Eureka (10 page)

“Now aren't you the dashing one,” a dusky voice said from above. Delilah stared down from the balcony, decked out in a dark green, floor-length dress and a wide-brimmed hat trimmed with white roses. Her red hair was braided in a ponytail draped over her shoulder.

Brodie smiled up at her.

“Going to the opera?” he asked.

She looked at the cane.

“Can you make it up the stairs?”

“I'm a little lame, I'm not crippled,” he answered, and managed the broad stairway with little problem. She led him into her apartment and turned around.

“Does a girl get a kiss after twenty years?”

He started to kiss her on the cheek, but she turned her face to his, leaned hard against him, and kissed him fully on the lips, holding the kiss for half a minute before stepping back.

“I think you're blushing,” she said. “Marines aren't supposed to blush.”

“I haven't been kissed like that for a long, long time.”

“How're you doing, Brodie?”

“The leg's almost healed. The rest of me's whole.”

“Thank God for that.” She laughed.

“I wasn't sure you were here,” he said, and pointed to a Victrola in the corner. The needle was scratching endlessly at the end of the record. “Actually, I was attracted by the music. Is that record by James Reese Europe and the Hell Fighters Band?”

“You've heard them?” she said, lifting the needle off the record.

“I saw them. In Paris. The French loved the band. Called it ‘Le Jazz Hot.' Almost made me want to dance and I don't know a step.”

“Well, you'll have to come by. I've got all twenty-four of his records. We'll play music and I'll teach you the Charleston.”

“I'll take you up on that.”

“Have you seen Ben?”

“Not yet. I spent a couple of hours with Eli.”

“The stroke almost did him in but he's handling it well.”

“How about you? I hear you're the richest lady in California.”

She arched her eyebrows. “Just California?”

Brodie laughed and sat down on a settee. “You live here?”

“I run a tight ship here. Have to make sure my high-class clientele is happy. Three rooms are all I need. What are you drinking?”

“A little bourbon and some ice.”

“So you haven't seen Ben or your young Eli or Isabel yet?”

He shook his head.

“Or Buck?”

“Nope.”

“Stick around. He comes every night at six to have a cup of coffee and look at the young girls.”

“How is he?”

“Not as quick as he used to be but tough as ever.”

“You know what they say, myths never die,” Brodie said.

She chuckled. “Nice to think so. Back to stay?” she asked.

“Why not?” Brodie answered ruefully.

“That's the best news I've heard since Prohibition,” she said as she filled a pebbled glass half full with hundred-proof Kentucky bourbon, dropped two ice cubes in it, and poured herself a little Scotch. She raised her glass to him.

“Here's to sin,” she said. “Without it, we'd both be up the creek.”

They touched glasses.

“So Prohibition doesn't worry you?”

“Honey, it's going to make my business much sweeter and your job a lot livelier.”

“I haven't taken a job yet.”

“You will, Brodie. That's why you came back. It's what friendship and love are all about. And I haven't used the word ‘love' seriously in a very long time.”

“Eli says everybody has to have a home to come back to and he's right. Eureka ain't much but it's all I got. I couldn't stay in the Marines. I got a battlefield commission the night I was wounded. A year later they upped me to first lieutenant while I was in the hospital, and they made me a captain just before I was discharged. No future, nice pension.”

She sat down on a crimson davenport and leaned back on one elbow.

“Why did you leave, Brodie?”

He shrugged. “To see the world.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You want to know the truth? I was running away from what I just came back to.”

Brodie rode Cyclone back to the stable and gently took off the saddle and bridle. “I'll be back tomorrow,” Brodie said softly. “Be like old times.”

In the darkness, a cigar tip glowed. “Let's hope so,” a voice said, and Ben Gorman stepped into the light.

“Give you a start, brother?” he asked. The two men rushed together, hugging and laughing like children. They walked briskly back to the house, both chattering away, cutting each other off with one story after another. Ben didn't talk about the future. He didn't have to.

A cool September afternoon nine months later.

