Kirk Russell - Dead Game

Crey looked into his drink, thinking it over, then agreed, “They’ve got some rough edges. But how polished do they have to be to hump a fish around?”

“They’re the wrong type of guys. What were they in for?”

“Perry for robbery and Torp did time for rape, only it was a lot worse than what they were able to pin on him, and there were others they didn’t get him for. Problem is I owe Perry, and he’s trying to get back on his feet.”

“He tried to trade me dope for the sturgeon. Did you tell him to do that?”

Crey didn’t answer, and his eyes kind of glazed over. It told Marquez that Crey had known the offer to trade would get made. He could read the pores on Crey’s nose, see every mark on his face, but couldn’t read much in his eyes, and the feeling came out of nowhere, that he wouldn’t miss having to deal with guys like this.

They finished their drinks now and walked out into daylight.

“I did four years and I’m not going back inside,” Crey said. “You want to know about me, that’s all you need to know. If I’ve got to use some help like Lou and Liam, that’s what I’ve got to do then. The boys aren’t so bad. I know Torp has got some problems, but sometimes I need their lifting power. And they can deliver shit. All they have to do is drive a car, right? You don’t have to talk to them.” He saw he wasn’t getting anywhere with Marquez and added, “I can handle a sturgeon a day if you can do it.”

“Why not live straight? You’ve got your sport fishing business and the bait shop. Why risk it all?”

“Kind of funny of you to ask that.”

“Yeah, well, we’re talking straight, so I’m asking.”

“The answer is I’ve got some other obligations.”

Marquez nodded and saw Crey was tracking the Le Mans, which was heading toward the bridge.

“Look at them,” Crey said. “They’re trying to follow her home, and you can bet they’ll go back there some night. That’s about the only way either one of them can get close to a woman.” He picked at something on a tooth, adding, “I swear to God sometimes I wish I could just start all over.”

“The Le Mans is registered to a Sherri La Belle. Stockton address,” Shauf said, and then read off the address to Marquez.

“They’re still on her.”

Roberts cut in. “They’re on me, and they’re not doing a bad job of it. They’re staying with me, Lieutenant.”

“What’s your location?”

“Just passing the Ryde Hotel, coming up that side of the river. They’re hanging back about a third of a mile.”

The pink art deco hotel with the water tower behind it was a straight run up that side of the river. If they stayed behind her they’d be very visible and easy to track.

“Let’s try to turn it around on them and see what we learn. How are you doing for gas?”

“I’m good for a couple hundred miles.”

“Okay, stay on that side of the river, and let’s see if they follow you into Sacramento. Then let’s get them out on the freeway and get photos of each of them and the car, and meanwhile we’ll run them through NCIC. We can ask the CHP for help.”

Shauf fell in behind the Le Mans. Marquez talked to a highway patrol dispatcher and told her two suspects were trailing one of their wardens.

“We want to slow them down while our officer loses them. Can we get a CHP unit to come off an overpass and run alongside them?”

Perry and Torp wouldn’t chase with a CHP unit alongside them, and Roberts could hit it hard and put some distance between herself and this pair that Crey called “his boys.” Shauf would sit on their tail and turn it around on them. It was a twist to the afternoon no one had figured on, but at least a deal had gotten done with Crey, and more would follow. That there was friction between Marquez and Torp and Perry might ultimately build some credibility with Crey. It wouldn’t look so much like he was trying to ingratiate himself. Marquez went back and forth with both the CHP dispatch and Roberts. She continued up the river road, chatting now about the Rio Vista bar.

“What did Perry say to you?” he asked her.

“That he was the gentleman who’d sent the beer.”

“Did he tell you I was the gentleman who paid for it?”

“No, because I told him I hadn’t noticed any gentlemen in the room.”

“Come on, how can you say that? You must have seen me down there.”

She laughed, and he liked hearing her. The last cutback, the one that took out Roberts and Alvarez, had been the worst. They used to have a pretty good time together even on the long surveillances.

“Now he wants to go home with you.”

“Yeah, lucky me.”

But nothing about them trailing her was funny. Roberts worked her way through the outskirts of Sacramento, and they were quieter because the opportunity was there for Torp and Perry to catch up. She moved into a part of town with more traffic and stoplights, and they got ready in case the Le Mans closed on her. But other than race lights a couple of times to avoid losing her, Torp and Perry hung back. When Roberts turned onto 80 eastbound toward Reno, the heavy Le Mans swung onto the on-ramp behind her, its engine a deep roar as it accelerated onto the freeway.

“Take the Roseville exit,” Marquez said.

“Roger, that.”

Half an hour later Roberts did a slow figure eight through a large shopping center off the freeway in Roseville. She stopped briefly, went into a store while the Le Mans idled in the lot, waiting. Then she got back on the freeway and ran it up to eighty-five as the CHP unit dropped down alongside the Le Mans. Torp and Perry kept glancing over at the CHP officer, waiting for him to go ticket her, but the officer just rode alongside them, his sunglassed eyes turning from time to time to return their stares. Eventually, they slowed even more to get away from him. When they did that they had to let Roberts go.

In Sacramento Roberts switched vehicles, then caught up to Shauf, who was with the Le Mans at a Sacramento McDonald’s, watching Perry and Torp eat in their car in the McDonald’s lot.

“You’re on your own with them,” Marquez said, “I’m going to stop in at Lisa’s Marina and see if I can find her.”

He figured Selke had already blown his cover with the owner of Lisa’s Marina, so why not come clean with her and find out if she saw anything? If Anna’s vanishing act was schemed, then she would have needed to know he was at Lisa’s before going forward with it. That had caused him to wonder about the fishermen who’d been at the bar that night.

When he walked into the marina bar it was empty. The tall windows looked out across the river, and this part of the building was one story with a high ceiling. But there was a second story that covered half of the building and held Lisa’s office and apartment. He thought about calling from the bottom of the stairs, then spotted her out on the deck.

“Hi,” she said, “Sorry to keep you waiting. I was cleaning. Do you need a room tonight?”

“No, I’m here to talk to you, Lisa, if you have a few minutes.”

She brushed a strand of hair back from her forehead.

“I wondered when you’d come explain, or whether you ever would. The detective came by and asked a lot of questions about you and the woman they’ve been searching for. I haven’t been able to sleep through a night since that happened. I think about Anna all the time.”

“You know her?”

“Sure, it’s the delta. There aren’t that many of us.”

“She’s probably fine.”

“That’s what the detective said. He thinks she faked it. But why would she do that?”

“Do you have time to sit down?”

They took a table out on the deck, and it was warm in the sun. The mention of Selke’s name conjured the body last night, an image he pushed away when Lisa asked if he wanted coffee. Now he watched her come back outside with two coffee mugs. She had rose spots on her cheeks from cleaning the rooms. She had a wisp of hair that kept falling over her forehead and she kept pushing it back.