“Of course,” Bob said. “I’m just… I try to keep focused on whatever’s operational in the moment.”
Feeney smiled wryly at that. Bob got the sense he was disappointed.
Sharmila took the hint and changed the subject. “Where do we stand after your meeting with Baird?”
“Not sure. He’s a friendly sort for a CEO. In my experience, they’re usually a little more ruthless. I have to assume it’s a front, his work voice, so to speak.”
“But he couldn’t help?”
“I got the sense he wanted me to accept that Marcus did it. He seemed quite confident in the local law enforcement.”
“Then we know he was lying,” she said. “Nobody who’s lived here any length of time would make a statement like that.”
“But he’s also just a corporate front man. It’s Jenkins’s company, and Jenkins is the one trying to paint himself as on our side, on Marcus’s side. He seems the more likely.”
“I have a hard time believing that,” Sharmila said.
Mr. Feeney nodded in unison. “Not Dick Jenkins. He’s a good soul. I mean, I’ve heard some crazy ideas in my time, but that one takes it. The man is a softie.”
It seemed unlikely at best that Merry Michelsen would act alone, go after the housing project’s detractors just to improve his customer base, Bob figured. He was, by all accounts, already the biggest meth dealer in the valley. “It’s possible he’s paying Michelsen’s men to harass us. He wants the existing narrative to stick.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t see it,” Sharmila said. “Jenkins has a sterling reputation in Southern California as an engineering innovator, but also as a kind and considerate man. He pays his employees well, he gives to charity. He ain’t behind this.”
She was being naïve, Bob thought. Plenty of men seemed outwardly chivalrous and generous, covering up monstrous intentions. He’d learned that trusting the wrong people could be fatal.
Feeney leaned in a little and lowered his voice, to save Bob any embarrassment. “Son… listen to her on this. Dick Jenkins ain’t no killer. I don’t mean to insult, but that’s just foolish.”
Too trusting, Bob thought. You’re both too trusting.
But he changed tack anyway, rather than argue.
“We need to figure out the meth tie-in either way,” Bob said. “It’s one thing to use a dealer’s muscle if you’re a crook. This is a project right on Merry Michelsen’s doorstep. In every other respect, it doesn’t fit Jenkins’s profile, or Baird’s. So why there and why work with him? Why partner with Merry if all you’re doing is building a trailer park?”
“Just… take your own advice,” Sharmila cautioned. “Be careful, and watch your back. People here put on simple airs, but they’re not simple people. Whoever’s behind this has money, police influence, and all the time in the world.”
“And that’s not Dick Jenkins,” Feeney grumbled. “Dang. You sure can tell you ain’t local.”
“But whoever it is,” Sharmila said, cutting Bob off before he could argue the point, “you need to keep your head down. There are a whole lot of bodies in that desert out there, you can be sure of that.”
Their waitress sashayed back to the table. “Are you all ready to order? We’ve got a special on just about the best darn chicken-fried steak you ever ate.”
19
“What do you mean by ‘not available’?” Bob tried to keep his tone even and civil.
He’d been waiting at police headquarters for nearly two hours, passed off from one clerk to another. Yelling at police civilian employees wasn’t going to win him any brownie points.
So he’d been relieved when Sgt. Gayle Dyche appeared at the front booking counter.
For about a minute.
“He’s not available, just what it means,” Dyche said. “He’s not even here anymore. They moved him to Lerdo, our remand facility, two days ago.”
“So I’ll go there.” He hadn’t talked to Marcus in three days. The kid had to be nervous as hell, surrounded by would-be criminals.
“You can’t,” Dyche said.
“My client has rights…”
“Your client (a) has a bail hearing this afternoon, so you can see him then, and (b) is not allowed visitors. Not in pre-trial.”
“But I’m one of his representatives.”
“And there’s a procedure. He has to formally request access for you, not the other way around. That’s the rule at Lerdo.”
“So… I can’t even check on him.”
Dyche shrugged. “It is what it is. I noticed on his file that he has a different lawyer representing him later today.”
“Anuvab Kumar,” Bob said. There seemed no percentage in mentioning Kumar was Sharmila’s cousin, and that she was actively helping Marcus, a man accused of killing her father.
“Well, then… he’s going to get help from somebody today,” Dyche said. “Maybe your attitude when you first showed up prompted him to look elsewhere, Mr. Richmond. Perhaps there’s a lesson in that.”
“Maybe,” Bob said. He turned to head for the door, then caught himself and turned back to the veteran officer from halfway across the atrium. “If anything happens to him...”
“Nothing’s going to happen to him, other than facing his charges,” Dyche said wearily. “Have a nice day, Mr. Richmond.”
Bob shoved the heavy front doors open aggressively, one bouncing off the adjacent wall. He’d worry about Marcus until he knew better, he supposed. But he had things to do, including hitting the library to read up on Jenkins Mechanical.
