Savages: A Nameless Detective Novel (Nameless Detective Novels) (16 page)

“I won’t be.”

“And it won’t be for the same reason I called,” Rinniak said. “He didn’t like you coming out here with Sandra Parnell yesterday. If you’d gone by the book, notified him Saturday night that the girl knew where Jerry Belsize was hiding, Belsize would be in jail now and there wouldn’t have been a fire here last night. That’s what he thinks.”

“Maybe. If Belsize hadn’t already disappeared by the time I talked to the Parnell girl. And if he’s guilty.”

“I’m starting to think Kelso’s right about that much. Why would Belsize run if he wasn’t guilty?”

“If he’s the bug, he didn’t run.”

“Not before last night, anyway. But if he’s still in the area, where? Hell, he had a good hiding place out here.”

“Better one picked out somewhere, maybe.”

“Could be. This is a big county, a lot of it rural. Planning to torch the camp all along, in that case.”

Runyon watched a helmeted CDF investigator poke and prod among the rubble. “Did Kelso arrest Sandra Parnell yesterday?”

“No. He didn’t get anything out of her, let her go with a hard warning. Laid down the law to her folks, too, not that it’ll do any good. The Parnells aren’t your all-American watchdog parents. Father’s been out of a job since the olive processors in Stander shut down a year and
a half ago, spends most of his time in bars; mother works long hours at two jobs.”

Runyon made no comment.

“You spent some time with the girl,” Rinniak said. “Think she knows more than she’s admitting?”

“Hard to tell. She’s hung up on Belsize, and it’s pretty obvious she hates and fears Kelso.”

“A lot of these kids do. Price he pays for being the way he is.”

Price the community at large pays, too, Runyon thought. But he didn’t say it.

“I hate cases like this,” Rinniak said. “Too much going on under the surface, too much weird. You can’t predict what’ll happen next. And something sure as hell will, if Belsize or whoever the bug is stays on the loose.”

“Agreed.”

“Well, maybe we’ll get lucky. That’s what it’s going to take—luck.”

Runyon said, “How much longer you going to want me around?”

“As far as I’m concerned, you can head home right now. But it depends on Kelso. Officially I’m his superior officer, but this is his jurisdiction and his record is one of the best in the department. I’ve got to cut him a certain amount of slack.”

“I talked to one of my bosses this morning. They need me back in San Francisco ASAP.”

“All right. Stick around today, try not to ruffle Kelso’s
feathers, and if there are no more surprises I’ll see to it you can leave tomorrow.”

K
elso wasn’t at the substation in Gray’s Landing. The gray-haired officer manning the place didn’t know where he was, and the call he put in over the radio at Runyon’s request went unanswered. Runyon asked for the deputy’s home address; the officer said he couldn’t give out that information.

Down the street was an open cafe; Runyon scouted up their public phone and a county directory. D. Kelso, 377 Alderwood Court, GL. So much for pro forma security. There was also a local listing for M.&R. Parnell, the only Parnells in the book: 600 Basalt Street. A Gray’s Landing street map at the front of the directory showed him how to get to both addresses. Alderwood Court was closest, just a handful of blocks from downtown. He drove there first.

Cul-de-sac of middle-class houses, the kind popular in rural towns half a century ago—two stories, wraparound or half-wraparound porches, gingerbread trim. Number 377 was painted white with dark blue trim. There was no sign of Kelso’s cruiser, but a young woman was just coming through the front gate onto the sidewalk. The daughter, Ashley. Runyon circled around, pulled up next to her, hit the button to lower the passenger side window.

She stopped when he spoke her name, bent to peer inside the car. She was wearing faded Levi’s and a khaki
shirt with the words “Battle Hardware” stitched over the pocket. The sun caught her midnight black hair and threw off dazzling highlights.

“Well,” she said, “look who’s here. Hello there.”

“I’m looking for your father. Know where I can find him?”

“No. He’s supposed to be here right now, giving me a ride to work. I’m gonna be late.”

“I’ll give you a ride.”

She struck a coy pose, one hand on a cocked hip. “Well, gee, I don’t know. Daddy says I’m not supposed to get into cars with strange men.”

Runyon was in no mood for games. He said, “If you want a ride, get in. Otherwise I’ll just keep on looking.”

“For other girls to pick up?”

He started to raise the window.

