Gone(20)

“I spoke to the DA,” Rondeau told him. “This is an easy assault charge. Pled out, Brad Rafferty will go away for thirty days or pay a nice fine.”

Peter bristled. Of course he could arrest Brad for the previous night’s skirmish, but the idea left him sour. For one thing, Peter’s father could be the judge who got the case. Peter didn’t like that. It might look like nepotism. He didn’t know what he really wanted to do with Brad Rafferty yet.

Rondeau let him off the hook and shifted the conversation. “I’d like you to do something for me, if you don’t mind.”

“Shoot.”

“I want you to tell me what you think.”

Peter set down his fork and wiped his mouth. He looked for Althea but she was in the shower. He swallowed, prepared a response. “What I think? I think that there’s something going on between the Raffertys and John Hayes. I don’t know if it has to do with what we’re dealing with, though.”

“Well, you know, I wonder about something . . .”

“Yeah?”

“I wonder if the Raffertys were contractors on the Kemp house.”

Interesting, Peter thought. It was potentially a way to deal with Brad Rafferty without it looking like payback. “I can find out.”

“Good.”

Peter could hear coffee burbling in Rondeau’s office. Something occurred to him. “You know Nick Spillane?”

“No.”

He looked out the window as he spoke. “Spillane recently bought a bit of property in the county, has built a few spec homes and a restaurant that never seems to open. I’ve seen Rafferty work-trucks at some of the sites. Including the restaurant.”

Rondeau was silent. Peter hustled on, “Spillane’s nephew was in the bar last night. Spillane was a junk dealer, you know. Big money in that, actually. He’s from, Florida, I think, and then he moved up here. Isn’t Kemp a filmmaker? And his new movie is about waste, you said?”

“That’s right. Maybe junk, whatever that is, factors in.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Peter didn’t know much about documentaries. He knew that Althea watched a bunch of them on Netflix. They seemed to take an issue, sensationalize it, and sell it the same way you sold any other film. It had to be entertaining. Truthful? Perhaps. “Have you seen footage from that film?”

“No. I saw something from another one of his movies. For one thing, all of Kemp’s editing equipment is gone. Drives, computer, all the data. You know, if we could find that missing equipment. . .”

“I read you.” Peter detected something in Rondeau’s voice. He felt the detective was holding something back.

He heard the water in the shower shut off. Althea was finishing up. He still hadn’t spoken with her about last night. He’d come in and found her already asleep. She’d gotten out of bed first, made the breakfast, and he’d awoken to her in the bathroom, getting ready. He doubted she’d noticed the mark on his face in the darkness of the bedroom — the sun was only now rising over the mountains.

“Tell me more about what John Hayes said to you in the car,” Rondeau asked.

Peter picked up his plate and took it to the sink. Althea was about to come through, en route to the bedroom. He didn’t want her to see his face while he was still on the phone. “Sure, yeah. He said he’d seen the Kemp people around the town.”

“Okay. What else?”

Peter slipped out the back door of the house, still in his bare feet. The air was cold, his breath plumed out, his feet swishing in the dewy grass.

“Well, and that . . . I don’t know . . .”

“What?”

“That Hutchinson Kemp was asking for it, or something.”

“Asking for it?”

“Yeah. He called them liberals. Said the guy was poking around where he shouldn’t be.”

“Was he specific? Did he say anything specific? Did he ever, I don’t know, watch them? Walk around outside their house?”

“Hayes? No. I doubt it. He was . . . he was a little gone last night, too. I’ve known John a long time. Always been a drinker.”

“Uh-huh. So he . . .” Rondeau was trying to put it together. “He just shared this with you, this general prescience, and that was it?”

“This general what?”

“This feeling that the Kemps were going to get it.”

“Yeah. That’s it.” Peter felt a touch of regret. Had he been too hasty to offload Hayes? He’d given Rondeau a quick verbal report last night, but he’d been brief, eager to get home.

“Okay,” Rondeau said. “I’ll follow up with Hayes. I’ll talk to him.”

“Oh. Okay. Alright.”

Peter was about to hang up.

“And Peter, thanks.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Be safe out there.”

“Will do.”

He ended the call and remained standing in the grass for a moment. Then he headed back to the house, to explain to his girlfriend why he looked like he’d been in a boxing match last night.





CHAPTER THIRTEEN / Carmelita’s

Peter and Althea pulled up in front of Nick Spillane’s restaurant. Carmelita’s was unfinished and located in the middle of nowhere and nothing. The speed limit was 55 mph. Even if you were starving as you barreled along, you’d probably drive right by, just a blur of cedar siding and an empty parking lot.