The Perk (35 page)

J.B. snorted. "That'll be the day."

Felix Delgado was seventy-five years
old, he was an American citizen born of Mexican immigrants, he had served sixteen
terms in Congress from his San Antonio district, and he had one year to live.

"Brain tumor," he said.

Delgado had been waiting for Beck at the
courthouse that Tuesday morning. He had driven up from San Antonio.

"It is a beautiful drive. I used to drive very
fast. Now I drive very slow."

"The tumor?"

"The time. When you do not know the date
of your death, you race ahead. When death may be around the next curve, you do
not hurry."

Beck started to express his sympathy, but
Delgado waved him off.

"Do not feel sorry for me. I have lived a
long life."

"Felix, you understand that if this is not
resolved soon, they will call in an ICE raid. I don't think they're bluffing."

Delgado sighed. "The
D.A. threatens to deport Julio's parents, so I threaten protests on Main
Street, so Stutz threatens an ICE raid—it is like the Cold War, escalating
threats until we arrive at nu-cu … nu-clu … nuclear
war."
He shook his head. "Every time I hear George W. say 'nu-cu-lar bomb' on
TV, it is three weeks before I can again say the word correctly."

"That bomb is ticking, Felix. And the
barrio will be ground zero."

"When a man like McQuade has the money to
wield the Federal government like a club, it is not a fair fight."

"He'll win that fight. And Julio and his
parents will lose."

"Yes, he will and they will."

"Do you want me to approve the settlement
and dismiss the charges against Slade? Is that the justice you want for
Julio?"

Delgado exhaled. "What kind of name is
that anyway, Slade?"

"It's a football name."

"Ah. Football. Is he good?"

"Very."

"So he will go to college for free?"

"Yes, he will."

"But Julio must pay. Seems odd, does it
not? Julio wants to build rockets at NASA, but he must pay tuition. Slade
wants to play football, so he need not pay."

"Julio's a smart kid. Can't he get a
minority scholarship?"

"He says he does not want to be in the debt
of Anglos."

"So he won't take a free education? That's
false pride."

"No, it is not. I know. I went to the
Congress ready to fight for my people, but I compromised my principles to curry
favor and power. I incurred political debts and became an indentured servant.
I enjoyed the power, and I did not want to lose it. So I could not say what I
truly believed. I could not do the right thing. As you are now trying to
do."

"I just can't figure out what that
is."

"When I left the Congress, I freed myself
of those debts. I again sought justice for all Latinos in Texas. I fought against
this immigration hysteria that is sweeping the country, I fought against racial
profiling, I fought against the border fence. I failed. So I have lowered my
sights. Now I seek justice one Latino at a time."

"And what is justice for Julio Espinoza?"

"I am, as they say on television,
conflicted."

"But I'm the judge, Felix. I've got to decide
this conflict."

"Julio wants the settlement."

"That's civil, Felix. This is criminal.
If I let Slade walk, he's not being punished or prevented from hurting someone
else. That's not justice."

"Is it justice that Latinos must live in
the barrio? That they must work in the turkey plant for the Mexican wage? Have
you been to the barrio? Have you seen where Julio's family lives?"

"No."

"Then go to Julio's
home and sit on his couch as I have and tell him his family must live in the
barrio always. Tell him his parents must always work in the turkey plant. Tell
him he cannot go to college. Tell him he will not work at NASA. Tell him he
will work at the turkey plant all his life. Tell him that is his justice."
Delgado sighed. "He said to me, '
Señor
Delgado, I want to be the
visible Julio.' "

"Visible? What does that mean?"

"It means that here he is not recognizable
as a human being because his skin is brown. It is as if the Anglos cannot see him.
He says if he does not soon leave this town, he will explode."

Beck nodded. "I felt the same way when I
was his age, but for a different reason."

"And did you leave?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"Football scholarship to Notre Dame."

"Ah, yes, the Fighting Irish. Good
Catholics. And you were good?"

"Not a very good Catholic, but a good
player."

"But you returned to your hometown?"

Beck nodded. "Three months ago."

