The Whole Truth (27 page)
Steve couldn't. Not then. But he couldn't pull away completely. He'd come too far with his only brother. “I don't know what to tell you right now.”
“Then just frost for a while. That's all. You're still getting your Verner legs. When you get them all the way, you'll be ready to dance.”
Bible study, my shorts
, Steve thought the next morning.
He'd spent a restless night on the sofa in his office. He knew why. Weirdness did that to you. What he'd seen at Beth-El last night was weirdness on wheels. Literally.
He sat up and flicked the switch on the Mr. Coffee machine he'd set up before trying to sleep. But he knew it would take more than a couple cups of joe to clear the cobwebs of disquiet from his mind.
He had no professional prospects at all, other than the LaSalles. He'd jumped at the money and the chance to start over.
Had he sold his soul?
Metaphorically speaking, of course.
And what would happen to him if he tried to get it back?
He poured himself the first cup of the morning, sat looking out the window of his office. He had a wonderful view of the parking lot.
He felt alone and lost. Like he'd been plucked out of Los Angeles by a huge, cosmic kidnapper and placed here, in an alien world, where his only link to sanity was a brother who was too connected to a certifiable old man.
Or was there another link?
He grabbed his phone and speed dialed Sienna Ciccone.
“Mr. Conroy,” she answered, surprised.
“Is this a bad time? I know it's early. You're not in church or anything, are you?”
“Actually, I was just doing some Real Property reading.”
“How exciting. When you get to the doctrine of incorporeal hereditaments let me know.”
“Is there something I can â ”
“Um. Sure. Is there a legal issue you'd â ”
“I've got an issue, but it's not legal.”
“I don't understand.”
“I have to decide what to do.”
“Can we just talk?” he said.
“About what?”
“About staying here.”
“In Verner?”
“Yeah.”
“But you just got there.”
“Can I tell you what happened last night?”
“Yes, sure.”
“I went to a Bible study.”
“You did?”
“You sound shocked.”
“Surprised, maybe.”
“It was up at Beth-El, the mini fortress where Eldon LaSalle rules his little world. It was bizarre.”
He gave her the whole account, all the way up to the woman forced to her knees in front of the Master.
When he was finished, he asked, “Does that sound like any Christianity you are familiar with?”
Pause. “There is a thin line to be sure. A line between free exercise and criminal activity.”
“How about between free exercise and common decency?”
“What's not decent in one person's eyes may be decent in another's.”
Steve took a deep breath. “I don't know what to do.”
“Maybe you should walk away.”
“Walk away?”
“Maybe it's just too close to the edge. You could chalk it up to experience and come back to LA.”
She wanted him to come back.
Or not.
“But there's Johnny,” Steve said. “If I did that, I'd be leaving him up there. Part of me thinks I'm supposed to get him out.”
“Out?”
“Yeah. Out of that life. I couldn't save him when I was five. Maybe I can now. Maybe that's what my whole life is supposed to come down to.”
It was the first time that thought had come to him so clearly.
“That's a pretty heavy burden to put on yourself,” Sienna said.
“Why don't you come up for a visit?” Steve said.
“Excuse me?”
“To Verner. Come on up. I'll show you my new office. I'll . . .” He paused, looked out at the parking lot that held only one car, his. “I just would like to see you, that's all.”
After a moment, Sienna said, “Mr. Conroy, I don't think . . .”
“I know. I just gave it a shot, you know?”
A beep. His call waiting.
“I've another call here,” he said. “Sorry I took up your time.”
“No, it's not that â ”
“Later,” he said, then hit the talk button.
It was Johnny.
“You feeling any better today, my brother?” he said.
Steve said, “Don't really know yet.”
“Give it time. Remember what I told you. You know what you need? You need some work, to get in the game.”
“Game?”
“You're a lawyer, right?”
“I used to think so.”
“You know the criminal law, am I right?”
“To a degree that's kept me in cheap suits.”
“Then I got some work for you to do. Think you can find your way to the county jail?”
The county jail in downtown Verner was connected to the courthouse and run by the sheriff's department. It was a two-story, cream-colored design, able to hold a relative few, considering the size of the town. If there was ever a riot, Steve thought, the place wouldn't be able to accommodate more than a hockey team's worth.
Right now, though, it held one LaSalleite named Neal Cullen. The place was quiet, it being Sunday, so only the weekend staff was around. Steve showed his bar card at the counter and said he was representing Cullen. They gave him the booking sheet. He gave it a scan as he was led by a dark-haired female deputy to the attorney room. There were four stations, all of which were empty at the moment. No crime wave in Verner. But the day was young.
Another deputy, a robust man of linebacker size, brought in Neal, dressed in blues, hands shackled in front of him. He took a place opposite a one-foot partition. Smiling.
“Hey, Steve,” Neal said brightly. “What up?”
“What do you mean what up? You're in jail, that's what up. You're going to be charged with felony assault.”
“Don't worry about it.”
The linebacker deputy grunted and moved to the other side of the room. Technically he wasn't supposed to listen, and anything Neal said was privileged. Still, Steve kept his voice low. “I'm not the one who needs to worry,” he said. “Felony assault is not a minor thing. It's no misdemeanor.”
“Steve, I'm going to walk out of here. I got a witness.”
“A witness?”
“Rennie.”
“How convenient.”
“Huh?”
Steve opened his briefcase and took out a yellow legal pad and pen. “Why don't you just tell me what happened, from the beginning.”
“Sure, Steve. Here's how it went down. Me and Rennie, we went down to shoot some pool at Vic's. You can ask Vic. Vic Cook, owns the place. We shoot there almost every Saturday night. You shoot pool, Steve?”
“So you're telling me you went to shoot pool after your Bible study, is that it?”
