Eye of the Burning Man: A Mick Callahan Novel (The Mick Callahan Series) (26 page)

It was a woman. She was still breathing. Her dark hair was nearly singed away, and the pretty face had gone rigid with agony. Her teeth were bared in a macabre grimace. A video cassette lay near her outstretched fingers, a large piece of tin near her bare feet. The tin had two words spray painted in black: FILM THIS!

"Oh God no," Darlene said. She clutched at my elbow. "Tell me that isn't her, Mick."

I was too stunned to respond. I heard the sound of someone vomiting nearby. I fixed my gaze on the darkening horizon as tendrils of smoke stung my eyes. More and more people arrived, wept and wailed. A woman called that she was a nurse and began tending to the burned woman. I tried to gather strength. I swallowed and forced myself to look again.

A few yards away, also in the gully, lay another figure: This one was a man, someone unknown to me. He wore blue jeans, a western short with a string tie, and was clutching a small gun and what seemed a suicide note. The man had apparently placed the gun under his chin and fired. Most of his face was gone, and part of his forehead had shattered and sprayed itself up onto the baked dune.

"Mick, tell me," Darlene said urgently. "Is that Mary?"

We heard the wail of an approaching ambulance. I forced myself to look more closely at the burn victim. The attending nurse was now sobbing. I ran my eyes over the face and body again; studied the heaving bosom and the grimace of agony frozen on those once-pretty features.

* * * * *

"What's the story?"

We were back in the tent, sitting on sleeping bags. I had my arm around Jerry, who was crying and trembling. He had already gotten high again. All around us, the revelers continued the final night's party, most unaware that something horrific had just taken place. The police had cordoned off the crime scene, but it lay too far outside of the main camp to have affected the festivities.

"I used the cell phone," Darlene said. "I called the hospital and I asked if anybody was taking up a collection for the poor girl, what happened, things like that. Nobody would tell me anything. It took a few calls, but I finally got a nurse with a big mouth."

"And?"

"They don't know her name, but she is not expected to live. The nurse said that is probably a blessing in disguise."

"Yeah, it is. What do the local cops think?"

"The official line is murder-suicide."

"Fuck that!" Jerry tried to stand up, but failed. He had been sobbing for several minutes. His face was red with rage. "Are they fucking crazy?"

"You can't blame them, Jerry," Darlene said. "On the surface, it looks pretty open and shut. They found a note in the guy's fist. It said he loved her and couldn't take her behavior any more."

"Oh, right."

"Jerry, it claimed Mary was shooting porn films involving little children. It said he couldn't get her to stop. Remember the video tape that was near her feet, Mick?"

I knew what was coming. "The nurse said a cop told her what was on it. And it was Mary, doing pornography."

"Of course."

"What about the man?" Jerry asked blearily. He took another deep hit on a joint someone had given him. "Who was he?"

Darlene sat down and hugged her knees. "DOA, no identification of any kind on the body. Naturally, that means it will probably take a couple of weeks to identify him from dental records, so their cover story will hold up at least that long."

"That's long enough." I patted Jerry on the shoulder, fumbled around for a canteen and drank some water.

Darlene waited, and when I didn't continue she asked, "Long enough for what, Mick?"

"Long enough to kill me and get out."

"Well, maybe it's time
we
got out."

"Not yet."

"I know that if I get too mixed up in this, it could ruin my career and cost me my pension, but I'm angry as hell too, Mick. I'm thinking whoever did this also shot Donato that night, thinking he was you."

"Bet on it."

Jerry was several moments behind the conversation. "What did they do, just pick some poor stoned kid at random and blow his brains out to set up an alibi for killing Mary?"

"That's exactly what they did."

"We're not leaving," Jerry barked. His eyebrows pranced. He was slurring his words. "We can't. Whoever did this has to pay. We owe it to her, Mick." He reached over and grabbed my sleeve. "We owe it to Mary, man."

"I know that."

"I need a drink," Jerry said. "In fact, I need a six-pack."

"No, don't get any more fucked up than you already are," I said, sternly. "It won't help anything." I got to my feet. "I'm going to the john. I'll be back in a couple of minutes. We'll put our heads together and figure out what the hell to do next."

When I walked outside, the wind was picking up, moaning soft and low. Sand stung my eyes and I covered them with my palm. Several people were struggling to hold some cheaper cloth tents upright, but the sudden storm knocked them down like dominoes.

I walked to the portable toilet, looked around, but saw no one in line. I knocked; after a moment opened the plastic door and went inside. The light bulb was dying. The toilet was full, the odor atrocious, but I used it and stepped back outside. The harsh wind stopped as abruptly as it had started, and the desert air smelled like ozone. A light rain began to fall. The scattered drops felt warm and oily; there was an electric crackle in the air that suggested a bigger storm was approaching.

"Good evening, Mr. Callahan."

I whirled, put my hands up to defend myself and saw someone standing in the shadows, smoking a cigarette. The orange ember dropped to the ground in a shower of sparks. A foot ground it out. The man stepped out into a pool of moonlight. He wore a ridiculous pair of Hawaiian shorts, a plain blue short-sleeved shirt, and a pair of expensive running shoes with no socks. Platinum Rolex adorned his wrist.

"Agent Fields, I love your outfit."

"The things my job requires of me," Fields said. He spoke with an obvious disdain for his surroundings.

"Where are Laurel and Hardy?"

"Who?" Then Fields registered the reference. He smiled. "I have dispatched my somewhat dim-witted subordinates to other locations. They should catch up to us by tomorrow."

