The Secrets of Harry Bright (38 page)

"Did he tell you?"

"No, I didn't ask him. I figured if I oughtta know, he'd tell me. See, I trust my men. All the way."

And this made Otto very nervous. Paco didn't sound like the jovial small-town cop. Not at all.

"We haven't known who to trust," Sidney Blackpool said. "I'm sorry if we overstepped our authority."

"You did," Paco said. "If the situation was reversed, I'd a come to you and laid it out."

"But it might involve one a your men. Or more."

"All the more reason to come and tell me about it. I think you owed me that much professional courtesy. But that's another story. Let's hear it now, if you're ready to spill it."

"I could take up a couple hours of your time, Chief," Sidney Blackpool said. "But the bottom line is we traced a rare ukulele found in Solitaire Canyon. Back to Coy Brick-man and Harry Bright. Brickman bought it, maybe as a gift for Harry Bright, and Harry Bright recorded songs on cassettes for his own amusement."

"I saw that uke," Paco said. "It was used by Bernice Suggs to smack her old man on the gourd. It really got around, that old uke."

"Coy Brickman didn't know about that, did he?" Ott
o i
nterjected.

"He wasn't there that day. I never mentioned it." "That's a relief," Sidney Blackpool said. "Then he doesn't know we're close."

"To what?"

"To proving that Coy Brickman and/or Harry Bright had something to do with murdering Jack Watson."

"And why in the hell would Coy Brickman or Harry Bright wanna kill the Watson kid, can you tell me?" Paco Pedroza had an edge to his voice.

"I don't know, Chief," Sidney Blackpool said. "I'd give a whole lot to work out that one. But I think one or both a your sergeants drove back to the scene of the burned car in Solitaire Canyon just before
O. A.
Jones was found that day last year. It was Harry Bright that
O. A.
Jones heard singing. Rather, it was Harry Bright's voice on a car cassette player."

"Well, that's real interesting," Paco said. "But you got a couple problems. For one, Harry Bright was off duty at home that afternoon so he wasn't driving around Solitaire Canyon when that chopper found Jones."

"How do you know that?"

"I personally went over to his mobile home to borrow his four-wheel-drive pickup. We needed every off-road vehicle we could locate when we were trying to find that frigging surfer cop
"

"Did the pickup have a cassette player in it?"

"I think so," Paco said. "Harry liked music. I knew he sang a little. I didn't know Coy bought him a uke, but it don't surprise me."

"What'd you do with Harry Bright's pickup?"

"I had one a my guys use it to drive around the desert and search for the dummy's patrol car."

"Who used the truck?"

Paco lost a little of his impatience and started rubbing his mouth. Then, with his hand still touching his lip, he said, "It could a been Coy Brickman. I can't say for sure. I was sending guys all over the frigging place that day. But what's that prove?"

"Now I know it was Coy Brickman!" Sidney Blackpool said. "It proves he drove right to the place where the Rolls was buried in the tamarisk trees. He came back and he didn't report a thing about the Rolls."

"Maybe he didn't see it."

"He had to've been parked right there. I believe
O. A.
Jones is gonna hear Harry Bright's cassette and say that s the voice he heard that day."

"This is evidence of murder?" Paco said. "Don't need too much evidence in L
. A
. these days."

"There's more," Sidney Blackpool said. "The Cobra boss, Billy Hightower, he personally told Harry Bright that he saw Jack Watson's good pal, a guy named Terry Kinsale, up in Solitaire Canyon in Watson's Porsche. He was trying to buy some crank the night a the murder. Did Harry Bright ever mention that to you?"

"No."

"He didn't mention it to Palm Springs P
. D
. either. He didn't mention it to anybody. A mental lapse maybe?"

There has to be an explanation," Paco said. "Maybe he did notify somebody at Palm Springs P
. D
. and they lost the information. We could clear it up if we could talk to Harry Bright." Then Paco chewed on it for a second and said, "Did you run it down? That particular lead?"

