Chapter 11
Hobson knocked on the oak door.
“Come,” a voice responded.
Hobson opened the door, stepped forward and said, “Mr. Keaton, sir.”
“Great! Come in. Come in,” Raymond Davies answered.
Hobson moved back and Keaton stepped into the study.
A soft light from an overhead fixture lit the room. There was a fire in the grate and a big desk angled away from it. A couple of chairs faced the front of the desk. The walls were hung with filled bookshelves. Davies stood behind the desk smiling.
“Thank god you were there, Bill,” Davies exclaimed. “Get in here and have a drink with me.”
“This room looks bigger in the light,” Keaton stated and smiled at Davies.
“The light pushes everything farther away,” Davies answered. “I like that dark intimacy better. But I trip over the carpet sometimes,” he laughed.
“Rye?”
“Rye would be great,” Keaton answered as he moved towards the chair nearest.
“Hobson, you heard the man. A bottle of rye and two glasses,” Davies ordered.
“Yes, sir,” Hobson answered and left closing the door behind him.
“Please, sit,” Davies motioned to the chair.
The oak’s doorknob rattled.
Keaton and Davies both looked to the door.
It swung in and Ruth bolted in. “I knew you two would be in here! Where’re the drinks?”
“Hobson is bringing them,” Davies answered. “Should I call for a third glass?”
“No!” Ruth answered. “You should call the police.” She pointed at Keaton. “He killed three people!”
“And saved your life. I think that’s a good trade. I am giving him a bonus.” Davies snapped back. “What good was your ‘Tristan’?” Davies paused, “And they were LDs. You can’t kill the dead.”
“That’s what he said,” Ruth answered. “That doesn’t make any sense. And Tristan was just fine. He was scared just like the rest of us.”
“Apparently, Bill wasn’t scared.” Davies said.
“If he wasn’t it was because he had a gun,” Ruth retorted.
“Whatever,” Davies smiled. “LDs don’t have any legal standing,” he responded.
“So they don’t deserve to exist?” Looking at Keaton she demanded, “So we should kill all the LDs then?” Ruth demanded’
“Well...” Davies started.
Hobson entered the room carrying a bottle of rye and two glasses on a tray. “Ms. Ruth, should I get you a glass?” he asked.
“No!” Ruth shouted and ran out of the study.
“Youth is wasted on the young,” Davies stated. “Isn’t that what they say?” he asked Keaton as he waved him down to take a seat.
“I don’t know,” Keaton answered as he sat down. “I would not want to be young again. There’ve been too many hard knocks getting this far to start over.”
Davies laughed.
Hobson set the tray down on the desk corner and poured rye into the glasses then handed them out. “Anything else, sir?”
Davies smiled, “No. I think we can handle it from here.”
“Very good, sir,” Hobson answered.
Keaton sipped from his glass watching Hobson leave and close the door. He looked at Davies. “I could have shot the LAs.”
“What?” Davies exclaimed. “I was told they were Harlequins.”
“They were,” Keaton answered. “Not all Harlequins are LD. It’s a gang. Having a variety in its membership helps it get around.”
“Really,” Davies replied sipping at his rye. “How could you tell them apart?”
“LDs move different,” Keaton told him then he leaned forward and refilled his glass.
“Fascinating,” Davies commented shaking his head slightly. He looked at Keaton and said, “Your experience is why I want to have you on a retainer. Ruth needs watching over. Detectives take retainers don’t they?”
Keaton smiled, “Well, if one is offered they do. But I don’t think your daughter will go for the idea. She seems put off by me.”
Davies set his glass down on the desk. “Ah, she’ll come around. I’ll have Hobson talk to her. She listens to him. She listens to anyone who isn’t her father.”
“I have heard that about children,” Keaton said.
“So, no kids?” Davies asked.
“No kids,” Keaton answered. “Just lots of wives.”
Davies laughed.
Keaton leaned forward and set his empty glass on the desk. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get home and relax. Even killing the dead is stressful.”
