Chapter 10
My eyes opened to steel bars and green walls swimming under hazy fluorescent lights. I was face down on a concrete floor with a sour taste in my mouth. Bells were ringing somewhere. Most were off key, which I attributed to the funeral Delaney had given me. Things could have been worse. I could be sharing my cold slumber with Leon.
"On your feet, Bishop," a deep voice boomed. "I've got charges for you."
I rolled over onto my back and blinked as I waited for God to list my discredits. I tried to recall a few moral points from my jaded past—none came to mind. My entire life had been squandered on self-indulgence. On the plus side, I had a wonderful collection of memories, mostly involving the fairer sex, a few attributed to wagers that had paid off in my favor, and one involving a pepperoni pizza.
A hand touched my shoulder. Since the big-guy was about to toss me into hell anyway, I figured I had nothing to lose by giving him a couple of love taps. I swung, but my maker was either smarter than I had expected, or damn lucky. I hit something on the first throw, but my punch was lacking its usual panache. The second swing just made a breeze through empty air.
A moment later, a voiced roared, "Stand up, you son-of-a-bitch."
I countered there was no need to get personal just because I had. A moment later, Bascomb loomed above me like a raging monolith in a sweaty suit holding a handkerchief to his bleeding nose.
"Did Delaney kill you, too, Bascomb?" I asked.
"You hit me again, you sorry bastard, and you'll never see daylight. Do you read me, Bishop?"
I sat up and glanced around blearily. "Where are the damn gypsies?"
"What in god's name are you babbling about?"
I got to my knees and waited a moment until my eyes focused. Then I let them drift. The jail cell I was in had few accommodations. There was a bed bolted to one of the walls. Next to it was a stainless steel toilet. The latter was girdled on the other side by a small metal sink. My stomach had stopped rolling so I crawled over to the bed.
Its mattress smelled of urine and six legged creatures that crept carefully along in the dark. I patted myself on the back for deciding to sleep off my headache on the floor. No sense in compounding my situation with a vermin infestation. I dug my fingers into the tacking and clawed my way upright. It took several tries but finally my wobbly legs allowed for a passable turn. This permitted me to face Bascomb with only a modicum of swaying. He had a newly filled manila folder in one hand and was daubing a bloody handkerchief against his nose with the other. I tried not to grin.
"What brings you to my hell, Bascomb?" I quipped.
He tilted his head back and pressed the handkerchief against his nostrils. "I arrived at Eli Huggins' just as Delaney was dragging you out to his car." He spoke with a distinctly nasal tenor. "You'll do fifteen years for attacking him. Not, to mention the assault on me, as well as trespass and illegal entry charges!"
"Cruising for a snort? Or did you have legitimate business at Eli's?"
His chin dipped until we were eye-to-eye, then he shook the folder at me. "What I do and when I do it is none of your goddamn business. Jesus. I think you broke my goddamn nose."
"Instead of charging me, I should get points for exercising Delaney and beatifying your mask."
His big red face hardened. "The way you exercised that dead Mexican?"
I staggered over to the sink and washed my face. "Could be it was self-defense, Bascomb," I gurgled into the running water. "The two rounds that went through his carcass ought to give you some clue the situation was less than friendly. And considering his criminal past, his family connections, and me not being the shooter I'd say you owe me a thank you."
He waved one hand violently. "You broke the bastard's goddamn neck."
"It doesn't have to be a big thank you."
"Jesus, it won't stop bleeding."
"You've got a lot of bigger things to worry about than that, Bascomb."
"Meaning, what?"
I wiped my face on my shirtsleeves and turned to face him. "Dominic Portello's due in town: he may already be here. Your pal Delaney's running a fast game on him. And when it all goes wrong, the bloodshed at the Alamo will be small-time compared to what happens in McAllen. Did Delaney tell you about Eli's little cocaine operation?"
"I don't believe this shit."
Like hell, he didn't. I could see him adding up what I had said with what he knew as fact and coming up with the wrong number each time.
"Well? Did he?"
"No. Because there was no cocaine operation. Hell, I've known Eli Huggins my entire life."
"He made his millions supplying the Portellos."
"For your information, he was a retired real-estate investor."
"And, I'm little orphan Annie. Right now, your pal has several hundred pounds of the stuff in his private stash. He took it right after Eli was hit. And if you don't want to believe me, take a look in the lab."