"And what brought you back?"

"My wife died."

"
No.
"

"Yes."

"How old?"

"Thirty-seven."

Delgado shook his head. "Life is not
fair. You are a young man, too young to be without a wife. I have told my
wife, 'When I am gone, find another husband. Life is too short to live alone.'
"

"You wouldn't feel betrayed?"

Delgado laughed. "I will feel nothing. I will be deceased.
She will be alive. Life is for the living, Beck. I love her, so I want only
for her to be happy. We are not meant to be alone."

"Felix, do you mind if I ask you a personal
question?"

"Ask."

"How much of McQuade's money will go into
your pocket?"

"
Nada
."

"You're not being paid?"

"What does money mean to a dying man? I
have money, Beck. It is time I do not have. If I take my final breath knowing
that I have helped to get Julio into college and his family out of the barrio,
I will die a happy man. I will not have failed them."

"But what if Slade hurts someone else?
That would be on my tab."

"What if ICE raids the turkey plant and the
barrio? That will also be on your tab."

Being the judge in a small rural Texas county was supposed
to be an easy job. It wasn't. Beck was sitting in a lawn chair on the balcony
outside the second-floor courtroom. His feet were propped up on the low railing.
His thoughts were of Julio Espinoza and Heidi Geisel: Could he give them justice?

He had spent the day seeking justice for Julio.
He now turned to Heidi's case. He was sure Kim Krause had lied to him, but
Claude Krause had sworn that she had been home that night. So she hadn't been
with Heidi. She hadn't lied about that, but she might have lied about knowing
where Heidi had gone that night and whom she was with.

Heidi's case file was in his lap. He flipped to
Aubrey's statement. Aubrey said he had watched football all day New Year's
Eve. Heidi had left with Kim during halftime of the Cotton Bowl, about noon.
She was wearing a shirt, jeans, and sneakers. Randi Geisel confirmed the time Heidi
had left home and her clothes. She said she had not grown worried when Heidi
had not returned home by ten when she had gone to bed. She assumed Heidi was
staying over with Kim, as she often did.

That seemed odd to Beck. When he had worked
late in the city, if he hadn't called Annie by eight she'd call him, even
though he worked late every night. He had been a forty-year-old lawyer, but she
had still checked on him. She had still worried about him. Heidi had been a
sixteen-year-old teenager—wouldn't her mother have checked on her? Wouldn't
her mother have worried about her?

He needed to talk to Randi.

He went downstairs to Mavis' office. She was
gone, but he found an Austin phone book. He checked the white pages for
"Geisel, Randi." There was no listing. He went into his chambers
and turned to his computer. He logged on to the Travis County appraisal district
website, which had tax records for every parcel of real property located in Travis County. Austin was the county seat.

He clicked on "owner search" and typed
in "Geisel, Randi." No properties came up in her name. He thought
for moment then tried "Barnes, Randi." One property came up: a
single-family residence located on Lakeshore Drive in Austin with an appraised
value of $3.25 million. He wrote down the street address. Was this the same Randi
Barnes?

"She's a bitch."

Beck had heard the gunshot and run outside.
From his rocking chair on the back porch, J.B. had spotted the coyote stalking
Frank the goat in the last light of day. He had loaded his rifle and put a
bullet in the coyote from fifty yards. J.B. now kicked the dead coyote over.

"Yep, she's a bitch all right."

In hunting parlance, a young coyote is a whelp,
a male is a dog, and a female is a bitch. This one was a female.

"Big one, too," J.B. said.
"Maybe fifty pounds."

The coyote looked like a big dog with a bushy
tail. Her coat was thick and gray, with red around her ears and a pale
underbelly. Coyotes weren't big like wolves, but they were strong for their
size and vicious carnivores.

"You seeing them up here?"

"River peters out downstream 'cause of the
drought, so they're coming upstream, looking for water. This one had a drink
in the river, smelled Frank, figured she'd do for dinner. There'd be hell to
pay if this coyote had killed Frank. Maybe I should've let the little gal keep
Frank in her room."

"Meggie had Frank in her room?"

