Time Games Page 15

  They couldn’t quite figure it out up there, but they were thinking she’d already got away with homicide number one, on their watch, plus they’d witnessed her strength part in action.

  Pike was pretty sure, again from watching re-runs of Law and Order, that the Palm Springs prosecutors couldn’t introduce what may or may not have happened in Pocatello.

  But he was pretty sure the cops and DA’s had a way of letting the jury know anyway.

  Three would be if the autopsy came up that Chuck’s heart was fine, that it should have been ticking like a million bucks. Then Dani’s story about him stopping his run because he was getting palpitations, which she then tied into him collapsing in the hot tub, might not hold up.

  Then too, you had the guy stalking her, which would no doubt be corroborated, and in this case it would hurt Dani rather than help her, because now she had a motive. And unlike up in Idaho, she didn’t claim this one was self-defense.

  It wasn’t a slam dunk, so to speak, but you put it all together Pike was pretty sure she was going to prison.

  Maybe not Murder One, but some level of homicide serious enough to send her away.

  He’d gone through it before in his head, and couldn’t remember why for a minute, that he’d concluded that going back pre-Chuck and messing with the tourist witness from Minnesota wouldn’t fly . . . Then he remembered his reasoning, that that wouldn’t do anything to stop Dani from drowning Chuck, and maybe someone new from witnessing it.

  What it was coming down to, which you couldn’t avoid, you’d have to deal with the source direct . . . Which was part of why he was quizzing Dani in the truck about the Chuck details. The other reason obviously was to interrupt the Hannamaker-Dani vibe that was developing, but either way he didn’t get too far.

  ***

  It took forever, and there weren’t any swimmers in the pool anymore and Pike and Jack both were dozing off when Dani finally came and got them.

  “We’re good then?” Pike said, as they headed to her room.

  “I’m a bit irritated, to be quite frank,” Dani said. “What I was afraid might happen actually did . . . Arnold was here earlier--I told you he struck me as quite routine-oriented--and thanks to Jack’s idea he was conveyed the message that I’d return shortly.”

  “Arnold?” Jack said.

  “My investigator, yes. What’s the problem?”

  “You on first name terms with him then?” Pike said.

  “All right, forget about telling you what happened. We can go to sleep.”

  “No, no,” Jack and Pike said together.

  “So he leaves his card under my door,” Dani said, “with a note that he got my message and he’ll circle back.”

  “He said that, circle back?” Pike said, “or you’re just . . . whadyamacall . . . paraphrasing.”

  “Unh-huh, that’s what he wrote.”

  “Sheez,” Jack said.

  “You guys can make fun of it all you want, but the fact is he didn’t return.”

  They all considered it for a minute.

  “How many hours ago was he here?” Pike said.

  “Well it’s 3:35 now,” Dani said. “So, 4 or 5.”

  “So he’ll stop in tomorrow night,” Pike said. “Piece of cake.”

  Jack said, “And by then you’ll be feeling better, you won’t need to go out for air.”

  “And there won’t be any strange younger guys in your room, either, that you’ll have to explain away,” Pike said, though he didn’t like thinking about that. Did this mean he’d actually be continuing to Arizona with this fool?

  Dani was a good host, if that’s what you called it under these circumstances, and she set Pike and Jack up on the floor on both sides of the bed with enough bedding to make it work, and she turned off the light.

  Pike was so shot that he could have been laying on jagged rock and it wouldn’t have mattered, and he dropped right off, and for two hours he was on a pure white beach in Hawaii and you could feel the tropical breeze and beautiful women were parading past, one after another, cooling off in the crystal-clear water.

  The rapping on the door was only a couple of taps, but it sounded like a machine gun.

  Dani bolted up to attention and kind of gasped, and whispered what should she do, and Pike didn’t know what to tell her, and Jack didn’t either, and they both turned over and pulled the makeshift bedding over their heads.

  Dani turned on a little light and called to the person that she’d be right there, and she threw on a robe and slippers, and then took the time to brush her teeth, which Pike wondered, was that the best idea, keeping this official person standing out there?

  Arnold was cordial and polite when she opened the door, but wasted no time coming in. You could feel him sizing up Pike and Jack being there, but he didn’t say anything right then, which Pike admitted would be the professional way to go about it, you make mental notes and at the end draw your big conclusion.

  “When I attempted the bed check earlier,” Arnold was saying, “you were where now?”

  “I didn’t know we’re terming it a bed check,” Dani said.

  “A question of semantics,” Arnold said. “But I believe we understand each other.”

  “Out,” Dani said.

  Pike was thinking, not the greatest answer, but at the same time he had to give her credit.

  “I see,” Arnold said. “With these gentlemen?”

  Pike let go of the blanket covering his face and squinted up at Arnold for the first time. You weren’t going to make things any worse.

