let Oscar get away with it. And it stood up in court. Which, considering most of the scum he brought in, didn’t make any difference. They didn’t do what he accused them of, they did something else. ’Course, if I were defending them, guilty or not, I’d like to see them get off. Makes me look good.
“But, that’s Oscar’s technique. He hammers down tight a few righteous cases, nails a few crooks for something they didn’t do, but would do, then starts making a few cases that aren’t righteous. Puts more feathers in his cap, and his kind of work gives him a chance to settle petty scores, and make a little dough on the side. Ain’t nothing that guy wouldn’t do. He’s wrecked the lives and careers of people in this town you wouldn’t imagine could be wrecked. And the law believes him. Or feels obligated to believe him. New Chief is worse than any of them. You see all this good shit about him in the papers, on TV, what a slick motherfucker he is. He’s not so clean. He’s had some problems. He was on the force over in LaBorde for years. Had a little scandal here and there, and some shitballs were thrown at him. All of them hit, but none of them stuck. In his own way, he’s got some of Oscar’s talent, and Oscar works for him. Price admits Oscar’s crooked on a couple of cases, they got to throw all their cases out, cause he can’t be trusted. How’s that gonna look? How’s it gonna make this ambitious Chief Price look? It won’t matter Oscar was there before Price, it’ll matter Price is Chief when it all comes down. I think Price is the kind of guy would let his own son hang rather than let it be known he fucked up or someone worked for him fucked up. And with Oscar working for him, you can bet there’s some fuckups.”
“What about the one Bill calls Cobra Man?”
Virgil shook his head. “No bells or whistles on that.”
“What’s my next step?”
“Give me the videos and the album. They don’t necessarily prove anything by themselves, but they’re a start. It’s pretty damn obvious that the law doesn’t know Oscar did the Doc’s wife in, or those kids, but you can bet they know Oscar’s part of the story. The Satanism shit. The drug nuts. That sounds like Oscar. Cops and locals love that shit. If they don’t think it’s true, they want to think it’s true. Man, I nail Oscar on this, think of the publicity I could get.”
“That’s nice Virgil, but I got my nephew’s life at stake here.”
“Sorry. The lawyer came out in me. As of now, I’m officially your attorney. Give me some money.”
I didn’t have but a few bucks on me, and he took those as down payment and wrote me out a receipt on the back of a catsup stained hamburger bag.
“That’ll do until we can make it more official. We’ll get Bill on the client list next. I think the both of you are gonna need a lawyer. Now, let me think on this a bit and I’ll get back to you. Meanwhile, go ahead and move Bill you want, but you get caught, you got harboring a fugitive hanging over your head, and remember I didn’t give you the advice to move him. I like you, but I’m not getting fucked for you.”
“All right,” I said, and got up to leave. As I was going out the door I turned back to Virgil. “That stuff about the two dollars, telling your partner to get him a good piece of ass. Tiec tohat really happen?”
“No. I didn’t have anything but a five. But I thought telling you two made her sound cheaper.”
I left Virgil, uncertain if I felt better or not. I folded up the hamburger bag receipt and put it in the glove box of my truck and drove home.
18
I got home, the house was empty. Bev was out doing something or other, and since it was late enough for kindergarten to have turned out, I assumed JoAnn was with her.
I glanced at the morning paper on the table. Beverly had opened it and folded it back to show me Bill’s picture. I didn’t recognize the photograph, but Bill looked a few years younger than he was now. His face was thinner and his hair was combed differently.
It was time to move him, for sure. Hell, it was past time. Someone at the motel saw that picture, put two and two together, he’d be bagged.
Beside the newspaper was a note from Beverly. Looks bad. Your Mom called. Saw the news about Bill. I didn’t know what to tell her. Not really. I took JoAnn to the store to buy her some shoes. Hers are worn out at the toes. I need to talk to you about her. About dead things.
Love,
Bev
Dead things?
If it wasn’t one thing, it was two million.
I fixed myself a cup of coffee, got a couple of oatmeal cookies, took cookies and coffee and the portable phone out on the deck. The day was chilly, but the coat I was wearing and the coffee made it more than tolerable.
I called Bill at the motel and told him the score with Virgil and informed him he was moving, and soon. He was more than anxious to go.
I called Arnold and told him what was going on.
“Moving him’s good,” he said. “But not to your place. Bill’s wanted, and I don’t want your family pulled into this. I think you ought to bring him over here. Better yet, I’ll go get him.”
“All right,” I said, “because of the kids, I won’t argue. But you’re doing it again, Arnold. You’re protecting me.”
“I’m making the best decision for all of us. I’ll plead stupid if they come and get me. Say I didn’t know he was wanted for anything, and he didn’t tell me. Besides, out here is a good spot to get lost. Someone comes here to buy some junk, I’ll keep Billy stashed. Might even take a few days off and move him over to the lake cabin. Either way, it’s less likely he’ll be seen with me. You got neighbors.”
“You know my place?”
“Hell, Bubba, you’re not the only one used to drive out to places and look around and not go in.”
“I’ll be damned.”
“I figure we all are. Take it easy. I’ll go get?t='lhim.”
“Take a cap or hat with you. Something to help hide his face. Newspapers have got his picture all over. Only good thing is the picture they have isn’t good or recent.”
“I’m gone to get him, Bubba, a cap in my hand. Hey, that’s pretty good. Gone to get him, a cap in my hand. I think I’ll put it to music.”
He rang off and I put the phone on the deck railing and shook out the paper and read the article on Bill. There wasn’t anything new other than the picture. The police said they would appreciate any tips from anyone knowing of his whereabouts. I hoped Bill was staying low. I hoped his face hadn’t made an impression on the motel workers. I hoped Arnold would soon be over there and Bill would be gone. I hoped the last third of my coffee was still hot.
I sipped it.
Nope.
The cookies were okay, though.
About an hour later I was upstairs lying in the bed reading an Andrew Vachss novel when Beverly came in. It sounded like the Battle of the Bulge down there. JoAnn was arguing with her. That wasn’t old news. JoAnn was a Philadelphia lawyer at heart.
“She won’t mind,” I heard JoAnn say.
“JoAnn,” I heard Beverly say quite loudly. “I don’t want to hear anymore about it, and that’s final. Now shut up, or I’m going to paddle your little butt.”
JoAnn let out a scream, and I heard her retreat to her room and slam the door.
I sighed. I slipped my marker into the Vachss book, placed it on the nightstand and went downstairs.
Beverly looked on the verge of an explosion.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hi,” Beverly said. “I tell you, these kids are driving me crazy. JoAnn wants to take a dead rat to school. A mouse. I don’t know. One of those little rodents.”
“A dead rat?”