Brodie Culhane parked his Ford under the trees behind the bank and turned off the ignition. He took out the makings and struggled to roll a cigarette. He focused on the job, folded the thin paper around his forefinger and sprinkled tobacco into the groove. Then he started to twist the paper with the thumb and forefinger of both hands. It was almost perfect and he smiled to himself, licked the glued edge of the paper, and twisted it shut. It wasn't a work of art but it was better than smoking harsh store-bought cigarettes. As he lit it, he heard the back door of the Ford open and close.

“I hope that's you, Slim,” Brodie said, blowing a smoke ring and not turning around.

“I get real nervous meetin' before dark,” came a jittery voice from the floor of the backseat.

“Hell, you called me. What's so urgent?”

Slim was a skinny little man who worked the desk at Riker's Double Eagle Hotel. He picked up an extra five a week by keeping his ears open and passing information to Culhane.

“Sompin's in the wind.”

“Like what?”

“Riker brought in four toughs from outta town today. They came in the hotel about four. All of 'em are heeled, I could tell when they came to get their keys.”

“How do you know they're Riker's people?”

“He made the reservations. Told me not to put 'em in the book and be quiet about it.”

“How'd they arrive?”

“Black Ford coupe.”

“What do they look like?”

“You know the type. They never blink. Leader seems to be a guy named McGurk. Has one of those purple splotches on his face.”

“How long they here for?”

“Riker didn't say, but they ordered up a bottle and when I got to the door, I heard Riker mention Buck and Miss O'Dell.”

“What'd they say?”

“Ain't sure, Cap'n. I just heard the names and somethin' about a piece of the action.”

“Were they talking about Grand View?”

“That's all I know. I can tell you this, Riker's been jumpy as a cat all day. Like I been tellin' you for a while, he wants some of that outta-town high-roller action up there. Then there's all this talk about them on the Hill forming some kinda council and shuttin' him down. And there's those two times his boats got sunk out in the drink.”

“I don't know anything about that. You think these guys are shooters?”

“All I know is I seen rods bulgin' under their coats. I know when a bozo's loaded. I'm supposed to tell Schuster when I see it, but I figure since it was Riker set 'em up, he knows if they're carrying or not.”

“You off duty?”

“Just got off. I really got bad jitters meetin' like this in broad daylight.”

Brodie took a five out of his pocket and draped his arm over the back of the front seat.

“Here's an extra fin. Why don't you go over, play a little poker, and keep an eye out for those four. I'm off tonight. Gonna eat dinner at Wendy's, then maybe go up to Delilah's. Call me if anything looks screwy to you.”

“Okay. Thanks.” The door opened and shut quietly.

Brodie drove the four blocks to the diner and went in. Wendy was barely in her twenties and had inherited the eatery from her father, who drank too much, ate too much, and a year earlier had dropped dead behind the counter one morning while fixing an order of ham and eggs.

She was a plain girl with ashen hair and a ready smile for her customers. She leaned across the counter as Brodie entered.

“Come to whisk me away to the Garden of Eden?” she said.

“I came for the meat loaf special,” Brodie said with a crooked grin. “If it's real good, maybe I'll whisk you away after I eat.”

“I'll settle for that.”

“Where is everybody? The joint's empty.”

“It's early.” She reached under the counter and handed him the newspaper.

“Okay if I use the phone a minute?” Brodie asked.

“Anything for you,” she said, and put the telephone on the counter. Brodie got the operator and called the sheriff's office. Andy Sloan, the assistant deputy, answered.

“Andy, it's Brodie. Anything going on?”

“It's quiet. I got a guy back in the lockup for beating up his old lady and that's about it.”

“Is Bix there?”

Bix was the jailer. He had lost a leg at the Marne and hobbled around on a homemade crutch, a quiet man who made terrible coffee.

“Yeah.”

“Take a drive up on the Hill and nose around, then stop off at Delilah's and hang out. I'll stop by after I eat.”

“Something up?”

“Maybe. We got four heeled out-of-towners in a black Ford at the Double Eagle. I don't think they're lost.”

