unlabeled.
‘Let’s get out of here, boys,’ Frank said as Whit headed back into the den.
‘Wait a minute.’ Whit slid the disc into the player, set it running. Gooch and Frank watched behind him.
A darkened shot, the camera clearly hidden at a slightly tilted angle. Four men entering a house at night. Bucks one of them. All nicely dressed, young executive types. Two minutes passed. Then Bucks coming out. Carrying a body, dumping it in the trunk of a BMW. Then another. And another, Bucks then getting in the car and roaring away.
‘Our smoking gun,’ Frank said. ‘Thank you, Lord.’
‘If Bucks or Jose killed Kiko, why leave this behind?’ Whit popped the disc from the machine.
‘Bucks didn’t know the disc was here,’ Gooch said. He sat down suddenly, touched his chest, frowned. ‘And what’s it to Jose if Bucks gets caught for murder?’
‘Bucks did know about the film,’ Whit said. ‘Kiko told me he had Bucks in his pocket. This is how he got him there.’
‘Whit.’ Gooch clutched at his chest. ‘Whit, oh, man…’ And he collapsed onto the floor, groaning, eyes rolling into whites, a thin sliver of spit oozing from his mouth.
40
Claudia stood over Whit, holding a cup of steaming coffee in her hand, and he wondered for a second if she would pour it on his head.
‘You look terrible,’ she said quietly. A family was camped in the corner of the intensive care room, and she spoke in a hush.
‘Hello to you too,’ he said.
She handed him the coffee. It was close to six Sunday night, Gooch lying in critical condition for the whole afternoon.
‘Thank you,’ he said.
Claudia sat next to him. He didn’t look at her.
‘Whit.’
‘Yes?’
‘What’s going on?’ she said.
‘Sitting here with a coffee that my friend brought me,’ he said.
‘Don’t,’ she said in a low, harsh whisper. ‘Do you know what I’ve been through?’
‘Does it matter if I know? You’re mad at me before I’ve even opened my mouth.’
‘Walk with me,’ she said. ‘There’s a little garden outside. I’m going to yell at you, and I don’t want to disturb these people.’
‘Visiting time is in another fifteen minutes. I can’t miss it.’
‘Level with me and you won’t,’ she said.
‘I love it when you get all authority figure.’ He walked out past her. She followed him.
The evening was damp, rain having ceased its fall an hour ago, and the wet held the air in a swampy embrace. Whit sat down on the damp stone bench. Claudia stood.
‘I almost got killed last night,’ she said. ‘Did you know that?’
‘No,’ he said, watching her. ‘Are you serious?’
‘Greg Buckman. A shooter came after him. Nearly got me. A man got killed.’
‘But you’re okay.’
‘Yes, I’m okay.’ She sat next to him. He reached for her arm and she stood. ‘And you are so not okay, Whit. Not okay at all to me. You sit here like a stone statue, not answering a single reasonable question over the past three days.’
‘So ask me.’
Start easy, she decided. ‘For God’s sakes, what happened to Gooch?’
‘He had a heart attack.’
‘I don’t mean that, Whit.’ Claudia thought: infinite patience right now. ‘He was full of a cocktail of narcotics, morphine, a whole mess of junk. He’s been beaten.’
‘So much for medical privacy,’ Whit said. ‘Gooch does love to party.’
‘You protecting your mom, Whit?’
‘Claudia. Please go home. I don’t have anything to say.’
‘I nearly got killed trying to help you.’
‘I warned you that Bucks was dangerous. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.’
‘He wasn’t half as dangerous as Jose Peron,’ Claudia said. ‘That’s the shooter’s name.’
‘His name is Peron? Like Evita?’
‘Yes. Look at me, Whit.’
Instead he studied his shoes.
‘Whit. I love you, you’re my dear friend. Whatever you’ve done, I’ll help you. Okay?’
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I want you to take Gooch back to Port Leo, soon as he can travel. That’s how you can help me.’
‘Fine,’ she said. ‘But on the condition you tell me what’s happening.’
‘First tell me everything that happened to you last night. Please,’ he said, taking her hand. She let him, and she told him about finding Robin and Bucks. When she was done he said, ‘Thank God you’re okay.’
Claudia turned his face toward her, looked hard into his eyes. ‘The police found Greg Buckman prowling around a house in River Oaks today. They were already headed there to talk to Frank Polo, who’s the manager of a strip club called the Topaz.’
‘Oh.’
‘The owner of the club, Paul Bellini’ – she put an emphasis on the last name – ‘got gunned down in a parking lot last night. His Porsche was abandoned near Shepherd and Alabama. It was wiped clean of prints. Oddly enough, there was a van parked not far from where Bellini’s body was found. Gooch’s van.’
Whit let go of her hand.
‘So I’m freaking, I’m calling hospitals, Whit, not knowing if you and Gooch are dead or alive. Eventually I find Gooch here. You haven’t talked to the police about all this, have you, Whit?’
‘I told the doctors my friend had gone missing for a few hours, turned up beaten and sick. They gave the information to the police. They ran a check, found his van was near the Bellini death scene. They came back and talked to me. I told them I didn’t know why his van was there. And Gooch isn’t up for much questioning yet.’
‘So you lied to the police.’ Claudia couldn’t keep the outrage out of her voice.
‘Tell them what you suspect. I don’t care.’
‘You came to Houston to find the Bellinis. You sure as hell found them, Whit.’
‘So where’s Bucks now?’
‘They questioned him and let him go. His story is that this Jose Peron is a hit man hired by disgruntled Energis investors to get rid of him.’
Whit raised an eyebrow. ‘They bought that?’
‘No. The man killed at Bucks’ place, a guy named MacKay, is a suspected drug dealer and hit man himself. But never arrested with cause. They don’t have a charge against Bucks, other than fleeing the scene of a crime. His apartment was clean. There’s nothing hard yet to connect Bucks to any illegal activity. He drove around Houston all night, slept in his car, then drove to Polo’s house this morning. The police are talking with his girlfriend, to see if she’ll give him up.’
‘Bucks is out there,’ Whit said. ‘Thanks for telling me.’
‘I get the feeling it’s not telling, it’s warning.’ She paused. ‘Where’s your mother?’
‘I have no idea. Dead, probably.’
‘Whit.’ She touched his knee; he didn’t move. ‘I’m sorry.’
He said nothing.