“Okay, okay,” Ashley said, “I was just kidding.” She got into the car, sat with one knee drawn up and her body turned against the door so she was facing him. “I wish I had a car. Even one like this.”

“How come you don’t?”

“Daddy won’t buy me one; he says I’m too irresponsible. I got a ticket once driving Zach’s car, that’s why. You remember Zach?”

Runyon nodded.

“I don’t make enough money to buy one myself,” she said. “Someday, but not yet. Is this the only one you own?”

“Why?”

“It’s pretty old. I guess detectives don’t make much money.”

“Enough. You work at Battle Hardware?”

“Ever since I got out of high school, part-time. Daddy wanted me to go to college, but I didn’t have the grades. He says I didn’t study hard enough—I guess he’s right. I never did like school much.”

“Sometimes,” Runyon said, “fathers want things from their kids they can’t have.”

“Sounds like you know from experience. You have kids?”

“One son.”

“Is he smart?”

“Yes.”

“But he won’t give you something you want, right?”

He didn’t answer that. “How do I get to the hardware store?”

“It’s on Fourth and A, two blocks off Main.”

He put the Ford into gear, swung around out of the cul-de-sac.

“It’s a shitty job,” she said, “but if I couldn’t go to college, I had to work and pay my way. Daddy’s big on that kind of stuff. Being responsible, a good citizen, a good Christian.”

“Sounds like a decent philosophy to me.”

“Oh, sure. But strict fathers can be a pain in the ass sometimes. Were you a strict father?”

I never had the chance. But he didn’t say it.

Ashley was silent for half a block. Then, “There was another fire last night. You know about it, I guess.”

“I was out there a little while ago.”

“I heard it burned up the migrant workers’ camp and everything around it for half a mile.”

“Not quite half a mile. But close enough.”

“Jerry must be really crazy, setting another fire so soon.”

“If Jerry’s guilty.”

“Sure he is. Guilty as sin.”

“Some people don’t think so. Sandra Parnell, for one.”

“That’s because she’s fucking him.”

The words were intended to shock; Ashley said them with a sidelong glance. Runyon kept his eyes front.

Ashley sighed. “Poor Sandy, she’s not real smart. Where guys are concerned, anyway. She knows some of the things I know about Jerry, but she’s still hung up on him.”

“What things?”

“You know I dated him for a while, before she did?”

“I heard as much.”

“Daddy didn’t like him, didn’t want me seeing him. Then he caught us fooling around in our house one day and kicked Jerry’s ass right out into the street. It was the best thing that could’ve happened. I knew about Jerry’s ugly side; I just didn’t know how bad it was.”

“Ugly side?”

The flippancy was gone now; her face was serious. “Reckless driving, racing other cars. One night when I was with him he hit a dog on purpose, no lie, just ran it down in the road. He likes to hurt people, too, when he’s high on weed.”

“Are you saying he hurt you?”

“Hit me a few times when I said or did something to piss him off. Slaps, mostly, but one time with his fist. I had a bruise on my hip that lasted for a week.”

“You tell your father about this?”

“Not until after what happened last Friday. I was scared to before, because of what he might do to Jerry.”

No wonder Kelso was so hot after the kid. You couldn’t blame him . . . if what Ashley said was the truth.

“You said Sandra knows what you know about Jerry. He beat up on her, too?”

“Couple of times, yeah.”

“She admit it to your father?”

“He dragged it out of her yesterday.”

“What else did she tell him?”

“Nothing. She swears she doesn’t know where Jerry’s hiding now, but I’m not so sure. Neither is Daddy.”

“Where do you think he might be?”

Ashley raised a hand and a pointing finger. “Turn left there at the corner. That’s Fourth Street.”

Runyon turned left.

“I don’t have a clue,” she said. “About where Jerry is, I mean. But Daddy thinks he’s still around somewhere in the area, that he’ll set more fires, hurt more people, if he’s not caught pretty soon.”

When Runyon stopped in front of Battle Hardware, Ashley gave him a quick smile and a brief thank-you for the ride and hurried into the store without a backward
glance. He watched her out of sight before he drove away. Smart-ass seductive on the one hand, grimly serious on the other. And no dummy, poor grades or not.

Question was, was she also a liar?

