Knight's Late Train (6 page)

Meanwhile, Back at the Marina

4:45 PM PST,
The Wizard’s Den, Smokey’s Marina, SoCal

From the dining deck, Smokey saw the three sedans pull into the parking lot, and fear shot through her. She slipped through the back door and into The Wizard’s Den, and then waited at the bar. The place was empty except for Oz.

Oz set her customary afternoon mug of Kona in front of her, as she watched the front door through the large mirror behind him.

“Good afternoon, pretty girl,” the big old Greek told her and leaned on the opposite side of the bar, a dishtowel draped over one shoulder. “Do your parents know you’re in an alcohol-serving establishment?”

Smokey glanced at him and had to smile, but she didn’t feel like it. Her eyes went back to the mirror. “Looks like the police are here. Tamara and Harper just pulled up in separate cars. And a third car pulled in after them. I don’t like it.”

Oz patted her hand. “Now don’t go getting your clouds full of rain. I’m sure E Z’s okay.”

“Yeah, I hope so. But he’s either been hurt or killed — or they’re after him for something.”

Oz set his jaw, and his gaze went to the doorway.

Smokey loved the
big man like a father. She’d known him for over fifteen years, since she and her now deceased husband bought the Marina. At that time, Osia had recently purchased the run-down sailboat pier and restaurant for the bar business only, and was hoping to find a partner who would fix up the marina and give it a go. He’d found not only a partner, but friends who’d welcomed him into their family.

“Want me to get the
cannon?” came a thin but steady voice from the end of the bar.

Smokey had forgotten about
See-Saw. Oz let the old blind man sleep in the storeroom, and he was seldom seen anyplace but on his usual stool at the far and purposely darkened end of the bar. E Z’s pup, Jazzy Brass, sat on the stool next to Cecil “See-Saw” Esau, and the old man was stroking her back, expressionless. The “cannon” he referred to was Oz’s huge handgun with a barrel longer than Smokey’s foot and a bore you could drop a marble into.

Oz told him, “Not yet. We don’t
wanta shoot cops until we know what they’re up to … then we’ll let ‘em have it.”

Smokey was sure they were mostly joking … mostly.

When the door opened, See-Saw shrank back into the dim light and Oz puffed out his chest. “Good afternoon!” he called out, cheerfully. “Can I help you ladies?”

The black man in a charcoal, silk suit leading Tamara and Harper did a stutter step, and what had been a frown was now a scowl. “Where’s Ethan Knight.”

Oz ignored him. “It’s great to see you Miss Tamara, Miss Harper.” He put a couple of glasses on the bar. “What will it be, Shirley Temples or a couple of my
End of the World Martinis
?”

Oz claimed he made the best martinis anywhere, and everyone seemed to agree.

But Lt. Harper Lee Legend had no smile in return. A step inside Oz’s bar usually made the hardnosed detective beam like a candle.

“We’re here on business, Oz,” she said, finally allowing a nearly imperceptible smile.

“I said, I’m here to see Ethan Knight,” the black man insisted.

“Miss Tamara,” Oz asked, “surely a little glass of Rum Chata? Look, it’s nearly 5:00
o’clock already.” He thumbed toward the wall clock behind him.

“Thanks,” Parole Officer Tamara White Cloud said, “But I
can’t.”

Smokey exchanged nods and smiles with the ladies, deciding to let Oz handle things — at least until they got out of hand. The good thing was
, if they were looking for E Z, it meant they weren’t carrying the news that he’d been hurt or killed.

“So what brings two of the three loveliest girls in town to
ol’ Oz’s bar?” he winked at Smokey.

Tamara asked, “Have you seen E Z?”

Oz kept his own bright grin. “That big handsome fella all you ladies are in love with? Sure, I’ve seen him.”

“Where is he?”
the man insisted.