I moved to the wall of the portable toilet and leaned against it with one knee up. I wanted my back covered. "To what do I owe this privilege?"

Fields squinted at me and spat on the ground. "I don't like you Callahan."

"That's disconcerting."

"You know why?"

"Nope."

"Because you lied. I thought we had agreed we would share information." Fields strolled closer. "But I haven't heard a word from you. And then I check my surveillance camera from Pomona again, and what do I find? Mr. Radio Jock himself, a hooker, and some redneck punk are poking around a fucking Federal investigation without even bothering to check with me."

I studied the man and thought about Mary. The edge of my vision darkened and my temper flared. "Agent Fields, I am having a very bad day. Just what the fuck do you want from me?"

Fields stepped in close with one hand in his pocket, as if on a weapon. His demeanor was threatening enough to raise the hair on my neck. "I want Fancy delivered to me with enough evidence to put his tiny black ass away for good. And you are supposed to help me nail him."

"Yeah, I did talk to him. He was straight up about some of the shit he does, but he denied having anything to do with kiddy porn."

"And you believed that? If Fancy cops to hurting kids, then he is as good as dead, assuming he ever has to do time again. Cons hate child abusers, and a little bastard like that would never be safe with the general population."

"He was pretty persuasive."

"What the hell did you expect he would do, confess?"

"I don't know what I expected. Look, Agent Fields, I would like to help you out, but my interests here may be different from yours."

"I thought your interest just ended up barbecued on a spit," Fields said. He sneered. He was now close enough for me to smell the mint on his breath. "Or am I wrong about that?"

I glared. "Who the
fuck
do you think you are?" My voice was low and raspy and the blood was roaring in my ears.

"I'm the man," Fields said, calmly. "So I can lock your sorry ass up any time I want."

"Is that so? Well, right now all you are is halfway to dead. I could rip you apart like greasy fried chicken."

"Then go for it."

I stopped myself from responding.
Why is he baiting me like this? What does he hope to gain?

"Time's running out," Fields said. "Hear that?"

Gunfire was exploding all over the camp. People were wandering away from us, towards the giant effigy at the center of the city. The climax of the festival was only a couple of hours away.

"Guess it will all be over soon, one way or another."

"God damn you, I could shoot you where you stand," Fields said. "And no one would know it was me."

"You would know."

"Shit." Fields bared his teeth. "Mark my words, Callahan. If I thought you were taking Fancy's side in all of this, I would do that and not give it a second thought."

I forced myself to relax. "One thing I can guarantee you, I am not on Fancy's side."

Fields read my eyes for a long moment. Finally he stepped back until he was at a safe distance. The hand holding the gun left his pocket. "If that's true, then help me nail that pervert. Stop screwing around and work with me, here. We both know he did this to your girl."

"
How
do we know?"

"Come on. Mary was a slut in some of his movies, and on his string of street whores, and she ran away. How much do you need?"

"Some hard evidence would help," I said. "Now, there's a concept for you."

"Don't be a smart ass. What do you know so far?"

"We think the boy with her was some nobody; just a poor schmuck who happened to wander by. They killed him as part of the cover story."

"Why such a dramatic statement?"

"The message was intended for me."

"Why?"

"Somebody wants me dead."

"Then why not just kill you?"

"Because they want me to suffer first."

"I figured that part out a long time ago, Callahan," Fields said. "That's why my boys and I have been sticking to you like flies on shit. And the 'somebody' is that little prick Fancy. He's a proud man. Nobody walks off with one of his string and gets away with it. Nobody."

"Then why did he let me go both times I saw him?"

"You said it yourself. He knew we were watching. Besides, he wants you to suffer first, so he led you here. And you are suffering, aren't you? You almost saved her, Callahan. How does it feel to have been maybe just five minutes late?"

Seeing the spark in my eyes, Fields quickly dropped his hand back into the pocket of his shorts and backed away. A drunk staggered between us and tried to open the door to the portable toilet, but couldn't grasp the handle. Fields and I stood there, in tense silence. After a long moment the man pissed on the ground and went back to camp.

"You were on a roll, Fields. Don't push your luck like that again."

"Jesus, wise up," Fields said. "Your girl was most likely working for Fancy all along."

"How do you figure that?"

"She was probably jacking you the whole way. Maybe she was supposed to rob you or set you up for something, who knows? But Fancy wanted it done. Then, the way I see it, she probably felt guilty once she sobered up and couldn't go through with it. When she tried to run, Fancy sent his boys to track her down."

I nodded. "Some of that feels right. She once said she was more trouble than I could handle."

"It's Fancy."

"It looks that way."

"I fucking want him," Fields said. He began to move away, back into the shadows. "We'll be watching you, staying as close as we can. I know you're going to lead me right to him."

"Can I ask you a question?"

Fields didn't answer, but he stopped walking. I surprised him by closing the distance myself. The man looked uncomfortable. "You know where he lives and where he works. Why haven't you just gotten a warrant, gone in there and closed him down?"

"It's not that simple."

"The hell it isn't."

Fields grew sullen. I laughed softly. "It's because you don't really
want
to arrest him anymore, right?"

"Fuck you."

"You want to kill him. It's gotten that personal for you, after all these years. You want to shoot him right between the eyes."

The agent shook his head. "Now you're pushing
your
luck."

"No, I'm not, because you still need me. Don't sweat it, Fields. If I can lead you to somebody who's been kidnapping and raping kids I probably will. And if you should kill that miserable son of a bitch, I'll maybe look the other way, too. It's no skin off my nose."