H
e had to stop two people to get directions to Basalt Street. Not worth the trouble, as it turned out. When he reached the semi-industrial area on the west side of Highway 5, found the street and the run-down frame house at number 600, there was nobody there to talk to except for a barking German shepherd in a fenced side yard. Father drinking up his unemployment benefits, mother at one of her two jobs, Sandra at the Hair Today Salon where she worked as a stylist. Trying to talk to the Parnell girl in that kind of business environment would be an exercise in futility. He could look her up later in more private surroundings.

K
elso wasn’t at the Belsize farm, but he’d been there not long before Runyon’s arrival. Mrs. Belsize told him that. She came hurrying from the chicken coop when he rolled into the yard, a big woman in khaki pants and sweat-stained shirt, gray haired, round cheeked, and still angry.

“That deputy,” she said, “he poked around all over the place, every building. Thinks we’re hiding Jerry somewhere. He’s got it in for my boy, for no reason that makes good sense. I don’t blame Jerry for running away from him.”

“Kelso have a search warrant?”

“No. Did he need one?”

“To conduct a search of your property he did.”

“Well, I wish we’d known that. John would’ve run him off damn quick.”

“Where’s your husband now, Mrs. Belsize?”

“Back in the corral with the horses. You want him?”

“Not necessarily.”

“What’re you doing here anyhow?” she demanded. “You think we’ve got Jerry hid up in the hayloft, too?”

“I thought Kelso might be here.”

“Why you looking for him?”

“Because he’s looking for me.”

His bandage seemed to register on her for the first time. Her face softened slightly; so did her voice. “How’s your head? That blow give you a concussion, they told us.”

“Mild one. I’m all right now.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear it. You don’t blame us for what happened?”

“Not at all.”

“Last thing we need is some damn personal injury lawsuit.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not litigious.”

“Glad to hear that, too.” Heavy sigh. “Shame you didn’t get here with that subpoena of yours half an hour sooner on Friday night. Maybe poor Manny’d still be alive.”

Runyon said he wished he had, too.

“A subpoena, of all things. As if Jerry don’t have enough grief.”

“It’s just a piece of paper requiring him to appear in court, that’s all.”

“I know that. Don’t you think I know that?” She sighed again, wiped her damp face with a man’s handkerchief. Her gaze seemed drawn to the larger of the two barns. “Why anybody would do such a terrible thing, go to all that trouble to get John and me away from here so they could kill Manny—that’s what I don’t understand. He was a good man, a family man. Got along with everybody.”

“Including your son.”

“They were friends, by God. Jerry no more done that to Manny than he can fly like a bird.”

“She’s right, mister,” John Belsize said. “Make no mistake about it.”

Runyon had seen him coming, the man’s slatlike body moving in long, hard strides across the yard. He stopped next to his wife. They were about the same height, but she was at least a foot wider. His stance was both aggressive and protective, which seemed to make him the dominant partner.

“I don’t doubt you believe your son is innocent, Mr. Belsize.”

“Meaning you do doubt he is.”

“I don’t have an opinion one way or the other. What I think doesn’t matter anyway.”

“That’s for goddamn sure.”

She said, “John,” not loud or sharp but with iron in her tone. It scraped the edge off Belsize’s temper; you could
see him back off. Runyon revised his opinion as to which of them was dominant.

“We don’t know where Jerry is,” Belsize said, evenly this time. “That’s what we told Kelso and that’s the truth.”

“What would you do if you did?”

“Don’t make any difference because we don’t.”

“You was out at the workers’ camp yesterday, before the fire,” the woman said. “Deputy told us you was.”

“I was there.”

“With that girl, Sandra Parnell.”

“Yes.”

“Told us there was marijuana in that trailer where Jerry was hiding,” Belsize said. “Claimed Jerry was smoking dope out there. I don’t believe it. His mother don’t, neither.”

“There were roach butts in the trailer. I saw them myself.”

“Somebody else smoked them. Jerry’s a good boy, clean-cut. Don’t you suppose we’d know it if he was the kind of wild, crazy kid Kelso says he is?”

“What I don’t understand,” Mrs. Belsize said, “is why he went to that girl for help.”

Runyon said, “She’s his girlfriend.”

“No, she ain’t. Not anymore.”

“Since when?”

“Couple, three weeks ago. He broke up with her.”

“Good thing, too,” Belsize said. “I never liked her much.”