Kent Conwell - Tony Boudreaux 09 - The Crystal Skull Murders (14 page)

Her words stunned me for a moment. Finally, I collected my thoughts. “Where can I find him?”

She shrugged helplessly. “All I know about him is
that he’s got a busted nose from the ring.”

I watched the bus head down Eighth Street and turn
north on 1-35 for Fort Worth after which I drove straight
to the office, parking in my usual spot. I sat in the truck
for several moments.

Wanda’s revelation of Bull Abdo and a broken nose
flushed adrenaline through my veins. I sat staring
blankly out the side window at the traffic on Lamar, trying to figure my first step in running down Bull Abdo.

There were three options: Danny O’Banion, Bob Ray
Burrus at the police station, and S.S. at Neon Larry’s. I
didn’t know which one was the best choice, so I decided
to contact all three.

I grinned, noticing from my reflection in the window
I needed a shave. A sudden yawn caught. I closed my eyes and stretched. I laid my head against the headrest
for a moment.

Next thing I knew, someone was tapping on my window. I opened my eyes to see the grinning face of
Doreen Patterson.

“You look terrible,” she said as I climbed from the
pickup.

“That’s what no sleep does for you”

“What happened?”

While crossing the parking lot, I briefly sketched out
the night’s events after we had separated.

The rich aroma of fresh coffee filled my nostrils
when we pushed through the office door. We
headed directly for the coffeepot. “You think she was
telling you the truth? I mean about this guy Bull
Abdo.”

“I’d like to think so,” I replied, filling a mug with
coffee. I sipped it, and the delightful heat of the coffee
warmed me all the way down to the pit of my stomach. “Of course, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was
down at the Blue Light right now, but I’d like to think
she’s finally got her head together.”

“Have you ever heard of this Abdo guy?”

“Nope, but a few phone calls should tell us something about him.”

“Don’t forget, we didn’t see Abe Romero yesterday”

“We will this morning, after Towers, our crystal ex
pert.”

One inconvenience in my line of work is that I’m an
early person. I’ve always risen early and run out of
steam early. The majority of those with whom I interact
are night people, and running them down in the mornings is just about as impossible as giving a cat a pill.

I dialed Danny’s number. A voice with all the charm
of a pet rock said he would be in at 10:00. Call back.

Neon Larry’s didn’t answer, which was probably just
as well, for if S.S. wasn’t there, whoever answered
would be of no help.

And Bob Ray promised to see what he could find.

I replaced the receiver and glanced at my watch, unable to believe it was only 9:00. To my fuzzy brain and
weary muscles, it was time for bed. I sighed and leaned
back. Maybe I could catch a short nap.

“What about The Lighthouse and pawnshop?”

“Huh?” I frowned at Doreen. “What about them?”

“You said you wanted to drop by there before we visited Towers”

With a grimace, I closed my eyes and shook my
head. “That’s right. I’d forgotten all about it.” Groaning, I pushed myself to my feet. “Then’s let’s go see
Jimmy Wong and then Mrs. Bernie.”

Jimmy Wong grinned amiably and his eyes lit up
when he spotted me. “Ah, Tony-san. It is good to see
you” He touched his slender fingers to his lips. “You
and the lady wish for tea, coffee?”

I noticed a small bandage on his hand. “Either’ll be
fine” We slid in at a small round table.

Doreen whispered. “I’m not certain, but he looks
like the one who came running in last night soaking
wet”

Jimmy sat the coffee in front of us and eased into a
chair. He clapped his hands together softly. “Ah, so
now my friend. What is it I can do for you?”

I introduced Doreen and cut right to the chase. “Someone came in here last night soaking wet. Did you happen to see him?”

A puzzled frown replaced the friendly smile on his
face. He glanced at Doreen and then back at me. “Is
this important, Tonysan?”

“I’m not sure, Jimmy. Truth is, I’m just gathering information. A source mentioned he saw this person run
in here.”

The diminutive man’s eyes laughed. “Whoever this
source might be, he was right. He saw me run in. A hot
water hose on my washing machine at Devil’s Den
broke. I soaked myself turning off the water.” He held
up his hand. “The hot water burned me.”

During the drive to the pawnshop, Doreen chided
herself. “Looks like I goofed on that”

“Not at all. Hey, that’s what happens in this game.
Win some, lose some. The secret is just to keep playing.
Who knows,” I added with a shrug, “maybe we’ll score
a touchdown out at the pawnshop”

Mrs. Bernie grinned when we entered her shop.
Pulling the ever-present cigarette from her lips, she blew a stream of smoke into the air. “Well, you two was
right. I had me a little visitor last night.” She slid off the
stool and gestured to the locked door beside her barred
window. “Come on in here. I’ll show you.” She glanced
at the floor. “Stay, Max”

A soft growl responded to her command.

I heard Doreen catch her breath.

A tumbler on the lock clicked, and the heavy door
swung open. She chuckled. “Don’t worry, folks,” Mrs.
Bernie said. “Max is a real gentleman until somebody
he don’t know comes in here at night.”

I shot a hasty glance at Max as I stepped through the
door.

Being unfamiliar with Rottweilers, I couldn’t guess
how much the huge dog weighed, but when he had hold
of the tail of my jacket last night, it felt like a fivehundred-pound anvil was dangling there.

Max lay on the floor, his eyes fixed on us.

“Back here,” she said, pointing down an aisle between two rows of stacked shelves.

Doreen gasped when we spotted the dried blood
smeared over the concrete floor leading to the rear
door.

