Defiled: The Sequel to Nailed Featuring John Tall Wolf (A Ron Ketchum Mystery Book 2) (13 page)

“Chief, this is Special Agent Benjamin. I’ve found something you’d better see.”

Walt Ketchum asked Clay Steadman, “Would I be out of line if I asked for one more little consideration for the help I’m giving you?”

The fire was down to its embers by now. Both men had emptied their glasses. Each had been content to watch the glow in the fireplace until it disappeared altogether.

“What do you have in mind?” Clay asked.

“Well, if this movie we’re working on ever gets made —”

“It will,” Clay told him.

“Okay, when it gets made, can I have two tickets to the premiere?”

The movie icon smiled with unaccustomed warmth. “That’s all? Sure. I was going to provide you with ten or twenty, but if two are all you want —”

“No, no. I’d like whatever you can give me.”

“You got it. Who are you planning to take?”

For a moment, Walt seemed embarrassed. Then he told Clay about what Esther had said to him, and how he’d agreed to the idea. The old copper said, “I don’t care if it seems silly, the idea tickles me.”

“Me, too,” Clay told him. “I’ll make sure you and Esther have your own limo. A tux for you and an evening gown for her.”

Walt grinned. “Yeah, now that you mention it, jeans and T-shirts wouldn’t do.”

“Not at all. You’re a lucky man to have someone who cares for you that much.”

Walt looked like he had something he wanted to say, but he kept the thought to himself.

Clay sensed what he wanted to know and answered the unasked question.

“No, I don’t have anyone who cares about me that much, not a woman anyway. And don’t think that’s strange just because I’m rich and famous. Most of the women I know, they’d like to get close to me because
they
want to be rich and famous.”

“Well, hell,” Walt said, “you take your comfort where you can find it.”

Clay laughed.

Walt continued, “I mean, it’s a lot of trouble giving yourself a stroke and finding just the right nurse to see you through.”

Clay laughed harder and said, “Damn, I wish we’d met sooner, and there is one woman, in town at this very moment, I know has her own designs on me.”

“Is she worth the trouble?”

“I think I’m going to find out. Neither of us is going to live forever.”

“Ain’t that the truth?”

Clay got to his feet.

“I’m going to find a bottle. Of what, I can’t say. Are you up for a real drink?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Walt said.

Ron looked at the red arrow on the wall of Payton’s Trail Bikes and turned to Officer Benny Marx, whom he’d summoned en route to the scene.

“This looks pretty fresh to me, Benny. You think you can get a useful DNA sample off this wall? I know John Payton and the mayor, for that matter, are going to want that arrow cleaned off by morning.”

Officer Marx stepped close to the arrow, raised his eyeglasses to the top of his head and gave the wall a squint.

He said, “There are parts of this thing that are still wet. I think I should be able to blot up some samples.” Benny turned to the chief. “Just to be careful though, how about we put some kind of plant or something up in front of the arrow before we wash it off? You know, in case I have to come back and take another crack at getting a sample.”

Ron nodded. “Okay. I’ll smooth it over with John and the mayor. You going to take your pictures before you start blotting?”

Officer Marx nodded. “Gotta be quick, though. Don’t want that blood to dry out.”

The chief nodded. He and Abra Benjamin got out of Benny’s way.

“Is your man up to this?” she asked quietly after they’d stepped away.

“Chief,” Benny called out.

Ron and Abra looked at him. Benny was now peering at the arrow through a magnifying glass. He didn’t have a deerstalker hat on but his posture was Holmesian. Highly theatrical. Special Agent Benjamin had to repress a smile.

“Yeah, Benny,” Ron said.

“Just found something. Take a look at this.” He extended the magnifying glass to the chief. “I was wondering why the blood didn’t run, leave little uneven trails, you know. The rendering of this thing is just too neat.”

Ron hadn’t thought about that. Abra hadn’t either.

Ron took the magnifying glass and peered at the wall.

Benny said, “Look at the edges of the arrow. You see the slight darkening of the brickwork there? My guess is that’s spray adhesive of some sort. The guy who put the arrow on the wall must have put the glue down first and then sprayed the blood on.”

Abra frowned and said, “Will the adhesive screw up the lab work on the blood?”

Benny nodded. “Yeah, but look at this.”

He pointed to a thin trail of red dots descending from the bottom corner of the arrow’s tail.