“Of course. I’m sorry,” Davies quickly said. “I wasn’t thinking about things from your view. I was only thinking about my daughter.” He pulled a phone from his jacket, called Hobson and told him to have the car brought around.
“Phillip will be out front by the time we get there,” Davies said standing up from the desk. “Bill, I want to thank you again for saving Ruth from those ghouls.”
“You’re welcome,” Keaton answered as he stood up. “I am glad I was of use.”
As they moved towards the door Davies said, “Tell Hobson how much you need as a retainer.”
“I’ll have to think up something,” Keaton said with a smile. “But I won’t take the job unless your daughter wants me.”
“She will. She will. Don’t worry about it and don’t be frugal!” Davies laughed and they stepped out into the hall.
***
Davies was at his desk in the study. The doorknob rattled then the door opened. Tristan stepped in and closed the door.
Davies looked up, “What are you doing? What the hell happened out there tonight?” he demanded
“That crazy old man had a gun, Boss. He didn’t look like he was packing,” Tristan spurted out. “He just slid out of the car and started shooting. It was like a movie.”
“A damn expensive one!” Davies added. He stood up. “Well. It is what is. We’ll start over again and not underestimate anyone next time.”
“Yes, sir,” Tristan answered.
“Are you hungry, boy?” Davies asked.
“I am always hungry,” Tristan answered.
“Get to the kitchen. Chef has dinner waiting for you.”
“Thank you, sir,” Tristan answered and headed out the door.
Davies freshened his glass of rye and sat back down.
***
It was quiet in the limousine. Keaton sat in the back with his head down, chin resting on his chest.
Phillip looked up into the mirror. “Are you okay, sir?”
Keaton raised his head. “I’m fine. Tired.” Keaton smiled, “I am not use to staying up late like I did last night. Never did like staying out late. Nothing good happens after midnight.”
“Nothing good happens before midnight,” Phillip stated. “Thank you for being there tonight. I’m not sure what would have happened.”
“Kidnapped, ransomed, tortured or killed,” Keaton offered with a smile.
Phillip laughed, “Right. Something along those lines. Thanks.”
“Glad I could help,” Keaton answered.
Chapter 12
Keaton, in a fresh pressed suit, sat at the desk in his front room drinking coffee. The wind around the back window sashes whistled softly. The office door was pushed open and the bell above it tinkled. Ruth Davies entered. She wore a small black hat with a brief piece of black lace across her face. Her dress was sleeveless, black silk with a high neck and a low hem. She wore above the elbow black gloves and her shoes were black, open toed and almost heelless.
Keaton set down his cup and stood. “Good morning, Ms. Davies. What can I do for you?”
Ruth looked around the office and stepped in far enough to close the door behind her.
“You don’t put up much of a front, do you?”
“Honest PIs don’t make much money,” Keaton answered.
Ruth looked at Keaton and asked, “Are you honest, Mr. Keaton?”
“Old PIs don’t make much money either, Ms. Davies,” Keaton answered. He pointed at the dish of red hots and said, “Care for some red hots?”
“I would love some,” Ruth answered and crossed to the desk. She took a handful of red hots and tossed a few into her mouth.
Keaton smiled. “Have a seat. How can I help you?”
Ruth sat down and munched on her red hots. “Is that yesterday’s suit?”
Keaton smiled, “no,” he answered. “I have five of these, all exactly alike. Makes it easy to pick out my clothes in the morning. So this is a fresh one.”
“That’s a good idea,” Ruth said and tossed some more red hots into her mouth.
Keaton leaned forward and took some red hots from the dish.
“You wearing your gun?” Ruth asked.
“Should I be?” Keaton asked. “No. It’s fairly safe in my office.”
Ruth swallowed her red hots. “Hobson says I should apologize to you and thank you for ‘saving everyone’s asses’ last night. And Phillip told me you said we could have been kidnapped, ransomed, tortured or killed. Is that right?”
“And eaten,” Keaton added. “There are still roving bands of LDs out where they’re hard to find. Not everyone has a wealthy father like you, Ms. Davies. Poor people can’t afford to hire someone to guard their bodies.