“Cops came out this morning. Don’t know why. I
could of told them what happened. Whoever this guy
was, he got about halfway down the aisle here before
Max got him.” She took a deep drag off her cigarette
and added, “Tore him up some. Even tore off a piece of
his coat or pants. I don’t know which.”

I frowned at her. “I don’t suppose you have it.”

With a hint of disdain, she replied, “Naw. You know
how them cops are. Nothing makes them any happier
than to go back to the station with some evidence.” She
snorted. “Makes it look like they been working or
something.”

She laughed, and I laughed with her.

Doreen spoke up. “What color was the patch?” She
glanced at me. I was thinking the same thing.

Mrs. Bernie shrugged. “Blue.”

“With stripes?” Doreen asked.

The older woman frowned. “I-I don’t remember
seeing none. Maybe”

Nodding slowly, I glanced up and down the shelves
that stretched to the ceiling, each bulging with various
items. “Is anything missing?”

She grinned, revealing tobacco-stained teeth. “You
mean the skull?”

“Yeah. 99

“Nope. Still there. Still waiting until October fifteen”

I studied her a moment. “Mrs. Bernie, can I ask a
favor?”

Her forehead knit in a frown. She glanced at Doreen,
then replied, “Depends”

“You remember I told you the old wino who pawned
the skull was dead. Someone murdered him. I think the
killer was after that skull. If he’d found the ticket, he
would have already redeemed the skull. If someone comes in with the ticket, will you call me?” I handed
her a card.

She studied the card a moment. “What about the
cops?”

“They’ve already closed the case. They figure the old
wino set the fire and hit his head when he was trying to
run away.”

I could see her wheels turning in her head. “Who was
the old man to you?”

With a shrug, I replied, “Just someone I knew. He
never hurt anybody in the world except himself.”

Slowly, she nodded. “All right. I’ll give you a call”

“It’s the same guy,” Doreen exclaimed when we
climbed in the Silverado. “It has to be” Energized by
Mrs. Bernie’s reply, she added, “Do you think it was
that Bull Abdo?”

I shrugged and pulled onto the bridge over the river,
heading for Towers’ Jewelry. “Looks more and more
like it might be. But remember, she wasn’t sure about
the material.” The newest discovery had me keyed up
despite a lack of sleep. “And of course, there are a
thousand blue pinstriped suits out there”

She looked around at me. Arching an eyebrow.
“Maybe, but stop and think. Who is usually wearing
them? Now you might think I’m crazy, but I can think
of two types of men who wear them regularly, and one
of them is not the average guy on the street. My ex
wore suits all the time. He had a pinstripe, but he never wore it unless he was meeting with upper-level management and CEOs. That’s the first type. I knocked
around a few years doing clerical work, so I know. Your
bigwigs, the real big ones, wear pinstripes. It’s a power
thing, like solid red ties.”

For a few moments, I considered her observation.
“You said two. What other group wears them?”

Doreen hesitated.

“Well?”

“It sounds silly.”

“So? I promise I won’t laugh.”

She chuckled. “The guy who slammed you into the
wall and ran into the Red Rabbit wore a blue pinstripe
suit.”

“Okay. And?”

“So, Mister Detective, did you pay any attention to
the suits O’Banion’s boys wore?” Without giving me a
chance to reply, she continued, “The first one, the one I
thought was a parking lot boy-remember him? Well,
he wore pinstripes, blue if I remember right. And the
big guy, the vegetarian-”

“Huey.”

“Yeah. He wore a gray pinstripe.” She paused and
cleared her throat. “I don’t know why, or even if it’s
true, but it seems a certain element on the wrong side
of the law prefers pinstripes.”

I frowned at her suggestion. “In other words, you
think we’re looking for either goombahs or business
executives?”

She smiled. “I said you’d laugh”

“Not me” I shook my head. “I learned long ago
never to discount any idea regardless of how much it
pushes the envelope”

I’ve often heard it said that life is stranger than fiction.
I learned the hard way never to argue with that little
maxim. For all I knew, Bull Abdo could very well be
the one for whom we were searching.

Doreen whistled when we pulled into the parking lot
of Towers’ Jewelry. The block-long, two-story building
had a Spanish facade of white stucco walls with a redtiled roof. The portico was supported with graceful,
fifteen-foot arches, revealing the office windows on the
second floor.

“We should have brought my Jag,” she muttered,
eyeing the BMWs, Mercedes, and Lexus parked in the
lot. There was even a Rolls. She eyed the interior of my
pickup with a critical eye. She arched an eyebrow.
“They might not even let you park here”

I grinned back. “No? Let’s see them stop me,” I replied,
pulling into a vacant spot between a Jaguar and Lexus in
front of the main door. I shifted into park and looked at
her. “Tell me. What is it you don’t like about pickups?”

The smile fled her face and for a moment, her black
eyes blazed fire. Slowly, she relaxed and a faint smile
curled the frown from her lips. “My ex drove pickups.
As long as I can remember, he drove them. When I left
him, I swore I’d never ride in one of these-” She
paused, searching for the right word.

“Stinking?”

Her smile grew wider. “Yes. Stinking’s a good word.
I swore I’d never ride in one of these stinking things
again.” She paused, then added, “Present company excepted.”

I grinned at her.

At that moment, two tastefully attired women wearing heels, expensive dresses, and funny little hats
emerged from the front door and jerked to a surprised
halt, staring at the white hood of my Chevy pickup.

Reaching for the door handle, I ignored them, and
then my cell rang. I answered it. “Boudreaux”

“It’s me, Tony-Bob Ray. I got your stuff about
Abdo. I don’t know what you’re going to do with it, but
I got it.”