When Old Men Die (21 page)

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Authors: Bill Crider

Tags: #Mystery & Crime

BOOK: When Old Men Die
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I thought that I believed him.
 
"I don't want out.
 
I just wanted to be sure.
 
Call me back as soon as you know something."
 
I gave him the room number.
 
"If you have to threaten to kill somebody, go ahead and do it.
 
I've got to know."

"Hey, I don't do stuff like that."

"There's always a first time," I said.

I hung up the phone and leaned back against the pillows.
 
It was hard to be certain about what someone told you over the phone; it was better to be able to look people in the eye if you were trying to detect a lie.
 
Nevertheless, Dino had sounded completely sincere.
 
I hoped that he was.
 
And I hoped that he would call me back soon.

 

H
e didn't.
 
An hour dragged by, and then another, and I was about to call him again when Doctor showed up.

His name was Rodriguez.
 
He was young and brisk and he told me that I had a concussion.
 
He also said that they were going to keep me overnight for observation.

I didn't want to stay overnight, but that didn't bother Doctor a bit.
 
He gave me any number of reasons why I shouldn't even consider getting out of the bed.

I told him that I knew all the reasons but that I was leaving anyway.
 
And that I would be glad to sign a release, relieving the hospital of all responsibility.

After about fifteen minutes of wrangling, he gave in and went to see about setting things up.

I was pulling on my pants when the phone rang.
 
I held up the pants with one hand and answered the phone with the other.
 
It was Dino.

"I bet you suspected this already," he said.

"Maybe I do, but I don't want to stand here all day while you confirm my suspicions."

"OK.
 
There's a sort of syndicate of local investors looking into buying the Retreat.
 
One of them happens to be your boss, and Dale Becker's.
 
Wally
Zintner
."

That was exactly what I'd suspected.
 
I wondered why Wally hadn't just had Becker finish me off when they had the chance, while I was lying there in the floor of the bail bond office.
 
Maybe there had been too many witnesses.

"Thanks, Dino.
 
I'll talk to you later."

I started to hang up, but I could hear Dino yelling at me through the receiver.

"Don't hang up," he was yelling as I put the phone back to my ear.

"You don't have to yell," I said.
 
"I can hear you."

"I want to know what you're gonna do now."

"Zip my pants," I said, and hung up.

 

A
fter I'd signed all their forms, the hospital staff reluctantly released me on an unsuspecting world.
 
I realized only after I was outside that I didn't have the Jeep.
 
It was probably still at
Zintner's
building.

I went back inside the hospital and called AAA Bail Bonds.
 
Nancy answered.
 
When I told her who was calling, she asked how I felt.

"I'm fine," I said.
 
"Would you mind coming to pick me up?"

"I suppose I could," she said.
 
"It's nearly closing time."

"Is Wally still there?"

"He's here.
 
He's not too happy with you right now."

"I'll bet.
 
Tell him to wait there.
 
I want to talk to him."

 

W
hile Nancy was driving me back to AAA, I asked about Becker.

"He ran out after you went down.
 
He hasn't been back."

"Has he called Wally?"

She told me that she didn't monitor Wally's calls.
 
And she asked me what the fight had been about.

"Nothing much," I said.

"You men are all alike, so tough and macho.
 
It wasn't nothing."

I admitted that maybe it was a little more than that.

"I heard you say Dale killed Ro-Jo.
 
Who's Ro-Jo?"

"He was someone I knew."

"And you think Dale killed him?"

"Yes."

Nancy shook her head.
 
"I don't think so," she said.

"Why not?"

"Dale likes to talk big, and maybe he even likes to get a little rough, but I don't think he would ever kill someone."

I told her she felt that way because she sat in the same building with Dale all the time and didn't like to think a man who shared the same office space could be a killer.

"That's not it," she said.
 
"Dale's really a gentle sort, deep down."

I laughed.
 
"He was certainly gentle with me, all right.
 
That chair was a really delicate touch."

"He only hit you because you were accusing him of doing something terrible."

I caught on then.

"You haven't been going out with Dale, have you?"

She blushed.
 
"Once or twice."

"Case closed," I said.

She tried to get me to talk more about Dale and what he'd done, but I didn't have anything more to say on the topic, not until I'd talked to Wally
Zintner
.

 

N
ancy let me out in front of the building.
 
Everyone else except Wally had already gone home, and she said she wasn't going to come inside.

"But you're wrong about Dale," she told me before she drove away.

I didn't think so.
 
I thought Dale was a killer, even if I couldn't prove it.
 
I went into the building, smelling the stale smoke as soon as I entered.
 
The place didn't look much worse than usual, though the computer was a wreck.
 
The monitor screen was gone and the case was cracked.
 
I walked back to
Zintner's
little office.

