Robert Crais - Free Fall

We went out as we came, through the backyard and over the little chain-link and out the rear neighbor’s drive to Pike’s Jeep. Ray Depente gave directions and we made the short drive to Akeem D’Muere’s.

D’Muere’s house was maybe five houses from an intersection, and we could see it well. It was a small cinderblock with an ill-kept front lawn and a couple of overgrown roses that looked like they needed water and heavy steel grates over the windows. Rock house. When we edged to a stop at the intersection, Floyd Riggens came out of the house, punched a black guy who was maybe nineteen years old, and knocked him down.

Then Warren Pinkworth was running out of the house and pulling Riggens away, and Eric Dees was coming out of the house, too.

I said, “Well, well.”

Pike’s mouth twitched.

More of the Gangster Boys came out of the house and Pinkworth shook Riggens like he was an idiot. Riggens did a lot of finger jabbing toward the kid, but he didn’t try to get back into it. He walked out to the street and got into a sedan. Akeem D’Muere came out after Dees, and the two of them argued, but they probably weren’t arguing about Riggens.

Pike said, “If these guys are willing to risk being seen here, whatever they’ve got going must be falling apart.”

Ray Depente twisted in his seat. “What are we going to do?”

“Watch.”

Ray didn’t like that. “There the motherfuckers are, right there. Shouldn’t we call the police? They can see for themselves.”

“See what, Ray?” I looked at him. “Dees is conducting an investigation. He’s questioning Akeem D’Muere and other members of the Eight-Deuce Gangster Boys for information they might have as to my whereabouts, or the drug deal James Edward and I were trying to put together.”

Pike said, “Uh-huh. And these guys might know. Two of them were found dead at the scene. Probably been a parade of cops through here.”

Ray’s jaw worked and his eyes were wide.

I said, “Can you get back from here okay, Ray?”

He looked at me.

“We have to find Jennifer Sheridan, and Dees knows where she is. Dees would’ve told Thurman to hide her, and he’s worried, so he’ll make contact. We’re going to follow him when he leaves. Do you see?”

Ray Depente didn’t move.

Akeem D’Muere said something sharp to Eric Dees, then went back into his house. Dees stood for a moment like he wanted to do something, but then he walked out to the street. Pinkworth and Riggens were out there, sitting in Riggens’s sedan. There was another car behind them, but that was probably Dees’s.

I said, “Ray.”

Ray stared past me at the crack house, and then he nodded, maybe more to himself than to me. He said, “Tell me that this sonofabitch is going to pay for James Edward.”

“He’ll pay. I promise.”

Ray Depente turned heat-seeker eyes my way. “Bet your ass he will.”

Ray Depente got out of the Jeep and walked back the way we had come.

Pike shook his head. “Hate to have that sonofabitch mad at me.”

“Uh-hunh.”

Eric Dees finished speaking to Pinkworth and Riggens, then climbed into his own car. Pinkworth drove away first, and when Dees drove away, Pike and I followed.

It didn’t take long.

Eric Dees went west toward LAX, then climbed onto the San Diego Freeway and headed north, up through Los Angeles and the Sepulveda Pass and into the San Fernando Valley.

He left the freeway at Roscoe, turned west again toward Van Nuys Airport, then pulled into the parking lot of a Tommy’s hamburger stand where Mark Thurman was sitting at a window table, waiting for him. Jennifer Sheridan wasn’t around.

We snapped a turn into a Nissan dealership next to the Tommy’s just as Mark Thurman left his window table and came out to meet Eric Dees. Pike eased the Jeep toward them along one of the aisles of new Nissans, and parked behind a row of vans. We got out of the Jeep and moved up between two of the vans and watched.

Dees got out of the car, and Thurman hugged him, and Dees hugged him back, slapping Mark Thurman’s shoulder the way you do when you’re moved to see someone that you haven’t seen in a while and they are someone you care about. Cars moved in and out of the lot, and Hispanic guys who looked like they did yard work and women who looked like they worked in offices came out of or went into the Tommy’s, and looked at Dees and Thurman as they did, but Thurman and Dees seemed not to notice, nor to care. Dees put out his hand and Thurman gripped it tight, as if he were using it to anchor himself.

Thurman seemed tired and drawn, but then, so did Eric Dees. They looked nervous, and they looked glad to see each other, and they didn’t look like homicidal co-conspirators rendezvousing to foil justice and commit evil. I wasn’t sure what they should look like, but they didn’t look like that. Pike said, “What?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. It’s not the sort of meeting I expected.”

Pike nodded and maybe his mouth twitched.

A balding salesman in a bright blue Miles Vande-veer sport coat smiled his way over and said, “That’s an outstanding little van you’re looking at there, gentlemen. You wanna trade in this old clunker, I’ll give you a fair deal.” He slapped the side of Pike’s Jeep. Hard.

Pike’s head swiveled toward the salesman. “Clunker.”

I stepped in front of him. “We’re just looking, thanks. If we have any questions, I’ll come get you.”

The salesman gestured at the van. “Great new five-year, fifty-thousand-mile warranty with these vehicles.” He looked back at the Jeep, and this time slapped the hood. “Be a big step up from a maintenance hog like this old bitch.”

I said, “Oh, man.”

Pike leaned toward the salesman and said, “Look at me.”

The salesman looked.

Pike said, “Touch the Jeep once more, and I will hurt you.”

The salesman’s smile faltered, then failed. He swallowed hard. “Yes, well. I’ll be in the showroom if you gentlemen have any questions.”

I said, “That will be fine.”

He made a last stab at the smile, couldn’t quite manage it, and walked backwards until he bumped into a green Stanza. When he hit the Stanza, the impact turned him around, and the fast walk became a sort of skipping hop, as if he had to go to the bathroom. Then he ducked into the showroom and peered out at us through the glass. A saleswoman with red hair came up beside him, and he started with the big gestures, filling her in.

I said, “Great, Joe. Nothing like a little restraint. What if he calls the cops?”

Pike gave sullen. “Clunker.”

Thurman and Dees went into Tommy’s and bought a couple of Cokes and returned to Thurman’s window table. Eric Dees did most of the talking. Thurman nodded a lot, and occasionally said something, but mostly he just sipped at his drink. Thurman looked scared. He looked like Eric Dees was telling him things that were maybe hard to understand, but necessary to hear. At one point, Thurman got agitated and spread his hands, gesturing broadly, but Dees reached across the table and gripped his shoulder to explain something, and after a while Mark Thurman calmed.

The meeting didn’t last long. Ten minutes later they came back into the parking lot and went to Eric Dees’s sedan. Dees put his hand on Thurman’s shoulder again, and said something else, and this time Mark Thurman smiled. Bucking up. Hanging tough. With Eric Dees telling him everything would be fine if he just hung in a little while longer. You could see it on his face. The pep talk by the old man. Then they shook hands and Eric Dees got into his sedan and drove away. Pike said, “Now what?”

“We stay with Thurman.”