The people at Hopkins’ barn told me that he was in his office. As I started to walk there I found my way barred by his assistant, Mickey Richards.
“What do you want here Po?” he demanded. I looked down at him, into his cold, gray eyes and, in spite of his size — or lack of it — I did not want to tangle with him. I’d lost control of myself with Lassiter, and was determined that it would not happen again.
Richards, however, was not going to make it easy for me to stick to my decision.
“I’ve come to talk to your boss, Richards, now get the hell out of my way before I go over you like a steamroller.”
I was hoping that the verbal threat would be enough to get him to move because we were in his neck of the woods and I felt that if we did start to waltz, I would end up with more than one partner.
I decided to play my ace in the hole and showed Richards my N.Y.S.R.C. identification. His resolve melted a bit when he saw it. I knew what he was thinking, that I was one of “Biel’s Boys,” and the fact that Biel night be involved made him back off.
He didn’t like it, though. I knew I was going to have to watch my back for a while.
I knocked on Hopkins’ door and he shouted out for whoever it was to come in.
When he saw me standing in the doorway he stood up behind his desk and told me rightly, “Get the hell out of here, Po.”
His tone was cold and menacing, but physically he would not have been able to back up his tone, so I stepped into the room and shut the door behind me.
“Look, Mr. Hopkins,” I began, determined to be respectful. In spite of my intense dislike for the man, he was a friend of Howard Biel’s, who I did respect and like. “I’m working with the police to try and find out just what happened to Eddie Mapes and to your daughter. I just want to ask you some questions.”
“You’ve helped enough, Po,” he told me. “My daughter’s dead, thanks to you.”
I couldn’t believe him, couldn’t comprehend just how the hell his mind worked.
“Me? My fault?” I asked him incredulously. “First it was Lassiter’s fault, then mine. Who’s next, Hopkins?”
I advanced on him and stopped only when I bumped into the desk. Then I leaned across it and asked, “When is it going to be your fault? When will you accept some blame for this?”
“How dare you — ”
I stood up straight and threw him a took of pure scorn.
“C’mon, Hopkins, there’s nobody here but you and me. There’s no point in putting on an act. Don’t get righteous with me, you hypocrite. You’re so upset over the death of your daughter, right? Bullshit!” All semblance of respect went right out the window at that point.
“You never loved that girl, did you Hopkins. She was just another piece of meat for you and Lassiter to fight over. She loved the both of you and neither one of you are worth the dirt under her nails.”
“Stop it!” Hopkins screamed, and I admit to being startled by his reaction. I thought he was going to have a coronary. His face turned a deep shade of red and his eyes bulged until I thought they’d fly from his head.
“What do you know about love?” he demanded. “Could you love a child who caused your wife’s death? That’s right, my wife died giving birth to Penny, and you expect me to love her?”
“How can you blame an infant for — ”
“Who else do I blame?”
“Again,” I shouted, banging my palms down on his desk, “again you’re looking for someone else to blame. How about yourself, Hopkins? You’re the one who got your wife pregnant, how about that for some blame?”
He reacted as if I had branded him with a hot poker. I expected another explosion, but suddenly his face went slack and he sat heavily in his chair.
“Get out of here, Po, get out of here and leave me alone. Don’t make me call Howard Biel — ”
“Howard Biel has asked me to work with the police, Hopkins. So if that’s what you want to do, then go ahead and call him.” I refused to feel sorry for him. Penny was the one I still felt sorry for.
Before I left I had a parting shot.
“There’s one more thing I’m curious about, Hopkins. Just what the hell are you doing with a copy of the Donero transcript?”
He looked up quickly, eyes wide with something like shock. He took a moment to decide that it wasn’t worth it to berate me for going through his desk.
“There’s nothing sinister in that, Po. I have a friend who’s attending the trial. He’s taking notes — actually, he has total recall and he’s typing it up for me word for word at the end of each day. Donero’s mentioning anybody who’s anybody. I just want to keep an eye on things, that’s all. Now, please get out of here.” He lowered his head into his hands and I left him that way. I guess it was a valid enough explanation.
I didn’t seem to be getting all that much information out of anyone today.
I stepped outside and, if Richards had been taller or I had been shorter, his ambush might have come off. As it was, his fist glanced off the side of my head and instead of cold-cocking me the way he’d intended to do, he did no more than knock me slightly off balance. I let myself go in the direction of the blow and regained my balance. Then I turned to face him, ready to smash my fist into his face.
I stopped myself and we eyed each other. His fists were balled at his sides and he was ready to fight. He was loyal to Hopkins, which made me feel sorry for him, too.
“I’m not going to fight you, Richards. You’d better go on inside and see to your boss.”
I turned and walked away.