T. Parker - California Girl

“Yeah.”

“So Stoltz might have had some real paternity problems shaping up, Nick. But Bonnett’s our man.”

Nick nodded, watched a C-141 lowering toward the Santa Ana air station. An MP friend of his on base said they’d load off coffins fifty at a time. Always did it at night.

“That’s a big coincidence he’d buy a Trim-Quick then. Right at that time.”

“Not if he had some trees to prune.”

“I’ll talk to him.”

“Maybe I should do that. You rest.”

“Let me. He’s a friend of the family.”

Lobdell drank more coffee. Looked up at the big plane.

“They transferred Bonnett from Bay Hospital to General last night,” he said. “He’s in good condition and he’s hired Abbott Estle to defend him.”

Nick saw the transport plane disappear behind a liquidambar tree bright orange against the sky. Like the leaves had just pulled it in. Heard the high drone of the engines.

“Lucky?” he asked quietly. “How are we going to handle Mexico?”

“We were never in Mexico.”

“Bonnett will use it. You know Estle will try to make it a bad arrest.”

“I don’t know that at all. What, ‘My client was down in Mexico running drugs when these rotten deputies came and kidnapped him’? Nick, it’s simple. It’s one violent drug dealer against two honest cops. We got the stuff from his property with a good warrant. We picked him up at the border on a tip. Like Andy wrote. Read those articles again. Make sure you know exactly what they say we did. If Estle wants to get real involved and send a PI down to Baja, let him. The cops won’t help them, I guarantee you that. And the bartenders always know when to shake their heads and act dumb. Nothing changes what Bonnett did to Janelle. We were never in Mexico, Nick.”

Nick had thought it through a thousand times and kept coming up with the same answer. “Got it.”

“Don’t worry.”

A long silence then. Nick watched a hummingbird zoom to a stop midair and stare at him. Throat shimmering in the sunlight like a wet ruby. Heard Katy inside hustling the kids out the door for the short walk to the bus stop. I’m alive to hear and see all this. Amazing. He pictured perjuring himself on a superior court witness stand in front of God and man. Thought a man given a new life might find something better to do with it than tell lies to save his own butt.

“Funny about Langton, isn’t it?” asked Lobdell. “He lies to us about one rap and they land on him for another.”

“His story smelled wrong.”

“But did you figure him for a fairy?”

“No.”

“Hard to tell sometimes.”

“I suppose you could be at the Boom Boom and not be a fairy,” said Nick.

Another silence. Nick felt tired and it wasn’t even nine yet. Could still feel the sharp pain up inside him where the blade had cut muscle and bladder and bone. Doctors said they’d never seen a human live through that much blood loss and all the urine and gallbladder fluids backing up inside.

Nick had thought about that last hour over and over. Couldn’t remember his last breath. The exact moment he had died. All he remembered were lights. And cold. And his powerful understanding that he was not going to live out the day.

Then nothing. Just a silent blackness that could have been three seconds or three centuries.

His awakening was like coming out of a long and troubled sleep. Except that he understood he had been given the perfect, intimate gift of life. Again.

Twice.

“You and Shirley and Kevin doing okay?”

Lobdell shrugged and shook his head. “Kevin came into my room last night. Sat on the bed, made some small talk. Told me he didn’t hate me. Just said it to be mean. To hurt something bigger than him. Said he felt stifled. Said he was taking the pills to feel happy but they made him mean later. I told him I understood how a young man needed to be free. I said Shirley and I might have tried too hard to control him because he was our only one and we had him kind of late. I told him I loved him and I’d help him do what he wanted to do. He said that would be great, and walked out.”

Lobdell looked down at the patio. “I respect what he’s going through. It’s not easy growing up. But I miss my boy. I really miss my little boy. Me and Shirley, we’ll be okay.”

Nick worked his feet off the pad, straightened in his chair, leaned over and patted Lucky’s shoulder.

EARLY THAT AFTERNOON Nick drove his take-home car over to Roger Stoltz’s house in Santa Ana. The day had gone dry and a warm breeze shivered the eucalyptus as Nick drove down Seventeenth Street.

Marie showed him into the den and helped him into a chair. Pushed an ottoman over. Roger sat at a desk with a look of concern. Necktie loose and a pencil in one hand and a pile of paper in front of him. Marie clicked on a lamp in one corner of the den and went out.

“You look better than I thought you would,” said Stoltz. “That must have been an incredible ordeal.”

“I feel more than a little lucky to be here.”

“I took flak over Korea once. Missed my balls by about four inches but tore the bottom of my ass up pretty good. Scary feeling to know you’re hurt but not know how bad.”

“I didn’t know you were shot.”

“Chuck Newman got killed right next to me. Kenton, Ohio. I think about that day a lot.”

“I understand.”

Marie brought in two glasses of lemonade. Handed Nick the tall glass and a small yellow napkin. Roger watched and thanked her. Marie quietly shut the door.

“How can I help you?”

“Tell me about you and Janelle Vonn.”

Stoltz nodded. “I tried my best to help her.”

“With the apartment and the money?”

“There was more than that.”

Stoltz dropped the pencil to the desktop and stood. Opened the blinds to let in more of the clean autumn light. He sat again and looked at Nick. Said he’d first met the Vonn family not long after Alma’s suicide back in sixty. At Nick’s house, actually. Remembered how dulled Karl Vonn had seemed. How damaged but proud the girls were. Both Janelle and Lynette, he said, didn’t want their hurt to show. Stoltz said he understood in a flash that night, right there in the Becker house in Tustin, that the girls were undergoing some terrible experience. Stoltz had made discreet inquiries with law enforcement and through private sources but hadn’t turned up anything solid. The brothers were bad, he said. But at that time no one knew how bad.

“I had the feeling that everyone just wished the Vonns would move on,” said Stoltz. “Like bad weather. But they stayed.”

Stoltz said he saw Janelle again in the fall of sixty-five. She was sixteen by then. She was in a coffee shop with some older girlfriends. They were all loud and giggly and unkempt and obviously drunk or high. Manager came over to throw them out and Stoltz took him aside, then got the girls to straighten up so there wouldn’t be a scene. He told Janelle to call him if there was anything she needed. Next day she did. Said she needed a place to stay. Said some people were after her. Roger checked with Marie and they offered Janelle the Newport apartment on Balboa Island. It was a summer rental for them and would have been empty most of that month anyway. They helped her move some things in. She’d just gotten her license and had a very old Dodge that smoked bad and smelled like wet dogs inside. Loaned her their Mercury, helped her sell off the Dodge. Got a hundred fifty for it. Paid for some dental work for Janelle. Bought her some clothes she needed and some books and records she might like.

“Marie and I weren’t able to have children,” said Stoltz. “So Marie and I got attached to Janelle very easily. Surrogate daughter to us. Marie was a country girl, always taking in strays. Big heart. Janelle was, well, pretty stray.”