Don't Sweat the Small Stuff (27 page)

“Winston, I have no idea where she is.”

The little man stared up at me, a puzzled look on his face.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you accuse me of being responsible for those accidents?”

“I didn’t.”

“Linda said—”

“Linda got that information from Moe.”

He stood there on the landing, giving me a sideways glance.

“So?”

I gazed out over the Show ground and saw Bob Stanton walking toward us, long strides and a determined look on his face.

“So, did it ever occur to you that Moe Bradley was trying to cover his ass?”

“Where is Linda?”

“Winston, I don’t know.”

“And why would you think I was the bad guy here?”

“Because,” the voice behind me said, “you were afraid that the Moe Show was going to fire you. That they were going to add more rides and wouldn’t need your zoo.”

He looked up at Em. I turned and she was dressed in one of my T-shirts and a pair of baggy shorts. Still sexy, no matter what she put on.

“That didn’t mean I’d risk killing someone.”

“But you had a very good reason to defend yourself.” Em stepped up to the entranceway.

“You really think that I would rig a ride to kill someone?”

“Not now. I don’t think you’d do that.”

“Who could think such a thing?” Pugh turned and stepped down. “Was I really that—”

“That what?”

He turned to us. “Did I really come off like that?”

“Yes.” We both said it at the same time.

“Mr. Pugh.” Stanton stood at the bottom of our steps. “I have a search warrant for your trailer. Would you come with me, sir?”

“A what?”

“Search warrant. I have officers at your establishment, sir, and they have a warrant to search your premise.”

The dwarf turned and gave me a pleading look. “Young man, please, find Linda. I can’t do this without her.”

It was becoming increasingly clear that Winston Pugh couldn’t do anything without Linda.

They walked off together, Pugh’s oversized boots flopping on his feet, and Stanton’s shirt sticking to his back from the late afternoon heat.

“Search warrant?” Em stared after them. “What are they looking for?”

“Computer? Cell phone?”

“Maybe proof that Moe is the one who rigged the rides.”

My cell phone went off, with Bruce Springteen’s “Born in the USA.” Glancing at the screen, I saw James’s name.

“Hey, you all right?”

“Skip. You saved my life, man.”

“I’ve saved you so many times already that—”

“Yeah, yeah. Listen. They found Propofol in my blood.”

“Propo what?”

“You remember that stuff that some doctor was giving to Michael Jackson when he died. Stuff that put him to sleep?”

I did. Sort of.

“Anyway, I’m okay.”

“You’re never okay.”

“Pard, listen. Two of the officers were talking. They confiscated Moe’s computer.”

“Then they’ve got the same information we’ve got.”

“Exactly. And they read some letters between Moe and Linda. Stuff that talks about Winston.”

“Stuff like what?”

“Linda is assuring Moe that Pugh is not causing any problems. Apparently, even before Moe called Linda and told her that Pugh was our main suspect, Moe got word that Pugh was mouthing off to everyone. Pugh was accusing Moe and the sisters of trying to get rid of him.”

“So Moe was communicating with Linda?”

“Yeah. Moe wrote Linda a letter about Pugh. He told her that the little guy’s mouth was making him look like someone with an axe to grind. Used those very words.”

“Axe to grind. Yeah. If Pugh was mouthing off like that to everyone else, then I could see where people thought he might be sabotaging the rides.”

“Anyway, I’ll be back on the grounds in an hour. Hold down the fort, amigo.”

“James—”

“Yeah?”

“Do they have Moe Bradley?”

“His computer. They’ve got that.”

“What about him? The guy who shot you up with Propo whatever?”

“I don’t think they have him.”

“James, they just got a search warrant for Pugh’s trailer.”

“Turns out Moe is the bad guy here, Skip. That’s the fact.”

Em came up behind me and put her arms around my waist. “Let me talk to him.”

I put the phone down where she could talk and listen.

“James, you’d better bring a case of beer back for your friend. It’s the least you could do for him.”

I could hear him saying, “Yeah, yeah.”

“And, James, does it sound to you like Moe was trying to cast blame on Pugh? To divert it from himself?”

