been enjoyable to him. The same way that putting big cool boulders in his garden had been enjoyable, which was the same way that carrying around pocketfuls of rocks had been enjoyable when he was a kid. And just when he was ready to look away, the suiseki shaped like a water buffalo sparked something in his mind and for a few moments Archie understood everything about the animal-that he was a warrior, a leader, a patriarch.
Archie sat for a while, hardly moving, hardly blinking, lost in the leafy green world of the buffalo.
Doctors Medical Supply sold Archie one pair of adjustable aluminum Canadian crutches for ninety-eight dollars. In the still-hot shade of the parking lot, Archie grabbed the padded rubber handles in each of his hands, then worked his upper arms into the c-cup braces. He realized he'd have to widen the braces a little to accommodate his biceps and raise them about three inches.
He stood there for a moment beside what looked very much like Gwen's Durango. Feet together, legs straight. Then he raised his arms and the crutches. He turned his head to look down each aluminum length, to the pale green rubber knob at each end.
He raised and lowered his arms together. The crutches were surprisingly light. And they gave him well over three feet of extra reach on each side. Adjusted to their maximum length, he'd get even more.
From the nearby home-improvement store Archie bought three six-by-six waterproof tarps. The package said they were blue, but they looked rust colored. He also bought a six-foot-by-sixteen-foot piece of wool-poly blend Berber carpet that was advertised as 'sand.' Then, a good pair of shears, some lightweight nylon straps with quick release clips, two bottles of epoxy glue, forty feet of one-inch PVC irrigation pipe in eight-foot lengths, a cutter, an assortment of joints-angles, straight, caps, Ts, four-ways-and two pots of pipe cement.
He rolled his loaded barge into the parking lot and found the Durango. He unloaded his purchases, wiping the sweat and tears from his face after he finally slammed the liftgate shut.
He sat in the driver's seat and took off the cap and aimed the air conditioner at his face. It felt funny on his naked scalp, extra icy around the bullet hole.
Don't cry, Archie.
'Oh, damn, honey.'
Come get me, Arch. I'm up here. I'm waiting.
'I'm coming, honey. I just have a few things to do.'
I'm going to be here for you.
Then he headed for Air Glide Limousine Service in Newport Beach.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Cancun is a deputy hangout on Seventeenth Street in Santa Ana, not far from headquarters. The food is Yucatecan, good and cheap, the drinks are strong. At any hour there may be from one to twenty deputies there, and though they dress in plain clothes, there is still the bulge of weapons under jackets and trouser calves. Eyes are sharp. Conversation is quiet, and hearty smiles issue from beneath mustaches. The restaurant is crime-free.
Merci walked in at six-fifty and found Brad Eccles waiting in corner booth. Some of the deputies nodded or smiled to her as she went past the entrance to the cantina, some of them stared through her. The restaurant was a microcosm of the department itself, divided its opinions. She hated the feeling of walking a gauntlet, but stubbornly patronized the place so as not to surrender. She would never forget the first time she'd gone in with Hess, and the smug looks she'd gotten from the men. That was before she'd come to love him, and it still irked her that people could assume things about her that proved to be true.
Eccles was Archie Wildcraft's best friend in the department, according to everyone Merci had talked to. He was thirty-two, just off patrol and assigned to Fraud Detail. He'd been the first to toast Gwen at the party at the Rex that night.
'So I raised my glass and said there was no way anyone as beautiful and smart as her deserved a guy like Wildcraft,' he said. He took a drink off his beer and shook his head. 'Just one of the ten million things I've said in my life that I wouldn't mind taking back.'
'It was a joke,' she said, writing in her blue notebook.
'Yeah.'
'Have you seen him today?'
'No.'
'Has he called?'
'No.'
'Anyone called you about him?'
'Well, people wondering if I'd talked to him. Nobody knows where he is and they're worried. He didn't look too good on CNB this afternoon. He said he'd kill himself and it looked believable.'
Eccles was balding and stocky, with dark hair combed straight back. Mustache, shortsleeved blue shirt with a paisley tie, corduroy coat. Thick fingers, wedding ring. He took another drink and wiped a beer bubble off his mustache with his palm.
Rayborn, who didn't drink unless she was at home, sipped a lemonade. 'Was he a jealous husband?'
He looked at her with a gentle frown. 'Some. He was extremely proud of her. He never said anything bad about her. Gwen wasn't… um… a topic of humor with Archie. He never said this, Sergeant Rayborn, but I knew that if anyone messed with Gwen, Archie would put an end to it real quick. You didn't monkey around with Gwen, is what I'm saying. But you know, I never saw him threaten anyone, or say anything to anyone about, you know, what he'd do to them. It just wasn't a topic. Archie wasn't the kind of guy you messed with that way. Not about his wife. Very intense about her. Very serious.'
'So how did he take your toast?'
'No problem. Archie can take a ribbing about himself. He knows who he is.'
'Was Gwen a flirt?'
'Well… happy, cheerful. She'd touch you while she talked to you. You know, a hand on your arm or something. Hug you hello and goodbye. But not a flirt. Not a woman who would tempt you on purpose.'
'How about on accident?'
'She was really beautiful. A guy could maybe get the wrong idea.'
'Which guy?'
'No, that's not what I'm saying. I never saw that.'
'But you could imagine it.'
Eccles nodded.
'What did your wife think of her?'
He looked at her, shook his head quickly. 'They got along. No problem. My wife was a little envious of their house, all the money they made. That's all.'
'What did the other wives think of her?'
'I really can't say. I don't know.'
'How was Gwen that night?'
'Embarrassed at first. You know, twenty people for drinks and dinner. All these packages at her place at the table. Probably a three or four-thousand-dollar evening. She grew up poor. Wasn't used to things like that.'
'And after her embarrassment?'
'She was just… happy. Lit up. Very thankful that Archie would organize something like that. Thankful for their friends and all.'
'Drink a lot?'
'A fair amount. We all did. Not Archie, though. He never overdoes it, that I've seen.'
'What was he like that night?'
Eccles looked at her and drank again. He started to speak, the stopped. Another drink.
'A little on edge. Something was bothering him. I asked him and he said just some money shit.'
'Those were his words?'
'Yes. Exactly. He didn't want to talk about it. But Archie worried a lot, so I figured it was just, well… another worry.'
