'I didn't have anything to do with anything in Mexico, of course,' Ross said. 'But judging from what's been in the paper, I'd say somebody made a big fuckin' mistake, to use your adjective. A big, stupid mistake.'
'And she thinks it was you. Was it you?'
Ross shrugged again and smiled for the first time-an unpleasant smile that said Yes, it was his big fuckin' mistake. What he actually said was, 'I don't know from Mexico. What happened, exactly?'
'Bullshit,' Lucas said. Then: 'Are you going any place public this week? Any place that isn't completely shut up?'
'If I told you that, that'd be a leak. I don't even tell my boys when I'm moving.'
'Listen, if you're going out, it'd be a hell of a lot easier if you told us in advance than if we have to have the cops pull over all three cars until we figure out which one you're in-all the lights and sirens and so on. Because if you're gonna act like cheese, we'd like to be there when the mouse comes out.'
Ross smiled at the image, then leaned forward, lifted a piece of paper from his desk pad, and said, 'I'm going one place in public: Friday night, there's a fundraiser for the St. Louis Chamber Orchestra at the botanical gardens. I'm one of the… pillars… of the chamber orchestra. And the botanical gardens, for that matter.'
'Chamber orchestra and orchids. A goddamned refined little thug, huh?'
'Fuck off,' Ross said mildly, and smiled again.
LUCAS GOT UP to leave. On the way to the door, a thought struck him, and he went back. 'One last thing. You knew both Nanny Dichter and Levy. Are you as well protected as those two?'
'Nanny was a tough nut, but Levy was a pussy,' Ross said. 'I was surprised when she got to Nanny so easy.'
'That's not exactly what I was asking. What I'm asking is, are you a tougher nut than Nanny?'
The question seemed to interest him. He leaned back, put his hands behind his head, thought for a moment, then said, 'Yes.'
'Would you have been tougher if she'd gone after you first? Could she have ambushed you as easily as she did Dichter?'
No thought this time. 'No. As soon as the federal people started calling, even before Nanny, I had an idea of what was going to happen. I shut down everything I couldn't run by remote control. If she'd called me for a meet, or wanted me to go somewhere to make a phone call, I would have told her to go fuck herself. No. I would have suggested that we meet somewhere that I'd control.'
'What if all the feds started running around screaming, and then nothing happened? How long before you would have relaxed? Would you do what you're doing now, indefinitely?'
The question called for more thought. Ross played with one of his ears, tugged on the lobe, and then said, 'Probably not. If she'd waited six more weeks, and if she'd been careful, she would have got me.'
'Huh.'
'Yeah. That is kind of weird,' Ross said. 'I'm almost insulted.'
ON THE WAY OUT, Lucas ran into Treena Ross in the hallway. She was wearing a lime-green dress and matching lime-green shoes with two-inch heels. She was carrying a dog the size of a walnut that seemed to have been bred to be frightened; it whimpered when it saw Lucas, and then Ross coming up behind. Treena said, 'Oh, they're nice men, Wiener.' Then to Lucas: 'I don't think I've met you. Are you working with John?'
'I'm a cop,' Lucas said. 'Lucas Davenport. I saw you once before-you were going to play tennis.'
'I remember. And you're working with John. That's wonderful.'
'He's not working with me,' Ross said. 'He wants to kick my ass.'
'Really? Kick your ass? Why?' She looked wide-eyed at Lucas. She was a little top-heavy, Lucas thought, but she had a beautiful oval face and green eyes that seemed to be a promise of good times. He understood what Ross had said about hormones.
'Never mind,' Ross said. 'Are you going somewhere?'
'Off to Sophie's.' She bent one of the dog's tiny paws toward Lucas. 'See? His teeny-weeny nails are all chipped. They have to be recoated.'
'We were talking about Clara Rinker,' Lucas said to her.
'That's awful what's she's doing,' Treena Ross said. 'She was always so nice when we worked together. She was very lively. She used to be a dancer.'
'Do you have… do you remember anything about her that might help us run her down?' Lucas asked. 'Friends, anything like that?'
'I was her friend. And so was John. And for a while, I thought I was going to race her to see who got John,' she said, and she laughed, and took her husband's arm. 'He still won't tell me if he ever slept with her.'
She was teasing, but Ross snapped, 'I didn't.'
'Now, see? Is he lying, Mr. Lucas? Anyway… her friends.' She pursed her lips and then said, 'The only one I can think of…' She looked at her husband. 'What was that Indian guy's name? Running Horse, or something…'
'Tim Runs-Like-Horse,' Ross said. 'I don't think she's staying with him.'
'Why?' Lucas asked.
'He's dead,' Ross said. 'He used to drink all the time, and when he was really drunk, he'd go out in the street with his jacket and play bullfighter with cars. Some redneck ran over him with a Chevy
S-10.'
'Oh,' said Treena, a finger going to her lips. 'I didn't know about that.'
'Three years ago,' Ross said. 'He was a good guy.'
'Huh. Well, too bad,' Treena said brightly. 'That's the only one I can think of. Old dead Running Horse.'
'Let me take you out,' Ross said to Lucas.
'Goodbye, Mr. Lucas,' Treena said.
RIDING BACK TO FBI headquarters, Malone asked, 'How'd it go?'
Lucas shrugged. 'We traded threats. His wife is taking the dog to get a manicure.'
'Pedicure,' Malone said. 'We met her.' Then, a moment later, she said, 'I think Treena's running with one headlight.'
'Yeah, well, Ross seems to… see something in her,' Lucas said.
'Wonder what that might be?'
THEY RODE ALONG in silence for a bit, and then Lucas said, 'I don't like the phrase jackshit, but that's exactly what we learned, talking to these guys.'
'We found out that they might run.'
'We knew that anyway,' Lucas said.
'My big worry is that Rinker might run,' Malone said, looking out the window. 'We need to get her now.'
'She's not going anywhere,' Lucas said. 'She's too pissed about her brother. She hasn't done anything about it, but she will before she leaves.' He looked at Mallard. 'You guys need better personal security. You need to talk to the AIC and tell him to warn all his people. Don't answer the door to any strange women. You gotta take it more seriously.'
'We've had experience with this, with these kinds of threats,' Mallard said. 'We're taking them seriously, but you gotta look at it from her angle, too. The FBI is pretty… frightening. We look pretty goddamn tough to a crook.'
'I don't think she's scared,' Lucas said. 'I don't think she gives a shit about the FBI, or how tough you are.'
19
RINKER HAD A BAD NIGHT. SHE WAS comfortable enough, sleeping on couch pillows, wrapped in clean sheets, but the body in the basement freezer still gave her the creeps, and she thought several times that the
