Эд Горман - Riders on the Storm

And then I saw him. Directly across the street.

Teddy Byrnes.

If he saw me he didn’t let on. The crowd was alive as one, this great joyous animal seduced by the white-haired wizard who waved at them with papal authority.

The only satisfaction I could take was that O’Shay must have known that he was going to lose; that he would have to suffer what was for men like him a disgrace. A slender hope on my part.

And when I looked again Teddy Byrnes was gone.

I wondered if Foster was right. I wondered if Byrnes really had meant to kill Gordon Niven.

I sat alone in the office and called zoom and talked to Tim Duffy. He said he’d been discreetly asking questions of the gang that Teddy Byrnes was part of but they didn’t seem to have any news about him.

I called Lindsey Shepard and lucked out. I got an answering machine for the psych clinic but when I started to leave a message she picked up herself.

“I was talking to Chief Foster this morning and he said that Will seems to be somewhat responsive now.”

“That’s what Dr. Rattigan told me, too. I talked to him late last night. I called this morning and was told that the chief hopes to talk with Will later this afternoon. I’m sure he wants me to tell him that it’s all right but I have my doubts and so does my husband. In fact we were discussing it when you called.”

“Can you stop him from interrogating Will?”

“No. I can tell him that I think this could be very harmful. If it’s too intense it could send Will right back inside and then we wouldn’t be able to reach him again. I’m going to call him — and Randall’s going to be on an extension phone in case the chief thinks I’m just a nervous female — and give him our opinion and hope he takes it.”

I heard another phone come on the line. “Maybe you could back us up on this. Give him a call yourself. Tell him you’ve talked with us and you hope he’ll take us seriously. You seem to have a strong relationship with him.”

“So do you and Lindsey.”

Lindsey said, “But a call from you wouldn’t hurt.”

“I’m afraid right now he wouldn’t be very happy to hear from me. We’ve had a disagreement about something and he’s not too happy.”

“Oh,” Randall said, “that’s too bad. Well, after we hang up here, we’re going to call him ourselves.”

“I’d appreciate it if you’d keep me posted.”

“We certainly will,” Randall said.

On impulse I next called Mary.

“The Lindstrom residence. Nicole speaking.”

“Hi, Nicole. You do a great job of answering the phone.”

“Mom trained me.” I noticed Mary was “Mom” to her while to Kate she was “Mommy.”

“Is your mom handy, honey?”

“I’ll go get her for you, Sam. Are you coming over tonight?”

“I hope so. If I don’t get too busy.”

“On Saturday night Mom always makes tacos.”

“I’ll bet they’re good.”

“Thanks, honey.” Mary was on the line now from the kitchen.

“I told Sam that if he came over tonight he could have tacos.”

Laughing, Mary said, “I believe the legal term for that is bribery.”

“I’m going to finish my book now. It’s due at the library today. Bye, Sam.”

“Bye, sweetie.”

“It’s official now. They both like you.”

“And they say they’ll give me tacos.”

We spent several minutes talking about last night and then I asked her if I’d gotten any calls.

“Just one. Whoever you talked to at the hospital gave you a courtesy call back saying that Will’s doctor would like you to call him.”

I wrote the number down and read it back to her to be sure.

“So do I make extra tacos tonight for a certain visitor?”

“Muy tacos. Muy.”

“I was in your Spanish class, remember? I’m trying to think — which one of us got the A and which one got the C?”

“Yeah, I felt sorry for you when we saw our report cards. And you’d studied so hard.”

“Uh-huh.”

That was when Kevin Maines walked in. His uniform today was short sleeves and walking shorts, necessary when you’re dragging your ass through high eighties, high humidity as a U.S. mailman. He also wore the postal service’s version of the pith helmet.

“I’ll call you later, Mary.”

Usually on Saturdays Kevin just shoves the mail underneath the door. Today he set three number-ten envelopes and a small manila envelope on my desk.

His light blue shirt was soaked darker blue under his pits. “Anything new on that Donovan thing?”

“Nothing that I know of.”

“I know two people who used to work for Donovan. One said he was a great guy and one said he was a giant asshole.”

“I suppose we’ve all got some of both in us.”

“Yeah, my boss is like that. You never know who you’re gonna meet when you show up in the morning. I could live without that kinda crap.”

The number-ten envelopes contained two bills and a check from a client paying off his entire eight-hundred-dollar fee. Very nice.

The manila envelope contained three photographs and a short note. After I’d read the latter and studied the photographs, I got up and walked down the hall and got myself a Pepsi. Then I came back and went through the photos and note again.

May be in some trouble here. Hotel room trashed

and two threatening calls telling me to leave town.

You know the drill, McCain. If anything happens to me—

I lined up the three small color photos on my desk. Each depicted the same couple in three different settings. One in a back yard in bright afternoon, judging by the shadows where they were making out. The second was in a small river pavilion just at dusk. And the third was entering a motel room. In the one in a back yard he had his hand on her ass.

They had one of those relationships where enough was never enough. Valerie Donovan and Lon Anders.

I wondered what Chief Foster, aka “Paul,” would make of these.

Sometimes the obvious conclusion was the correct conclusion. They’re having an affair. Lon has always wanted the business to himself anyway. Like just about everybody else, he’s seen Double Indemnity or one of its dozens and dozens of knockoffs. He knows how this sort of thing works. But he’s smarter than the people in the James M. Cain novel or movie. He waits until he has the chance to make it look like a murder by someone else who seemed to have a motive. The argument between Will and Donovan was well known. So was the fight they had at the party.

What better time to murder Donovan?

This time I called Kenny.

“You ever hear anything about Valerie Donovan?”

“I heard she got it on with the tennis instructor at the country club.”

“Those tennis instructors sure get a lot of ass. Anything else?”

“The marriage was pretty rocky for quite a while. He couldn’t have kids and he wouldn’t let her adopt. He was also very possessive. He slept around himself. By the way, I’m looking into every single person involved in this. Anders doesn’t publicize this but he’s been married three times. He also went on a long weekend to Chicago with Teddy Byrnes two weeks ago.”

“Isn’t he on parole?”

“Not so’s you’d notice.”

“That Chicago weekend is what interests me most. I doubt Donovan knew about it. He wouldn’t have liked it.”

“Yeah, I’m sure Byrnes is a real loyal guy. Donovan’s the one who helps him try to turn his life around and he throws in with the other guy.”

“But Donovan got something out of helping him. He had to or he wouldn’t have done it.”

“What a cynical man you are, Sam McCain.”

“Realistic. I know a lot of Steve Donovans.”