The crime scene specialist said, “The guy must have used a stencil to get the glue and the blood to go on so neatly, but there was this little flaw in the stencil. Those droplets look uncontaminated to me. I’ll blot them up right away.”

Ron handed the magnifying glass back to his officer and smiled.

“Good work, Benny. Let Special Agent Benjamin and me know what you’ve found.”

Walking Abra back to her car, Ron didn’t feel the need to answer her question about Benny’s competence. That would have been rubbing it in. Instead, he told her, “Thank you for calling me, and for noticing that arrow in the first place.”

The FBI agent didn’t miss the courtesy she’d been extended.

A lot of cops, local or federal, wouldn’t have given her a pass on questioning the ability of a colleague. Chief Ketchum had to be pretty confident about himself and his department. She liked that in a man.

“Just trying to help out,” she said. “I want you to believe I’m really not so terrible for a fed.”

Ron drew a vertical line in the air with an index finger.

“Chalk one up for you,” he said.

“Meaning your accounting of me will continue.”

Ron smiled. “We all get called to account every day.”

Abra nodded and asked, “Where are your two friends?”

Ron knew she meant Keely and John Tall Wolf.

“Working their own angles. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Am I invited?”

“Sure, if you have something you’d like to contribute.”

Telling her she couldn’t be just a fly on the wall again.

Abra nodded and said, “I have something to show you.”

She opened the passenger side door on her rental and took out her iPad, brought up the images of the Chevy Tahoe and GMC Terrain that Brant Sutherland had picked out.

She told Ron about the tentative vehicle identifications the boy had made.

“You check your databases; I’ll check mine,” she said. “We’ll see if we come up with the same information on the people who own either of these SUVs. I’m thinking they have to be local.”

Ron drew another line in the air, and extended his hand to Abra.

She shook it and the two of them said goodnight.

Ron was no sooner back in his patrol unit than Sergeant Winslow — the night owl counterpart to Sergeant Stanley — called him.

“Chief, we just got a message from your father.”

“Is he okay?” Ron asked.

“Sounded like it. Mellow even. But he’d like to see you at the mayor’s house.”

That was a relief.

Ron passed the word to Sergeant Winslow about the red arrow.

All patrol officers were to be on the lookout for someone doing more of the same.

Thing was, by that time two more of them had already been done.

Motion-activated lights came on as Ron turned into the driveway at Clay Steadman’s house. There were no walls or gates to keep the public out and the homeowner safe. Everyone knew you entered Clay Steadman’s property either with an invitation or at your own peril. If Pinnacle Security didn’t get you, the mayor would.

Sergeant Winslow had told the chief he was expected and his father would meet him at the rear of the house.

Poolside? Hardly sounded like his old man. Walt was more of an open water guy.

Nonetheless, there he was in a padded lounge chair, taking his ease with only the submerged pool lights to keep him from tripping over the furniture, should he choose to go back inside. There was a glass on the table next to Walt. In the subdued illumination, it looked to hold a weak whiskey and soda.

Ron sat next to his father, not saying a word about the drink.

“I’m going to the premiere of my movie with Esther Gadwell,” Walt said.

“Good for you, but I didn’t know Clay was letting you direct.”

Walt snorted. “You know what I mean. Do you think your mother would mind?”

“It was your side of the family that was filled with a boxful of crackers.”

A rueful smile stretched across Walt’s face. “And your mom put up with every last one of us, and kept you from becoming just like the rest of us … never mind what your lawyer called you in court.”

“Mom was better than either of us deserved.”

“Me anyway,” Walt said. “I asked to see you because I remembered who it was I saw today.” He told Ron the story of Nikos Sideris. How the guy had been wanted for two murders and suspected of ten more when Walt and his partner had caught him. Then today, that morning, he saw a guy in town who was Nikos’ spitting image.

Walt didn’t like the coincidence of Hale Tibbot getting killed shortly before he saw someone looking like a killer he’d put away thirty years ago.

Ron didn’t like that either. It wasn’t a crime to look like someone else. Following in your family’s lethal footsteps, if that was the case, was a different matter.

“This guy, Sideris, you locked up,” Ron said, “did he have any artistic talent?”

Walt sat up abruptly, holding himself upright.

He said, “Nikos Sideris was a storyboard artist for a production company. That was the legit cover he used. How could I forget that?” Walt took a long look at his son. “How the hell did you know that?”