He was sitting in his chair, his feet up on his desk. I could see that he was wearing his Tony Lama boots.

"You're a real troublemaker, Smith," he said, swinging his feet to the floor.
 
"Old Dale's gonna be mighty pissed off at you."

"That's too bad," I said.
 
"I guess you've already called the cops."

"Nope.
 
Why would I do that?"

"Because Becker assaulted me.
 
Right here in your building."

"You gonna press charges?"

"Oh, I'm going to do more than that."

Zintner
looked up at me.
 
He looked skinny and mean and dangerous.

"Damn," he said.
 
"You're a real bastard, Smith.
 
You know that?"

"I've been told before."

"I bet.
 
Sit down, will you?
 
I don't like looking up all the time.
 
Hurts my neck."

As much as I disliked his visitors' chair, I sat.
 
I was still a little weak in the knees.

"That's better," he said.
 
"Tell me something.
 
What you got against old Dale."

"He killed Ro-Jo," I said.
 
"And he beat the hell out of me twice.
 
And he's been shooting at me besides."

Zintner
sighed.
 
"Can you prove any of that, or are you just talking through your asshole."

"I may not be able to prove it, but I know it.
 
I'll be able to prove it sooner or later."

"Let's just start with how you know it.
 
Why don't you explain that to me."

"Why would you care?"

"Well, old Dale's an employee of mine.
 
Just like you are."

"Not just like me," I said.
 
"And that's not why you want to know."

"All right," he said.
 
"Why don't you tell me why I want to know."

"Because you're in on it with him," I said.
 
"I can't quite figure out why you killed
Braddy
Macklin, but I've got the rest of it."

"Damn,"
Zintner
said, and then he chuckled.
 
"I guess I might's well put my hands in the cuffs then, you being so smart and all."

This wasn't going exactly the way I'd planned it.
 
Zintner
was taking things far too calmly.

"Are you trying to tell me that you didn't know Becker was trying to find Harry Mercer?
 
And that you didn't know he'd been shooting at me?"

"No,"
Zintner
said.
 
"I knew all about that."

"Then you know he killed Ro-Jo."

Zintner
leaned back in his chair and put his Tony Lamas back up on the desk.

"That part," he said, "I'm not so sure about."

"You're admitting that Dale Becker shot at me, though?
 
I've got that right?"

Zintner
pretended to look around the room.
 
Then he looked back at me.

"Any tape recorders in here?" he asked.
 
"I don't see any, so I guess not.
 
Yeah.
 
I'm admitting he shot at you.
 
But that doesn't mean old Dale would admit it."

"And that doesn't bother you?
 
That he shot at me?"

"No," Wally said.
 
"Hell no." He smiled. "Truth is, I don't blame him a bit."

Twenty-Three
 

Z
intner
pulled a package of unfiltered Camels from his shirt pocket and took a stainless steel Zippo off the desk.
 
He flipped the lighter open, spun the wheel, and set fire to the Camel.
 
Then he blew a long stream of smoke at the ceiling.

"Cat got your tongue, Smith?" he asked.
 
He clicked the lighter shut and put it back on the desk.

I came out of my momentary trance.
 
"You knew everything?"

Zintner
nodded.
 
"That's what I said."

"But not about Ro-Jo?"

"I knew about Ro-Jo being dead.
 
I just didn't know about Dale doing the killing, and I still don't.
 
He was there, sure, but he said he didn't kill anybody.
 
And I think he's telling the truth."

I thought about what Dale had said when I'd confronted him that morning:
 
"I didn't kill anybody."

"Why don't you tell me what you know?" I asked
Zintner
.

He inhaled, blew out smoke.
 
"Tell you what," he said.
 
"Let's trade."

"Trade what?"

"You tell me how you knew about me and Dale, and I'll tell you what I know about last night."

"And Saturday night too," I said.

"All right.
 
That too.
 
It wasn't just that bruise on Dale's chin that put you onto him, was it?"

"No," I said.
 
"There was a little more to it than that."

"So what was it?"

"It was that both of you knew I was looking for Harry when I came in the office on Monday.
 
I should have wondered about it at the time, but I didn't.
 
Dino wouldn't have told anyone that he'd hired me, and I sure hadn't told anyone.
 
But you two knew it.
 
While I was in the hospital today, I had time to think things over, and I figured out how you knew."

Not everything I'd said was strictly true, but it was close enough.
 
Dino and I had told Cathy Macklin that I was looking for Harry, but I didn't think she moved in the same circles with
Zintner
and Becker.
 
As it turned out, I was right.

"Dale was afraid you'd come up with it,"
Zintner
said.
 
"We were a little stupid about that."

"So was I.
 
I shouldn't have called out my name when I was looking for Harry at the marine lab.
 
What was Dale doing there, anyway?"

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