'When?' I said.
'He was on the set, across from Jumbo's trailer, talking to one of the producers.'
'He didn't seem to recognize you,' I said.
'No,' Z said. 'I was in Jumbo's trailer, looking out the window.'
'You know what they were talking about?'
'No clue,' Z said.
'You were sober?' I said.
'Nope.'
'But you remember this guy,' I said.
'He was very . . .' Z waved his arms around. 'You know?'
'Animated?' I said.
'Yeah, animated.'
'You remember which producer?' I said.
'Sure,' Z said.
'We can ask him,' I said.
Z nodded. We were quiet for a time.
'You know,' he said. 'Neither one of them ever called the kid by name.'
He'd grown more talkative recently, but quiet still seemed to be Z's natural condition. Conversation was always surprising.
'Seem too immersed in being mad at each other,' I said.
'Why the hell do they stay married,' Z said.
'You Indians just don't understand white-man ways,' I said.
'Hell,' Z said. 'I'm still trying to figure out why you killed all our buffalo.'
46
THE ALLEY THAT RUNS behind my office from Berkeley to Arlington was named Providence Street. When Z and I came down the back stairs of my office to get my car, which was parked on Providence Street, I noticed that the Berkeley Street end was blocked with a couple of orange traffic barrels. If people have threatened to kill one, one becomes unusually observant. I paused in the doorway.
'Odd,' I said.
'The barriers?' Z said.
'Yeah. Usually there's a cop.'
I looked up at the Arlington Street end. More barriers.
'Odder,' I said.
'Street's one-way,' Z said.
I nodded.
'Might be nothing,' I said.
'Might not,' Z said.
'Might be something,' I said.
Z didn't say anything.
'Okay,' I said. 'I'll hang here. You go out the front door, turn right up to Arlington, and right again to that end of the alley. When I see you at that end, I'll step out.'
'And?'
'And we'll see,' I said.
Z turned and went up the three steps to the first floor and disappeared. I stayed where I was. Halfway up the alley was a white Ford van with tinted windows. If there was something, I was betting the van contained it. Ordinary-looking. Couldn't see in. Plenty of room for four or five guys and their weapons. Since the visit from Alice DeLauria, I had been wearing my S&W .40. I took it out and cocked it, and held it at my side. It took Z maybe ninety seconds to scoot around to the Arlington end of the alley. When I saw him, I stepped out of the doorway and began to walk toward him. He strolled toward me. The side doors of the van opened.
Four guys got out. None of them seemed to notice Z. One guy had a shotgun. I shot him in the chest. He stepped back, half turned, and fell with the shotgun underneath him. I ducked between two cars, and several bullets ripped into them. Z's .357 boomed, and a second shooter went down. Face-forward. One of the remaining two spun toward Z, and I shot him from behind the car. The last guy threw his gun on the street and turned and ran.
Z reached me.
