'I don't know. It just stuck in my brain.'
Like dogshit to treaded shoes, Rigney thought.
'A man's name,' Parell said. 'I just remembered. The town is named after some guy.'
'Who?'
'I don't remember.'
'Hanford?'
'Nope.'
'Bakersfield?'
'Nah.'
'The name's on the tip of my tongue,' Parell said.
'Foam's on the tip of your tongue.'
'Rutledge! The guy's the chief of police in Rutledge. You know where that is?'
'I can find it,' Rigney said.
SIXTY-EIGHT
'Did you know rats can't vomit?' Charles Whitehurst asked.
'What?' Javier Cardenas wasn't sure he had heard the lawyer correctly.
'If a rat comes across some strange food, it will only take a nibble. That way, if it gets sick, it won't die. If the rat doesn't get sick, next time, it'll eat the whole damn thing.'
At the moment, Cardenas was eating his own lunch, his customary B.L.T., as he sat on the redwood bench under a bonsai tree outside the Rutledge Police Department. The phone call from Whitehurst did not improve his appetite.
'Simeon's like that rat,' the lawyer continued. 'If he poisons a neighbor's well and nothing happens, next time, he'll divert a whole river. Hire a few illegal aliens one day, pretty soon he's running stash houses and whorehouses and paying off half the legislators in Sacramento.
He thinks he's invincible. Then one day, he wolfs down that poison.'
Whitehurst's sharp tone shocked Cardenas. The lawyer never would have spoken like that in front of Uncle Sim.
'What the hell are you talking about?' Cardenas demanded.
'A sealed indictment. Racketeering. Bribery. Human trafficking. A hundred seventy-two counts, thick as a phone book. United States of America versus Simeon Rutledge.'
'Jesus!' Cardenas tossed his sandwich into the stream. Koi jumped for the bacon, miniature whirlpools stirring in their wake. 'What can I do to help?'
'I'm hoping he'll listen to you, Javier.'
A realization then. Though the chief had met Whitehurst dozens of times over the years, never had the deep-carpet attorney called him by his first name.
'Simeon respects you and trusts you,' Whitehurst continued. 'You're the son he never had.'
'I'll do anything for Sim. You know that.'
'The U.S. Attorney offered a deal. Simeon pleads to one count of racketeering and does a token amount of time at a country club prison. Six to nine months. He pays five million in fines, plus steps down as president of the company. The court will appoint a trustee to oversee the operation.'
Cardenas laughed, but it was as bitter as hemlock. 'The trustee better have a thick hide, because Uncle Sim will take a bullwhip to him.'
'That's pretty much what Simeon said, except he mentioned a shotgun.'
'What can I do if he's already rejected the deal?'
'Help me sell him on it.'
Cardenas shook his head. 'You know Sim. He'll fight to the end. He'll never surrender.'
'Then he'll lose what it took three generations to build. The ranch. The farms. All the businesses. Everything forfeited to the government. He'll die in prison. His only wish interred with his bones.'
'What wish?'
'For you to take over the business when he's gone.'
'Jesus.' Cardenas sucked in a breath. 'I thought Sim wanted me to be governor or a senator. He never mentioned the business.'
'You're the sole heir.'
'You're sure?' Cardenas blurted out.
Whitehurst laughed. 'I better be. I wrote the will.'
For a moment, the only sound was the hum on the line.
'Just to be clear, Javie,' Whitehurst continued, 'if Simeon Rutledge dies tomorrow, you inherit everything.'
Cardenas shook his head, resisting the notion. 'And the crimi nal case, what happens to that?'
'A very astute question,' the lawyer praised him. 'In the untoward event of Simeon's death, the criminal case dies with him. The government will move on to other cases of notoriety, and you'll take over the company.'
Cardenas was aware of a tingling sensation, an electrical impulse sparking up his spine. It was not an unpleasant feeling.
'While it hardly needs to be said,' Whitehurst continued, obviously believing it did need to be said, 'rest assured that I will always be your trusted advisor, Javie. Just as I have been to Simeon.'
Cardenas stayed quiet. He sensed Whitehurst wasn't finished.
'But if Simeon's convicted,' the lawyer started again, 'there'll be nothing to pass on. The sad fact is, the only way for your uncle Sim to achieve his fondest wish is for him to die.'
Javier Cardenas discovered he was holding his breath, his throat dry as sand. He exhaled, a hot wind rustling dried leaves. 'Neither of us wants that to happen.'
'Of course not,' the lawyer assured him.
SIXTY-NINE
'What do you mean you're going out tonight?' Tino asked.
'Something I gotta do, that's all.' Jimmy keeping it nonchalant. No way he would tell the boy he was setting out to kill a man.
'So you're leaving me alone in the hotel?'
'You want a babysitter?'
'Not unless she wants to watch the titty channel with me.'
They had just finished dinner at a barbecue joint, attracted there by the hickory smoke wafting over downtown Rutledge. Ribs, chicken, tri-tip, baked beans, and sweet potato fries. For a skinny kid, Tino could pack it away. Now they were walking back to the hotel, their conversation interrupted by frequent burps and the occasional fart.
'How long till you're back?' Tino asked.
'It'll be late. You'll be asleep.'
'You hooking up with that waitress?'
'What waitress?'
'Ay, Himmy. The one you were hitting on, the one whose hair smelled like carne asada.'
'Nope.'
'Why the big secret, vato? You afraid I won't understand?'
'Exactly.'
