The first man picked up a thin stick and flexed it, as if to test its springiness. Beneath his poncho hood, he didn’t look any happier than the other two. But happiness wasn’t a prerequisite. They had a job, and now it was time to figure out how to complete it. After a bit, he threw in his two cents.
“We’ll leave murders behind us, but only if there’s no other way. This was supposed to be a clean, quick op. It’s not. Who would have guessed that Larry Duke would have refused to give us the info? I sure didn’t. But we’d have had to kill him anyway.”
“I’m not arguing against that. I’m just pointing out that the whole idea of waiting for these buddies of Larry’s to leave town overnight isn’t going to pay any dividends. How many of them do you see taking trips? How long are we going to wait?”
“I don’t know,” Man One said. “But I’m going to place a call soon and find out if our mission has changed, or if there are any better suggestions because of what we learned. We didn’t come out here suspecting we’d need to pay a visit to anyone but Larry.”
“Intel failure,” said the second man. “A serious intel failure.”
“We know that,” said the third man.
The first man threw the stick he was holding. It fell into the rushing creek and vanished. “The thing is, nobody thought Larry would be able to withstand questioning like that. How many have you known who could?”
“His brother is a Ranger,” said Man Two. “Maybe it’s in the genes.”
“That’s ridiculous,” snorted the third man.
The second man just shook his head. “Who would have expected such resistance from a reporter, for Pete’s sake?”
Man One spoke. “It’s irrelevant what was expected. We have to deal with what is. Now put your brains to it, men. It’ll probably be sometime tomorrow before I can get someplace we can get a cell phone signal.”
Which was kind of surprising to them all, considering they had a satellite phone. This was a communications dead zone for some reason. Or maybe the satellite phone was screwed up.
“Did anyone consider he might have left his research back in Baltimore?” asked the third man.
Man One answered, “I suspect I’ll get that ball rolling when I call tomorrow. Just think, men. Try brainstorming ideas. If we’re stuck with burglary, then we’ll have to figure out how to do it without alerting the entire damn region to our presence.”
With that they all fell silent, but irritation and gloom filled the air around them.
Not even a tent to cover them. Oh, it sucked.
Chapter Four
Duke refused Cat’s offer to take him back to the motel. The rain had let up a bit, and despite his workout in her basement, he still felt a need to run.
He wasn’t exactly dressed for a workout, but he didn’t care if he got wet or sweaty. He didn’t care about much except his brother.
Maybe his focus was getting too narrow. He wondered what he could learn from people who had played poker with Larry. Probably not much. If the cops had questioned Larry’s poker mates, if one of them suspected anything of the others, they probably wouldn’t remain mum.
He was pretty damp by the time he passed the sheriff’s office and reached Mahoney’s bar. Not so wet that he decided against going inside. Another beer was in order, and maybe some of the patrons would talk to him.
But the whole damn idea that he could just talk to people around here and learn something was beginning to look stupid to him.
Why in the world would anyone tell him something they hadn’t told the cops? Because he was Larry’s brother? Right now that didn’t seem like much of a reason.
Feeling truly grumpy, he walked into the bar. He’d been out of his mind when he came here, swamped in grief and fury and the need to do something. Anything for Larry other than put him in a casket.
Inside, Mahoney’s felt like an old-time pub. Dimly lit and bigger than he’d expected from the outside. A couple of dartboards and two pool tables could be seen through a wide door at the back of the bar portion. Wooden booths and tables filled the front end. Nice. It was filling up for the evening, mostly with men, and all of them talking to each other.
He took an empty stool at the bar and lifted his feet to the rail. A chubby man of about sixty came down the length of the bar and scanned him with sharp dark eyes before smiling and saying, “I’m Mahoney. What can I do you for?”
Duke took a chance. He extended his hand across the bar. “Daniel Duke.”
Mahoney responded with a firm grip while saying, “Any relation to Larry Duke?”
“I’m his brother.”
Mahoney’s face sagged. “I’m sorry, Mr. Duke. Really sorry. I didn’t know Larry for long, but he was a great guy. Made friends fast and made a lot of people laugh.”
“That’s how I remember him.”
Mahoney nodded, seemed about to say something else, but finally chose the safest thing. Hard to talk to someone who was grieving, Duke thought. “What can I get you, Mr. Duke?”
“Everyone calls me Duke. And whatever you’ve got on tap.”
“Be right back.”
There was a big mirror over the bar, even in the dim light catching the glimmer from liquor bottles. The mirror was probably as old as the establishment, showing signs of losing its silvering in scattered spots. Mahoney returned a minute later with a big glass filled with beer and foam. Duke liked the foam, always had.
“On the house,” Mahoney said. “I suppose you want to be left alone.”
Duke shook his head. “I was hanging around thinking I’d like to meet some of the people Larry knew. A few stories might do me some good, and it would be nice to know that Larry had friends in the area. Cat Jansen told me he used
