Chapter 21

“Are you going to ask Marko to help with the investigation?” Hank Deming asked. “If you’re going to be a detective for Max Maxwell, why not be a real cop again?”

Early Tuesday morning Lyle was preparing to drive to Phoenix to see Samantha and talk to her doctor. Then he was going to stop in at the Phoenix PD to see his friend and former partner.

“I’m just going to ask Marko to do a little favor for me. I’m not looking to get my job back. You know that.”

“Lyle, I don’t mean to belabor this. I just hate to see you turn your back on everything you accomplished.”

Lyle ignored the comment. “I’m mainly going to see Sam and find out what her doctor says about her progress on recovery. I know she’s been really pushing herself in physical therapy. I’m concerned about her condition.”

“How long you going to be gone?” asked his father. “I have a condition too, you know.”

***

Lyle waited in the lounge of Samantha’s housing complex at the university. When she came out of the elevator, all thoughts of Nostalgia City and the accidents evaporated. She walked slowly, carefully until she saw Lyle, then she rushed up to him.

He could see she was still moving cautiously with a little less of the unbridled confidence that characterized her, but she was still his Samantha.

After an encouraging visit with Samantha and her doctor--his daughter’s rapid progress diminished his fears--he drove to the Phoenix PD headquarters. The station looked the same. No surprise. Lyle had been gone just over a year. He’d arranged to meet his friend Nick Markopoulos in a meeting room away from the investigations bureau where the two used to work together. As Lyle walked down the corridor and heard his footsteps echo, he thought about his ex-wife. Their divorce had become final when Lyle’s ongoing battle with Lieutenant Collins escalated into the charges and counter charges that led to Sergeant Lyle Deming’s reassignment to shuffling papers.

The smell of the place was the same: a combination of floor cleaner, desert dust, a touch of sweat, and other elements all stirred and distributed by the air conditioning system that ran twenty-four hours a day, year-round. It reminded him of after-work poker games, drinking at cop-friendly bars, and the camaraderie. He missed those things. But as he passed a bulletin board and glanced at a departmental memo, he remembered things he didn’t miss: the politics, the occasional racist cop, and, most of all, crime victims’ pain. Burdened with a caseload that never diminished, Lyle had been unable to keep in touch with the victims he’d desperately wanted to help.

“Shit,” he muttered to himself. He didn’t even like being in the building.

When he spotted Marko standing in a doorway down the hall, he picked up his pace. Suddenly, a door opened and someone stepped in front of him. Lyle had to leap aside to avoid a collision.

“Hey! Oh, it’s you. What are you doing here?” said the man Lyle knew well.

He was number two on the short list of people Lyle hoped never to see again. The dark, beefy man was as surprised to see Lyle as Lyle was to see him. Did his blurted question carry a note of alarm? Or simply animosity?

“Visiting,” Lyle said. He continued down the hall. He could feel the man’s eyes on his back.

“Marko,” Lyle said, slapping his former partner on the shoulder. “Imagine my running into that jerk, Bensen, after I’ve been here two minutes.” Lyle looked over his shoulder.

“Forget him,” Marko said as he and Lyle moved into a sterile conference room.

Markopoulos still looked the same: penetrating dark eyes, salt-and-pepper hair, and the trademark space between his two front teeth. Muscular shoulders made him look larger than his statistically average height and weight. The gregarious detective of Greek ancestry had been his partner for six years until Lyle’s forced transfer. Marko had helped Lyle through his divorce and later had been his leading supporter when Lyle needed it.

After a few minutes of reminiscing, Markopoulos said, “I’m curious about what you said on the phone. You want me to run some names for you?”

“I’d appreciate it.”

“You said you’re investigating the crashes at Nostalgia City. I thought you were driving a cab.”

“I am. But Archibald Maxwell has sort of made me his personal private dick. I’m supposed to find out who’s been sabotaging the park.”

“Sabotage? I thought they were accidents. Aren’t you having safety problems?”

“That’s what the news says. But they’re not accidents.”

“Wasn’t your buddy Earl Williams hurt?”

“Yeah. I was talking with him when it happened. We had a wild ride for a few seconds.”

Marko looked concerned.

“Relax. I’m okay.”

“Who’d want to sabotage a theme park?”

“Marko, that’s what I’m trying to find out.”

“What can I do?”

“Two things. First, run these names for me.” Lyle handed him a list. “And could you get me motor vehicle info, too? Addresses, vehicles?”

“Easy.”

“I don’t think you’ll find a criminal record for that third name, but I’d like anything you can find out.”

“You looking for something specific?”

“I dunno. I don’t think he’s from Arizona. I’d just like a little history. And by the way, please don’t mention this to anyone.”

“Like who ’m I going to tell? The National Tabloid News?”

Lyle held up a hand.

“Speaking of investigations, I’ve been doing some checking and--”

“I think I know where this is going,” Lyle said.

“Just hear me out, okay? I heard about a case similar to yours. It happened in California. Ultimately, the guy got reinstated with back pay, and then some. The city wanted to settle the mess.”

“Couldn’t have been just like my situation.”

“Testimony from the department shrink was involved.”

“Where’d you hear this?”

“My sister’s husband. You know, the attorney?”

“And I bet he’d like to take my case.”

“Nothing like that. Doesn’t even practice in Arizona.”

“I appreciate your help--and your concern. But I really enjoy what I’m doing now. The cab, I mean. I meet people. I ask them where they want to go. I tell a joke. They’re happy. I’m happy. And I don’t even want to think about this,” he said, gesturing at the room, the building, his former life.

“We know you were set up. If you saw one more shrink, I think you could turn things around, if only for your record.”

“Maybe I like being crazy. People don’t expect as much from you, and they’re not surprised if you do something loony.”

“You’re not crazy.” Marko grinned broadly this time. “You’re just confused by all those little voices you hear.”