“And cast blame on Bo and Charlie. Remember the video from our pen?” I could hear his voice on the tinny speaker.

All of a sudden it was
our
pen. I couldn’t believe he’d help pay for the thing.

“Pally, Em, got to go. I’ll see you in a short.” And he was gone.

We were quiet for a moment, trying to absorb what was happening. My muscles still throbbed, and I was developing a splitting headache. I was hoping that James would hurry with that case of beer.

We took a walk down to the Tail, stopping by Angie’s trailer on the way. No one was home. No surprise there. My guess was that daddy and daughter had hightailed it to higher ground, leaving the team of Schiller and Crouse, along with Ken Clemens, to clean up the mess. And actually it was probably much better for us. I mean, Judy Schiller and Virginia Crouse were much more likely to pay us than Moe Bradley was. Especially since no one had a clue where he was. I know I was looking out for myself, but hey, I could really use the money.

Walking by James’s truck, the acrid smell of burned rubber and oil still hung in the air, and the Tail spiked the sky like the show’s middle finger. Parked along the road were the two flatbed trucks that had carried the Dragon Tail to the Bayview Mall. Where there was no bay, and technically, not even a mall. If those trucks were to haul it back, the Tail would be in pieces.

“Look up there.” Em pointed.

It wasn’t easy.

“By all rights you shouldn’t be here.” Em gazed at the phallic symbol in the sky. “You shouldn’t even be alive.”

“But I am. And so is James.”

“Skip, do you think Bo and Charlie were involved?”

I hadn’t given them a whole lot of thought. “Charlie, no. He was dumbfounded when the ride malfunctioned. Refused to believe it, but he hung in there. He tried to help me and bring the ride down. When he pushed the yellow button, the entire control box could have blown up in front of him.”

“Bo?”

I remembered the pen video where Moe told Charlie that he and Bo had better be able to cover their asses.

“You know, Em, I don’t often listen to Jody’s philosophy. But in this case, you’ve got to remember what he said about working a case. ‘Everything is as it seems. Except it’s not.’ You’ve got to take facts and information and turn it every way possible. So, maybe when Moe told Charlie that he and Bo had better get some distance—cover their asses, maybe he was just warning them that people were going to talk. Maybe it wasn’t at all what it sounded like.”

“He was throwing the blame, Skip. The more he got other people to believe that they were suspects, the more innocent
he
seemed.”

We wandered through the grounds, the food booths locked tight. Late afternoon and not a person in sight. Tomorrow morning was tear down and I planned on waking up in the comfort of my own bed. If James still had a show job, he could participate in tear down. I’d done enough to support the cause.

But my guess was that James wouldn’t have the job. The ghost sisters were not amused. Anyone associated with the ride debacle would probably be let go.

As for me, it was time to get back to work. I couldn’t afford to lose my job.

“Do you think that he deliberately killed the investigator?” She held my hand loosely and it felt so natural.

“Moe?”

“Who else?”

“I believe he probably was responsible for killing Ellen Bernstein. If he didn’t deliberately kill her, it was one heck of a coincidence. I mean here was a lady who could have shut the entire operation down.”

She nodded. “After the first accident, the sisters refused to sell, right?”

“Exactly.”

“So Moe had to keep making the accidents worse.” Em paused, letting out a deep breath. “You know, Skip, I think he probably got in too deep too fast. Once he’d injured someone, it just didn’t seem that bad to kill someone. Once he’d killed someone to get these millions of dollars, it didn’t seem impossible to kill someone else. You know what I mean?”

I did. “And he was afraid this lady, Ellen Bernstein was going to discover who was tampering with the rides.”

“And,” she squeezed my hand, “he was afraid you two already had it figured out. And my guess is he knew you didn’t really suspect Ken Clemens, and when James told Moe that you knew there was inside information being handed out, he figured it was only a matter of time before you came after him.”

“You’re right. Moe hired us because he thought we were too stupid to figure it out.”

“If it hadn’t been for Jody’s spy equipment you never would have figured it out.”

I didn’t know if that made us dumb or smart.