“Your father is rich. He owns Synthmeat. Which means he is the only one standing between LDs eating LAs fulltime again. Maybe those goons wanted money. Maybe they wanted a processing plant. Maybe all his plants.”
Keaton reached for more red hots. “I bet your father owns a few Representatives, a couple of Senators, Governors. I don’t know what they wanted: leverage, money, food. But they were after you, Ms. Davies. You need to keep that in mind. You are a target.”
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Ruth, please call me Ruth,” Ruth said.
“Okay, Ruth,” Keaton answered.
“Will you forgive me for all I said last night and help me?”
“I would love to, Ruth,” Keaton answered.
Ruth smiled, “What do we do now?”
“Eat more red hots,” Keaton offered.
Ruth laughed. “Why the red hots?”
“Beside that they taste good. They keep my breath fresh,” Keaton answered.
Ruth laughed again, “Okay. More red hots. How do we start?”
“You don’t go anywhere by yourself. Don’t make any long-range plans. Do everything spur of the moment. Don’t use any of your father’s cars. People will know them. I’m not sure you should even hire a car to go somewhere. Maybe you should call me, and I’ll hire a car,”
“You can drive? Or are you hiring a driver too?” Ruth laughed.
“Well, I used to drive,” Keaton answered. “I guess I still can. But I’ll get a driver too.”
“Basically, you want me to stay in the house and hide,” Ruth said.
“Unless I’m with you,” Keaton stated. “I’m the only one I trust.”
“How do I know I can trust you?” Ruth asked.
“You can’t,” Keaton replied. “But Hobson did invite me into the mess. So maybe I am still not tainted by whatever the money mess, powers that be plots there are against you. Not yet.”
“May I have some more red hots?” Ruth asked.
“Sure. Sorry. I get caught up in hearing my own voice,” Keaton stated. “I don’t get much company.”
“Well, you are my constant companion now,” Ruth said. “Is that restaurant downstairs any good. Do they serve Mexican food?”
“Only the best,” Keaton answered. He checked the time. “And if we hurry, we can beat the lunch rush.”
Paul stood beside the table where Ruth and Keaton sat. Ruth’s gloves were off and laying on the table beside her. “That was wonderful,” she said.
Paul bowed slightly and answered, “Thank you ma’am. I will let the cook know what you said. The work was all his.” Paul looked at Keaton, then back to Ruth, “Coffee?”
“None for me,” Keaton answered.
“No thank you,” Ruth added.
Paul bowed slightly again and cleared the dishes from the table.
“That was really great,” Ruth repeated to Keaton. “You eat here all the time?”
“When I eat,” Keaton said.
“You should weigh two hundred kilos,” Ruth replied. “I would if I ate here every day.”
“I don’t eat every day,” Keaton responded.
“Well, you might see me here whenever you do eat,” Ruth laughed. “Just don’t tell Chef about it. He gets jealous.”
“He won’t hear it from me,” Keaton answered. “Let me get you a ride home.”
“You’re not driving me after all that talk about ‘being able to drive?”’ Ruth questioned.
Keaton smiled, “Talk is cheap. And it’s probably safer if someone else does the driving.” He turned and looked over the restaurant. He saw Paul and raised a hand. Paul nodded.
On his way back to the kitchen Paul stopped at Ruth’s and Keaton’s table. “Yes, sir? Change your minds about that coffee?”
“No, Paul,” Keaton said. “Can you call Rafie and have him meet us out front? I need him to drive Ms. Ruth home.”
“Of course, sir.” Paul turned to Ruth and nodded, “Ms. Ruth, my pleasure. Rafael will be honored.” Paul hurried back to the kitchen.
“Rafie is Paul’s nephew,” Keaton explained. “I helped put him away for a few years. He was a getaway driver then. He delivers flowers now. But he is still a hell of a good driver.”
Ruth smiled.
Paul came back. “Rafael will be out front in five minutes Ms. Ruth.”
“Thank you, Paul,” Ruth smiled. “Thank you so much.”
“What do I owe you, Paul?” Keaton asked.
