“Uh huh,” Feeney said doubtfully. “Tell me, friend Bob, you don’t happen to be carrying per chance?”
“I do, as a matter of fact. But it won’t come to that. It usually doesn’t.”
“Usually?”
10
The three men strolled over. They were broad-chested, one in a black string vest, another in a Lakers jersey, the third in a white-and-blue Dodgers home shirt. The biggest had a straw cowboy hat, while his friends wore ballcaps.
Bob got the immediate sense they were either a whole lot of fun, or a whole lot of trouble.
Cowboy Hat nodded his way and gestured with a friendly raise of his beer can. “Howdy!” he said. “Would you happen to be Bob Richmond, by any chance?”
From behind him, Feeney intoned, “Jonah Kepler? That you, boy?”
Cowboy Hat nodded his way. “I know you, old man?”
“Uh huh. I just remember your days with the Drillers when you was a dead cert to go Division One…”
“Yeah.” The cowboy looked irritated at the mention. “Long time ago now.”
“What happened, son? You blow a knee out or something?”
“Well now… that ain’t really none of your bees’ wax, now, is it?”
“Jonah here used to be a guard for the Bakersfield High Varsity Drillers.”
Jonah turned his attention back to Bob. “Like I said, you Bob Richmond?”
“Who’s asking?”
Jonah grinned a little at that, nodding. He slugged back the last of his can of Stroh’s, before crushing it and tossing the can over his shoulder. “You’re a funny guy. He’s funny, ain’t he, fellers?”
“As long as you don’t mean funny looking, I’ll take it,” Bob said. “What can I do you for, gents?”
“Well now, I think it would be better if we talked about that in private, right, boys? Maybe the old man would like to make hisself scarce right about now.”
“Bob…” Feeney began to say.
Bob held up a hand. “It’s okay. You go on in the office, Mr. F.”
“You sure?”
“Oh… as much as anyone can be, yeah.”
Feeney got up and shuffled his way over to the office door, going inside and closing it behind him.
Jonah and his two friends closed the gap until they were just a few feet away. Bob didn’t see any obvious weapon bulges, but one of Jonah’s friends had a buck knife sheath on his belt, the handle probably under his shirt.
“We came over to deliver a message, Mr. Richmond,” Jonah said.
“Mister? How polite!” Bob said.
“Uh huh. You’ll find people do sort of value that round here. We come to deliver a message.”
“Yeah… you said that part already.”
Jonah frowned. “We come to let you know folks around here don’t like folk from up north coming down here and killing and robbing people blind. Your boy, Marcus Pell…”
“What about him?”
“He ain’t your client no more,” he said tersely, an order, demanding compliance. “He’s going to be seeking new and different legal representation. And you are going to be driving yourself back to Los Angeles. Do you get what I’m saying? Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
“I do,” Bob said, nodding.
Jonah looked puzzled. “Easy as that?”
“Of course. Absolutely.” Bob kept nodding. “You gents don’t have to worry about me in the slightest. I’ll just go.”
Jonah glanced at his friends, unsure. It was clear from his confusion, Bob figured, that he’d expected some sort of resistance, or been ordered to provide incentives. The ex-jock hooked a thumb over his shoulder, towards their pickup. “We leave and… you just… roll on out of here? Just like that?”
“Absolutely. I’ll pack up my stuff.”
“Uh huh.” Jonah crossed his arms. “Maybe we’ll just wait here then while you go ahead and do that.”
Bob’s eyes widened in mock surprise. “Oh! You mean NOW! I thought you meant in a week, after my client is free.”
Jonah’s expression shifted to cold warning. “Like I said before, boys, the man thinks he’s funny. Diego here, he’s been training in mixed martial arts for… what… over a year now. And he’s got… what, twenty, thirty pounds on you, son. Maybe we let him convince you that you want to go right now. How about that?”
