I looked back at Katz. “Henry can translate.” I looked at the ledger to give him a little room. “Why didn’t you tell me William White Eyes is Billy Carlisle?”

“It’s IAD, special prosecutor for the DA’s office, and we really weren’t able to come forth with any of the information connecting the two.”

“Fair enough.” I lined up the suspects and started supposing. “Vince Osgood and Toy Diaz are in business.”

“It’s possible.” I looked at him, and he shrugged. “It’s likely.”

“Devon Conliffe, my daughter’s almost-fiancé, was a hophead and a friend of Osgood.”

“Yes. And Devon was the money launderer.”

I nodded and stared at my coffee. “That makes sense. So, Osgood goes to bat for Shankar DuVall in his official capacity, leaving Carlisle/White Eyes to linger in Graterford.”

“Yes.”

“I have a question.” I placed my hands on the edge of the counter, bumped my finger guard, and felt the vibration all the way up to my elbow. “Who was Shankar DuVall’s lawyer?”

Katz thought for a moment. “Not your daughter.”

I smiled at him. “I figured there were other lawyers in Philadelphia; I was just wondering who it was?”

“Why?”

I thought about an itch I’d had in my head for the last few days. “I think there are more connections among all these people.” Katz scribbled in his pad. “So Carlisle/White Eyes did the cook, DuVall the muscle, Diaz the distribution, and Devon laundered the money while Osgood looked the other way.”

“That’s the way it’s headed.”

I thought about the things that weren’t adding up. “If Osgood sent Diaz’s brother Ramon up the river, why would Toy go into business with him?”

“It was not a happy family; if Oz hadn’t gotten rid of Ramon, Toy probably would have.”

“How did you find out about the money laundering?”

“We checked the files at Hunt and Driscoll; Devon was channeling large sums of money through clients’ accounts, but we’re having trouble finding all the numbers. You want to hear the kicker?” I continued looking at him. “They hired him on Osgood’s recommendation.”

“There’s got to be more.”

Katz studied me for a moment. “You’re thinking that more of these lawyers might be involved?”

“I don’t know.” I took a sip of my coffee since it had finally cooled enough to drink. “I’m just saying that part of this puzzle is still missing. Some connection is out there; somebody.” I thought about it, and it all made sense.

“Didn’t Meifert say Carlisle’s mother was killed when he was a kid?”

“Yes, it was a well-publicized case.” Katz gestured toward Vic. “Her father had that one.”

“Can you get me a psychological workup on Carlisle?”

“Absolutely, but why?”

“I think he was the one at the Franklin Institute the night Cady was hurt, and I think he’s the one that’s been sending me love letters, but I don’t think he threw Devon Conliffe off the Benjamin Franklin Bridge.”

Katz made a face. “Then why was he following you this morning?”

“Protection.”

He made a show of looking at my battered body. “You sure about that?”

I shrugged. “I’m the one that pulled my gun and tried to arrest him.”

“So, who’s he protecting you from?”

“I don’t know; Osgood, maybe Diaz.” The food arrived, and the usual turned out to be chicken livers with onions, bacon, and fresh mozzarella. Dorothy would have been pleased. “Billy Carlisle is a Philadelphia drug chemist, but William White Eyes has a romance with the West, a west of which Cady and I may be emblematic.” I reached out with my broken finger and gently tapped the leather surface of the ledger. “I think this is going to be a very detailed record of William White Eyes’ business dealings with Toy Diaz.” I took another bite of the usual. “Anyway, we have to go see an Indian.”

Katz picked up his fork and cleaved off a section of his salmon salad. “We need that third note.”

I nodded and chewed. “That’s why we’re going to see the Indian.”

The swans and fish the Indians were throttling were still shooting water into the air of Logan Circle when we got there. Katz pulled the unmarked car into a no-parking zone in front of the Four Seasons and cut the engine. As we got out, I waved at the same doorman who had waited with me after I’d been ejected from the back bumper of the Expedition. “Hello, Sheriff.”

“Howdy, Lou.”

We’d gotten to know each other pretty well while I’d bled on his sidewalk. He came over from his official station and assisted me with the door. “How you feelin’?”

“Fit as a fiddle and ready for love.” I reached over the top of the car. “Asa, you still have that photo of Billy Carlisle?”

