Sue Grafton - G Is For Gumshoe

I stared at him. He didn't seem that impressed with the look I was giving him.

He said, "Where's the closest gun shop?"

"I don't have the money. You're talkin' five or six hundred bucks."

"More like eleven hundred for the gun you should have."

"Which is what?"

"Heckler Koch P7 in nine-millimeter. You can get it used somewhere. It's the latest yuppie firearm. It looks good in the glove compartment of a BMW, but it's still right for you."

"Forget it!" I said.

This time he stared at me.

I felt myself faltering. "Even if I bought a gun today, I'd have to wait two weeks to pick it up."

"You can use the Davis until then, but not with those cartridges. You should be using a high-velocity hollow-point like the Winchester Silvertip or a prefragmented round like the Glaser Safety Slug. I suggest the Winchester Silvertip."

"Why those?" Actually it didn't matter. I was just feeling stubborn and argumentative.

He ticked his reasons off, using his fingers for emphasis. "It's less expensive for one thing and it's fairly widely used by law enforcement. With the underpowered thirty-two round, penetration is the most important-"

"All right. I got it," I said irritably. "Is that all you did last night? Sit around thinking up this stuff?"

"That's all I did," he said. He opened the paper and checked the front page. "Actually I have a Colt.45 out in the car. You can practice with both guns when we go up to the firing range."

"When are we doing that?"

"After the gun shop opens at ten."

"I don't want to go out."

"We're not going to let the guy affect your life this way." His gray eyes came up to mine. "Okay?"

"I'm scared," I said.

"Why do you think we're doing this?"

"What about the banquet?"

"I think we should go. He won't make another move for days. He wants you to think about your mortality. He wants your anxiety to mount until you jump every time the phone rings."

"I already do that."

"Have some breakfast. You'll feel better."

I poured my cereal and some milk, still brooding while I ate.

Dietz broke the silence, looking across the paper at me. "I want to say one thing again so listen carefully," he said. "A truly professional assassin kills either at close range or very long range. Up close, the weapon of choice would probably be a suppressed.22 long rifle with subsonic ammunition. From a distance, a bolt-action.308. Messinger is a bad-ass, but he's also an amateur. I'm going to nail him."

"What if he gets you first?"

"He won't." He went back to the sports section.

I felt better, I swear to God.

Dietz and I went to the office first. I checked my answering machine (no messages) while he glanced at the mail from the day before (no letter bombs). I locked up again and we went next door to the California Fidelity offices, where Vera was just getting in. She was wearing a two-piece outfit of red parachute material, long flowing skirt, blousy top with long sleeves and a red belt at the waist. Since I'd seen her yesterday, her hair had turned very blond, with streaks, and her glasses had changed to aviator shades with blue lenses. As usual she looked like the kind of woman any guy would love to jump out of an airplane with, an effect that wasn't lost on Dietz. She was carrying a garment on a hanger, covered by a cleaning bag. "Oh hi. You guys going tonight?"

"That's what we stopped by to tell you," I said. "Should I call the hotel?"

"I already did that," she said. "I figured you'd be there. This is for you." She indicated the cleaning bag. "Come on back to my office and you can take a look. This is girl stuff," she said to Dietz. "You still off cigarettes?"

"Day three," he said.

I hadn't realized he was counting.

"This is day seven for me," she said.

"How are you doing?"

"Not too bad. I've got all this manic energy. I feel amped. I must have counted on the nicotine to mellow me out. What about you?"

"I'm okay," he said mildly. "I like to do things to test myself."

"I'll bet you do," she said and laughed down in her throat. "We'll be back in a sec." She breezed on toward the back.

"Was that nasty, what you said to him? It sounded nasty," I asked, scurrying to keep up.

She glanced over her shoulder. "Listen, babycakes, when I get around to nasty you won't have any doubts."

She anchored the hanger over the edge of her cubicle and stuck an unlit Virginia Slim in her mouth, dragging on it cold. She closed her eyes, as if praying. "Oh God, for a light… for smoke… for the first heady hit of a cigarette…" She opened her eyes and shook her head. "I hate doing things that are good for me. Why did I decide to do this?"

"You were coughing up blood."

"Oh yeah. I forgot that part. Ah well. Take a look." She eased the plastic bag off the hanger. Under it was a black silk jumpsuit with spaghetti straps and a tiny belt. The matching jacket had a Mandarin collar and long sleeves. "What do you think?"

"It looks perfect."

"Good. Make sure it fits. Otherwise give me a call and I'll scare up something else. You can bring it with you at six and get dressed in my room. I'm staying at the Edgewater so I won't have to drive myself home afterward. I hate having to monitor my alcohol intake."

"Don't you have a date? I thought you'd be coming with Neil."

"I'm meeting him there. That way he's free to do anything he wants. I'll bring the jewelry tonight and maybe help you do something with your hair. I can tell I'm going to have to dress you."

"Vera, I'm not helpless."

"Of course you're not helpless. You're completely ignorant when it comes to clothes. I'll bet you've never even had your colors done."

I gave a little noncommittal shrug, trying to look like I had my colors done sometimes twice a week.

"Don't bother. You're a Summer. I can save you the fifty bucks. You shouldn't wear black, but to hell with it. You'll look great." She paused to study my face. "Very becoming, those bruises… especially the one turning green." She began to ease the plastic bag back over the outfit, unlit cigarette bobbing from the corner of her mouth. "How's it feel to spend twenty-four hours a day with a hunk?"

"You mean Dietz?"

Vera sighed and rolled her eyes. "No, I'm talking about Don Knotts. Never mind. You probably like him because he's competent, right?"

"Well, yeah. Isn't that the point?" I said. "You know what puzzles me? How come I'm surrounded by bossy people? Rosie, Dietz, Henry… now you."

"You're cute, you know that? You think you're such a hard-ass."

"I am a hard-ass," I said defensively.

"Nell's going to love you. Have you called him yet?"

"I haven't had a chance. We just got back."

"He's only coming tonight to meet you. Just remember. Don't eat."

I squinted at her. "How come? This is a retirement dinner, isn't it?"

"Suppose you want to go to bed with him."

"I don't," I said.

"But suppose you did."

"What's that got to do with eating dinner?"

She was losing patience with me, but stopped to spell it out. "Never go to bed with a guy after a big meal. Your stomach will pooch out."

"Why would I go to bed with a guy I can't have a big meal with first?"

"You can eat later, when you're married."

I had to laugh. "I'm not getting married later, but thanks for the tip."

"You're welcome. See you tonight."

I found Dietz sitting out by Darcy's desk, leafing through a pamphlet on uninsured losses. I took the outfit downstairs with us, tucking it carefully in his trunk when we reached the parking lot. "There's no way I'm wearing any body armor under this," I said.

Dietz made no comment and I took that for assent.

On our way to the firing range, we stopped by the gun shop and spent an hour bickering about guns. He knew far more than I did and I had to yield to his expertise. I left a deposit on an H K P7 in 9-millimeter, filling out all the necessary paperwork. I ended up paying twenty-five bucks for fifty rounds of the Winchester Silvertips Dietz had insisted on. In exchange for my compliance, he had the good taste not to mention that all of this was his idea. I'd expected to find it galling to take his advice, but in reality, it felt fine. What did I have to prove? He'd been at it a lot longer than I had and he seemed to know what he was talking about.