Reynaldo Dominguez was tall and thin, with razor-sharp features that spoke of indio blood. There were tattoos of serpents on his arms and knife scars on his face, and part of one index finger was missing. He sat at corner table in the Gato Gordo, surrounded by admirers. He leaned back indolently in his chair and laughed and joked and told stories. When Luis and I sat down nearby with our drinks, he glanced contemptuously at us; then he focused on Luis’ face and evidently saw something there that warned him off. There was not a lot that Luis Abrego hadn’t come up against in his life, and there was nothing and no one he feared. Renny D, I decided, was a good judge of character.
Luis leaned toward me taking my hand as a lover would and speaking softly. “He is telling them how he single-handedly destroyed the Anglo opposition. He is laughing about the look on Winslip’s face when he died, and at the way the other man ran. He is bragging about the cleverness of meeting in TJ, where he has bribed the authorities and will never be charged with a crime.” He paused, listened some more. “He is telling them how he will enjoy stalking and destroying the other man and Winslip’s woman-bit by bit, before he finally puts the knife in.”
I started to turn to look at Dominguez.
“Don’t.” Luis tightened his grip on my hand.
I looked anyway. My eyes met Renny D’s. His were black, flat, emotionless-devoid of humanity. He stared at me, thin lip curling.
Luis’ fingernails bit into my flesh. “Okay, you’ve had your look at him. Drink up, and we’ll go.”
I could feel those soulless eyes on my back. I tried to finish my drink, but hatred for the creature behind me welled up and threatened to make me choke. Troy Winslip had in many respects been a useless person, but he’d also been young and naïve and hadn’t deserved to die. Nor did Daniel Pope or Troy’s woman deserve to live, and perhaps die, in terror.
Luis said softly, “Now he is bragging again. He is telling them he is above the law. No one can touch him, he says. Renny D is invincible.”
“Maybe not.”
“Let’s go now, amiga.”
As we stood, I looked at Dominguez once more. This time, when our eyes met a shadow passed over his. What was that about? I wondered. Not suspicion. Not fear. What?
Of course-Renny D was puzzled. Puzzled because I didn’t shy away from his stare. Puzzled and somewhat uneasy.
Well, good.
I said to Luis, “We’ll see who’s invincible.”
I’d expected the Winslips to pose an obstacle to bringing Renny D to justice, but they proved to be made of very strong stuff. The important thing, they said, was not to cover up their son’s misdeeds but to ensure that a vicious murderer didn’t go free to repeat his crime. So, with their blessing, I took my evidence downtown to Gary Viner.
And Gary told me what I’d been fearing all along: “We don’t have a case.”
“Gary, there’s the tape. Dominguez as good as told Winslip he was going to stab him. There’s the record of where the call originated. There’s the eyewitness testimony of Daniel Pope-”
“There’s the fact that the actual crime occurred on Mexican soil. And that Dominguez has the police down there in his hip pocket. No case, McCone.”
“So what’re you going to do-sit back and wait till he kills Pope and Winslip’s woman, or somebody else?”
“We’ll keep an eye on Dominguez. That’s all I can promise you. Otherwise, my hands’re tied.”
“Maybe your hands are tied.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? What’re you going to do? Don’t give me any trouble, McCone-please.”
“Don’t worry. I’m going to go off and think about this, that’s all. When I do give you something, I guarantee it won’t be trouble.”
When I’m upset or need to concentrate, I often head for water, so I drove north to Torrey Pines State Beach and walked by the surf for an hour. Something was nagging at the back of my mind, but I couldn’t bring it forward. Something I’d read or heard somewhere. Something…
Knives at midnight, Winslip. Knives at midnight.
Renny D’s high-pitched, cackling voice in the answering machine tape kept playing and replaying for me.
After a while, I decided to do some research and drove to Adams Avenue to find a used bookshop with a large legal section.
Crimes against the person: homicide. Express and implied malice…burden of proving mitigation-no.
Second degree…penalty for person previously convicted-no.
Manslaughter committed during operation of a vessel-certainly not.
Death of victim within three years and a day-forget it.
What the hell was I combing the penal code for, anyway?
Mayhem? Hardly. Kidnapping? No. Troy went willingly, even eagerly. Conspiracy? Maybe. No, the situation’s too vague. Nothing there for me.
Knives at midnight, Winslip. Knives at midnight.
Can’t get it out of my head. Keep trying to connect it with something. Melodramatic words, as Troy told Pope. A little old-fashioned, as if Dominguez was challenging him to a-
That’s it!
Duels. Duels and challenges. Penal code, 225.
Defined. Combat with deadly weapons, fought between two or more persons, by previous agreement…
Punishment when death ensues: state prison for two, three, or four years.
Not much, but better than nothing.
I remember reading this now, one time when I was browsing through statutes that had been on the books for a long time. It’s as enforceable today as it was then in 1872. Especially sections 231; that’s got the part I really like.
Gotcha, Renny D.
“I’ll read it to you again.” I said to Gary Viner. He was leaning toward me across his desk, trying to absorb the impact of the dry, formal text from 1872.
“ ’Dueling beyond State. Every person who leaves this State with intent to evade any provisions of this chapter, and to commit any act out of the State as is prohibited by this chapter, and who does any act, although out of this State, which would be punishable by such provisions if committed within this State, is punishable in the same manner as he would have been in case such act had been committed within this State.’
“And there you have it.” I closed the heavy tomb with an emphatic thump.
Gary nodded. “And there we have it.”
I began ticking off items on my fingers.”A taped challenge to a duel at knifepoint. A probable voiceprint match with the suspect. A record of where the call was made. An eyewitness who, in order to save his own sorry hide, will swear that it actually was a duel. And, finally, a death that resulted from it. Renny D goes away for two, three, or four years in state prison.”
“It’s not much time. I’m not sure the DA’ll think it’s worth the trouble of prosecuting him.”
“I remember the DA from high school. He’ll be happy with anything that’ll get a slimeball off the streets for a while. Besides, maybe we’ll get lucky and somebody’ll challenge Renny D to a duel in prison.”
Gary nodded thoughtfully, “I remember our DA from high school, too. Successfully prosecuting a high-profile case like this would provide the kind of limelight’s he likes-and it’s an election year.”