Katz pulled it from the file on the seat and handed it to me. “Lou, you strike me as a guy who doesn’t miss much.” I held up the photocopy. “You ever see this guy?” He glanced at the photo. “Some very bad people on both sides of the law are looking for this kid. I’m just trying to bring him in safe.”

Lou really looked at the photo this time. “Yeah, I seen him.” The old man tipped his hat back and looked over toward the fountain. “’Bout ’n hour ago.”

Vic was first. “Are you kidding me?”

“Crossed the street against traffic and sat over by the fountain for a while, then moved on.”

“An hour ago?” He smiled at Vic and nodded. She turned back to me. “Why the fuck would he do that?”

I looked at the Logan Circle noble savage in profile. “He changed the note.”

I thanked Lou, and Katz gave him a card and told him that if he saw the young man again to give the police a call immediately. We crossed with the traffic and pulled up in front of the Indian that represented the Delaware River. Vic walked a little past us and placed her hands on her hips. “Christ, it does look like Henry.”

I sat on the bench. Katz sat beside me, his suit looking better than it would have on a mannequin. “So?”

“I would imagine it’s taped to the underside of the seat. Why don’t you look?” He stooped down, reached beneath, and pulled something off.

Vic walked back. “Why this bench?”

“It was the one your mother and I sat on after I questioned the guard at the Institute.” She nodded and didn’t say anything, and I started wondering how far the competitive mother/ daughter thing went. “I think he’s been following me since I got here, the night Cady was hurt.” I looked at Katz. “Aren’t you going to dust that?”

He ignored me, thumbed a fingernail under the flap to break the seal, and opened it to reveal the same stock as the others.

I leaned over for a look, but Vic kicked my boot. “You and my mother come to the park a lot?” I raised an eyebrow and kicked her back.

Katz handed me the note. “I’d say your assessment that he changed it after we took the ledgers is correct.”

It was typewritten with the same dropout “O.” SEE PAGE 72. LOOK WEST, YOU CAN FIGHT CITY HALL.

Katz said he would catch up with Gowder and then meet me with the ledgers at the Academy later so that Henry could have a look at them. I wanted to get over to the hospital, but it was late in the afternoon and I had run out of time. I needed a shower and could get dressed at Cady’s for the reception, thereby killing two magpies with one stone. When Vic and I got there, Lena was gone and so was Dog. There was a note on the counter, along with a roasted chicken and a six-pack of beer in the refrigerator.

Vic sat on the stool. “You don’t think we’re looking for William White Eyes.”

I pulled two of the longnecks from the refrigerator. “No, at least not as a killer.”

“Osgood?” I opened both of them and handed one to her.

“I don’t think so, but I’ve been wrong before.”

“Diaz?”

I took a sip of my beer. “He’s a killer.”

“You don’t think that he and Osgood could have kissed and made up?”

“Toy Diaz does not strike me as the forgiving type.”

She took a sip of her own beer. “The assistant DA could be a pretty convenient partner in crime.”

I thought about it. “I think they’re in cahoots.”

She laughed. “Cahoots, Jesus…” She slugged down the rest of her beer. “It is pretty convenient that Toy Diaz appears to be flying around under the radar, and all the inconvenient people in Osgood’s life are meeting with the pavement.”

“Including Cady?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me it didn’t cross your mind.”

I shrugged. “Devon was very convincing.”

“I would be too if somebody was trying to tear off my head and flush it down a public toilet at Citizens Bank Park.”

“I was a little more civilized than that.”

She nodded and placed the tip of her tongue at the bottom of a particularly pointed canine tooth. “Yeah, I’ve seen you in those moods; I bet the meeting was very civilized.” She stood and stretched, her black T-shirt rising and exposing the flat, toned muscles of her midriff. I looked away, but I was pretty sure she’d seen me looking. “I need a shower.”

“Me too, but you go first.”

She had taken the second bedroom upstairs, so I collapsed on the sofa and noticed the blinking light on the answering machine. Vic had stopped on the landing and was looking through the glass of the cupola at the cables that rose from the Benjamin Franklin Bridge. “Cady’s not involved with this.”

Not for the first time, I studied her profile. “You mean in cahoots?”

She grinned. “Yeah.”

I took one of my shallow breaths. It didn’t hurt as much. “I think Osgood put the pressure on Devon, and Devon tried to put the pressure on Cady. I think Cady discovered Devon’s laundering scheme through William White Eyes and was going to drop a dime on them. I’m just trying to figure out why she didn’t do it.”

“You still think Devon hurt Cady.”