“Nothing Mr. Keaton. I told Cook what Ms. Ruth said about her meal and he said everything is PAID,” Paul laughed.
“He’s never done that for me,” Keaton answered.
“You are not as charming nor as beautiful as Ms. Ruth,” Paul answered.
“Well, that’s true,” Keaton acknowledged.
Paul turned to Ruth, “Rafael should be out front. I told him ‘Immediately.’ He listens to me, now.”
“Thank you, Paul,” Keaton said as he stood up. He pulled some money from his wallet and set it on the table. “Tell Cook, ‘Thank you’ and spread this around the kitchen.”
“Thank you, Mr. Keaton.”
Ruth picked up her gloves and stood. “Thank you, Paul. Tell everyone thank you.”
“Yes, Ms. Ruth. Please come again,” Paul answered. As Ruth and Keaton left the table Keaton said, “I think Paul’s in love.”
Chapter 13
Tristan Martin sat at a black and chrome desk in an empty store front on the end of a brick facade strip mall on Elam just west of Balch Springs. There was nothing on the desktop. A single folding metal chair was set up in front of the desk. Dirty mini blinds covered the one window and the glass door. Outside there were bars over both the window and the door.
A vehicle stopped outside. Someone opened the grated outer door and pushed opened the glass door. The bus driver stepped into the room, pulled the grated door closed and let the glass door close itself. The mini blinds banged slightly against the door as it settled into place.
“Timmy, good to see you!” Tristan grinned standing up. He checked his wristwatch. “Right on time, like always. Sit down, sit down,” Tristan said motioning to the metal chair. “How have you been?”
“Fine, Mr. Martin. Just fine,” Timmy answered crossing over to the offered chair. Tristan did not offer to shake hands. Timmy sat down and so did Tristan.
“Mr. Taylor, are we keeping you busy?” Tristan asked.
Timmy grinned. “Pretty busy. Yes, sir. Been making a lot of pickups and deliveries.”
“Just local runs, right?” Tristan asked.
Timmy nodded, “Yes, sir. Mainly just this side of town. Went to Ft. Worth once.”
“Yeah, Ft. Worth is still local,” Tristan laughed.
Timmy laughed.
Tristan leaned forward with his hands planed on the desktop, “I have a long haul for you. Well, kind of long. A half day out and then back. Are you okay with that?”
“Yes, sir! That sounds great,” Timmy responded.
“And because it’s out of town and a full day’s driving you’ll get double time. How’s that sound?”
“Super!” Timmy answered.
Tristan grinned, “Did you bring the bus?”
“Yes, sir. It’s outside.”
“Good. Leave it here,” Tristan explained leaning back into his chair. “There’s a van parked outside you can drive. It’s marked up as a plumber’s van.”
“I’m not picking up any kids then?” Timmy asked.
“No. No kids. At least I don’t think so,” Tristan answered. “All I know is you’re to pick up some people and bring them back here.”
“Back to the plant?” Timmy asked.
Tristan pulled open the top right-hand drawer of the desk and pulled out a cell phone. “I don’t know. They are supposed to give you more instructions when you make the pickup,” he said. “Everything is very ‘Hush, Hush.’”
“Okay,” Timmy answered. “Got cha.”
Tristan slid the phone across the desk to Jimmy. “That’s a prepaid phone. Not traceable to us. Okay?”
Jimmy nodded as he leaned forward to pick up the phone.
“It’s got one phone number in its memory. I have that phone in my pocket,” Tristan explained. “You get two calls. That’s it. You call me once when you have the load and you’re on your way back. Okay?’
“Okay,” Timmy answered.
“If you have a problem on the way to the pickup or on the way back, call me. But you can’t have two problems, Timmy,” Tristan stated. “After that second call, I toss my phone. Do you understand?”
Timmy nodded.
“Good. You are great to work with Timmy,” Tristan laughed.
“Thank you, sir,” Timmy replied with a grin.
Tristan reached back into the desk drawer and pulled out a set of keys. “These are to the van.” He pushed the keys across the desk to Timmy. “I was told the van is filled up and has the range to get to the pickup and back without a refueling stop. Okay?”
