When Old Men Die (9 page)

He glanced up when he saw me standing there.
 
He didn't look much like a cop.
 
His brown hair was getting thin on top, and his brown eyes were mild behind his glasses.
 
He might have been an insurance salesman or a teacher for all the clues his appearance gave.

His eyes hardened when he saw me, however.
 
"I should've known," he said.

I sat in the straight-backed chair beside his desk.
 
"Known what?"

"That you'd show up.
 
If I'd thought about it, I would have known."

He picked up one of the pencils from the desk top and rolled it around between the fingers of his right hand.

"I can tell you're glad to see me," I said.

"I'm not glad to see you.
 
I don't want you messing around in this."

I tried to pretend ignorance.
 
"Messing around in what?"

He pointed the pencil at me.
 
"Don't give me that crap.
 
You know what I mean.
 
One of Dino's old buddies gets whacked, and the next thing I know, here you are.
 
I should've known."

"Which one of Dino's old buddies are we talking about?
 
I didn't even know Dino had any buddies except for me."

"He had Ray," Barnes said.

I didn't want to talk about that.
 
I said, "I didn't expect to find you here on a Sunday."

He laid the pencil back on the desk.
 
"Don't give me that crap, Smith.
 
You knew I'd be working on the Macklin case or you wouldn't be here."

"Macklin?"

"Oh, for God's sake.
 
You know who I'm talking about.
 
I'm just surprised you didn't show up sooner."

I didn't string him along any longer.
 
He wasn't having as much fun as I was.

"All right," I said.
 
"I know about Macklin.
 
But Dino didn't send me.
 
He doesn't even know I'm here."

"Yeah, I'll bet he doesn't."

"Look, Barnes, I know you don't like me much, but I solved that case for you back on Mother's Day.
 
Maybe I can help you with this one."

"You didn't solve that case," he said.
 
"I did."

"OK, you solved it.
 
But I don't think you could have done it without my help."

He picked up the pencil and doodled on the back of one of the pieces of paper for a second or two.
 
Then he put the pencil down and looked at me.

"All right.
 
So you made a suggestion that helped me crack that one.
 
That doesn't mean I like civilians fooling around with murder cases."

"I'm not fooling around in a murder case.
 
I'm working on something entirely different.
 
I just wondered if the two were connected."

I went on to tell him about Harry.
 
When I came to the part about getting shot at, he nearly jumped out of his chair.

"Dammit, Smith, you should've come to us last night!"

I admitted that he might have a point.
 
"But I don't see what you could have done," I added.

"We could get the slugs, run some tests.
 
See if they're from the same gun that shot Macklin."

I reminded him that I didn't know about Macklin when I was dodging bullets.
 
And then I mentioned that the slugs were on government property.

"How many forms would you have to fill out before they let you get close to that old building?" I asked.

He leaned back in his chair.
 
"Too damn many."

"But I might be able to get them," I said.
 
"Unofficially."

He wasn't comfortable with that idea.
 
"We couldn't use them as evidence."

"You wouldn't need them for that.
 
But it might be nice to know if they came from the same gun."

"I'm not saying you should get them," he told me.
 
"I don't encourage trespassing.
 
But if you just happened to have one, and if you left it with me, I might get it tested."

That was all that needed saying on that topic.
 
Now that I'd softened him up, I asked about Macklin.

"How'd he get into The Island Retreat?
 
I thought that place was locked up tight."

"That's a good question," Barnes said.
 
"The place
is
locked up tight, and the windows are boarded up.
 
If you find out how he got in, let me know."

"There's not a hole in the floor?
 
That you can climb up to on the pilings?"

Barnes looked at me as if I might be crazy.
 
"Now you're yanking my chain.
 
You think a guy in his seventies or older climbed up the pilings and through a hole in the floor?
 
I'm not sure
I
could climb those pilings, and I'm in a lot better shape than some guy that age."

"So there's not a hole in the floor?"

"Hell, no.
 
There's no hole in the floor or the roof or the walls.
 
Where'd you get an idea like that?"

Another black mark for Ro-Jo.
 
"I just thought there had to be a way and that might be it.
 
Maybe the person who shot Macklin had a key."

"Very clever, Sherlock.
 
Now tell me how he got it."

I couldn't do that, so I changed the subject by asking how long Macklin had been dead.

"I can't tell you that until after the autopsy."

"You've been involved with homicides before, though.
 
You could guess."

"I don't like guessing."

"I don't blame you.
 
Call it an estimate."

He still didn't like the idea, but he said, "He'd been there for a while.
 
A week or more.
 
He wasn't fresh."

"How was he killed?"

That was the kind of question Barnes was comfortable with.
 
