Bone Dry

“See, she makes jewelry out of little odds and ends. She must have found the shell in Sal’s house and decided to put it in her necklace.”

Garza shook his head in confusion. “Look, you’re losing me here. Start from the beginning. How do you know Sal Mameli?” The marshal took a deep breath. “I’m afraid I can’t comment on that. At least, not yet.”

Everyone was fidgety and frustrated now, including Marlin.

“But you’re saying the gun we found is Sal Mameli’s?” Garza asked.

Poindexter said, “It has to be. How many of you have ever seen a Smith and Wesson thirty-five caliber?”

Rachel Cowan spoke up: “I think I did once, at a pawn shop.”

“My point is, they’re pretty damn rare,” the marshal replied. “And what are the odds of one showing up in a murder case where the Mamelis are material witnesses, and then it turning out that the gun isn’t Sal’s?”

“But when I ran a check on that serial number,” Garza said, “it came back as-”

He stopped in midsentence and everybody looked his way. Marlin had never seen Garza look as astonished as he did now. “Oh, crap,” the sheriff said softly. “Roberto Ragusa. The mafia informant.”

Someone gasped.

Everyone turned to Poindexter now. He shrugged and held his palms up, a What can I say? gesture. “I’m afraid I can’t comment on that.”

“Does this become a federal case now?” Garza asked.

“I’d say that’s kind of a gray area,” Poindexter replied. “He’s a dangerous man, Sheriff, and I would feel obligated to participate in whatever action you might take. But if you feel the need to proceed…”

Garza glanced at Bill Tatum. “Get Judge Hilton on the phone.”

“Uh, Bobby,” Tatum said, “it’s kind of late to-”

“Wake him up if you have to! Tell him we need a warrant. Immediately.”

Tatum grabbed the nearest phone and began to dial. Poindexter spoke up in a sheepish voice: “Uh, I don’t suppose one of you has a gun I can borrow?”

They went in two cruisers: Garza, Cowan, and Marlin in one, Poindexter and Tatum in another. When they were a quarter-mile from Mameli’s driveway, they drove slowly with the headlights off.

It was now almost one in the morning. Judge Hilton had been grumpy as hell about being awakened, but when he heard the wild tale Garza and Poindexter laid before him, he issued the warrant and wished them luck.

Marlin had been on countless middle-of-the-night maneuvers, but nothing compared to this. His heart was thundering in his chest and his breathing was rapid.

The plan was for Garza, Marlin, and the deputies to serve the warrant at the front door while Poindexter covered the back. Poindexter had told them about Maria’s cottage behind the house, and they wanted to make sure they contained Sal and Vinnie within the house. If they were forced to invade the home, Marlin and Poindexter were to guard the perimeter of the home until Garza, Cowan, and Tatum had the situation in hand. Poindexter had warned the team that Sal Mameli was capable of just about anything. He might welcome us into his home with open arms, or he might start shooting as soon as he sees us. Those comments hadn’t raised the team’s spirits any, but Marlin could tell that everyone was glad the marshal was being frank.

Garza pulled the lead car into the driveway, and the crunching of the gravel under the tires seemed as loud as firecrackers. As soon as the home came into view, Garza stopped the car. The team gathered between the cars to exchange a few last words, and Smedley gave them a general layout of the house.

Garza said, “We’re just serving a warrant here; it’s not a bust. I want you to be careful, but no guns drawn, understood?”

Nods all around, and then the group made their way up the driveway. When they were twenty yards in front of the porch, which ran the length of the house, Poindexter quietly split off and went around the side.

Garza waited a full minute, then motioned toward the front door. A weak porch bulb-yellow, to discourage insects-illuminated the way.

They stepped right up to the front door, and Garza didn’t waste any time. He pounded on the door with the cushion of his fist. “Sheriff’s Department! We have a warrant! Open up!”

A light popped on somewhere deep inside the house.

Garza pounded on the door again and repeated his command.

Half a minute passed, and then they heard shuffling behind the door. It opened about four inches. There was a chain dangling from the door to the frame, and Marlin could make out Sal Mameli, wearing pajamas, crutches underneath his arms, peeking through the crack. “What the hell is this?” Mameli said.

Garza held up a sheet of paper. “We’ve got a warrant, Sal. Open up.”

Sal’s mind was buzzing, rocking and reeling in overdrive, and he could barely put together a coherent thought. It was Garza and Marlin and a couple of deputies banging on the door and screaming and yelling and now Garza was holding up a goddamn warrant.

They didn’t give me enough time to get ready for this shit! Without even thinking, Sal slammed his body against the door and it closed with a bang. He let the crutches fall, then he turned and clomped down the hallway on his cast, thinking, The shell, the shell-I’ve got to get to Maria and get that goddamn shell!

Marlin would try to describe the next few minutes in his report the next morning, but as his adrenaline kicked in, he found that the sequence of events unfolded in a fuzzy, almost dreamlike fashion.

Sal was looking at them one second-and the next, the door slammed shut. Garza immediately began kicking at the door, Tatum joining in, and Marlin found himself standing…watching…playing the role of a spectator.

It seemed that it was taking entirely too long, but then the door finally gave, and Garza, Cowan, and Tatum ducked inside, yelling loudly, guns drawn.

Sal opened the top drawer of the hutch to grab the handgun he had placed there just this evening for exactly this kind of thing and…Jesus Christ Almighty, it was gone! Vinnie must have grabbed it. Sal could still hear the cops hammering on the door behind him, and it was sure to give any second. He started to head through the living room to the back door, but then stopped and ducked into the kitchen, suddenly knowing that they would have somebody waiting at the back door. They came out in force, they came out in the middle of the night, so of course they’d have somebody at the back door. But Sal was too smart for that shit and he wasn’t going to fall into their trap. He was going to go through the garage instead.

Marlin was standing on the front porch, jittery, feeling useless, when he saw a flash of movement from the corner of his eye. He took one step back and saw Vinnie Mameli squirming through a window that opened onto the far end of the porch, almost at the corner of the house. Marlin started to move toward him when he noticed the black steel in Vinnie’s hand.

Before Marlin could even yell Freeze! — Vinnie swung the gun at him and fired.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

Behind the house, waiting by the back door, Smedley was hoping and praying the operation would go down flawlessly. After all, he was sure to receive a reprimand for failing to report to Austin before the warrant was served. But Maria meant too much to him, and he didn’t want to wait that long. He knew his superiors would want to study the situation, analyze it for a few days. Hell, they might even try to whitewash the entire situation. They certainly didn’t want another black eye for the witness protection program. That’s why this had to go smoothly, without incident.

Then Smedley heard a shot from somewhere near the front of the house. He drew his weapon.

Garza and Tatum were deep within the residence, trying to find Sal, when they heard the gunshot. The acoustics in the big stone house played tricks with the sound, and they couldn’t tell whether the shot came from inside or outside the house. They began a room-to-room search, Garza wondering whether they might find Sal’s