"Yeah," Sidney Blackpool said. "It didn't pan out. Terry knows nothing. But the point is, Harry Bright didn't pass on the tip. I think Harry Bright wanted them to keep thinking Watson was killed by kidnappers, or bikers, or your everyday opportunist thugs. I don't think Coy Brickman or Harry Bright wanted Palm Springs P
. D
. to run out of hoodlums and start looking for . . ."

"For what?"

"For your sergeants."

"Why? Why would Coy Brickman or Harry Bright ice that kid? Gimme some motive!"

"I don't know."

Paco Pedroza sighed in exasperation and said, "This ain't getting nowhere. So whaddaya want from me now?

"I wanna play a cassette for
O. A.
Jones. If it's the singing voice he heard that day, I wanna call Palm Springs P
. D
. and see how they care to handle the next move.

"Which is?"

"A ballistics test on Coy Brickman's gun. And Harry Bright's. The slug they got from the Watson kid's s head wasn't as smashed as it might've been. There s a chance. Just a chance of a make."

"Let's go to the station," Paco said.

"Where's Coy Brickman today?" Otto asked.

"He's working swing shift. He'll be on duty in abou
t f
orty-five minutes. You can have
O. A.
Jones right now." "Let's do it," Sidney Blackpool said.

Anemic Annie knew something was up when Paco came storming in the front door and said, "Annie, call
O. A.
Jones in here. Code two."

A few minutes later she saw the Hollywood detectives enter, looking every bit as grim as Paco Pedroza. When they entered Paco's office he slammed the door, which was something he did only when he was about to give one of his cops a royal ass chewing. Anemic Annie knew that something was up, all right.

After she reached
O. A.
Jones on the radio, the telephone rang. She answered it and told the caller that Sergeant Coy Brickman wouldn't be in for half an hour at least. The caller left a message that she jotted down and tossed in the sergeant's incoming basket. The call was from a pawnbroker.

O. A.
Jones didn't look very happy when he entered the chief's office. There was a Sony cassette player sitting on the chief's desk. The young cop got scared, thinking that they wanted to record a statement from him.

Then Sidney Blackpool said, "Sit down. I want you to hear a few songs."

The kid looked relieved, and said, "Is it 'Make Believe'? I heard it. I'm positive that was the song. You don't need to . .

"We think we have a voice that might sound familiar," Sidney Blackpool said.

"The killer's voice? How . . .

"Just sit down, son," Sidney Blackpool said. "Let's listen."

Paco punched the play button and the three men watched the young cop. Halfway through the first song,
O. A.
Jones started to say something, thought better, and sat back. But he didn't relax from that instant. He sat rigi
d a
nd didn't twitch. Sidney Blackpool knew that he'd recognized his sergeant's voice.

When Harry Bright introduced -I'll Be Seeing You" in his speaking voice,
O. A.
Jones still didn't move a muscle.

When the last song was played, Sidney Blackpool said, "Well?"

O. A.
Jones looked at the detective. Then at Otto Stringer. He looked at Paco Pedroza, then back to Sidney Blackpool. He said, "I ain't sure."

"What?"

"Sergeant Bright,"
O. A.
Jones said. "I . . . he sings sorta like the guy. I mean, it's old-fashioned, his style and all, but . . ."

"Could it be :aim?"

O. A. Jones looked at the chief of police again, and Paco said, "You gotta tell the truth, boy. This ain't no time for wrongheaded loyalty. But it's gotta be the absolute truth."

"Okay, then,"
O. A.
Jones said, facing Sidney Blackpool, who was so tense he was about to come out of the chair.

"It was Harry Bright!" the detective said.

"No, I can't say that. -

"What?"

"I can't, Sarge! I had heatstroke almost. It's been a long time now. I been listening to so many singers and so many songs now, I can't say that. -

"What if he was singing 'Make Believe'?" Sidney Blackpool was desperate. "Would that make a difference? If I could find a cassette with Harry Bright singing 'Make Believe,' would you be able to say for sure?"

