listing in the Dispatch database, “they had something called the ‘blue men’ or something, and they were trying to get a common location, or… let me put you on hold…”
That was what made her such a good dispatcher. She could think. Sometimes faster than the rest of us.
A few seconds later, I was back on the line. “Houseman, you still there?”
“Yep. Whatcha got?”
“No cases. Zip. Nothing at all.”
“Excellent. Thanks, kid.”
“It was a story I read in high school,” she said. “‘The Eleven Blue Men.’”
“Okay.”
I went into the deli and spoke to Abe Meier, the owner.
“Abe, where do you get your meat?”
“Our meat? You want to know where we get our meat?”
“The beef is what I need to know about,” I said. “Where does that come from?”
“The plant.”
“The plant here in town?”
“Of course here in town. There is a problem?”
“I dunno, Abe. How often do you buy beef from them?”
He thought for a few seconds. “We go through one, one and a half quarters each week. If we’re having a good week. Not so good, maybe one. We sell fresh; we don’t freeze.”
“You buy any since last Monday, maybe?
“We buy each Wednesday. You’re asking me this for a reason?”
“Give me one more answer, and then I’ll tell you,” I said. “What kind of truck do they use to deliver it? One of the eighteen-wheelers, or one of the smaller trucks?”
“We get it ourselves. In my wife’s truck,” he said.
“Your wife’s truck?” I’d seen his wife driving around on occasion. “I thought she drove a four-wheel-drive Subaru?”
“For the taxes,” he said, “it’s a truck.”
As I entered the library, I almost turned and left. There was a class of about thirty fourth-graders and a teacher sort of invading the place. They were all over, and Martha Taylor, my former classmate and current librarian, was helping round them up. She saw me, glanced over toward the computers, looked back, and gave a little wave. That triggered the memory that she’d been one of our high school cheerleaders, and that we’d called her “Boom Boom.” Boom Boom the librarian. I couldn’t suppress a grin.
I recognized the back of Hector’s head at the second computer, and that’s just about all that could have persuaded me to stay.
I waded over to the computers through the noisy herd of runny noses and tennis shoes, and tapped Hector on the shoulder.
“Hi there,” I said.
He just about jumped out of his skin. “Holy shit, man, doan do that!” he said, startled. “I coulda had a heart attack, man.”
“Sorry. It’s probably all the noise in here. Got a minute?”
“Ah, not right now I don’t…”
“Sure you do. Let’s go to our table.”
I let him lead. I couldn’t see anybody else in the place who might be making him so nervous, but I only looked as we traversed the place toward the table. There could have been somebody else in there I didn’t see.
“Have a seat,” I said.
He pulled out a chair and turned it about forty-five degrees from the table before he sat in it. Easer to bolt that way, and easier to make it look like he didn’t want to talk to me if somebody was to observe us. I really liked Hector.
As I sat, I said, “Okay. Now I know much more than I did when we talked the last time, and so do you. Let’s compare notes.”
“I don’t know much more,” he said.
“Sure you do. You know Orejas is dead. Or Jose Gonzales, or whoever he wanted people to think he was.”
“Sure. That’s common knowledge, man. Orejas, he got sick.”
“He sure as hell did,” I said. “But I think he got sick and died because somebody made him sick.”
Silence.
“I think you know who did that, and why.”
“I doan know why you would think that,” he said, but a smile was trying to break out on his face. “I just work here.”
That was one of my old lines. “I don’t buy that any more than you did,” I said. “Let’s talk about where Rudy got his money.”
“The plant.” The grin was trying harder.
“Yeah, right. For three bucks an hour. Thirty-nine hours a week. That’s a hundred and…seventeen bucks a week. Tell me more.”
“Okay,” he said. “I’m cooked.” The grin came out, and he looked around. “Okay, this is gonna be fast.”
“Right.”
“You think because he’s Colombian, he’s connected, he sells dope, and he gets rich, doan you?”
“It had occurred to me,” I said.
“He used to be, man. Dope-connected, okay? But no more.” His smile disappeared. “He still is connected. He is still Colombian, see? But not dope, okay? Not dope. No more dope.”
“Okay? “That didn’t leave much.
“If I say more they will kill me, too.”
“Well, neither of us wants that,” I said, kind of surprised at the sudden intensity.
“I doan want it much more than you,” he said.
“Sure. So, Orejas was killed by the same people as Rudy, then?” I was just fishing, but sometimes that produces pretty good results.
“You know he was.”
Well, I pretty much did now. “Why?”
Hector was about to crap, I swear, but he hung in there. “They used him, and Rudy did not like it. They lied and they used him.”
“Who?”
“Hey, you got to earn that big money sometime,” he said, and the smile tried to come back. It didn’t make it.
“The calf-shit yellow car, the thin-faced man, and two or three others.” I said it flat, matter-of-fact, because I wanted him to think I was really confident that they were the ones. Well, hell, they were the only ones I had.
“You should eat well this week,” he said.
“Why? Why did they do him?”
“Rudy?” He glanced around again. “He got pissed. About Orejas. It surprised him.”
“Wait a second. Orejas died after Rudy was killed,” I said.
“He was not pissed because Orejas was dead,” said Hector, sounding like a very patient teacher. “Because Orejas, he was still alive at that time. It was something else. Somethin’ they did to him. But it was before Orejas was dead, I can tell you that, because I heard about it last Saturday. That’s all I know, man,” he said. “I gotta go. Too many people could come in here.”
Looking back, I know he wasn’t just making an excuse, but at the time it struck me as kind of lame.
He simply stood, zipped his jacket, said, “I will listen for you,” and walked out the door. With a room full of fourth-graders, there wasn’t a damned thing I could do about it. I sure as hell didn’t want to go running out the door after him. Way too much attention.
But I had more than I’d started with. Not too bad for ten minutes’ work. I stood more slowly than Rudy had, pushed our chairs back under the table, and waved at Boom Boom.