I nodded and watched her as she stood there looking at the flat light on the powder blue bridge. “I think if it’d been Toy Diaz, we’d have already been to a funeral.” I cleared my throat and voiced what had been on my mind since I had heard the message on her cell phone. “How could she let herself get involved in an abusive relationship like that?”

“You mean the daughter you raised?” I didn’t say anything. “It can happen to anyone, that’s the point.” She still looked up at the skyline, and her hands slid across the railing as if she were petting the city. She nodded a sad smile, looked down and watched me for a few moments more, and then disappeared.

I was left with the answering machine. There were people back in Wyoming who were desperate for information about Cady and me. I started to reach across and press the button, but the energy eluded me again. I slumped against the cushions and pulled my hat down, thinking that a short nap might do the trick.

The water began running through the pipes, and it was like rain. I could feel myself drifting off. I sat like that, with my back crooked and my finger guard lying on the back of the couch and thought about what I was going to do about Cady.

The water stopped after a while, and I heard Vic’s bare feet padding across the balcony above. I felt myself slipping away but woke a few minutes later because of pressure across both of my thighs. I started to push my hat up, but she took it from me and placed it on her head, an old western tradition. She straddled me with her strong legs and, since the hat was out of the way, I could see that her bathrobe was untied. I could smell the still-wet of her skin, smooth and full.

I started to speak, but she put a finger to my lips and leaned in. “Just shut the fuck up.”

She pulled my face forward with the fingers of one hand twisted into the hair at the back of my head, and I buried my face into her breasts as she reached to unbutton my pants. I could feel her taking the majority of her weight up onto her knees as her fingers quickly undid my belt and began working me through the opening in my underwear and jeans. Her fingers felt cool encircled around me, and it was all I could do to restrain myself from climaxing right then.

I could feel her leveraging me, and I slid into her. She gasped and yanked my head back, locking her mouth over mine, her tongue sliding deep between my lips. I could feel her grinding her hips down onto me, the furious quality of hungry passion as if she might swallow me whole.

I thought I heard a noise from behind her, almost as if the door had opened, but ignored it and slipped my hands under the robe, feeling the heat of her body as my fingers slipped beneath her breasts and cupped them. She broke from my mouth and gasped, a guttural growl coming from the back of her throat as she looked down at me and began pulling my face forward again.

I stopped her. “No.”

I watched as her nostrils flared and the pebbled surface of her nipples rose and fell inches from my face. “No what?”

“I want to see your face.”

Her eyes softened, and she smiled. She pulled my head back, her face a little above mine, and we settled into a rhythm with our eyes locked. I slid myself to the edge of the sofa and for the first time was able to push myself all the way into her. Her eyes flashed again, and her breath caught in her throat as she stayed like that, her grip tightening.

When I was able to think again, I was in the shower trying to wash myself with one hand, the other with a bread bag over it, secured with a rubber band. I couldn’t be sure if I was ever going to leave the water; it wasn’t safe out there.

Vic must have been reading my mind because, after about fifteen minutes, I became aware of her outline through the opaque surface of the shower door. I turned off the water and stood there, dripping.

“Walt?”

“Yep?”

She waited a moment and then spoke again. “It was just sex.”

“Uh huh.”

It was a longer pause this time. “You’re still who you are, I’m still who I am, and we’re still who we are.”

“Right.”

I watched as she put earrings on and applied lipstick. “The only difference is that we had sex.”

“Okay.”

She laughed and turned toward the shower. “Are you all right?”

I took a deep breath and winced a little. “Yep.” She waited, and I finally heard her let out a long sigh. I wiped the water from my eyes. “Vic?” I stared at the shower control and tried to stay focused. “We can’t ever do that again.”

She chuckled as she went out, not closing the bathroom door behind her. “Speak for yourself, big guy.”

I didn’t have any clothes upstairs, so I had to go down with a towel wrapped around my middle. She sat at the counter with another beer and the two-day-old
Daily News
that had the story about Devon Conliffe’s death on the front page.

I memorized every detail of her appearance with just one glance: the wife-beater T-shirt; the brown, pebbled leather jacket with studded conchos; the belt with green copper studs; a dark green lace skirt which stalled out at midcalf; and a pair of clunky-heeled alligator packers.

She had blown her hair dry so that it feathered down and covered her eyebrows, and she wore a turquoise choker and earrings, with my hat sitting ludicrously large on her head. I had known her for three years and, as good as she had always looked, she had never looked this good. “You want your hat back?”

