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«You can’t be serious. You’re dealing with the most powerful family in New Jersey. Do you really think you’ve got nothing to lose?»
Myron shrugged. «I’m also crazy,» he said. «Or to put it another way, my mind works in a distorted fashion.»
Pomeranz looked over at Wickner. Wickner looked back. There was a crack of the bat. The crowd got to its feet. The ball hit the fence. «Go, Billy!» Billy rounded second and slid into third.
Pomeranz walked away without another word.
Myron looked at Wickner for a long time. «Are you a total sham, Detective?»
Wickner said nothing.
«When I was eleven, you spoke to my fifth-grade class and we all thought you were the coolest guy we’d ever seen. I used to look for you at games. I used to want your approval. But you’re just a lie.»
Wickner kept his eyes on the field. «Let it go, Myron.»
«I can’t.»
«Davison is a scum. He’s not worth it.»
«I’m not working for Davison. I’m working for Anita Slaughter’s daughter.»
Wickner kept his eyes on the field. His mouth was set, but Myron could see the tremor starting back up in the corner of his mouth. «All you’re going to do is hurt a lot of people.»
«What happened to Elizabeth Bradford?»
«She fell,» he said. «That’s all.»
«I’m not going to stop digging,» Myron said.
Wickner adjusted his cap again and began to walk away. «Then more people are going to die.»
There was no threat in his tone, just the stilted, pained timber of inevitability.
21
When Myron headed back to his car, the two goons from Bradford Farms were waiting for him. The big one and the ski
Myron felt something inside him start to simmer.
The big guy was show. Probably a wrestler in high school. Maybe a bouncer at a local bar. He thought he was tough; Myron knew that he would be no problem. The ski
Myron spoke to the Ski
The big guy looked confused, but Ski
«I’m not used to guys using that line on me,» Ski
«Guys,» Myron repeated. «But with your looks, the chicks must be asking all the time.»
If Ski
Myron shook his head. The snake. The question had been answered. These were the right guys. The big one had punched Mabel Edwards in the eye.
The simmer flicked up a notch.
«So what can I do for you fellas?» Myron said. «You collecting donations for the Kiwanis Club?»
«Yeah,» the big guy said. «Blood donations.»
Myron looked at him. «I’m not a grandmother, tough guy.»
Big said, «Huh?»
Ski
«Governor-to-be?»
The Ski
«Nice to see. So why doesn’t he call me?»
«The next governor thought it would be best if we accompanied you.»
«I think I can manage to drive the mile by myself.» Myron looked at the big guy again and spoke slowly. «After all, I’m not a grandmother.»
The big guy sniffed and rolled his neck. «I can still beat you like one.»
«Beat me as you would a grandmother,» Myron said. «Gee, what a guy.»
Myron had read recently about self-help gurus who taught their students to picture themselves successful. Visualize it, and it will happen or some such credo. Myron was not sure, but he knew that it worked in combat. If the chance presents itself, picture how you will attack. Imagine what countermoves your opponent might make and prepare yourself for them. That was what Myron had been doing since Ski
Myron’s knee landed squarely in the big guy’s groin.
The big guy made a noise like he was sucking through a straw that still had drops of liquid in it. He folded like an old wallet. Myron pulled out his gun and pointed it at the Ski
The Ski
«Wasteful,» Ski
«Yeah,» Myron agreed. «But I feel much better.» He looked at the big guy. «That was for Mabel Edwards.»
Ski
«Where’s your car?» Myron asked.
«We were dropped off. We’re supposed to go back to the house with you.»
«I don’t think so.»
The big guy writhed and tried to suck in a breath. Neither standing man cared. Myron put away his gun.
«I’ll drive myself over, if you don’t mind.»
The ski
Myron started to get into his Taurus.
«You don’t know what you’re up against,» Ski
«I keep hearing that.»
«Maybe,» he said. «But now you’ve heard it from me.»
Myron nodded. «Consider me scared.»
«Ask your father, Myron.»
That made him pull up. «What about my father?»
«Ask him about Arthur Bradford.» The smile of a mongoose gnawing on a neck. «Ask him about me.»
Icy water flooded Myron’s chest. «What does my father have to do with any of this?»
But Ski
22
Myron put a call into Win. He quickly told him what’d happened.
«Wasteful,» Win agreed.
«He hit a woman.»
«Then shoot him in the knee. Permanently injure him. A kick in the scrotum is wasteful.»
Proper Payback Etiquette by Windsor Home Lock-wood III. «I’m going to leave the cellular on. Can you get down here?»
«But of course. Please refrain from further violence until I am present.»
In other words: Save some for me.
The guard at Bradford Farms was surprised to see Myron alone. The gate was open, probably in expectation of a threesome. Myron did not hesitate. He drove through without stopping. The guard panicked. He jumped out of his booth. Myron gave him a little finger wave, like Oliver Hardy used to do. He even scrunched up his face into that same Hardy smile. Heck, if he had a bowler, he would have gotten that into the act too.
By the time Myron parked at the front entrance, the old butler was already standing in the doorway. He bowed slightly.
«Please follow me, Mr. Bolitar.»
They headed down a long corridor. Lots of oils on the walls, mostly of men on horses. There was one nude. A woman, of course. No horse in this one. Catherine the Great was truly dead. The butler made a right at the hallway. They entered a glass corridor that resembled a passageway in the Biosphere or maybe Epcot Center. Myron figured that they must have traveled close to fifty yards already.
The manservant stopped and opened a door. His face was perfect butler deadpan.
«Please enter, sir.»
Myron smelled the chlorine before he heard the tiny splashes.
The manservant waited.
«I didn’t bring my bathing suit,» Myron said.
The manservant looked at him blankly.
«I usually wear a thong,» Myron said. «Though I can make do with bikini mesh.»
The manservant blinked.
«I can borrow yours,» Myron continued, «if you have an extra.»