"No, I wouldn't,"
O. A.
Jones said. "I got a good imagination. I can think of Harry Bright's, voice doing `Make Believe.' But I still can't say for sure.

"Because he's your sergeant!"

"No, sir,"
O. A.
Jones said. "Because it's too .. . important. I gotta be sure beyond a reasonable doubt here. Maybe I gotta be sure way past a reasonable doubt before I can say in my heart that I heard Harry
Bright's voice out there that day. I just ain't able to sa
y i
t.

"Goddamn it! You know that was Harry Bright!" Sidney Blackpool leaped to his feet.

Paco Pedroza came forward in his chair. Otto Stringer stopped leaning against the wall.
O. A.
Jones was startled. "Easy, Sidney," Otto said.

"That'll be all, Jones," said Paco. "You can go back in the field now."

"I'm sorry, Sarge,"
O. A.
Jones said to Sidney Blackpool, who sat back down, pale with rage, gripping the arms of the chair. The young cop couldn't get out fast enough.

When Otto closed the door Paco Pedroza leaned his elbows on his desk and spoke with a trembling voice: "Who do you think you are? You come into my town and try to intimidate my policeman in my station house? Who in the fuck you think you are?"

"Listen, Chief," Otto said. "This case's gotten outta hand. Sidney just . . ."

"This case should be in the hands a Palm Springs P
. D
.," Paco Pedroza said. "That is, if you guys had some startling new evidence. But so far, all I hear is, you proved Harry Bright can sing. Which I already knew. And that a ukulele Coy probably gave him was found in Solitaire Canyon."

"That is a bit unusual, Chief," Otto said, trying to reduce the level of tension in the room.

"It might be to some hotshot gangbusters from the big city, trying to push people around without knowing what the fuck they're talking about. Maybe if you'da asked me, maybe if you'da behaved like professionals, I coulda explained all this in the beginning." .

Then Sidney Blackpool spoke. The color was back in his face when he said, "Go ahead, Chief. Explain it."

"I knew Harry Bright slept it off in Solitaire Canyon on the graveyard shift, for chrissake," Paco said. "There ain't no secrets in a little town like this. I don't stand for my guys being drunk on duty. Not normally, but . . . well, Harry's gonna be fifty years old next month. I had ever
y i
ntention a dealing with it then. I was gonna take Harry and buy him a gold watch and throw a big party and kiss him on both cheeks. Then I was gonna ask him to retire, effective on his fiftieth birthday when he'd have the pension earned. Except he had the stroke last March."

What about Solitaire Canyon?" Otto asked quietly.

"It don't surprise me that Harry mighta lost his uke out there some night when he was drunk on duty. Look, he wasn't always a drunk. But . . . well, it gradually got worse. The booze, I mean. I sorta looked the other way with Harry Bright when I woulda fired anybody else. I don't doubt that Harry mighta been out there drunk and singing his heart out like some old coyote. And he mighta put the uke on the roof a the police car, and when he drove off in the morning it probably fell off and got covered by blowing sand. That's a logical explanation."

"And how about the singer
O. A.
Jones heard?" Sidney Blackpool asked.

"I heard
O. A.
Jones say he wasn't sure it was Harry Bright's voice. That's what I heard. But to satisfy you I'm gonna bring Coy Brickman in here and we're gonna ask him if he drove Harry Bright's pickup truck into Solitaire Canyon on the afternoon the death car was found."

"I don't expect him to confess to it," Sidney Blackpoo
l s
aid.

"Listen, Blackpool," Paco said, pointing his finger at the detective's face, "I'm gonna go you one better. I'm gonna ask Coy Brickman in your presence to give me his service revolver for a ballistics check. And Harry's too. know I ain't got no call to do that, but poor Harry don't know what's going on so it can't hurt too much. Then Paco stopped and looked at Otto Stringer and Sidney Blackpool and said, "There'll be something to gain from it when it's over. I'll gain the pleasure a telling you two that my guys ain't killers. Then I'll personally point you to the city limits."