I clutched my towel and pulled my only suit jacket and tie from my bag. “Eventually.”

She took a sip of her beer. “You’re being weird.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.” She smiled.

“Look…” I wondered about what I wanted her looking at. “I’ve got a lot of things going on in my life, and the last thing we should be…”

She cut me off with each word as a statement of its own: “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” She tried to continue, but the urge to laugh was too much. I waited while she laughed at me. “Jesus, Walt, you’re acting like some fucking prom queen the morning after.”

I stood there in my towel and felt ridiculous.

She got up from the stool and dangled the bottle from her hand like she had on the bridge and walked toward me, slowly. “How about I make it easy for you? We’ll just call it rape. I raped you. There. Do you feel better?” She was very close now, and she smelled like our sex, which she hadn’t tried to cover up. She gave me a long look from toe to head, where she replaced my hat. “And, if you don’t get dressed, I may do it again.”

It’s hard to scamper in a towel.

Vic said she’d meet me at the Academy with Katz and Gowder and had left me to my own devices and the hospital. We had taken the same cab for a while; Vic’s attention stayed out the window as the city rushed by. I kept trying to detect a weirdness in her, but it just wasn’t there. It was quite possible that she had more experience than I did. Since the end of her marriage, she’d been briefly involved with a dentist and had had a ferocious weekend with some rodeo cowboy who’d then showed up at the office and been treated to a reenactment of the Battle of Benevento; Ruby and I had desperately tried to pretend that we weren’t listening.

“I’ve only had sex with six women in my entire life.” It came out before I had a chance to edit it or make any additions, and I said it like I was talking about heart attacks.

She turned her head and looked at me, with a little bit of sadness. “Oh, Walt…”

When I got to the ICU, the head nurse told me they had been trying to call me. Cady had opened her eyes. Michael had been in the room. He was by her bed, standing easily on the one unwounded foot. “How ya doin’, Sheriff?”

I looked at her, but her eyes were closed.

“She had them open for about an hour and a half, and she closed them no more than ten minutes ago.”

I sat down in the chair by the bed and stared at her motionless face, at the ceremonial Cheyenne trappings still surrounding her, and started to cry. I couldn’t stop. All the pent-up emotion of the last week found fissures in my stalwart act and began cracking like ice dropped into hot water. I could feel the strike of tears dripping onto the two-fisted grip of my hands. I wasn’t aware of Michael moving, but I felt his hand on my shoulder. The wretched, cynical husk that had written Cady off and had prepared me to let her go was dying. The transition from malice to relief was quick and, when my eyes could refocus, I noticed that I’d crushed the finger brace.

Michael and the nurse kneeled in front of me, both of them looking at the twisted aluminum wrapped around my broken finger. “Doesn’t that hurt?”

I tried to catch my breath and noticed that my ribs weren’t aching either. I looked past the nurse’s head and could see that Cady had opened her eyes again. I smiled. “Not anymore.”

Rissman had been called; he had left a message that he wanted to talk with me when I arrived. He was trying to keep my attention as I watched Cady’s eyes and counted how long it took her to blink. He said that most comas end with the patients opening their eyes and regaining consciousness, but that 10 percent of those who do fall into the category of Apallic Syndrome and don’t respond to environmental stimulus.

I squeezed Cady’s hand, but she didn’t respond. Her eyes looked into the distance to places I could not see. The color was clear, and the whites as bright as I’d ever seen them.

He said that for her to regain consciousness, both reactivity and perceptivity would have to be present.

I bit my lower lip and could feel the heat returning behind my eyes.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” He looked at the ceiling, the floor, and my left shoulder.

I looked across the bed at him. “She’s going to make it.”

He shook his head. “Please don’t get your hopes too high. Even in the best of circumstances…”

“She’s going to make it.” I sometimes underestimate the vigor of my statements, and I’d imagine it has to do with having to deal with the law on a continual basis. I rarely let emotion get a strong grip on me or have an influence in my responses, but this was different. I’d been waiting so long for hope that I wasn’t letting it slip away. I’d seen what the hopeless approach was like, and I was never going back there again. “She’s going to make it.”

Rissman said that he was ordering some more tests now that she had opened her eyes and that I had at least a few hours. Michael said he’d be happy to stay and wait for Cady while I went to the reception. I tried not to concentrate on the features he shared with Vic.