Oz poured a couple of ice waters instead of drinks
, and pushed them toward the ladies.  “Well, pull up a couple of stools, and we’ll share stories about ol’ E Z. We can have a little girl talk. You know, if I was of the persuasion — and I’m not, you understand,” he said, striking a feminine pose, head tilted and wrist bent, “I think I’d be looking for him, too.”

“Look you,” the man blurted out, “You don’t ignore me!”

“I hear a fly,” Oz said and reached for the flyswatter. “No, I think it’s one of those gnats. You know, the kind that flies around a dog’s private parts?”

The man slammed his hands flat on the bar and leaned toward Oz. “Do you have any idea who I am? I am Edward Rankle, Assistant District Attorney Edward Rankle. You do not ignore me!”

Oz swatted him in the face hard. “Yep — got ‘im! A dog-dick gnat.”

The ADA reeled back. “You stupid old Greek!” He held his face with one hand and reached under his coat with the other.

“Ah, ah, ah-ah!” came the thin voice from the shadow at the end of the bar, accompanied by the sound of hard steel hammering the counter top.

It was
See-Saw, and Oz’s “cannon,” the big Taurus Raging Bull handgun, lay in front of him. But how could he have known the man was reaching under his coat? He was obviously completely blind. Smokey had seen the scarred eyes under his sun glasses.

Rankle held a small pistol in his hand, still halfway under his blazer. “Do you realize what you’re doing?”

“I realize,” Oz finally answered him, “A man comes into my bar and greets me with the respect I deserve; I’ll welcome him with that same respect. Come in here like you’re going to bust some balls — excuse me, ladies — you’ll leave with your own balls in your hands.”

Rankle put his handgun back into place.

“Lt. Legend, arrest that man!” he said pointing at See-Saw.

Harper answered, “You mean that old man with the sunglasses and white cane who can barely walk?
He’s totally blind. What do you want me to charge him with?”

“Well then, arrest this man,” he said and pointed at Oz. “For
assault!”

Harper asked, “Do you realize what the arrest and booking sheet’s going to look like?
You know how quickly things get out and twisted around:
‘ADA slapped with flyswatter, and orders female detective to arrest both the assailant and his blind sidekick.’
This is the type of story the media loves — it’ll get distorted in a minute and grow out of proportion. It’ll be Lampooned on YouTube and
Saturday Night Live
, and joked about on the
Tonight Show
and
Letterman
within a week.”

It was time to step in. “Everyone, please settle down,” Smokey said and stood from her seat. “Mr. Rankle, what is
it you want with E Z?”

“That is not your business. It’s between the Federal government and Mr. Knight. I
can
tell you that if he’s breaking his terms of parole, I’m sending him back to prison. So where is he?”

Oz said, “You’re about as single-minded as a boy beagle shining Hush Puppies.”

See-Saw slapped the bar and let go a baritone chortle that didn’t come close to matching his thin voice or slight stature. It took the ladies a couple of seconds for the pun to sink in. All three suppressed their laughter.

Rankle didn’t get it. He seemed dumbfounded.

See-Saw explained, “The Hush Puppies Oz is talkin’ about don’t need shined, and it ain’t your shoes a male dog’s trying to polish when he’s humpin’ your leg.”

Jazzy Brass had waddled over to Rankle
unnoticed and was squatting over his Mezlan wingtips, as if on cue. When the warm pee seemed to finally sink into his right shoe, he glanced down frowning at the golden retriever pup, his eyes wide.

Smokey reached down and swept up Jazzy, seeing she was about to get kicked. “Don’t you dare!”

“If E Z were here, he’d kick your ass!” Oz blurted. Then he held his mouth.

Smokey took the dish towel from Oz and threw it onto Rankle’s shoe.

The ADA took the rag, propped his foot on the top rung of the nearest barstool, and wiped it dry. “So
you do know
where Knight is. And he isn’t here? Where then?”

Oz shook his head. “I didn’t say that.”

