‘You’re not taking his side?’ This was a change.
‘Today I’m taking your side,’ Tina said, rolling her eyes. ‘Enjoy the moment.’
‘But David’s right,’ she said. ‘I could get to Ben faster than anyone else could, if he’s holding back.’
‘You cops. You can never let anything be.’ Tina ate her brownie.
Claudia kissed her mother’s cheek. ‘I think I’ll go by the hospital, see Ben.’
But she didn’t. Instead, Claudia drove to Copano Flats, toward the big Vaughn house.
33
‘I don’t think Lucy’s very interesting as a suspect anymore,’ David said. He’d run into Whit at the Coke machine in the courthouse hallway, Whit in the office to use the faster Internet connection than what he had at home, David doing whatever he did on a Saturday he had duty.
‘You got a new mouse to play with?’ Whit could guess where this was going.
‘Jimmy Bird killed those old folks. No question. His tire tracks match the tracks found on the Gilbert land, same gun killed him as killed Mrs Tran. I just made your inquest real easy.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Now. What’s interesting to me is your theory about how maybe Stoney Vaughn had a connection to old Jimmy.’
Whit fed quarters into the machine, selected root beer, waited for the can to drop. ‘Or, wow, even better if Ben Vaughn did. Now wouldn’t that get your nipples hard?’
‘Be grateful for small mercies. I’m leaving your girlfriend alone.’ He handed Whit the Saturday edition of the Port Leo Mariner, the semiweekly local paper. ‘Nasty letter to the editor in there about you. You pissed off the other half of the Gilbert family. Bring that back when you’re done, would you? I got a new puppy I’m training.’
Whit didn’t open the paper, wouldn’t give David the satisfaction.
David got a Coke from the machine. ‘Given what’s in that paper, you might have a crowd at your inquest. With a recall petition.’
‘David, may I give you a friendly word of advice?’
‘What?’
‘You’re never getting her back,’ Whit said. ‘Ever. And I don’t think it’d make you happy anyway. So you might as well get over being mad at Claudia and all her friends you have to work with. You ever want to be sheriff? It’s never going to happen, as long as you keep pissing on people.’ He turned and walked off. ‘I’ll bring your paper back when I’m done.’
Whit took the paper back to his office, shut the door. He’d been searching for information on the Devil’s Eye emerald and Santa Barbara on the Internet, impatient to wait on what Iris Dominguez and her colleagues might find. He’d found one site devoted to famous lost jewels that included a description of the Devil’s Eye. There was no photo, of course, and the actual existence of the Eye was questioned by the article. The emerald’s supposed weight – estimated by modern standards to be just shy of two kilograms – was listed, its story told as part of the billions in mineral and gemological wealth mined from the New World and dispatched to fill the Spanish treasury. Estimated value of the Devil’s Eye – named by a disapproving priest of the viceroy who claimed the weak-willed stared at it, as though hypnotized – ranged from a million to four million US dollars. Having been lost for so long, its legend and value had grown.
His phone rang. ‘Whit Mosley.’
‘It’s Iris. Listen, I talked with the gemologists in Mexico. You asked how you might sell an emerald like the Devil’s Eye.’
‘Not in a pawnshop, right?’
‘Don’t joke. My friends say there is an underground market for emeralds, and it’s controlled by emerald traders in Colombia. You know Colombia suffers much violence and corruption. Prominent emerald traders there have been accused of sponsoring right-wing paramilitary groups. These are dangerous men.’
‘And these men would be the buyers for the Devil’s Eye?’
‘If one wished to get the maximum amount of profit, yes. For a stone like the Devil’s Eye, there’d be much competition.’
‘So our seller has to have the balls to deal with rich Colombian extremists. How reassuring.’
‘I thought you should know. I’ll let you know what else I learn, as soon as I hear anything.’
He thanked her, hung up the phone. His stomach felt a little unsettled. He’d tried to imagine disposing of a treasure – how exactly would you go about doing this? The coins could be melted down or sold in small batches to collectors. But the emerald, if it was as grand as he thought it must be… Colombian right-wingers. How many guns, bombs, bribes could the Devil’s Eye buy? That the case could move into international crime rings and violent politics made his throat go dry. He thought, I bet Triple A and Stoney are gone. They got that emerald and took off to Bogota and we’ll never get them.
He opened the newspaper to the letters to the editor. Suzanne Gilbert was a better painter than writer. But the letter still stung. The rant was adverb heavy. Accused Judge Mosley of malfeasance in ignoring the beneficiary of Patch Gilbert’s death and asked for an investigation into Judge Mosley’s inquest and finances, perhaps suggesting a bribe had been paid. He glanced at his phone: the message light blinked, no doubt the outraged voters of Encina County calling for his head. Maybe. He clicked the phone on: one hang-up, four messages from voters asking for an explanation about Suzanne’s letter, not angry, but now curious.
His cell phone beeped and he answered it, hoping it wasn’t another voter wanting a one-on-one explanation.
‘You’re not going to be happy with me,’ Gooch said.
‘I’m afraid to ask.’
‘Could you get me a legal definition of kidnapping? Because I don’t think I technically kidnapped Stoney Vaughn. I prefer to think of it as protective custody.’
Whit’s mouth opened, then closed. ‘You asshole.’
‘That other guy, Triple A – although since I shot at him, I’m thinking we’re on a first-name basis – this Alex guy, he drives a beige Chrysler van, by the way. I think he might have meant harm to poor Stoney here. I found Stoney at a fishing cottage in Laurel Point. We’ve moved on.’
‘How did you know Stoney was at this fishing cottage?’
‘That will upset you.’
‘Like I’m not already upset.’
‘I followed Lucy.’
‘I absolutely do not understand.’
‘I. Followed. Lucy.’
Whit’s stomach lurched. ‘Why, Gooch?’
‘I’ve never trusted her. Sorry.’
‘Where are you?’
‘If I tell, you’re in trouble with the law, and I think I should keep you free and clear.’
‘I’m already an accessory to kidnapping if I don’t report you.’
‘Stoney went with me willingly. He’s sure willing now. Aren’t you, Stoney? Hey, Stoney!’ Calling to him, loud, an echo in the room. ‘Yeah, he’s nodding big-time. He’s a happy guy.’
‘Gooch. Where are you?’
‘See, you can’t always take the direct approach, Judge. Stoney and I are going to have an extensive chat here shortly. We’re going to find out who exactly Alex is, what he knows, where he’s at, and then how Lucy’s involved in all this. Find out what he knows about poor Patch and Thuy. It’s gonna be fun and educational.’
‘Gooch, don’t-’
‘Then I’ll call you and fill you in. I won’t say it’s me. Then you do what you think best. Consider it an extended anonymous tip.’
‘Gooch, you asshole, don’t do this-’
‘Helen’s out boating with Duff and Trudy Smith, so she should be out of harm’s way. Take care of her, okay?