“Yeah, nothing about not shooting pool in the Bible, right?”
“Go on.”
“So we played till about eleven, eleven thirty.”
“Any drinking?”
“Oh, a beer or two.”
“How many is a beer
“How many is a beer or two?”
Neal said, “You're a great lawyer, Steve. That's why I'm glad you're on our side.”
“So how many?”
“You want a real number?”
“I like real numbers, Neal.”
“Okay.” Neal closed his eyes and started touching his thumb with his other fingers, counting. “I had maybe five or six. Rennie about the same.”
“Any shots?”
“Man, you
are
good. Okay, I had a couple JDs. I don't think Rennie did.”
“When did you start drinking?”
“How many questions you gonna ask me?”
“As many as I think I need to cover your sorry â never mind, just answer me.”
“Steve, are you trying to say you think I was too jacked up to know what I was doing?”
“I'm asking you what the DA'll ask you.”
“How should I answer?”
“Excuse me?”
“What answer'll do me the most good?”
“Neal, just for today, let's play a little game called Truth. I'm your lawyer, you tell me the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but. Then you let me take that little ball of info and bounce it around. Now, concentrate real hard. When did you start drinking and when did you stop?”
“Oh man, this is so not worth it. Let me get to the good part.”
“There's a good part?”
Neal smiled. “Yeah, where I opened up a can of whoop on that mud.”
“The what?”
“The mud baby.”
“You mean an African American?”
“That's your word, not mine.”
“You better learn it.”
“Why should I?”
Steve rubbed his eyes.
“What's wrong?” Neal said.
“I've got another word for you,
hate
. As in
hate crime.
You even aware of that?”
“Come on, me? I don't hate anybody. Against my religion.”
“Right, the religion of the barking dog and John Wilkes Booth. You know how that's going to look to a jury?”
Neal shook his head. “That's what I'm talkin' about. This ain't going to no jury. You got to hear my story. Can I tell you or not? I'm telling you what I drank has nothing to do with anything.”
“All right, get it over with.”
“No, listen. Me and Rennie, we play until eleven, eleven thirty. Then we walk out and think maybe of stopping at The Pipe for another drink.”
“Oh, this is getting better and better.”
“So we're walking down Arroyo and guess what I find out? I'm holding a cue in my hand.”
“A pool cue?”
“Yeah! I walked right out of Vic's with it.” Neal laughed. “I mean, I didn't even know I had it.”
“Sure.”
“No, really. I was playing so long it just kind of became a part of me, I guess. So I say to Rennie, let's go back and return it.”
“Rennie, he didn't even mention to you that you were out on the street holding a pool cue?”
“Hey, you're right. Why didn't he say anything?” Neal laughed again. “That Rennie.”
“Barrel of laughs.”
“So we turn around to go back and that's when the guy steps out of the parking lot.”
“The victim?”
“He's no victim.”
“Neal, look around. This thing here is called a jail cell. As of right now, you are called a perp.”
“Not gonna last. Rennie saw the whole thing.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot about good ol' Rennie being right there. So what happened?”
“This mud comes at me with a chain.”
“Just like that?”
“Yeah, can you believe it?”
Steve stifled his response.
Neal continued, “It's a good thing I had that cue in my hand.”
“Lucky.”
“You got that right.”
“Any reason why this guy should come at you with a chain?”
“None! That's the whole thing, Steve. Except that he probably wanted to rob me.”
“You and Rennie.”
“Yeah.”
“Rennie's a pretty big guy.”
“Yeah.”
“This guy with the chain, he was alone?”
“Yeah.”
“How big was this guy?”
“I don't know, about my size maybe.”
“You're not that big, Neal.”
“It's not the size of the dog in the fight, it's the â ”
“I know, I know. I'm just saying it seems odd, doesn't it, that a guy your size would come after you and Rennie both? Alone?”
“I can only tell you what happened, Steve. You wouldn't want me to start making stuff up, would you?”
The snort that issued from Steve's nose was completely involuntary. But not surprising. “Go on then.”
“So I jump to the side and he comes down with the chain on the ground. Sparks and everything. And as quick as a cat, I swing the pool cue at him and get him on the back of the head. He tries to get up and by this time I'm sure he wants me dead, so I make sure he stays down.”
“How bad is he?”
“I didn't stick around to find out.”
“You left the scene?”
“I walked away at a good pace.”
“And then where?”
“To The Pipe.”
“Just went to the bar as if nothing happened? Didn't call the sheriff?”
“Why should I bother the sheriff? I took care of my own business.”
“How did you get arrested?”
“Oh yeah. Darn pool cue. It broke up. I guess they figured somebody from Vic's did this, and went and asked about me. But that's the whole story, Steve. When can I get out?”
“When somebody posts your bail.”
“When will that be?”
“Monday. You get to spend the weekend in this little home away from home.”
“Oh man! I was hoping to watch the game today.”
“What game?”
“Any game!” And Neal laughed again, like a jolly circus clown. That's how Steve left him.
He'd had too many lying clients to take any of what Neal said at face value. And that's what he needed now, face time. With the “witness” to the whole thing.
In truth, Steve did not want to be within twenty yards of Rennie at any given moment. Menace came off him like onion fumes. Get too close and your eyes would water.
Especially when he had an acetylene torch in his hand as he did now, in the open garage of the house where Steve had first set eyes on him. Steve wondered if Ezekiel the monster dog was chained up in the backyard. He didn't care to find out.
Johnny had his face stuck under the hood of a Lincoln. Rennie saw Steve first and didn't bother to ease the flame. He held it at his side like a gun.
“Your brother's here,” Rennie said.
Johnny pulled out from the engine, looking none too pleased. Then he smiled. “Hey, Bro. How's Neal doing?”