“You know, if we’d looked a little deeper, if we’d done some research, some homework, we might have found the information about all those accidents. Could have saved us some serious problems. We probably should have looked into the accidents, but this agency is young. You’ll learn.”

“Yeah.” I hated it when she was right.

And my biggest concern was that we would never learn. Never.

We strolled by the Fun House. And the rifle booth where I’d met Kevin Cross. Both were shuttered, and the Ferris wheel rounded out the skyline, casting a late evening shadow on the ground.

“Skip.”

I looked at her. She had tears in her eyes.

“I’m just thinking. You mean a lot to me. I must have thought a thousand times while you were up there that I would be lost without you.”

“So you’re saying—”

“Thanks for not falling off that ride.”

I laughed. “Yeah. You’re welcome.”

We headed back to the trailer.

“Are you staying tonight?” She stood on the landing.

“No. I’ve got a handful of things in there, and I’m clearing them out. We found the bad guy. Don’t know where he is, but we found him and my job is done.”

“Well,” she smiled, “I should probably call Jody and tell him the place is ours for the night then.”

I didn’t find it that funny.

“You’re welcome to stay at my place.” She tried to make amends.

“As tempting as that is, I’m tired, sore, and I should show up at work tomorrow morning. I’m going to pass, but it’s not because of you. Got it?”

“I’ve got it.”

Em opened the door and stepped in. I followed closely.

“James.” She sounded happy to see him.

I took a shallow breath and detected the soft smell of frangipani. “Hey, dude.” I smiled. “Are you a little less drugged?”

My roommate sat on the couch, staring at us, the fear of God in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” I walked to the sink, pulling a plastic cup from the cupboard, filling it with water.

He didn’t answer.

“Hey, James, did you bring beer? It’d be better than this crap water.”

He stared into my eyes, twitching ever so slightly.

“Beer? Where is it?”

Opening the tiny refrigerator I saw there was no beer.

“You son of a bitch. I’m going to take the five hundred dollars you offered me and—”

“Don’t move. Not one inch.”

My eyes darted to the bedroom doorway and there was Linda Reilly, a pistol leveled at my head. I didn’t move. Not one inch.

“Sit down.”

“But you said don’t move an—”

Em elbowed me. “Sit, Skip, sit.” Like a lapdog I followed her command.

“James,” Linda nodded in his direction. “You’ve got that ugly white truck down by the DT, right?”

He nodded, still not saying a word.

“Go get it.”

James stumbled off the couch, apparently eager to do her bidding. Or eager to get the hell out of this Airstream trailer.

“Not a word to anyone, do you understand?”

He shook his head.

“Your friends’ lives depend on it.”

James moved to the door.

“Oh, and James, if you aren’t back here in three minutes—three minutes, I may just shoot everyone in this room.” She looked scared. Someone scared with a gun—not a good combination.

Finally James spoke. “I’ll make it three minutes or less.”

“Good.” Linda pushed back the hair from her face with her free hand. “I don’t think I have to demonstrate to you folks that I can and will shoot this gun.”

James was out the door and running.

“You’ve shot someone before?” Em stared at her.

“The police are searching my trailer right now for this.” She touched the barrel with her finger. “Of course, it’s not there.”

“Oh, my God.” I saw the lights come on and Em’s eyes got wide. “You shot Kevin Cross.”

She moved to the trailer window and looked out, tapping the barrel of the gun on the wall of the trailer.

“Why?” I decided get to the bottom of this.

This lady who fried frogs, kicked goats, guzzled tequila, shoveled crap from Winston’s zoo, and waved a pistol around like a hired assassin, had tears in her eyes. Wiping at them with the back of her gun hand, she turned to me, holding the pistol back down at her side.

“Because Kevin Cross threatened to go to the authorities and tell them who was responsible for the accidents.”

It made absolutely no sense at all.

“Cross threatened to go to the authorities? How did he know?” I realized we weren’t going to be killed, at least for the moment. So I wanted to keep her distracted. And, I wanted some answers. “How did he know who had tampered with the rides?”

She was silent. Looking out the window, waiting for James to show up with the box truck.

“Moe Bradley? You were defending Bradley?” Em kept probing. “Linda, why?”

“No, you don’t understand.”