“Lucky guess,” Ron said.

Ron tended to think of his mother late in the day. Usually in bed, shortly before he drifted off to sleep. He knew it was nothing more than an adult child’s prayer of hope that he’d ever see her again, unless there really was a heaven. What he couldn’t shake, though, even fifteen years after losing her, was the wistful wish that one day the phone would ring and she’d be on the other end of the call.

He longed to hear his mother’s voice again.

If it ever worked out that way, he had the idea it would be at the moment when he died. Mom would speak to him, her voice filled with regret, to let him know there was indeed a heaven, but he hadn’t made the cut. He’d have to spend eternity with his father and all the other crackers.

Thinking of his mother made Ron wonder at the irony that a mean bastard like his father had been given so many years with a good woman, had even gotten the opportunity to know what it meant to have his own child. Not that things had worked out so well between Ron and his dad — until lately — but there had been some good times early on.

Ron had thought his ex, Leilani, would be his lifelong love. He couldn’t have asked for a more compelling physical attraction, and he’d loved her sweet personality as much as her body. Spending time with Leilani was a cascade of laughter, warmth and the hope that it would go on forever. In his mind, all he and Leilani needed to complete the picture was a kid, maybe two.

Someone to carry on after they’d given up the ghost.

Who didn’t want that?

Leilani, it turned out. She didn’t want kids as much as she wanted an acting career. Now, after a long struggle, she had it, was more successful that she’d ever dared to dream. She’d made overtures to Ron to get back together. But there was no going back for him.

He was sure they’d only fail to meet each other’s expectations again.

Ron was glad when his phone rang, distracting him from his dreary thoughts.

The caller ID said Oliver Gosden was waiting to talk with him. Kind of late, Ron thought. Oliver and Lauren must have put Danny to bed long ago. They should be enjoying their private time together. Not calling him. Unless —

“You got the job,” Ron said by way of answering the call.

“I got the job,” Oliver confirmed.

“Congratulations.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“The money good?”

“About what Lauren and I made together back there.”

“Good cops and reasonable pols to work with?”

“Very good people, all the way around.”

Ron made the last turn toward home. He’d be in bed in five minutes. The time he’d spent in bed with Keely had been fun but only a bit restful. He was dog-tired.

Thing was, Oliver didn’t sound much better than the chief felt.

“What’s the problem, Oliver? Somebody down there disappointed you’re not blonde haired and blue eyed?” Ron asked.

“No, they’re just happy I clean up real nice.”

Ron laughed. “Come on. You said they’re good people. What’s the problem?”

“It’s not the white folks or the Latinos.”

Even exhausted, Ron could figure that one out.

“Those damn African-Americans again?” he asked.

Oliver said, “Yeah, them.”

“Lauren and Danny?”

“Good guess.”

Ron pulled into his driveway. Saw there was a light showing in his house, one he hadn’t left on. He was about to end the conversation with Oliver and call Sergeant Winslow for backup. Then Keely opened the door. He hadn’t given her a key, but she’d obviously figured out where he’d hidden his spare.

She gave him a wave. He returned the gesture but stayed in his patrol unit, shutting down the engine.

“So what’re you going to do?” Ron asked Oliver. “You took the job, didn’t you?”

“Not yet. I have until the end of the week to give them my decision.”

“You’re prolonging the agony, man.”

“I know. Lauren’s sleeping with Danny. They put on a good show in front of the people down here. Then we got back to the hotel and they cried themselves to sleep.”

“You have a plan?” Ron asked.

“Take the next couple days and see if I can’t get them to like this place more than they do right now.”

“Good luck.”

“Yeah. How’re you doing? Catch any terrorists today?”

“Not yet, but we’re working hard.”

“We?”

Ron told Oliver about John Tall Wolf, Keely and Special Agent Benjamin.

Oliver focused on retired Detective Powell.

“You brought your old partner from LAPD in?” he asked.

“I was short on help, Oliver.”

Ron didn’t get any argument from Arizona.

All Oliver told him was, “I’ll let you know what we decide.”

Ron got out of the SUV and walked over to Keely who was waiting for him in his doorway.

“Hope you don’t mind me stopping by,” she said.

Ron shook his head and kissed her.

“I appreciate a good woman breaking into my house every now and then,” he said.

He closed the door behind them.