“Tried calling you a couple of times.”
“I went driving around. I couldn’t get ahold of Rubicoff. I called his office, called his house—I did everything but go through City Hall, and I couldn’t get anything but that friggin‘ answering service. I’m paying this guy more money than a lawyer makes, and I can’t get him on the phone. Then I finally did get him and he couldn’t see me. I couldn’t believe it. He’s got another case he’s working on, and that pissed me off. He’s gonna be out of town all day today, can you beat that? A whole goddamn day I’m losing while this keyhole-peeper is chasing down another guy’s wife in Santa Fe. He says all he can do for me is see me for a few minutes this morning on his way to the airport. Can you believe that? Eight hundred dollars I’ve paid that clown, and maybe he can squeeze me in at eight o’clock on his way to catch a plane for somebody else.”
“So you went driving around…”
“Yeah. No place special, just workin‘ off steam. What’s the big deal?”
“Maybe nothing. I wanted to talk to you about your uncle’s house.”
“What about it?”
“I may be interested in buying it.”
“You’re kidding.” Suddenly he was a pussycat.
“I’m not kidding, but I don’t have a helluva lot of money to throw around.”
“You won’t need a lot for my half.”
“That’s what Ms. Davis said. It may be the only thing you two have ever agreed on.”
“What’s your offer?”
I shrugged an apology. “Fifty.”
“I’ll get the papers drawn up this weekend. I want to be done with it.”
“That’s fine,” I said pleasantly. I asked if the house had had a recent appraisal done, if it had been inspected for termites, if there’d been any plumbing problems. I chatted and blabbed, went through all the stalling tactics I could muster, and a few minutes later Rubicoff arrived. W?e heard his car pull into the yard and the door slam. Ballard’s kettle boiled over again. “Just watch what the son of a bitch says!” he shouted. “He won’t have time to talk, he’ll be in a hurry now ‘cause he’s late for his flight. Eight hundred I pay this jerk and this is what I get.”
He went to the door and threw it open. Footsteps came up the walk. I moved slowly forward, the gun still under my jacket. I saw a shadow pass the window.
Their voices blended. Rubicoff was saying he was sorry, he’d get back on the case in a day or two but right now all he had was a few minutes. Ballard shouted him down. “As far as I’m concerned, pal, you can fuckin‘ stay in Santa Fe! Gimme my money back, you goddamn crook!”
There was a scuffle: Ballard had thrown a punch. It couldn’t be much of one because two seconds later he was flat on the floor. The guy had decked him without breaking stride. I walked around Ballard, who was struggling to sit up, and I stared into the face of the dick known as Rubicoff.
No turtle face. No flaring nostrils. He was short and bald. He looked like anything but a private detective who had just put his client down for the count.
“You want some too?”
“Not me, bud,” I said. “I’m just the lady from the welcome wagon.”
I eased my way past, went down the road, and got in my car.
Rita came out of the restaurant carrying a newspaper and a steaming bag of goodies. “Well,” she said, “I don’t see any murderer shackled in the back seat.”
“Don’t push me, McKinley. Get in.”
I headed north toward Denver, up Santa Fe Drive into the heart of the rush hour. She had brought me a king-size cup of coffee and a sweet roll loaded with cinnamon and sugar. She fed it to me while I drove, in tiny morsels between sips of coffee.
“This stuff will kill you,” she said. “It’s probably half and half, cholesterol and cancer-causing preservatives. You can have mine too if you want it.”
“Thanks but no thanks. One dose of death’s enough for a morning.”
She ate the second roll herself.
We were in heavy traffic, halfway to Denver, when she opened the newspaper. “Interesting item this morning. Your friend Mr. Newton got himself chopped up. I see you were the main witness, as usual. How come you don’t tell me the interesting stuff in your life?”
“You get too excited. Read it to me while I drive.”
“Sure.” She folded the paper over and read.
Nothing I didn’t know, except that Crowell still hadn’t talked to police and Newton was listed as serious but expected to make it. Jackie’s altercations with police, including his continuing troubles with me, were summarized at the end.