"Shot twice in the chest with a nine-millimeter pistol.
 
I'd guess a
Glock
, but we'll know for sure after the ballistics tests come back.
 
He was armed, had a gun in his hand, but it hadn't been fired."

"What was he doing in The Island Retreat?"

"I thought that since we're working together now, you might tell me the answer to that one."

"I wouldn't be asking if I knew."

"Right.
 
You're telling me that a guy who was as tight as Macklin was with the uncles winds up dead in the Retreat and Dino doesn't know a thing about it.
 
My ass."

I didn't think a discussion of his anatomy would serve any useful purpose.

"It's the truth," I said.
 
"He's as much in the dark on this as I am."

"Right.
 
He's just trying to find his old friend Harry."

"That's what he told me."

"Then he's yanking
your
chain."

I didn't want to admit that the same thing had occurred to me.
 
And that I hadn't entirely discounted it.
 
So I didn't.

"I think he's telling the truth," I said.
 
"I was there when he got the news about Macklin.
 
He was as surprised as I was."
 
I paused.
 
"Have you talked to Macklin's daughter?"

"What do you think we are?" Barnes said.
 
"Clowns?
 
Of course we've talked to the daughter."

"And?"

"And she didn't have any idea why her old man was in the Retreat.
 
I get the idea that they weren't the best of pals.
 
But why am I telling you this?"

"Because you want my cooperation.
 
You scratch my back, I scratch yours."

Barnes pulled off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
 
Then he settled the glasses back in place and sighed.

"I've been lied to by experts, Smith.
 
You aren't an expert."

"You're going to hurt my feelings if you don't watch out," I said.

"Sure I am."

"OK, so you're not.
 
But I do want to cooperate.
 
If I find out who shot Macklin, you'll be the first to know."

"But you're just looking for good old Outside Harry," Barnes said.

"True.
 
But you never know what I might run across while I'm doing it."

"And in return for your cooperation, or telling me what you run across, I'm going to keep you posted on whatever I find out about Macklin's murder."

"Don't call me," I said.
 
"I'll call you."

"I'm sure you will, but I don't know how much good it's going to do you."

"We'll just have to wait and see, then, won't we?"

He smiled, but it wasn't a pleasant smile.
 
"Yeah.
 
We'll just have to wait and see."

"One other thing," I said, not quite willing to give up on Ro-Jo.
 
"Were there any signs that anyone else had been in the Retreat?"

"You're kidding me, right?
 
There's a dead man on the floor, he's been shot twice, and you want to know if anyone else had been there.
 
Who do you think shot Macklin?
 
He damn sure didn't do it himself."

"I meant did you see any old cans, old newspapers lying around, that kind of thing?"

"There wasn't anything like that.
 
We'd have found it.
 
Why?"

"I was just wondering," I said.

"Already holding out, aren't you?" Barnes said.
 
"I knew it."

"I'm not holding out.
 
I was just wondering about something."

"And you're not going to tell me what it is, are you?"

He was right.
 
I wasn't.

He said, "Get out of here, Smith," and I started for the door.

"Another thing," he said, and I turned back."

"What?"

"Don't call me."

I smiled and waved good-bye.
 
I would have blown him a kiss, but he might have taken it the wrong way.

I
didn't see any need to mention to Dino that I'd talked to Barnes.
 
He wouldn't like it, and I hadn't learned anything useful.
 
Maybe later I'd bring it up.
 
If I had to.

Dino didn't say anything about my being late when I got to his house.
 
He was too excited about the football game.

"Dallas is in the finals again," he told me.
 
"That Emmitt Smith is the best damn runner I've seen since you.
 
Too bad you never got a shot at the pros."

"We all know whose fault that is," I said.

I tried to keep it light, but Dino's face fell.

"Ah, hell, Tru," he said.

"Think nothing of it.
 
I probably never would've made it through training camp."

He started to disagree, then changed his mind.
 
"You find Ro-Jo?"

"Not a sign of him.
 
Did Jody call?"

"Nope.
 
No calls."

"You ready to go see Macklin's daughter."

"Hell no.
 
But I said I'd go, and I will.
 
You think we should call first."

"What, and lose the element of surprise?"

"You want to surprise her?"

"Not especially.
 
But if the great recluse Dino shows up at her door, she's going to be surprised.
 
You can count on it."

"I don't know why you have to joke about everything.
 
I'm gonna call her."

"Good idea," I said.

C
athy Macklin, as it turned out, wasn't the manager of the Seawall Courts.
 
She was the sole owner and proprietor.

"My father bought the place for me," she said, brushing her dark hair out of her face.
 
"To make up for never having a thing to do with me for the first twenty years or so of my life."