T. Parker - Cold Pursuit

"Arrogant like how?" asked Hector.

"For instance, he wanted me to buy the right-of-way on Indian land for any new railroad track that would have to be built north of the border. See, the Congress and state legislature weren't happy about a railroad dipping down into Mexico- jurisdiction, narcotics, illegals- all sorts of problems. Pete's idea was to build some new track in East County and skip Mexico altogether. He assumed the native tribes who own that desert would give me a sweet deal for the rights because I'm a native, too. Because redskins are just one big happy savage family. And I'd sell them to him cheap. That's not how it works."

"So you decided not to buy into the cargo terminal, just into Case's company, which would do the construction," said Hector.

Dejano nodded his big head. "When Pete got killed we figured we'd back off. No telling what the Port Commission or the Tunaboat Foundation might do without Pete on them. Sink the whole project, if they felt like it. And just between you and me, I don't always trust Malcolm Case to do what's best for the Rio Verde people. Or anybody else, for that matter."

McMichael wrote quickly, trying to get his exact words. "Tell us about New Year's Eve," he said.

Dejano looked at him with unconcealed suspicion. "What about it?"

"We're interested in the nurse," said Hector.

Dejano stared placidly at them, dark eyes lost in the huge dark face. "She bash him?"

"We're thinking she may have been involved," said McMichael. "She might have known it was coming."

"Shit," said Dejano. "Pete loved her."

"Tell us about that," said Hector.

"You should have seen the gleam in that old man's eye when she walked into the room. Or when he talked to her. Or about her. I met Pete two years ago. Before the nurse, he was just an old fart who wouldn't admit his days were getting short. But after he hired her, he could laugh at himself some. He could see he wasn't right all the time. So if she set him up to get whacked… man, I don't know what to say."

McMichael noted the difference between Dejano's version of Pete and Patricia's version. Patricia saw him meaner; Dejano saw him happier.

"Pete ever say anything to you about changing his will?" asked Hector.

Dejano frowned and nodded. "That night, New Year's Eve. He was watching her make drinks and toss popcorn to Pete's dog. Me and Pete were over in the corner talking. He said he liked her so much he'd leave her the house if he could. I asked him why he couldn't. He just winked."

"That's all he said about it?" asked McMichael.

"Yeah, I took it as a joke, you know? We're all drunk. You're talking shit just to hear yourself say it."

McMichael wondered how Pete's comments would go over with his granddaughter. "Was Patricia there?"

"She and her husband were gone by then," said Dejano.

"Did Case and the nurse have a thing?" asked Hector, glancing at McMichael.

"Case is always talking up the pretty ones. It didn't look like he was getting very far."

"What about you and the nurse?" asked McMichael. Some inner wire twinged inside him. He felt it vibrate then go still.

The big man peered at McMichael, face darkening, thick fingers tapping his desktop. "I made a pass. Maybe two. I said if I ever met the guy who did her neck like that, I'd squeeze the brains out of his head."

"Get far with that line?" asked Hector.

"No."

"How'd your date like it?" asked McMichael.

"Put it this way. It was a New Year's, but it wasn't happy for me and my lady."

"The nurse and Victor get along?" asked Hector.

"They seemed to like each other."

"How about the nurse and Angel?"

Dejano shook his head. "Didn't meet any Angel."

"She was Pete's professional company," said McMichael. "A prostitute."

"Never met her."

"How about Penny? She's a prostitute, too."

Dejano smiled. "Pete still had it in him, eh?"

"Until someone bashed it out," said Hector.

Dejano studied them in silence.

"I don't have any ideas about that," he finally said. "But I don't think the guy who did it was at the party. It was a holiday. That's friends and family."

"What about the nurse and Patricia?" asked McMichael.

Dejano shrugged. "I don't remember them talking or doing anything together."

"They might not have much to say," said Hector, "if Patricia thought he wanted to give the house away."

"But Patricia wasn't there for that," said Dejano. "And I still think Pete was joking."

"Jokes are always true," said Hector.

And if this one was true and Patricia knew, thought McMichael, she had motive to kill her grandfather. He thought of how angry Patricia had been about the gifts to Sally Rainwater. Common prostitute . True, Patricia had known nothing about Pete's letters to Grothke, Steiner & Grothke- she'd asked McMichael to tell her what they were about. But she could have learned about Pete's plans some other way. Could she bludgeon him? Probably not. But what about someone else? Someone she could trust. Someone who'd stand to profit along with her? What about Garland? Or Victor? Something for Sally Rainwater meant less for them.

McMichael looked out the window to the pretty green hills of the reservation land, the little lake they'd built off to one side of the casino, the cloudless blue sky. He felt a shadow float over his soul. Motive and opportunity, he thought. Patricia might have had both.

"You see anybody feeding the dog, besides Sally Rainwater?" asked Hector.

"I gave him some mushrooms, I think. What's that got to do with anything?"

"He died that night of strychnine poisoning," said Hector. "We figure someone at the party did it."

"What the hell for?"

"Maybe get him out of the way."

"That's ugly, man. I didn't see anybody feed the dog except for me and Sally. Last I saw of the dog, Pete had him in his arms, dancing with him. Come to think of it, the dog didn't look too good. He was panting a lot, tongue hanging out."

McMichael pictured a drunken Pete waltzing with his poisoned dog. "How were Patricia and Pete with each other that night?" he asked.

Dejano shrugged again, big shoulders stretching the fabric of his shirt. "Old man kind of ignored her. Patricia, she gets along with people. In control of herself, you know? She brought a big bunch of flowers in a nice glass vase. Pete clipped one of them off with his pocketknife, stuck it in his lapel."

Driving back through Rio Verde, McMichael looked out at the poverty and neglect, wondered how much gambling money was coming back to the people. What did they need with two million dollars of stock in Pacific Transfer when their own school bus stood broken down by the side of the road, tires flat and windows broken? What would it take to fix it- one hour's worth of casino profit?

"I didn't see Patricia or Garland as possible suspects," said McMichael.

"Me neither," said Hector. "But if Old Grothke's telling us the straight story, then the nurse's cut has to come out of someone else's."

"It doesn't read right to me," said McMichael. He thought of Garland Hansen's heated reaction to seeing him with Victor that night at the Waterfront. He'd assumed that Garland was just eager to lay the blame for Pete on the most obvious person- Sally Rainwater. But laying the blame on Sally could be part of a show.

"That would be funny, wouldn't it?"

"What's that, Heck?"

"Us putting the wrong person in jail."

Back at his desk, McMichael had two more phone messages from newspaper reporters and one from a local television news station. He couldn't believe they were onto him and Sally Rainwater so fast, but what else could it be? Was Sally's lawyer behind it, lighting the fires? He screwed up his courage and called them back, grateful to get two answering machines and only one live body, who told him that the television news reporter was in makeup and not available.