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Ed Baker came out of the house after a while and shook his head. “Nothing.”
“You sure you looked everyplace?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
“You’re a goddamned genius,” Se
“Naw. It’s clean.”
“Well, then, just to make sure, you might haul your ass over to that shack with the rock machinery in it.”
“Uh,” Baker said, and swallowed. Se
Baker scowled and moved away toward the rock-tumbling shack. I made a half-turn to keep him in sight. I hadn’t seen any gun-bulge against his shirt but Baker was the type who could squeeze a te
I said to Se
“We’ll see.” He turned again to Joa
Joa
Se
“For what?” Se
“He’s not a cop.”
“Yeah. Ex-cop. He’s still got the odor from here.”
I gave him a cool smile, wanting to give him no satisfaction. He said to her, “One more time. How much you told him?”
She spread both hands. “How much do I know? Nobody lets me in on any secrets, you know that.”
I said, “She went to Aiello’s house at seven-thirty and found it empty. The place had been torn apart. She got scared and came here. That’s all there is.”
Se
“They’re in the car,” she said shortly.
Se
He watched Baker for a few minutes and finally, evidently satisfied himself that Baker wasn’t going to find anything; he turned to me and said, “Aiello will turn up.”
“I guess he will,” I agreed judiciously.
“He’ll turn up dead, or he’ll turn up alive. I kind of suspect he’ll turn up dead.”
“Uh-huh.”
“If he does,” Se
It wasn’t a question that required an answer. He went on:
“He had some goodies that belonged to some of us. Me and my friends, I mean. You know, like Pete? We’re kind of anxious to get it back. Now, if you two got it; it might be a good idea for you to give it back. You could pack it up and ship it to Pete anonymous, so we wouldn’t have any way to prove who sent it, but you’d be in the clear because the heat would be off—unless, of course, we happened to find out you killed Aiello and ditched him someplace. I’m just making suggestions, you understand. We’re all civilized people; we don’t give orders or make threats. But just as a suggestion I might mention it wouldn’t be considered friendly for either one of you to try to leave town before we find out what’s happened to Aiello and the stuff that disappeared from his house.”
Baker was still on the prowl; Se
Joa
“Make it a double,” she said in a small voice.
I made a drink for her and stood nearby while she gulped half of it down. I said, “Aiello will probably turn up soon, trying to get out of the country with the loot.”
“Don’t try to calm me down with lies.” Her hands dug out a mangled cigarette like an addict snatching an overdue fix. “They can’t let it lie, Simon. The things in that safe were too hot. They’ve got to. find them.”
“They won’t find anything by killing people. They know that.” I turned half away from her, hardening my gut consciously before I said, “Se
I wheeled toward her and said flatly, “Who is it, Joa
Her eyes flashed. “You’re babbling.”
“You’ve been holding something back.”
She put the drink down, jammed the cigarette pack into her purse and snapped it shut; got up and headed for the door, icy and stiff. I let her get as far as the door and then I said, “It’s Mike, isn’t it?”
It stopped her in her tracks.
Her teeth were white against the tan face. “What—what gives you—”
“He’s back,” I said, making it a statement.
She took a breath. “How did you find out? How long have you known?”
“I didn’t,” I said, “until you just said that.”
The menace in her eyes came and went quickly, and was replaced by self-disgust. “I never was a good liar.”
“I’m a hard man to lie to,” I said, not softening it. “Now sit down and finish your drink and tell me about Mike.”
She moved back to the couch like a mechanism, sat by reflex and leaned back; her eyes never left my face. I stared at her until she blushed. When she finally spoke it was without apologia or preamble:
“They let him out of prison yesterday. He came back to town last night. I honestly don’t think he meant to get in touch with me at all—he only wanted to see Aiello and try to straighten things out so they wouldn’t get after him all over again. But Mike always did have a talent for trying to soothe troubled flames by throwing oil on them. Simon, I swear to you he had nothing to do with Aiello disappearing.”
“Can you prove that?”
“No, but he—”
“Don’t swear to things you don’t know,” I said. “Christ, of all the asinine things to do. All this rigmarole just to protect Mike Farrell—why? You’re not even married to him any more?”
“He didn’t do it,” she said adamantly.
“Did you see him?”
“Only for a few minutes.”
“When?”
“Last night. He’d had a big argument with Aiello and he wanted a shoulder to cry on. My God, Simon, I wouldn’t even let him come in the house. He stood on the porch and bleated at me through the door—I had it on the chain—and when I wouldn’t let him come in he stormed back to his station wagon and went away with his tires squealing. I expect by now he’s halfway to the Mississippi River.”