"What goddamn lab?" he demanded into the bloody handkerchief.
"The one in Eli's basement. And while you're down there, ask yourself if you've got enough life insurance."
Bascomb lowered the handkerchief from his swollen nose. "Are you threatening me? Because I'd love to add that to the charges."
"Get your head out of your ass, Bascomb. Did Delaney mention the lab in the basement? Did he mention anything in the basement besides the Rolls? Did he send forensic down there to take samples of the dust coating the floor? Did forensic make that long walk to Eli's bedroom and scrape the lipstick from the pillowcases, or bag the hair left there? If they did, I'm your mommy. Oh, one more thing. Why wasn't Moira questioned? She had plenty of motive for killing Eli and she has a history murder by gunplay."
"Says who?"
"Says Lydia Thornton. Moira used to work for her. It's easily verifiable."
Bascomb's shoulders dipped in resignation as he went over to the sink and rinsed out his handkerchief. "I'm fostering a growing hatred for you, Bishop."
"Can't take hearing the truth? Delaney had Moira kill Eli to take over his drug operation. Delaney was set to kill me last night. That's what my fight with him was about. I got cocky and careless after dropping him. And, somebody who'd come out there with him blindsided me. I'd be worm food now, but you showed up. Don't get me wrong, Bascomb. I'm grateful as hell. But, you'd better open your eyes before you end up in the spot I just left."
Bascomb wiped the blood smear from his nose, then he began to pace. Most of his footsteps were treading on my ringing bells but I didn't mind. He was now a nervous man.
"Were I you, I'd check the hotels in the area. Ask if they've got reservations for Portello. Then I'd check Delaney's bank accounts!"
Finally, he stopped and shouted, "God damn it, Bishop. There isn't a better cop than Delaney, anywhere. I'd stake my life on that."
"Maybe, once. Maybe Eli Huggins made some of his money in real estate. But that's history, Bascomb. Right now you've got a cop playing fast and loose with people who don't have a sense of humor. That puts everybody's life on the line, including yours."
Bascomb turned away, one hand clawing at the back of his thick red neck, both legs moving away from me. "You've got it all worked out, don't you? Nothing you've said can't be verified. And as much as I'd like to see you do twenty years on a chain gang, I don't think you're stupid enough to lie under these circumstances. Jesus. And I was in such a good mood coming down here."
I waited until he got to the cell bars and spoke to his back, "You'll need my help, Bascomb."
He whirled and started for me. "You will keep your sorry ass out it."
I tried to set myself. However, I must have looked like a marionette trying to work its own strings. Bascomb stopped in mid-stride halfway across the cell and simply stared.
"You can't handle the Portellos alone," I said. "And, until this is over you can't trust anybody. Not your priest. Not your Mommy. Nobody. Nobody but me, Bascomb."
He
tossed the manila folder onto the cell's bed. "I wouldn't trust you to do my goddamn laundry, Bishop."
"Then, you'd better make funeral arrangements for both of us."
He walked over to the bars and grabbed them like an ape hoping to get fed. "Delaney's no fool, Bishop. If he's holding like you claim, he'll have a scapegoat to hand the Portellos."
"You blew that for him when you showed up at Eli's last night. Dominic Portello might've bought it. But Salvator wouldn't have. He and I go back too many years for him to be suckered into thinking I boosted his goods. Right now Delaney needs to find someone else, and quick. Somebody with brains and connections. Somebody like you, Bascomb."
His mouth gaped in shock. "How in hell could all this have happened? If Huggins was crooked as you claim, how could Delaney have gotten situated with him?"
"Extortion is the usual procedure. But Delaney bought his way in."
"With what, for Christ's sake? You know what a cop makes."
"He conned somebody who had ready cash."
"Who?"
"Davey Thornton."
His face fell as realization and probability fell into alignment. "Thornton. I remember him."
"You want my help or not, Bascomb?"
Bascomb dragged on pink paw across his mouth, wiping the nervous sweat forming on his upper lip. "One man dies and the whole goddamn town goes to hell in a hand cart. Which leaves me sweeping up the dirt left behind with you."
"It could be worse. You could be facing this alone."
"Guard," Bascomb yelled, as he whirled back to the bars. "Guard, get me the hell out of here."