Part 5 (2/2)
”I was going to lie on the beach,” Wiley said, ”and read my book.”
Lundy waited a moment. ”You know, Frank, there's a lot of guys'd do it. I mean guys the cops aren't waiting to flag.”
Renda said, ”Hey, Gene, one more time. I said I want him. I never wanted anybody so bad and I'm going to do it strictly as a favor to myself. You understand? Am I getting through to you? I'm I'm going to do it, not somebody else. Before I take any trips or lay on any beach I'm going to walk up to that melon grower son of a b.i.t.c.h, I'm going to look him in the eyes, and I'm going to kill him.” going to do it, not somebody else. Before I take any trips or lay on any beach I'm going to walk up to that melon grower son of a b.i.t.c.h, I'm going to look him in the eyes, and I'm going to kill him.”
Harold Ritchie was a pallbearer at his partner's funeral. Bob Almont, good guy to ride with in a squad car, and G.o.dd.a.m.n he'd miss him. Shot down in the street by some creepy son of a b.i.t.c.h. Ritchie hoped it was the one he'd shot coming out of the station wagon. He went to Bob Almont's house after the funeral, with Bob's close friends and a few relatives that'd come from Oklahoma. They sat around drinking coffee and picking at the ca.s.serole dishes some neighbors had brought over, while Evelyn Almont stayed in the kitchen most of the time or sat with her two little tiny kids who didn't know what the h.e.l.l was going on. After a couple of hours of watching that, it was a relief to get back to the post. he'd miss him. Shot down in the street by some creepy son of a b.i.t.c.h. Ritchie hoped it was the one he'd shot coming out of the station wagon. He went to Bob Almont's house after the funeral, with Bob's close friends and a few relatives that'd come from Oklahoma. They sat around drinking coffee and picking at the ca.s.serole dishes some neighbors had brought over, while Evelyn Almont stayed in the kitchen most of the time or sat with her two little tiny kids who didn't know what the h.e.l.l was going on. After a couple of hours of watching that, it was a relief to get back to the post.
The deputy at the counter tore off a teletype sheet and handed it to him. ”What you asked for. Just come in.”
He read it as he walked over to Lieutenant McAllen's office, knocked twice, and walked in. McAllen was sitting at his desk.
”You're right,” Ritchie said, ”Phoenix had a sheet on him. Robert L. Kopas, a.k.a. Bobby Kopas, Bobby Curtis. Two arrests, B and E, and extortion. One conviction. Served two years in Florence.”
”I could feel it,” McAllen said. ”The guy's up to something.”
”Changed his mind and dropped the charge. The way I read it,” Ritchie said, ”he's decided it'd be more fun to get back at the guy himself.”
”Maybe. But is he smart enough? Or dumb enough to try it? However you want to look at it.” McAllen paused. ”Or did somebody put him up to it?”
Ritchie was nodding. ”That's a thought.”
”Yes, it is, isn't it?” McAllen said. ”You got any more on Majestyk?”
”On my desk. I'll be right back.” Ritchie went out and returned within the minute with an open file folder in his hands, looking at it.
”Not much. He lived in California most of his life. High school education. Truck driver, farm laborer. Owned his own place till he went to Folsom on the a.s.sault conviction. Here's something. In the army three years, a Ranger instructor at Fort Benning.”
McAllen raised his eyebrows. ”An instructor.”
”Combat adviser in Laos before that,” Ritchie went on. ”Captured by the Pathet Lao, escaped and brought three enemy prisoners with him. Got a Silver Star.” Looking up at McAllen he said, ”Man doesn't fool, does he?”
”Well, he's a different cut than what we usually get.”
”Doesn't seem afraid to take chances.”
”Doesn't appear to.” McAllen was thoughtful a moment. ”Let's talk to him and find out.”
He said to Majestyk, ”You look better than the last time I saw you.”
”Thank you, but I'd just as soon wear my own clothes.” He was dressed in jail denims with white stripes down the sides of the pants. The sc.r.a.pes and cuts on his face were healing and he was clean-shaven. ”What I'd like to know which n.o.body'll tell me, is when I'm going to court.”
”Why don't you have a seat?” McAllen said.
”I've been sitting for four days.”
”So you're used to it,” McAllen said. ”Sit down.”
He watched Majestyk take the chair then picked up a pack of cigarettes and matches and leaned over to hand them across the desk.
”Have a smoke.”
As Majestyk lighted a cigarette, McAllen said, ”I guess what you want most is to get out of here.”
He waited, but Majestyk, looking at him, said nothing. ”Well, I think it might be arranged.”
Majestyk continued to wait, not giving McAllen any help.
”The guy you hit, Bobby Kopas?” McAllen said finally. ”He dropped the charge against you.”
When Majestyk still waited, McAllen said, ”You hear what I said?”
”Why'd he do that?”
”He said he thought it over. It wasn't important enough for him to waste a lot of time in court. You think that's the reason?”
”I met him once,” Majestyk said. ”I can't say I know him or what's in his head.”
”He's got a record. Extortion, breaking and entering. Does that tell you anything?”
”You say it, I believe it.”
”I'm saying he could have a reason of his own to see you walking around free.”
”Well, whatever his reason is, I'll go along with it,” Majestyk said. ”If it means getting my crop in.”
”You can stay if you want,” McAllen said.
”Why would I want to?”
”Because Frank Renda's also walking around free.”
Majestyk saw him waiting for his reaction and he said, ”Why don't you just tell me what you're going to anyway, without all the suspense.”
McAllen looked over at Ritchie and back again. He said, ”The eyeball witness who saw Frank Renda commit murder was an off-duty police officer.”
”I heard that.”
”He was a member of this department.”
Majestyk waited.
”He was killed during Renda's escape. Shot dead. So there's no witness. The gun Renda used-is alleged to have used-can't be traced to him. That means there's no case.”
”If you want him so bad,” Majestyk said, ”why don't you arrest him for the escape?”
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