She held up three fingers, making an oath. “I’ll be a perfect roommate, I promise. Won’t even hang my panties on the shower rod.”
Marlin felt his face getting warm, so he told her he had to go see the sheriff and would probably be gone for several hours. He walked out of the house and took a breath of fresh air.
Marlin drove into Johnson City and made his way toward the sheriff’s office. It was just after nine o’clock, a bright, cloudless morning with remarkably little humidity.
He parked behind the traffic barriers that circled the sheriff’s office. Most of the curious onlookers were gone now, and only one news van-from KHIL-sat hunkered nearby.
Just inside the barriers, Deputy Ernie Turpin was sitting in a lawn chair reading a magazine, glancing up now and then to make sure no civilians ventured too close.
Marlin asked him what the situation was, and the deputy said nothing had changed. “Damn guy’s stubborn as a mule,” the deputy said. “But hell, Garza’s sent food in a couple of times, ain’t put any pressure on him, so why
Marlin had known Turpin for fifteen years, and knew the deputy was a take-action kind of guy. If Turpin were calling the shots, the building would have been raided just hours after Corey had taken Wylie hostage. Several men could be dead. On the other hand, Wylie might be free.
Marlin nodded at Bobby Garza’s cruiser in the distance. “Sheriff around?”
“Yeah, he ain’t hardly left since this thing began. Took a break early this morning for a coupla hours, but that’s it. Guy needs some sleep, if you want my opinion.”
Marlin didn’t, but he nodded thanks anyway, and walked over to Garza’s car. The sheriff was stretched out in the backseat, but Marlin could see that his body was too tense for him to be sleeping.
“Damn,” Marlin said through the window, “every time I drop by, you’re catching some z’s. Being sheriff looks awful damn easy.”
Garza kept his eyes closed. “Aw, man, I’m having that same nightmare again. The one with that pain-in-the- ass game warden.”
Marlin chuckled and climbed into the front seat, leaving his left foot on the pavement. Both men remained silent for several minutes, Marlin drinking from the traveler’s mug of coffee he had brought along. Garza’s police radio squawked on occasion.
Finally, Garza groaned and sat up in the backseat. Marlin eyed the sheriff’s haggard face in the rearview mirror. “Don’t you have a brother named Bobby? Looks like you, but a lot younger?”
Garza rolled his eyes. “You’re lucky I’m too worn-out to whip your ass for that. Pass me that thermos beside you, will ya?”
Marlin opened the thermos and poured Garza a cup of coffee. He let the sheriff drink in silence for a few moments, then said, “No change, I guess?”
Garza ran a hand over a stubbled cheek. “No, he’s still in there, eating eggs and sausage courtesy of Blanco County. Had some pepperoni pizza for dinner last night. But I’m screwed, ’cause if I don’t send food in, Wylie goes hungry, too. Meanwhile, certain people are starting to get uptight.”
Marlin raised his eyebrows.
“The mayor, for one,” Garza said. “He was griping at me last night, saying this thing would ruin business for the weekend. Like it’s my fault we had to rope off some of the little shops along the sidewalk. Says we should shrink our perimeter a little, give people a little more access to the surrounding area.” Garza’s teeth were clenched now. “But if Corey decides to let a few bullets fly, maybe a tourist gets hit by a stray, guess who everybody would blame? Not the mayor, I can tell you that much.”
Marlin nodded in agreement, hoping to cool Garza down a little. “You’re doing the right thing, Bobby. Forget what they’re saying. Just go with your gut.”
“I know, I know. I just want to get Wylie out of there, but it keeps dragging on. Corey’s still thinking you’re gonna pin it on someone else. Speaking of which, have you heard anything from the lab?”
“Not yet.” Marlin glanced at his wristwatch. “I need to head back to the house and give them a call.”
“Use my cell phone.” Garza slid the phone off his belt and passed it to Marlin. “The lab’s phone number’s in there if you scroll through the memory.”
Marlin stared at the phone as if it were a Rubik’s cube. “Uh…”
“Oh yeah, I forgot. You haven’t joined the age of technology yet.” Garza found the number, dialed it, and passed the phone to Marlin. Ten seconds later, Marlin had Richard Fanick on the line.
“Glad you called. I just tried you at home,” the technician said. “Got some early results for you. I pulled one set of prints off the plastic bag, then the same guy on the manila envelope, plus two other individuals. Got matches on all three. I would have had them for you late last night, but AFIS was tied up.”
Marlin pulled a small spiral notebook and a pen from his breast pocket. “No, this is fantastic. I appreciate you getting on it so fast. Tell me what you got.”
“First off, Bert Gammel. But then, you expected that. His prints were on both the plastic and the paper. I haven’t fooled around with the bills yet, but I imagine we’ll find his prints there, too. Plus probably a dozen others- people who’ve handled the bills while they were in circulation.”
“Yeah, I imagine you’re right.”
“But I’ll start on the bills shortly, mainly looking for the same prints as the three on the envelope. Anyway, sorry to get sidetracked, but print number two…” Marlin heard rustling papers at the other end of the line. “It’s…a guy named Salvatore Mameli.”
Marlin sat up a little straighter and caught Garza’s eye in the rearview. “Salvatore Mameli?” Garza leaned over the back of the seat.
Fanick continued: “Affirmative. He’s in the system from drunk driving last year. Pled it down to a public intoxication. Name ring a bell?”
“You bet it does.” Marlin said. “A very loud bell.” Suddenly, Marlin’s bribery theory was making a lot more sense. “And number three?”
“A guy who got nailed on a simple assault a couple of years ago. Looks like a bar fight.” Fanick said the name-and Marlin almost dropped the phone.
Marlin and Garza agreed that it would be best to ride out to Salvatore Mameli’s house together in the sheriff’s car. Along the way, Marlin relayed his bribery theory and detailed his conversations with Maynard Clements.
Garza was obviously excited about the possibilities. He said, “This guy Mameli, if I remember right, was in the concrete business a couple years back. Right after he moved to town.”
“Yep, and now he’s into brush removal,” Marlin said. “I’ve seen his rigs on a couple of deer leases.”
Garza gave Marlin a strange glance. “I didn’t know that. For how long?”
“Six months, maybe a year. What are you thinking?”
Garza tilted his head to the side, as if he were trying to look at the facts from a different angle. “Emmett Slaton owns the biggest brush-removal company in the county, right? Or he used to. And now one of his competitor’s names comes up in a murder investigation. Meanwhile, Slaton is nowhere to be found.”
Marlin hadn’t even considered that fact. He had been too focused on the Gammel case. So, they threw some ideas around, trying to work Slaton into the bribery scenario. They agreed that-regardless of what Maynard Clements said-Mameli could have bribed Gammel in connection with a county project, maybe to ensure that Mameli had the lowest bid.
But they couldn’t work Slaton into the mix. It just didn’t make sense. “Maybe Mameli paid Gammel off to get the contract on some brush removal for the county,” Marlin said. “Then Slaton somehow found out and threatened to expose it all. So Mameli says, ‘What the hell, I don’t need this grief,’ and takes ’em both out.”
“But I thought Gammel handled structures, not roads. And if there was a lot of brush to be cleared, you’d think it would be for roadwork.”
“No, you’re right,” Marlin replied. “But… Maynard Clements is in charge of roadwork contracts, and his fingerprints were on the envelope, too.”
They were a mile from Mameli’s house now, so Garza stopped for a few moments on the shoulder. “Interesting, but I wouldn’t get too worked up about that yet. There could be a simple reason for Maynard handling