“Yes, sir.”
“If you open up Maps, there on that phone, there’s a location saved. That’s where you are going. Don’t look at it until you get to McKinney. Do you know how to get to McKinney?” Tristan asked.
“Yes, sir. Just take 75 north,” Timmy replied.
“Super!” Tristan answered. “You need to start out tomorrow morning at 7AM. Don’t want you driving strange highways in the dark.”
“Thanks,” Timmy answered. “Strange roads or in the dark, it’s all good.”
“Great,” Tristan answered. “Leave the bus’s keys behind the visor and I think we are good.”
“Great,” Timmy said and stood up.
“I look forward to talking with you tomorrow Mr. Taylor. Maybe even twice,” Tristan laughed. Then he added, “And Timmy, don’t wear the suit and tie, okay? Dress like a plumber.”
“Yes, sir,” Timmy laughed. He turned and walked to the door.
When the van pulled away from the store Tristan walked up to the entrance and locked the grated door and the glass door then he turned and walked to the back exit.
Chapter 14
It was early afternoon. The lights in Keaton’s office were off. His suit jacket was hung on the back of the office chair. He sat at the desk with his chin resting on his chest. There was an empty coffee cup on the desk. The red-hot dish was empty.
Keaton lifted his head and reached down towards one of the outside jacket pockets. He leaned over slightly to reach the bottom of the pocket and pulled out Escobar’s card. With his other hand he felt around the jacket’s inner pockets until he found his phone.
With the card and phone up near his face he told the phone to make a call and he read off Escobar’s number. Escobar’s phone rang three times.
“This is Escobar,” she answered. “How can I help you?”
Keaton lowered the card and raised the phone to his ear. “This is Bill Keaton, Detective. Do you have a minute?”
“I’ll make note of the number, Mr. Keaton. And I always have time to talk to a taxpayer,” she said. “Are you getting ready to shoot some more LDs?”
“Not right now,” Keaton answered. “But I might tomorrow. You never know what’ll come up. Do you?”
Escobar sighed. “No, you never do. Why the call? You want to reminisce about my dad?”
“No,” Keaton said. “I was wondering if you have anything on that Tristan Martin character?”
“So, he’s a character?” Escobar asked. “Should I have something on him?”
Keaton answered, “He’s a Harlequin.”
“He is, is he? How do you know this?” Escobar asked.
“He has their tat on his right hand between his thumb and index finger,” Keaton stated.
“I didn’t see a tattoo there,” Escobar answered. “And I looked. There’s nothing in his very skinny file about it.”
“It’s small and he’s had it inked over. Get a good image and enlarge it,” Keaton instructed.
“Okay, so what? He was in a gang and now he’s out,” Escobar said.
“The Tong, the Mafia, the Crips, MS-13, the Harlequins. Gangs don’t let you out. They let you go invisible until they need you again. Tristan has just been invisible,” Keaton riposted. “Were those LDs I shot Harlequin?”
“I am not at liberty to discuss an ongoing case,” Escobar answered.
“Then what have we been doing?” Keaton asked.
“Just passing the time away,” Escobar answered. “You got anything else for me?
“No, Detective,” Keaton replied. “Just trying to do my civic duty.”
“Well, thank you for the hot tip, Mr. Keaton. Please leave the policing to the professionals. Goodbye, Mr. Keaton,” Escobar said.
Keaton’s phone went silent. He looked at it then set it down on the desk.
Chapter 15
Rafie’s red Camry needed a paint job. The paint coating on the hood, roof and rear deck had broken down after years of sun and the paint was chalky. The interior was neat and clean. Under the hood an LT5 engine was wedged into the engine compartment. It crunched the gravel as it idled up the driveway to Ruth’s front door.
“This the right place ma’am?” Rafie asked looking over his shoulder to the backseat.
“Yes, Rafael. This is where I live,” Ruth answered. “Home, sweet home,” she laughed.
“I should have brought the Caddie,” Rafie explained. “I thought they wanted some speed. You needed ‘Classy.’”
