Part 55 (1/2)

”Yes, I suppose. At any rate, if you need any help at all from me, just ask.”

”Thanks,” I said. After a decent pause I asked, ”Did you know Tagliani?” I tried to sound casual.

”Yes. But as Frank Turner.”

”Were you social friends?”

”Not at all. I met with Turner on a couple of occasions to help him get oriented, but that was some time ago.”

”And to size him up?” I suggested.

He stared at me intently for a few seconds, then nodded slowly. ”That, too.”

”So you knew him personally?”

”Not really; it was all business. I haven't seen him to talk to since he moved here.”

”When was that?”

”I couldn't say accurately. About three years ago.”

”Did you meet here in Dunetown?”

He nodded. ”The first time we were supposed to meet at the old Beach Hotel, but it didn't suit him, so we switched the meeting to Charlie Seaborn's yacht. The second time he had his own boat down here.”

”What did you talk about?”

”Development ideas, other money interests. Later he put us on to”-he waved a hand vaguely in the air-”several others . . . ”

”Bronicata, Chevos,” I said.

”Yes, only not by those names. You've got to remember, he came very highly recommended. He had development resources, excellent credit references, all in the name of Frank Turner.”

”And you never suspected who he really was?”

His face clouded up. ”Of course not,” he said. There was a touch of indignation in his tone but he tempered it quickly. ”Look,” he went on, ”we were looking for developers here. It was obvious the track was going to change things, and Turner talked an excellent game. He seemed very civic-minded. His development ideas were sound. We had no reason to doubt him.”

”I wasn't accusing you of anything,” I said.

”I know that. I just want you to understand, this is all very new to us. At worst we were guilty of naivete.”

Babs Thomas appeared in the doorway, tapping her foot.

”The party's in here,” she said sternly. ”You two can talk football, or whatever you've found so d.a.m.ned interesting, some other time. And you, Sam, have a phone call. I think it's Charlie. You can take it in the bedroom.”

”d.a.m.n!” Donleavy said. ”I'm sorry. We can finish this over lunch tomorrow.”

”Just one other thing,” I said. ”Do you happen to remember the date Tagliani came here the first time?”

He thought about it for several seconds, then took out a business card and scrambled a number on the back.

”No, but I've got an old date book at home,” he said. ”Here's my number. Give me a call about quarter to eight and I can give it to you precisely. Don't wait until eight or you'll be out of luck. Dutch Morehead usually calls me then. We talk once a week, keeps me in touch. He's very prompt and we've been known to talk for an hour or more.”

I thanked him, pocketed the card, and we started back inside. As Donleavy hurried off to take his call, Stonewall t.i.tan materialized from behind a potted plant.

”h.e.l.lo, doughboy,” he said. ”Don't miss a trick, do you? Just pop up everywhere.”

”I was thinking the same thing about you,” I said.

t.i.tan looked at me, the candles igniting sparks in his narrowed eyes.

”You've done it again, raised more h.e.l.l, ain't you, son?”

”What do you mean?” I asked.

”I mean your conversation with Harry at the track. That was a d.a.m.n fool thing to do.”

”Time somebody leveled with him.”

”You're a bad penny, doughboy,” he growled. ”You show up back here and within four days we got somethin' akin to twelve homicides.”

He slashed at a potted plant with his cane.

”I haven't had two unsolved G.o.dd.a.m.n homicides at the same time in this county in forty d.a.m.n years. Now I got twelve!”

Donleavy came out of the bedroom, made his apologies, and left to await Dutch's weekly call, waving good-bye as he did. It was seven fifteen. In another thirty minutes we could all leave.

”I'll give it to you again,” I said. ”I didn't cause the homicides and murder isn't my game. It's not why I came here and it isn't why I'm staying.”

”I mean altogether I haven't had twelve unsolved homicides since I been sheriff,” he said, ignoring my comments. ”You understand my concern when we have twelve in the s.p.a.ce of a couple of days?”

”Sure.”

”Sure? What do you mean, sure?”

”I mean sure, I understand your consternation.”

”Hot d.a.m.n, college boy. Consternation. Well, listen close, because my consternation tells me you know one h.e.l.luva lot more about what the h.e.l.l's goin' on than I do, and since this is my county, I think it's time we shared whatever information you might have.”

I smiled. ”And what would I get out of it?” I asked.

”Your a.s.s, in one piece,” he said flatly.

I laughed. ”What're you going to do, Mr. Stoney, put out a contract on me?”

”It may be funny to you, doughboy-”

”That's not what I'm laughing about,” I said, cutting him off. ”I've been under the impression we were both on the same side.”

He ignored my comment and went right on making his point. ”I'm not without considerable influence where it means something,” he said. ”I could have your tail bent till it hurts by just raisin' a question or two about your conduct of this investigation.”