“Regina.”
“I apologize if I startled you, Regina.”
“You can make it up to me. Got any coffee?”
Chapter 35
The house was a silvered A-frame, sturdy and plain, emphasizing security and self-sufficiency over aesthetics.
Bars encaged the windows. Solar panels tiled the roof. Bock’s rustbucket Chevy sat by the chained driveway gates. Motion sensors with alarms and lights protected the vegetable beds and hoop houses where he grew his food, serving to deter animals as well as human intruders. The toolshed, outhouse, root cellar, and smokehouse were padlocked. State law limited him to two deer and one elk per season; throw in fish, small game, and the occasional field trip for wild boar, and he had more than enough to see him and the puppy through.
The surrounding forest contained additional sensors and trip wires, plus an electric fence.
“No land mines?” Regina said.
“Too expensive.”
The front door was sealed — another diversionary tactic. King Kong, a ninety-pound brindle pitbull-mastiff mix, had quieted down, although he stuck to his master’s legs, casting sullen glances in our direction as we went around to the rear. An outdoor shower stall faced the trees. Nearby Bock had cleared room for what he called “my social life”: a sixteen-foot ham radio mast. The mountains prevented him from reaching points inland. Mostly he talked to ships and other hams along the coast.
He opened the back door — it was triple-locked — and stood aside.
“Welcome to my humble abomination.”
The interior was rustic but cozy, consisting of an open main floor and a sleeping loft, furnished with basic, handmade pieces in unfinished cedar and pine. A dedicated cabinet housed his radio gear. Regina and I sat at the small eating table while Bock scooped coffee into a moka pot and set it going on the woodstove. King Kong stood alertly by his side.
No TV; no light fixtures. He woke with the sun and went to bed at dark. Every few months he drove to Millburg to stock up on essentials and check out the maximum of twenty library books.
Listening to him, I found myself wavering between envy for the simplicity of his life and pity for its isolation. A stale musk permeated throughout — one man’s sweat soaked into every surface. While he was dressed neatly and well groomed, I could smell him, too, when he put out the mugs and sat across from us.
I asked how long it would take to repair the phone line.
“Twelve to fourteen weeks.”
“You didn’t want to do it yourself?”
“I offered to. They told me if I touch it they’ll cancel my service. You know, I didn’t have any trouble for years till you came around.”
“Shoulda shot him when you had the chance,” Regina said.
Bock smiled. “To what do I owe the honor?”
I showed him Nick’s flyer. “Recognize him?”
Bock shook his head.
“We think he was in Swann’s Flat last summer. He hasn’t been heard from since.”
“You never noticed him around town?” Regina asked.
“No, ma’am. I don’t get out much, though.”
I said, “He may have connected with Shasta Swann.”
Regina said, “What can you tell us about her?”
“Shasta?” Bock said. “I see her time to time, riding her bike or walking her dog. Seems like a nice enough kid. I remember when she was born, ’cause it was a big deal. First baby on the peninsula in fifteen years.”
“Who came before her?”
“DJ Pelman.” He scratched King Kong’s neck. “Truth be told, I don’t know how happy she is.”
“What makes you say that?” I asked.
“This is no place for a girl her age. It’s one thing, you’re a grown man, you make a decision. But ask me, it doesn’t seem fair to do to her. Can’t fault her wanting to get out.”
“Did she express that to you?”
“Not in so many words.”
Regina said, “But?”
“Well... This is years ago. I was down by the marina, getting ready to take my boat out. She comes riding over, starts asking me questions about joining up.”
“As in the military?” I asked.
“Yes, sir. She wanted to know how old you had to be, where I’d gotten to live. I told her Japan and Korea, but mostly I spent my career in the same damn spot. I said, ‘You want to see the world, there’s better ways.’ ”
“How old was she when you had this conversation?” Regina said.
“Eight? Ten? I’m not the right person to ask about kids’ ages.”
“And she was already plotting her escape.”
Bock nodded.
“She’s still here,” I said.
“Well, look,” he said. “It’s like that song. ‘You can check out when you want, but you can’t leave.’ I think I got that wrong.”
“Close enough,” Regina said.
I showed him a copy of Octavio Prado’s jacket photo. “What about this person?”
“Oh yeah. The writer guy.”
The response was so swift that I was momentarily thrown. Regina’s hand flew to her mouth.
I said, “You recognize him.”
“Yes, sir. He helped build my house.”
The help wasn’t very helpful, Bock clarified. And it wasn’t a house, either, not at that point; he only had the foundation and portions of the framing done.
“I used to fish more than I do now, so I was out on my boat two, three times a week. Usually I’d stop off at the hotel for a beer. He was at the bar.”
“You’re sure it’s the same person,” Regina said.
“Yes, ma’am, sure as the Pope eats macaroni. Only he wasn’t calling himself — what’s it?”
“Octavio Prado.”
“He told me his name was Felix,” Bock said.
“Last name?” Regina said.
“De Jesús,” I said.
They both looked at me.
“How do you know that?” Bock said.
“It comes from his first book,” I said. “It’s the name of the protagonist. Félix de Jesús.”
“He actually published a book?” Bock said.
“One.”
“Huh. I thought he was fibbing.”
“Did he say what he was doing in Swann’s Flat?” Regina asked.
“No, ma’am. We chatted a little and then I was on my way. I saw him a few more times, sitting on the beach or whatnot. I didn’t talk to him. I was busy.
“One morning I’m up on the ladder working, and I hear Godzilla barking. I hadn’t built the fence yet. I had him on a hundred-foot chain. I look out, and there’s a guy standing in the street. It’s the guy from the bar. He wants to know if he can move his car onto my land.”
“What’d he need that for?” I asked.
“He had to vacate the place he was renting. Then he was sleeping in the car for a few days but they said he couldn’t park on the street anymore or they’d tow it.”
“Who did?”
“Bergstrom. Or maybe Pelman. It’s his tow truck. He does whatever Emil wants.”
“Why did Prado come to you?” Regina said.
Bock shook his head. “I guess he tried everywhere else first. I told him, ‘I was you, I’d take the hint and vamoose.’ He wouldn’t listen. He says he can’t pay me, but he’ll work for me if I feed him and let him crash. He didn’t mind sleeping in the car, long as he could get it off the street. Another set of hands didn’t sound too bad. ‘Okay, let’s give it a whirl.’ ”
“How’d that go?” I asked.
“ ’Bout as good as you’d think. I didn’t know jack shit about construction, and I still knew twice as much as him. I was spending all my time making sure he didn’t saw his fingers off. After a couple of weeks I told him no hard feelings, and he split.”
“How well did you get to know him?” Regina asked.