“This is perfect, Rafael. Don’t worry,” Ruth answered. She leaned forward and said, “Stop there where that angry man is.”
Phillip had opened the front door and stepped out of the house.
“He looks like a bad dude, Miss. I have a gun.”
Ruth laughed. “That’s Phillip, Rafael. He also drives for me. He is a big cupcake.”
“He don’t look like no cupcake to me,” Rafie answered. “He don’t look like a ‘driver’ neither.”
The Camry stopped and Ruth opened her door. “How much do I owe you?” she asked.
“Paul said, ‘free.’ So it’s free,” Rafie replied.
“Can’t I give you something for your time?” Ruth asked.
Rafie turned and looked over his left shoulder at Phillip coming to help Ruth out of the car. “Maybe you can set up a run between me and him?”
“You mean a race?” Ruth asked.
“Yes, Miss.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Ruth laughed as Phillip got to the car.
“Are you okay, Ms. Ruth?” he asked.
Ruth stepped out of the car. “Phillip, this is Rafael. Rafael, Phillip.”
Rafie lifted his chin a half inch. Phillip glared.
“You got my number, Miss. Whenever you need a ride,” Rafie said to Phillip.
“Yes. Thank you, Rafael,” Ruth said with a grin in Phillip’s direction. She stepped away from the Camry and Phillip slammed the rear door closed.
Rafie gave the V8 a little gas and let it rumble. He let out the clutch and eased away.
Phillip glared after him for a second then hurried after Ruth as she walked towards the house.
“What are you doing riding with that kid, Ms. Ruth?” he asked. “You know it’s dangerous for you. You shouldn’t have sent me home. You should have called me.”
Ruth stopped just outside the front door. “Everything is fine, Phillip. I’m fine. Rafael is fine. I had a fine meal and a fine conversation with Mr. Keaton. Okay?”
“Yes, Ms. Everything is fine,” Phillip answered.
Ruth smiled and asked, “Is Tristan in or at the office?”
“I believe he’s in the house,” Phillip answered.
Ruth entered the house and turned down the long hall. At the south end of the hall, she took the flight of stairs up to the ‘Boys’ rooms.
Tristan had a big room on the left. Ruth knocked on the door.
“It’s open,” Tristan called out.
Ruth stepped into the ‘30s modern designed room. Tristan was at the desk working. He looked up, “Hi there. You look beautiful.”
Standing just inside the room Ruth said, “I am sorry about what I said last night.”
Tristan stood up. “That’s okay. Everyone was upset, Sweetie.”
Ruth ran to Tristan and hugged him tightly.
Tristan pulled her tightly to him and kissed her.
“I am so sorry,” Ruth repeated. “Please forgive me.”
Tristan released Ruth and made a little space between them so he could look her in the eyes.
“You’re forgiven,” he said. “Just don’t ever ask me to go to another rugger game with you.”
Ruth pulled up close and hugged Tristan again.
“You look like you’re going to a funeral,” Tristan said.
“I’ve been to see that terrible Keaton man. He didn’t even notice I was dressed in mourning,” Ruth stated.
“Maybe he just thought you were beautiful,” Tristan said moving a step back out of Ruth’s hug.
“NO. He just thought I should stay away from you and Phillip. He doesn’t trust anyone,” Ruth said. “I don’t know why he thinks I should trust him.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Tristan said. “After all, you are talking to me against his instructions.” Tristan laughed.
Ruth joined him. “You’re right. He can’t tell me what to do.”
“Maybe you can do something to help the LDs,” Tristan suggested.
“That’s a great idea,” Ruth answered. “What can I do?”
“Well, I don’t know. But we could reach out and find some activist in that area. Your father does pull some weight around town.”
“Maybe we can drive around and meet some LDs. See how they live,” Ruth offered.
“There you go. That’s a great place to start,” Tristan chimed in. “We can take my car and then we won’t have Phillip tagging along.”
“Yes,” Ruth smiled. “Let’s do that. Do you have time to set up something?”
“I’ll make time,” Tristan answered.