Clyde nodded. "Like maybe drug refuse?"
"Maybe." Dallas smiled. "If I can lay my hands on Gramps Farger, he'll be out of circulation for a while, you can bet."
"You going up there alone?"
"Davis is meeting me. If we can corner Gramps, we'll go on down to the Pamillon place, have a look. Whoever the caller was, I hope she's right on this one."
Joe glanced at Clyde's scowl and looked away. The kit would be pleased, would be all puffed up with triumph.
But until Gramps Farger was in fact behind bars, how safe was she?
He waited until Dallas left in the old surveillance car, then he took off before Clyde thought to stop him. Clyde would think he was headed for the hills to get in the middle of the potentially dangerous arrest of Gramps Farger. When, in fact, he was only going to have a talk with Dallas's young, female informant.
19
Rocky Face Inn outside San Andreas featured private patios with a wide view of the pine-covered Sierra Nevada Mountains, and the best pancakes and home-smoked ham in Calavaras County. Even the coffee tasted wonderful to Charlie, though maybe that was owed in part to the fresh mountain air and the scent of pines, and the fact that they had been driving since 6:00 in the morning, heading inland from Sonoma. Charlie was an early riser but she'd never match Max. If he wasn't up well before sunrise he felt that the day was half gone. Having checked in at 8:00 in the morning and enjoyed a leisurely breakfast, she didn't welcome the sight of Max picking up his jacket and reaching for his truck keys.
"You could stay here," he said. "Lie by the pool."
"Only if you stay with me."
Max picked up her chair with her in it, and tilted her out. "Get your coat, we're burnin' daylight," he said in his best John Wayne imitation.
She made a face at him. "Don't need a coat. It's going to be ninety."
Slapping her on the rump, he nudged her out the door. "I want to get over to the Jakeses' house before Ryan's uncle leaves for the coast, spend the rest of the morning talking to the local shopkeepers, see if they've had any unusually large chemical sales. We'll grab a bite of lunch somewhere then have a look for Hurlie Farger. Probably a wild-goose chase, but who knows. And maybe we can get a line on this Larn Williams."
He had, in San Francisco, made contact with Sergeant Wills and Detective Sergeant Parker, and had given them the names that Dallas wanted checked out. Within a few hours of Max's meeting with them, Parker had called to say that two of the women were out of me country, Barbara Saunders and Martie Holland, or appeared to be, at this juncture. June Holbrook was working down in Millbrae and had, several months ago, left her husband. Tom Wills would go down there this morning to see what he could find.
Max ruffled her hair and opened the truck door for her. Settling in the cab, he unfolded the local map, took a quick look then pulled out to the highway.
With the information the two officers supplied, Dallas would work what he could from Molena Point, doubling back to Parker and Wills with questions they could best handle. Charlie had never before been so fully aware of the cooperation among law-enforcement officers. Of the women that the two officers were unofficially investigating, had the jealous husband or lover of one of them killed Rupert and set up Ryan, as a handy alibi?
Driving north from the inn, they turned onto a newly laid granite-block driveway before a peak-roofed, rustic house that had, on the north side, a pale new addition, its fresh cedar siding and shingles reflecting the morning sun. At the side of the garden a man rose from his knees, a big, wide shouldered, redheaded man, his jeans splattered with mud and his hands wet where he had been working on a sprinkler pipe.
He stepped up to the car, wiping his hands on a clean handkerchief. "Scott Flannery. You two are up early." He winked at Charlie. "Nice to meet you both. Come on in." His neatly trimmed hair was, if possible, a brighter red even than Charlie's own. His voice was deep and soft as it had been last night on the phone when he returned Max's call-a comforting sort of man, Charlie thought. A reassuring kind of man to have helped raise Ryan and her sisters after their mother died.
"Those kids showed up this morning," Scotty said, ushering them into the house. "There's something about cooking pancakes and bacon with the windows open that draws wandering kids same as it draws bears. Come in, come in, I just made a fresh pot of coffee. The Jakeses moved the house trailer yesterday, to the far side of the pasture."
Seated at the breakfast table in the large, high-raftered family kitchen, Charlie breathed in the scent of new cedar lumber, and, through the wide, open windows, admired the dark mountains that rose in the distance above the golden hills.
"Kids' names are Andy and Mario," Scotty said. "I stuffed them with pancakes, and we talked about the dog. I said I missed seeing him, said maybe the dog was with their friend Curtis, that I hadn't seen him, either. They weren't quick to answer. Maybe they don't have a clue that anything's wrong, and maybe they do. They said sometimes Curtis doesn't show up for a while, that sometimes he goes off with his uncle, cutting timber."
"Did they mention Hurlie by name? What did you learn about him?"
"One of them slipped and mentioned his name, then tried to cover up. They referred to him as Curtis's uncle. Said he works odd jobs around the area, some up in the larger estates. The way this land lies, the wealthy areas are shoulder to shoulder with the rundown little farms, depending on the drainage and on the view.
"The kids claimed they didn't know where Curtis lived, that they just saw him at school, or 'around' as they put it." Scotty made a wry face, not buying that. "The boys could live in a little shacky area just east of here, Little Fish Creek. I'd look for Hurlie there too. You talk with the sheriff?"
Harper nodded. "He mentioned Little Fish Creek as a transient area, and several other places. Said Hurlie works odd jobs, including some of the larger estates. After some prodding, he suggested the Carter place, the Ambersons and the Landeaus."
"He left you wondering," Scotty said.
Max nodded. "A bit reluctant. Particularly regarding the Landeaus. As if he gave me those names to cover himself, in case I got information from other sources. You see a problem, there?"
"Possibly. I've heard hints, from our lumber people, but nothing specific. A sense of things unsaid, an unease." He laughed. "If I were a local, they'd talk more. You asked about Larn Williams. He and Ryan had dinner to discuss a possible remodel. I don't think she considered it a date. He had come around to look at her work, seemed to like it. Small-time realtor. Works on his own, I gather. She wasn't real taken with him."
"Have you heard anything …off, about him?"
"Nothing. I see Williams sometimes in town when I go for lumber. I've seen him a couple of times talking with Marianna Landeau. Once on the street, once in the door of his office. They seemed-easy with one another. And the Landeaus are into real estate, or at least her husband is. Apparently a big-time operator."
Charlie watched Scotty with interest. Everything he said was soft-spoken, but he wasn't shy, he seemed bursting with male energy. She liked this "second father" of Ryan's, already she felt comfortable with him. She could imagine growing up under the humorous eyes of a man like this, so different from her own reserved and austere father whom she had known only until she was nine. As Scotty refilled their coffee cups, she rose. "Could I take a quick look at the new wing?"
Scotty waved his arm toward the large living room that she could glimpse beyond the kitchen, and she moved on through, into a space that took her breath away.