huffing more than he cared to admit, but he made it in less than thirty seconds.
Not that it mattered. There was no trace of the man. Not on this street corner, not on any street corner. Not that he could see, anyway.
He was about to turn away when he heard the sound. It was a tiny sound, an almost inaudible squeaking, like a door hinge turning, or a sneaker pivoting on pavement. Loving whirled, but he was way too late. Something long and hard came crashing down on his head.
Loving gritted his teeth together, wincing. He fell to his knees, trying to absorb the pain. He raised his hands, trying to stop the follow-up blow he knew would be coming.
But he was not successful. He cracked his eyes open just enough to see what looked very much like a baseball bat crashing down between his arms and cracking ominously against his shoulder at the base of his neck.
He cried out, then fell forward on all fours. He hated just sitting here like some lame animal, not trying to escape, but he couldn’t muster the energy to move. He had to concentrate just to clear away the pain, just to think straight.
Which in the long run didn’t matter at all. The bat came crashing down again, this time square on the back of his head, and after that everything, both inside his brain and out, turned to black.
Chapter 26
When Ben climbed the fire escape and entered his office the next morning, he was surprised to find Christina-and Sheriff Allen-already there.
As soon as he passed through the door, the two of them jumped upright. Had they been holding hands? Ben wondered. Surely not. But they were both acting as if they’d been caught in the middle of something.
“Morning, Ben,” Christina said, blowing her hair out of her eyes. “Didn’t expect to see you this early.”
Evidently not, Ben thought. “Did we get the rest of the paper discovery from the prosecutor’s office?”
“Oh. We got it all right. But I don’t think you’re going to like it.”
She pointed toward the opposite wall. Seven near-ceiling-high stacks of bound papers occupied almost a third of the tiny office.
“She’s trying to bury us,” Ben murmured. “Give us more than we can possibly sort through before the trial begins.”
“Right. Probably fifty pages of good stuff, buried somewhere in a morass of garbage. But what can you do about it? Complain that the prosecution has given you too much?”
“I could complain that it came too late and ask for a continuance. But from what I hear, Judge Pickens would be unlikely to grant it.” Ben scrutinized the tall stacks of paper. “Any rhyme or reason here?”
“None. Documents aren’t organized or categorized in any useful fashion. Not even numbered. In fact, the pages of a particular document are often scattered through several piles.”
Ben’s lips pressed tightly together. “Granny really outdid herself here.”
“You haven’t seen the half of it yet.”
Ben frowned; that sounded ominous. He took the top document off the stack closest to him. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust before he realized what Granny had done to him.
“Red,” Ben said, throwing down the paper bitterly. “It’s all been color-copied in red ink.”
Sheriff Allen looked a bit perplexed. “You defense types got something against red?”
“It won’t photocopy,” Christina explained. “At least not on your garden-variety copier. Some of the newer color copiers can do it, but of course we don’t have anything like that at our disposal.”
“Which,” Ben added, “since we’ll need at least three copies of any exhibit we plan to use at trial, makes this tower of trash absolutely worthless to us.”
Allen whistled appreciatively. “That Granny. She sure knows her business.”
“That would be one way of putting it.” Ben grabbed his windbreaker. “I’m going to talk to her. Right now.”
“Is there any point?” Christina asked.
“Probably not. But I’ll feel better if I’ve tried. I don’t guess I need to tell you …
Christina nodded. “Start wading through the paper.”
“Roger.”
Allen turned toward Christina, a stricken expression on his face. “You mean you’re not going to be free at lunchtime?”
“Sorry, Doug. Work calls. Have a double helping of our usual for me, okay?”
Ben frowned. Doug? Our
“I’m available for dinner, though,” Christina added. “What do you say we go back to Mabel’s? Try some more chutney.”
Allen’s face brightened. “That sounds great.”
Ben tried to suppress his annoyance. “Look, Christina, I don’t mean to interfere with your social calendar, but we’ve obviously got a ton of work-”
“Oh, of course.” The sheriff straightened. “Anything I can do?”
“You? I meant-” Ben stopped himself. Now that the man mentioned it, there probably was. “Have you heard anything about a major-league thug called Alberto Vincenzo?”
Allen grunted. “Drug pusher. Yeah, I’ve read the reports. The DEA seems to think he’s in our area. How did you know?”
Ben thought about telling him, but he knew it might get back to Granny, which would be fatal to Peggy. “Well, I’ve got a lot of sources. My question is whether he might have anything to do with the murder of Dwayne Gardiner.”
“I don’t even know for sure that he’s here,” Allen said. “That’s just what I’ve heard. Although it makes sense. This new drug didn’t come to Magic Valley by itself.”
“Any reason to think Vincenzo is connected to the murder?” Christina asked.
“There are reports that Gardiner was behaving erratically shortly before he was killed,” Ben replied. “Like maybe he was sampling a little Venom himself.”
“I can do you one better than that,” Allen offered. “I had reports from some of my deputies that Gardiner had been prowling the streets of the city late at night, something he’d never done before.”
“Like maybe he was trying to score some drugs?” Christina asked.
“Or even maybe was helping push the junk. This new drug has really blitzed through this town. No one man could have done that alone.”
There was a knock on the door. A moment later, Tess poked her head through. “Is this a private party?”
Ben grinned. “Yes. But you’re invited.”
She stepped inside. With four bodies inside, a desk, and seven skyscraperlike stacks of paper, there was barely enough room to move. “You guys like to keep things cozy, don’t you?”
Ben saw Christina and Allen glance at one another. “Helps forge close working relations.”
Tess laughed. “No doubt.” She glanced up at the wall. “That must be the suit?
Ben followed her gaze. The famed Sasquatch suit-black mask and all-was on a coat hanger dangling from a nail on the wall. “That it is. We probably need to get that back to Granny.”
“I’d be happy to swap her for a few documents printed in conventional black ink,” Christina said.
“You’re right,” Ben grunted. “Let her pick it up herself.” He turned toward Tess. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
“I just wondered if anyone’d heard anything about Al,” she answered. “I went by the hospital, but they wouldn’t let me in to see him. Wouldn’t tell me anything, either.”
“That’s my fault,” Allen said. “I put a tight security net around him.”
“Why?”
“Well, ma’am, it’s pretty well known that your pal Al is one of the leading monkeywrenchers. Responsible for a hell of a lot of property damage, from what I hear. It’s best that he’s kept well away from some of the folks in this