Rankle insisted, “
Where is he?
”

Lt
. Harper Lee Legend said, “Oz, Smokey, you’d better tell him. He can make it very difficult for you
and
the marina.”

Rankle added, “One call to the DA, and you’ll be on his short list. That’s the one listing businesses he’s going to
nit-pick until he shuts them down.”

Oz raised his eyebrows. “Oh, yeah, District Attorney George Rice?” He smiled. “I ain’t seen him since our poker game Saturday — playing for points only, of course.”

Rankle was about to blow an artery. “Where’s Knight!”

Oz answered, “Maybe
out at his boat. Maybe out for a drive. Maybe out for a walk. I don’t know.”

“How about
out
of the state?” Rankle asked. “How about
out
in Colorado? How about
out
of the law, and soon to be back with
in
the law and
in
prison?”

He turned to Smokey. “Which is his boat?”

Oz piped in, “Atlantis Pier, Slip 12.”

Tamara said, “Slip 21.” She looked back sorrowfully at Oz. “It’s no use. He’ll figure out which boat is his sooner or later.”

Oz glared at Rankle. “Yeah, but we don’t have to help the prick. I’ll have him running in big circles around his own asshole until midnight before I tell him anything useful.” He bowed his head. “Excuse me, ladies.”

Rankle smirked, “You already told
me he wasn’t here.”

“The bar,
dick gnat
,” See-Saw chimed in, “He’s not here
at the bar
!”

Oz said, “And I think you’d better leave.”

Smokey moved between the two, figuring the three-foot-wide bar wasn’t enough of a barricade. She passed Jazzy Brass to Oz, hoping that holding the puppy would disarm him a bit.

“I’ll take care of you, later,” Rankle said and turned toward the door.

Oz shouted at him, “Sorry, this ain’t that type of place. You’d better not come in here again — I’m putting up
fly
strips!”

Smokey followed them out the door and toward the Atlantis Pier, Tamara leading.

Tamara and Harper were doing their best to talk Rankle into a calmer state. Smokey decided her involvement would do more harm than good.

Rankle told them, “I got the call an hour ago, just before I had Margaret call you two. Said Knight was in Colorado, going to see his children — the ones with the restraining order against him.” He glared at Tamara, “And I’m betting he doesn’t have your written permission to leave the state, let alone to leave Orange County.”

Tamara didn’t answer.

“Well, does he?” Rankle asked. “And tell the truth the first time. I
will
ask for your copy of the permission form.”

Tamara answered, “He’s not due for his monthly check in for two weeks.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Again, Tamara didn’t answer, which seemed to be enough for Rankle. “I didn’t think so.”

Smokey couldn’t help herself. “Why is it you’re so bent on getting E Z, Mr. Rankle?”

“None of your business, I told you — except that I don’t like lawbreakers, especially murderers.”

That set Smokey afire. “He was acquitted!”

Lt
. Harper Legend dropped back and took Smokey by the arm to slow her down.

In a low voice she told Smokey, “Rankle was one of the ADAs in Kansas who put E Z away for
Jolene Knight’s murder. E Z always insisted he hadn’t killed his wife and claimed Rankle was on the take. The public was appalled by the heinous murders of Jolene Knight and her parents. After his conviction, they wanted E Z to get the death penalty — and that’s exactly the sentence he got.”

Smokey listened, shaking her head. “But he was acquitted.”

“Yes, but there’s more to it. While E Z was on death row three years later, Rankle was running for DA. That was when E Z broke out and killed two crooked FBI agents in order to prove his innocence. When he pointed the finger at Rankle again for being on the take, public sentiment seemed to shift in E Z’s favor. Rankle lost the election in what was expected to be a shoe-in. But E Z couldn’t prove his allegations and Rankle moved out here last month and got a job in our DA’s office. It seems he’s following E Z to get even, but we can’t prove that either. Speculation is that someone is behind Rankle and pulling his strings.”

Tamara and Rankle stopped at Slip 12, and Smokey and Harper caught up.