“Why does he want to risk hunting without a bear tag?”
“He thinks he’s above the law.”
Every intuition said it wasn’t that simple, not with a guy who had so much to lose. Marquez knew Bell was waiting for him to show more enthusiasm, mildly frustrated that he hadn’t. But he didn’t feel any enthusiasm and wondered if it wouldn’t be better to take this Sweeney aside and tell him he just got lucky; they were too busy to set up, bust him, and take down his political career. See you next time. He could also visualize the shit storm after they busted this guy, and, Bell must see it as well. But Bell pressed the point now, his voice uncharacteristically emotional.
“She’s doing this because she cares and it offends her that he’d take a bear without a permit. And, yes, because I know you’re wondering, she’s got other issues with him, but I told her those wouldn’t go any farther than me. He’s going bear hunting and the question is whether we’ll be ready in time.” Bell tapped his desk again and said, “I’ve never asked you how you vote, but I have to ask here if it affects your approach to this.”
“What political party I vote?”
“Yes.”
“I vote for the candidate I like, not the party. If you’re asking about my hesitation, I’m just wondering if we can take this on right now and whether we know enough.”
“This will go national, Lieutenant. If you want to throw a bigger shadow with your team, this is the biggest chance you’ve ever had. If he takes a bear and we take him down, that makes a dramatic statement about poaching and about our prosecution of the game laws, about the priority we put on saving wildlife. I’m amazed I have to convince you. This is the most significant opportunity to come across my desk in a long time, if ever.”
“Taking down a state senator.”
“Showing no one is above the game laws. It’s about integrity in times that want integrity.”
“What’s the name of the guide Sweeney is meeting at the hotel?” Marquez asked.
“She doesn’t know. She only booked the travel.”
“I think you ought to go see him, chief, and tell him not to go bear hunting. Tell him we’ve been looking closely at the different guide services operating out of that part of the Sierras, and we have a problem with a few of them that he could get caught up in. We’re spread thin, and I’d rather keep our focus on what brought us into the area in the first place.”
“We’re going forward with it, Lieutenant. Figure out what help you need and call me by 5:00 this afternoon.”
“Then I’d like to ask Chief Keeler if he’s willing to help. We can use him under the retired annuitants program.”
“Why would he want to do that?” Bell looked past Marquez, speaking to the wall or the problems he saw with letting Keeler get involved. “There are other wardens we can bring in.”
“We’ll need them too.”
“What would ex-chief Keeler do?”
“Camp at Ice House Lake and scout for us. It’s as simple as driving a road and then being there when we need him to check somebody out. When they see a white-haired older man they don’t get suspicious.”
“Let me think about that one.” But Bell looked like he already had. “Call me at 5:00.”
24
Marquez never made the 5:00 call to Bell. Cairo slow-cooked pumpkin soup in a Crock-Pot he said was perfect for long surveillances, and Marquez ate an early dinner at the safehouse with the team. They toasted the bait-pile find with a Zinfandel that Roberts had brought from home. She had the wine interest and every now and then would bring something to the table. Good as the wine was, Marquez drank next to nothing. After dinner he passed out copies of Sweeney’s itinerary, briefed them on the meeting with Bell. The team had the same questions he’d had about the reliability of the information and how they would manage everything if they heard from their seller while they were trying to track Sweeney.
“Tonight’s the only night we’ll refer to Sweeney by name,” Marquez said. “So we’ll need a name. And nothing political. We’re going as far away from politics as we can get.”
“Call him ‘Unlucky,’” Cairo said.
That got a couple of laughs, and there was still an air of disbelief in the room. They all needed to absorb the idea, then see some proof Sweeney intended to follow this itinerary. Still, it wasn’t the first time they’d been short-noticed with a tip that had proved out, so if the poacher turned out to be a state senator they’d make the adjustment, and Marquez could feel the change already starting.
He listened to the joking names they came up with as monikers, names that didn’t show any respect for the intensity of scrutiny that could come their way. The moniker needed to be benign, unprejudiced, and dispassionate.
Marquez’s cell rang and it was Bell. Bell didn’t say anything about his failing to call at 5:00 and after Marquez walked outside and took a seat on one of the cold lawn chairs, they talked over his concern that busting Sweeney would tip their bear farmer an undercover team was in the area. They talked about ex-chief Keeler, and Bell okayed using him, if Keeler was amenable.
When Marquez hung up and walked back inside he saw that another bottle of wine had been opened. It was good to see the team relax. He went to a back bedroom, slept a couple of hours, then drank a cup of black tea and got ready to leave at 10:30.
While he’d been asleep Nyland had called Alvarez and postponed having a drink until tomorrow. Alvarez was in Placerville and watching the GPS readout from Nyland’s truck.
“Looks like he’s heading home,” Alvarez said.
“What about Sophie?”
“At work. She’s behind the bar.”
“I’m going by to talk to her.”
“I’ll keep track of Nyland. Call me on the other side.”
When Marquez got to the Creekview he found it fairly empty. No music tonight. A few people drinking, young guys mostly.
There were two bartenders, and he took a seat on Sophie’s side of the horseshoe. He was sure she recognized him, though she didn’t say anything when he ordered a beer. She slid a paper napkin in front of him, put the glass down on it. He watched her draw another beer off tap, her face softer, more feminine in this light.
“You’re Billy’s friend,” she said, coming over now. “You broke up the fight that night.”
“Yeah, how’s he doing?”
“I don’t know.”
“No one I talk to knows anything tonight.”
“You broke up the fight. Then Billy and I broke up.”
“That’s too bad.”
“It was the morning you called.”
She had her hair pinned up tonight, a diamond stud in her right earlobe. She leaned toward him, her face level with his.
“Since you’re his friend, I’ll tell you that Billy and I were definitely not meant for each other. More than just age difference because I happen to like older men.”
“Did he move out?”
“In about twenty minutes.”
“Know where he went?”
“He said he might camp at a lake for a couple of weeks, someplace he goes to fish.”
“Late in the season for fishing.”
“I can’t think of anything more boring to do anyway.”
“You don’t fish.”
“I eat them but I don’t chase them around.”
He watched her eyes drift toward another customer. She didn’t want to hear anything more about Petroni. She didn’t want to talk about him.
He watched her take drink orders from two young men, asking for an ID from one of them, then looking at his face not his ID. She gave them their drinks and flirted with them after bringing their change. Now she came back and leaned over the bar again close enough to where he could see gold flecks in her brown irises.
“How’s your beer?” she asked.
“It’s good.”
“Cold enough.”
“Plenty cold.”
“Always filling.”
“Always.”
“That’s what I like.”
There was the beer commercial, tastes great, always filling, or something like that, but that wasn’t what she was talking about. Sophie wore a tight black sweater and when she leaned on the bar the sweater pulled up and the curve of her upper hip showed. He could feel sexuality radiate off her. He took a drink of beer, leaned back, and gave her a little space.