Bone Dry

Marlin tensed. His back was aching from standing still for so long. Just a few more minutes, he told himself.

“It was Sal Mameli,” Clements said bitterly, spitting the words out.

“What about Emmett Slaton?”

Clements looked confused.

“Was he involved in any of this?” Garza asked.

“No, not Slaton. Where did you get that idea?” Clements replied. “It was just Mameli. We met at Big Joe’s for lunch one day and he gave me an envelope with forty thousand in cash. I counted it, and then gave twenty to Bert.” Clements was beginning to blubber. “And the concrete… it’s really not a big deal. It’s plenty safe-I know it is-or I wouldn’t have done it.”

“I know you wouldn’t, Maynard,” Garza said. “You’ve always been a good worker for the people of this county.”

Clements gave a small smile. “Thanks, Bobby.”

Garza shifted in his chair. “Last question, Maynard, then you can get some rest: What was Mameli building? What was the concrete for?”

When Marlin heard the answer, his knees went weak.

“The dam,” Clements said in a monotone. “The dam at Pedernales Reservoir.”

“Yeah, that’s right, Darrell,” Garza said over his cell phone. “See if you can get Corey on Wylie’s phone. If you can, tell him he’s cleared. Uh-huh, we’ve got a full confession. Then pull everybody back and see if he’ll come out.”

Marlin couldn’t hear the other end of the conversation, but he knew the dispatcher was having a tough time believing what his boss was saying. “No, I don’t want you to go in-under any circumstances,” Garza said firmly. “Just pull back and let him come out in his own sweet time. We clear? All right, then, I’m heading over to the Public Works Department for a few minutes and…no…no, I can’t explain right now. Goddammit, Darrell, just do what I’m asking you, okay? I’ll see you within the hour.” Garza hung up. “I swear, just getting people to follow orders around here….”

“So, what’s next with Mameli?” Marlin asked.

“I’ll call the team at Maynard’s house and see if they find the envelope where he said it would be. If we can pull Mameli’s prints off that one, too, we’ll be in good shape. We’ll take a look at Mameli’s bank accounts, see if he had any big withdrawals prior to his meeting with Maynard. Probably interview the waiters at Big Joe’s, in case one of them can verify seeing the two of them together. I’d say it looks pretty solid, though.” He glanced Marlin’s way. “Listen, this is still your case if you want it. Just tell me how much you want to be involved.”

Five minutes later, Marlin and Garza were standing in front of Toby Gardner, who was the Public Works Director, Gammel’s and Clements’s supervisor.

“Thanks for meeting us, Toby.”

“Glad to help,” Gardner said. “But I’m not sure what I’m helping with.”

Garza turned to Marlin. “You want to fill him in?”

Marlin recapped their conversation with Maynard Clements, hitting the high points but omitting any details about the murder of Bert Gammel.

Gardner stared at Marlin incredulously. “Do you believe him?” he asked. “I mean, was he loopy on painkillers or anything?”

Marlin shook his head.

Garza said, “We have no reason to think he’s lying…and plenty of reasons to think he’s telling the truth. Unfortunately, I can’t go into them all right now. It involves a case, and I’m not at liberty to-”

Gardner held up his hands. “Say no more. If you tell me it’s true, then as far as I’m concerned, it’s true.”

“The question, then,” Marlin said, “is, can we believe Clements? Is the dam a threat or not?”

Gardner frowned. “If that concrete’s not up to code, I’d say we’ve got a big problem on our hands. See, these codes aren’t arbitrary. Certain grades of concrete can withstand higher pressures, and-”

“No offense,” Garza interrupted, “but you don’t need to explain it to us, Toby. Just tell us what we need to do next.”

Both men stared at Gardner, who stared back. “Oh, I don’t think there’s any question about that,” Gardner stated flatly. “We’ve got to empty the reservoir.”

Sal Mameli was drinking scotch, watching the evening news and waiting for Maria to serve dinner-but his thoughts were wandering. Once again, he was daydreaming of a tropical island-now more than ever-but he sure as shit didn’t like the dark clouds looming on the horizon. There wasn’t any goddamn sunshine in his life right now, that was for certain.

Everything should have been so easy.

Buy out Emmett Slaton, get every goddamn brush-cutting contract from here to Houston, then grab every last dime and get the fuck out. Screw the clients. Screw the creditors. But no, Slaton had to be a hard-ass, giving Sal no choice but to take him out. And this tree-hugging duo from who-the-fuck-knows-where. It was like they were sent here as a practical joke by some jamook, just to give him a major pain in the balls. At least the little leg-breaking bastard was out of the picture, on the run from the law. But the broad…she was still hanging around town, according to Vinnie. Sal had told Vinnie to give her a good scare-an I’ll kill all your loved ones kind of scare, the type that makes people leave town in the middle of the night. Apparently, she didn’t scare that easy. Sal had asked Vinnie about her this morning, and Vinnie had said, She’s a tough bitch, Pop. I’m still working on it.

Sal hadn’t liked the way that sounded. But, truth be told, that broad was on the back burner now, ever since this afternoon. He had more important things to do, like keeping a lid on this Slaton thing. He had to laugh, really. A shitstorm had hit Blanco County, but he had managed to keep his own dirty laundry buried. So far, anyway. He didn’t like those two cops-well, that cop and that game warden-coming to his house. What was their problem, anyway? Sal’s fingerprints on an envelope? Get the fuck out of here with that-that’s what any decent attorney would say. It proves nothing. But it was Sal’s piss-poor luck that Gammel had gone and gotten himself whacked, and that the cops had had to come nosing around about it. Yeah, so maybe he had bribed Bert Gammel, but Sal was in the clear on the murder beef. He’d had nothing to do with that. But the big question was, after the cops had asked him about Bert Gammel, why in the fuck did they bring up Emmett Slaton? That was the one thing that made Sal nervous. It didn’t make sense.

Sal turned up the set as KHIL cut to a reporter-a good-looking broad with nice-sized jugs named Kitty Katz.

You gotta be kidding, Sal thought. Sounded like a stripper, not a reporter. Kitty was trying to look all serious and dramatic, standing in front of the courthouse.

“There has never been a chain of events quite like the past few days here in Blanco County-that much everyone can agree on. It all started nearly forty-eight hours ago when Jack Corey, a suspect in the murder of Blanco County employee Bert Gammel, shot a sheriff’s deputy and began a standoff in the building you see behind me. For days, Corey has remained holed up with the wounded deputy, refusing to negotiate a surrender. But just moments ago, we received word that there is another suspect in the homicide, and the new suspect has indeed confessed…”

Sal watched as the station cut to a clip of an earlier interview. Some goofy-looking deputy standing there, looking cocky in front of the camera. His name-DEPUTY ERNIE TURPIN-was superimposed on the bottom of the screen.

“We do have a full confession on record, but I’m not at liberty to identify the suspect at this time. But this does mean that Mr. Corey is no longer a suspect, and we are encouraging him to end the standoff immediately.”

The camera cut back to the reporter.

“So far, however, neither Corey nor the deputy have emerged. Meanwhile, there is still no development in the disappearance of local rancher and businessman Emmett Slaton, who has been missing since Wednesday. Anyone with information pertaining to the case is asked to call the Blanco County Sheriff’s Department. Remarkably, another odd story has made headlines lately in this small, normally quiet county-the escape of a