Chapter 37
“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to Boston?” Nick Markopoulos asked Lyle several days later as they walked into the Spanish style stucco house in an older Phoenix neighborhood where Hank’s reception was being held. Friends of Hank’s had agreed to be the hosts after the memorial service.
“So now I told you. I went to Boston.”
“What I mean is, Steve Travanti works there. You remember him. He’s an old friend of mine from the sheriff’s department.”
“’Course I remember Steve. We worked on the same task force for six months. That was years ago.”
“Now he works for Boston PD. Just got promoted. He’s a top guy there now. He could of helped you.”
“I didn’t need help. I screwed things up on my own.”
Lyle and Marko were the first people in the house. They wandered into the kitchen where the hosts offered them drinks. Only iced tea and lemonade were being served, but Lyle didn’t mind. He’d had enough alcohol. As he and Marko walked back to the family room, mourners filed in. Lyle nodded to people but stuck with his friend.
He explained to Marko how his investigation had led to the FedPat Corporation. He skipped over the details but said that FedPat would benefit if the park suffered.
“So what did you find out in Boston?”
“Not a hellava lot. I lost my temper. This company has been hassling me about Samantha for months. Now, all this...” Lyle stared blankly across the room. “Anyway, I did find out something. They’re working with a PI company called Topaz. They probably investigate fraud cases. When I was there, I saw a guy I knew from Phoenix. Badass punk. Rambo type. I’m sure he’s been busted, done time, or something.”
“What’s his name?”
“Art Jones.”
“Doesn’t ring a bell. Common name.”
“I know. That’s a problem. But could you check? I wasn’t in on an arrest involving him, but I’ve seen him around. At the station maybe four, five years ago.”
“I’ll run his name and see.”
“Thanks. It’s too much of a coincidence for some Phoenix gorilla to be working at FedPat when this happens. He’s white, between 30 and 35, 6-3, 230, dirty blond hair.”
Marko pulled out a slip of paper and made a note. “I got a little info for you on your guy Bates.”
“Oh?”
“Left the bureau a few years ago for a senior position with a California security firm. He was there for a couple of years when a headhunter contacted him about the job for Maxwell. At the FBI Bates was respected, had some commendations, but--”
Marko stopped mid-sentence as a tall, attractive woman walked into the house. “Ooh, who’s the blonde? I saw her at the service.”
“That’s Kate, Kate Sorensen. We work together. She’s in PR.”
“Must be nice.”
“Just business.”
“Sure, Lyle.”
***
Kate was standing in a corner of the living room when Lyle caught up with her. She wore a gray dress with black trim.
“Thanks for coming. You didn’t have to. Long drive from NC.”
“I wanted to, Lyle. And I got a chance to meet Samantha at the service.” She looked at him for a moment then reached over and put a hand on his arm. “I can’t imagine how you feel. I’m so sorry.”
Mixed with the hushed conversations in the room, Lyle could hear the air conditioning humming. He stared at the wall. “Now that this is all over, we’ve got to save Nostalgia City.”
“You going to stick with it?”
“My job? Hell, yes. I like it. Dad didn’t want me driving a cab or working funny hours. He didn’t like being alone. I picked NC before my dad had his heart attacks. I’m staying.”
“I’m glad. What about the police department?”
“Go back to being a cop? No chance.” All day Lyle had felt light headed. He kept thinking he was at a crossroads, that everything ahead of him would be different from his life before. He fought the feeling of relief his father’s death seemed to give him. Not yet. “I think I’m finding out what I should be doing in life,” Lyle started to say.
Then a friend of his father’s patted him on the back and mumbled condolences. When the man wandered off, Lyle said, “Let’s fill up our drinks and go outside.”
As Kate and Lyle passed through the kitchen, he smelled Mexican food. Someone had made enchiladas. He opened the back door for Kate. Only people who had lived a long time in the Southwest could imagine going outside to talk when it was over 100 degrees. Kate and Lyle were used to it.
After they had taken a few steps into the backyard rock garden, he spoke. “I’ll never go back to the police department. Some people still see me as a cop, but I’m out of it now and I wish it had happened sooner.”
She looked as if she were going to say something, but he continued. “I got forced out. Disagreement, you could call it, with a couple of other detectives. One of them was a lieutenant. Wanted me to look the other way when they manufactured evidence. I wouldn’t. I didn’t rat them out, but that didn’t matter.”
Sweat started forming on his upper lip. He brushed it away with his free hand then took a swallow of lemonade. “These two cops decided they’d get even with me. And they did. It was my fault, too. I’d been on the force for more than fifteen years and I didn’t want to do it anymore.”
“Couldn’t you quit?”
“Quit? Demings aren’t quitters.” Lyle looked into Kate’s blue eyes then glanced away. “That’s what my dad used to tell me. He worked for the same company for 35 years. Probably hated every day of it, but he never quit, by God. He was afraid to leave. Afraid to try something new. I was that way for a while. Then I knew I had to find something else. But Dad wanted me to stick with being a cop. It would have been a disgrace to quit.”
Kate sat down on a concrete bench next to a spiny ocotillo, its tall, thin stalks topped with red-orange blossoms. She looked up at Lyle. “Was it being a cop or not being a quitter that was most important?”
“Never knew for sure. It was hard to argue with him, so I gave up.”
“But you found a way out.”
Lyle raised his glass. “Right. I screwed up on a couple of cases. I made stupid mistakes--not really on purpose. One day I fired my weapon into the ground at the department range. It wasn’t dangerous, but someone told Collins and Bensen.”
“Who?”
“They’re the two cops who had it in for me. They were everywhere. They started rumors. Told people I was burned out. Crazy. Finally, they got witnesses who said I talked to imaginary friends.”
“You fight back?”
“At first. Eventually they made me see the department shrink. Frankly, I didn’t care.” Lyle stopped and looked around. Through the kitchen window, he could see people still eating and drinking. “I’m sorry to burden you with all this. I don’t know why--”
“It’s okay. I understand.”
“You can’t really understand it. I don’t. What happened is, the department reassigned me. Sent me to an office where I’d be sort of a clerk. I told them I didn’t want to do it. Next thing I knew, I was bounced. My dad wants--wanted--me to fight it. My friend Marko does, too. Wants me to prove I wasn’t crazy.”
“But you’re doing detective work now, anyway.”
“Yeah.” Lyle stared off into space. “This is different. Someone killed my father and almost killed Earl. And they’re trying to take over the park; spoil my new life and--”
The conversation was interrupted by Lyle’s brother who stepped outside. “Lyle, can you come in for a moment? We need to talk about getting me to the airport.”
Lyle waved to his brother then turned to Kate. “I’m going to prove FedPat’s behind this.”
He wandered back toward the house. Kate hadn’t said much. Was she just being polite? If he just had something more against FedPat. Before he reached the back door, he stopped and turned around. “Kate. What about the phone tap?”