"Yep. Said she kept her goldfish in her
room."

"What'd you tell her?"

"I told her goldfish don't crap on the
carpet." J.B. smiled. "I told her Frank preferred to live outside.
Wasn't right to pen her up. She's a free-range goat. She was damn near a dead
goat."

J.B. scanned the land a moment, then he said,
"Keep an eye out, Beck, with the kids."

STATE CHAMPIONSHIP IN JUDGE'S HANDS

Judge Hardin to Decide Fate of Slade and Season

The next day, the local paper carried a front-page story
about Slade McQuade. Details of his "alleged" assault on Julio
Espinoza and Nikki Ernst's conflicting testimony were included, but there was no
mention of steroids.

"Funny how a small town works, isn't
it?"

Beck looked up from the newspaper to the D.A.
standing in the doorway.

"Are you going to investigate steroid use
by Slade?" Beck said.

The D.A. shook his head. "Nope."

"He's using, some of the other players are
probably using, and you're not going to do anything?"

"Nope. I'm not going there, Judge, and you
can't make me. If no charges are filed, you've got no jurisdiction."

"Nikki testified under oath that she
injected steroids into Slade. You should take it to the grand jury."

"You want me to have the grand jury
investigate high school football players using steroids?"

"Yes."

"Judge, those
boys' fathers
are
the grand jury."

The D.A. walked over to the window and gazed
out. "Let it go, Judge. Approve the settlement, dismiss the case, and
get on with your Heidi Geisel wild-goose chase. This one's over."

"Not until I dismiss the case, it isn't.
And I haven't talked to Julio or his parents yet."

"I just talked to Delgado. They're on
board." He now turned to Beck. "Look, Judge, I grew up here and I
don't want to see this place destroyed. Quentin, he's here to rape and pillage.
Once he sells out the homes around his golf course, he'll pull up stakes and
move on to his next big deal. And Bruno, he's an old man mad at the world
because the world's changing. But he's like that guy over in Waco—he'll set
fire to his own home just to prove a point. He'll do it. He'll call ICE."

"And what if Slade hurts someone
else?"

Homicidal rage. Beck could not shake the
thought.

"He'll stay out of trouble for two months.
He'll win state and go to Austin. He'll be out of our lives then."

"He committed a crime. And I'm the judge.
I'm supposed to see that justice is done."

"Yeah, well, you
can tell the Mexicans all about justice when they're boarding those ICE buses
for the border." He shook his head. "Look, Judge
,
in case
you don't know it, the shit has hit the fan!" The D.A. pointed at the
newspaper. "Everyone's talking about that story—even in the barrio. The police
chief called me first thing this morning. Said his cops drove through the
barrio and the Mexicans threw rocks at their cruisers. That's never happened
here. Said he's getting ready for a goddamn riot on Main Street—right in the
middle of holiday shopping and hunting season. Mix the Mexicans with a bunch
of drunk deer hunters named Bubba and we got blood on Main Street. Is that
what you want, Judge? 'Cause that's what you're gonna get!"

Beck stood.

"I want to see Slade."

Slade McQuade arrived at noon with his father and his
lawyer. He was wearing black athletic shorts and a black Under Armour shirt
that was so tight against his muscular upper body it looked like black skin.
But he was not the cocky stud football player Beck had met that day at practice.
He was subdued and repentant.

"Judge Hardin," Bruno Stutz said, "this
conversation is off the record. Nothing Slade says may be used against him,
agreed?"

Beck nodded and they sat down.

"Judge," Slade said, "I
apologized to Julio. I'm not like that."

"Except when you inject steroids?"

Stutz said, "I advise my client not to
answer that question."

"We're off the record, Bruno."

"You're still asking him to confess to a
crime."

"I want to know about steroids on the
team."

"Well, he might be willing to discuss that
… hypothetically."

"Hypothetically?"

"Yes. For the purposes of this discussion, we shall assume
that steroids have or are being used …"

"I know what hypothetically means, Bruno."
Beck turned to Slade. "So, when you inject steroids do you often
experience 'roid rage?"