“I'll keep my eyes open.”

“See you at Grand View in an hour or so.”

He hung up and took his usual booth in the corner of the place and read the paper. A few customers came in and sat at the counter. Brodie was finishing a piece of pie and washing it down with coffee when Wendy said, “Here comes trouble.”

Arnie Riker was a man who strutted when he walked, swinging his arms like a soldier on parade and swaying back and forth. He was crossing the street, followed by his blond bodyguard, Lars Schuster, a muscular ex-prizefighter with the mashed nose and cauliflower ears to prove it.

“Hell, they're comin' in,” Wendy groaned. “They never eat here.”

“I don't think they're coming in to eat.” Culhane picked up the paper and held it in front of him, staring over the top. “Just treat 'em like customers. If there's a problem, let me handle it.”

Riker and Schuster entered the diner, sat at the counter across from Culhane. Brodie ignored them, stared at the sports page of the newspaper.

“What can I do you for?” Wendy asked as cheerily as she could.

“I hear you make a great cup a coffee. You make a great cup a coffee, Wendy?”

She went to the urn and drew two cups of coffee and put them in front of Riker and Schuster.

“You tell me,” she said, still smiling.

Schuster ignored the cup. Riker took a sip, rolled it around in his mouth, and swallowed it.

“Not bad,” he said. “Maybe I'll stop in now and then—when I'm feelin' blue. Coffee perks me up.”

“You feeling blue?”

“Yeah. Maybe you heard, I lost a fishing boat the other night. Lucky there was a Coast Guard boat nearby and they pulled my boys out.”

“That was lucky,” Wendy said. She was getting nervous.

“Or maybe it wasn't luck.” He swung the counter seat around and stared at Culhane. “Maybe a boat full of Feds came aboard first and threw all my fish overboard and pulled the plug on the boat, and then the Coast Guard pulled up to make sure nobody got hurt.”

Culhane ignored him.

“It's happened to me twice now. Always way out there,” he waved toward the ocean. “Never anywhere near shore, and they never make a case against me or any of my people. Don't that seem odd to you?”

Wendy walked away to wait on a customer. Riker continued to stare at Culhane.

“I said, ‘Don't that seem odd to you?' ” he repeated.

Culhane laid the paper aside.

“Was that crack aimed at me?”

“It was a ‘what if' kinda question. Like what if the big shots on the Hill wanted to dry me up without causing a big investigation here.”

“I wouldn't know anything about that.”

“You're the law around here. You're just waiting for Tallman to drop dead of old age.”

Culhane smiled. “Haven't you heard, Riker, Buck's gonna live forever. Maybe you ought to stop
fishing
at night.”

“Ain't you the funny one.”

“What're you crying to me for? I don't have anything to do with the Feds. And I don't know anybody in the Coast Guard.”

“Maybe your pal Bucky has friends in high places. Or Gorman. Or some of those other big shots on the Hill.”

“I wouldn't know, Riker.”

“I'm not sure I believe you.”

“I don't give a rat's ass whether you believe me or not. But if I was you, I wouldn't call me a liar.”

The blond muscleman started to get up.

“Where are you going?” Brodie said to him.

“Relax, Lars, we're just talkin' about ‘what if' here. Ain't that right, Culhane? For instance, what if I owned a piece of Grand View? Me and Delilah would be partners and maybe all this harassment would go away.”

“Maybe it would go away if you had a heart attack. Or ‘what if' somebody stuck a .45 up your ass and blew your brains out.”

“Hey there,” Schuster said and stood up.

From the corner of his eye, Brodie saw a black Ford wheel from behind the Double Eagle Hotel onto the main drag a block away and screech toward the Hill. Four men were in the car.

“What the hell . . .” Brodie said.

The phone rang and Wendy answered it.

“It's for you, Brodie.”

He grabbed the phone. “Yeah?”

“It's me. Don't use my name.” Slim whispered on the other end of the line. “They just left here.”

“Thanks, Andy.” He hung up and headed for the door. The blond henchman jabbed a thick finger into Brodie's chest.