'He took rocks, pictures, the riot gun and split,' said Merci.
The garage still housed Archie's silver Boxster and Gwen's new white Durango. They checked the pool area and the grounds around the house.
They stood in the shade, not far from where Wildcraft had faller 'What did he do, Paul, walk out of here?'
Zamorra looked at her.
They picked up a set of footprints leading down to the steps that wound through the wildflowers. The steps led to the gate. It was easy to see where the gate had been opened because it was out of plum and had scraped a fresh gash in the earth.
'That's where Brice came in this morning,' she said.
'And probably where Archie went out. There's a car rental franchise down on Moulton Drive,' said Zamorra. 'It's not far. Put the stuff in a duffel. Leave it by the gate, walk down, get a car and come back for it. The deputies wouldn't even know he'd left the house.'
'Goshdamnit, Paul. I should have seen this one coming.'
'I didn't think he'd run. He had plenty of opportunity to do that earlier.'
'It didn't cross my mind until Brice's stunt.'
'It might not have crossed Archie's until then, either,' said Zamorra. 'That's why he didn't tell us Brice had been here. And Archie might have thought we didn't buy all his stories this morning. Which we didn't.'
'It's too much to hope that he checked himself back into UCI Med Center, isn't it? Or went to his parents, or out to the Kuerners in Norco?'
'We'll see,' he said, pulling the phone from his pocket.
'Dawes is going to love this.'
'Everyone's going to-detectives let armed and dangerous murder suspect drive away.' Zamorra mimicked the grave tone of a TV news intro:
'Or did the cops want him to get away? '
'Dial Abelera, Paul. And don't forget the partner, Damon Reese. Archie saved his life.'
She looked out to the pale blue sky and listened to a hawk crying and cursed herself again for letting this happen.
They walked back to the driveway so Merci could quiz the deputies again. While Merci learned nothing at all, Zamorra used his cell phone and found out that the Wildcrafts hadn't seen Archie since leaving here just after one.
William Jones, legs spindly but head purposefully angled, crossed the street toward them. Merci saw the huge purple plastic tumbler in his hand, heard the clink of the ice as he raised it in salute to the uniforms.
'Detective Rayborn,' he said. 'And of course, Detective Zamorra over there with the phone.'
'Hello, Mr. Jones,' she said.
'Archie was home last night, wasn't he?'
'Yes.'
'The news said he checked himself out yesterday afternoon. Got a ride home from Gwen's sister.'
'Can I help you, Mr. Jones?'
He sipped his drink and eyed her. 'I just came over to tell you a couple of things. One, the gardener works Tuesdays. I know that because Tuesdays are trash days and I remember seeing him putting the empty trash cans back on the curb so he could park his truck. So, soon as he gets here tomorrow, I'll call you.'
'I'd appreciate it.'
Jones gave her his cagey, sideways look. 'CNB made it sound like he killed her. You saw the show, didn't you?'
'Part of it.'
'First they had that guy here with his camera, pestering Arch.. Archie said he'd kill himself. Then afterwards they had him on-the reporter, I mean-saying how scary Archie was. How he thought Arch was going to blast him. Then the prick says what he thinks happened that night. He thinks Archie killed Gwen and tried to kill himself, and now he's trying to get out of it. And he says you guys don't want t arrest him because he's a cop. Because of the big scandal last year. But you'll get a chance to see the whole thing because they'll show again. You know how they do at CNB.'
Zamorra walked toward her, pressing down the antenna of the cell phone and shaking his head.
'Good evening, Detective Zamorra.'
'Jones.'
Jones smiled wickedly, turned away from Zamorra then looked at Merci. 'I got a tip for you, young lady.'
'Shoot.'
'Two and a half hours ago, four o'clock this afternoon. I went down to get some smokes and vodka. I ride my bike because they too my license away. So I coast down and push the thing back up, right? Well, down the road about three hundred yards there's a little park with a table and some trees. Seen it?'
'I've noticed it,' said Merci.
'Well, on my way down, there was nobody in the park. On my way back up the hill, pushing the bike, I saw a guy standing by the table, looking back through the trees. He had binoculars and he didn’t hear me until I was almost across from him. When he heard me, he turned, gave me a drop-dead look and raised the binoculars the other way. This is what I'm saying: go down to that park and stand beside the table-the south end of it-and look through the trees. What you see is the back of Archie and Gwen's place.'
'Describe him,' said Merci.
'Second biggest guy I've ever seen in my life. I met Refrigerate Perry once. Anyway, he was dressed in a blue jogging suit, dark hair and beard, sunglasses. Not a big mountain-man beard, but a close cropped one. Ugly and huge is how I'd describe him.'
'What about his car?'
'White Lincoln Town Car. There was another guy in the driver' seat, blond hair, staring at me, face like a stone. I did not look at the plates.'
'Why not?'
'I had this feeling they'd kill me if I did.'
'Mr. Jones,' said Merci, 'if we had a couple thousand more citizens like you in this county, we'd be crime- free.'
'Thank you. I was about to call you when Archie came on the TV. After that I figured it would take you about fifty minutes to get here. It took you thirty-four.'
'You're something,' she said.
'I'm a harmless drunk trying to help the cops catch the guy who shot my neighbors. Tell your partner I'm not a bad guy, no reason to look at me like I'm an unflushed toilet.'
'I'll tell him.'
Jones drank from his enormous purple tumbler and winked at her, then turned and headed back across the street toward his son's garage, his white legs faintly luminous in the early-evening light.
On their way down the hill Rayborn and Zamorra stopped at the little park. There was a concrete picnic table and benches, a green mesh trash can holder with a lidded steel can in it and a drinking fountain back by the trees. Merci stood to the south side of the concrete bench and looked through the sycamore trees. In the middle distance she could see the slope of wildflowers in Archie's backyard, the gate through which he had escaped, the roof of the house, some of the windows and the pool area surrounded by the big Canary Island palms.
Zamorra rang off his cell phone, then paced the grass with his head down and his hands behind his back. Merci walked into the little grove of sycamore and oak. She found a crumpled soft drink can that had been there for a lot more than three hours, a couple of old cigarette butts, a horse magazine with its pages dimpled and cracked by dew and sun. She lifted the trash can lid by its edges and set it on the grass. Inside she saw a bicycle inner tube, a fast-food sandwich box with the sauce stains gone almost to black, a white fast-food bag beside it, a black banana peel, a paper soft drink container with the lid still on and the straw stuck through it. The drink container was from a different fast-food chain than the box and bag.
Ike Sumich got there half an hour later. She explained what William Jones had told her. 'Size Sixteen again,' said Ike.