  Arnold said to Pike, “Would you happen to have some identification, son?” And to Jack as well, “I’ll be needing yours too, sir.”

  It was a serious moment, but Pike couldn’t help thinking, wait a second, I’m son but that piece of garbage is sir?

  In any case, Pike decided to say, “I don’t have any on me.” Test the sucker. For all he knew, the guy wasn’t a regulation cop. Maybe he was just some kind of civilian inspector they hired.

  Jack picked up on it, and said he didn’t have any ID either.

  “They’re not under-age, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Dani said. “And as you can see, I’m simply providing them housing for the night . . . My cousin . . . and his friend, they’re on their way to New Mexico.”

  “Arizona,” Pike said, but it was interesting that she had New Mexico on the brain.

  Arnold nodded, clearly not believing any of it, but pulled a notepad out and poked around, opening some drawers, shining a little flashlight here and there.

  As the guy moved around the room, one thing was obvious. He lifted weights. He was about 5’10 and had either a shaved head by choice or a prematurely bald one, but either way it looked like a cue ball on top of a bank safe.

  “If you don’t mind me asking you,” Pike said, “are you into bodybuilding?”

  The guy tried to maintain a poker face, but it was clear he enjoyed the question. “Yep,” he said, “it’s a hobby.”

  “You look cut,” Jack chimed in. He was up and sitting in a chair. “You compete, and all that?”

  “I do,” Arnold said. “Be glad to tell you all about it, except in a different forum . . . This ain’t the right time, though.”

  Pike was thinking, real cops probably said ain’t occasionally too, so you couldn’t go by that completely, but something about the guy in general made you think he maybe flunked out of the police academy, or didn’t get in in the first place.

  Plus, if you had to bet on it, he looked roided-up.

  Pike wondered about his name now too, not that many Arnold’s around. “You a fan of Arnold Schwarzenegger then?” he said.

  “I was wondering that too,” Jack said, “and if you changed your name.”

  Arnold didn’t react too well to that. “You kids think you’re pretty slick,” he said. “But yessir, the man’s been an idol of mine. Along with a couple others . . . Name’s my middle name, so there you go. I tend to use it, brings me luck.”<
br />
  Pike was thinking, yeah right, mister.

  You could tell Dani wasn’t thrilled by this give-and-take, and told Arnold to please not mind them, they’re simply acting out because they’re tired.

  “You’re right,” Pike said.

  “And to take it a step further,” Jack said, “what’s the hold up?”

  “Sir?” the guy said with an edge now, looking sideways at Jack.

  Pike said, “You got a badge or something, we can see? Some kinda ID?”

  “He doesn’t,” Jack said. “He’s one of those, what do they call them? Drugstore cowboys?”

  “No,” Pike said, “I know what you mean, but that’s not what you call it . . . That’d be ro-day-oh cowboy.”

  “What is that?” Jack said.

  Pike said, “You remember that kid Ferguson, on the freshman team?”

  “No.”

  “Doesn’t matter, he moved somewhere. But when he was here he worked in that feed place, you know, on Lindemore? He got me some hours filling in for a guy . . . They sold hats and boots and stuff, and the employees, they were always making fun of ro-day-oy cowboys coming in.”

  “I still don’t get it,” Jack said.

  “Oh for God sakes,” Dani said. “This is so stupid. Ro-day-oh Drive is a very upscale shopping district in Beverly Hills . . . What Pike seems to be getting at, and I’m not sure why, is when a non-cowboy tries to dress like one, the real cowboys make fun of that.”

  “Right,” Pike said, “I’m getting at it because that’s the situation we got here, I think.” Staring at Arnold.

  “Okay, I see what you mean,” Jack said, watching Arnold too. “That’s pretty funny actually, a ro-day-oh cowboy . . . And who knows, maybe even one on steroids.”

  There was an uneasy silence. Jack might have gone just a little too far with his final shot, but what could you do.

  Pike could understand it though. You got some wannabe doofus waking you up in the middle of the night, he’s got what he came for, which is Dani hasn’t skipped town and is right here cooperating . . . so you can’t check off a box or something and be on your way?

  Arnold gave a little cough, as though to let everybody know he’d sized up the situation and was making his determination.

  “Ms. Andriessen,” he said, “I’m going to have to cite you tonight on two fronts--Article 28, maintaining an unstable location, and also Article 6a, accommodating an overnight companion . . . That part I’m giving you a break, only citing you once for it, even though there’s two of ‘em currently.”

  “You’re kidding me,” Dani said, “even with me notifying you? . . . I mean taking the responsibility to do so? . . . That doesn’t count?”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am.”

  “Well Gosh . . . what happens now then?” she said. Pike could tell she was scared. Dani was a strong woman, plus she was good at putting up a front, but there was a wobble in her voice that was real.

  “I’m afraid that’s out of my hands, it’s for the court to decide,” Arnold said.

  “Meaning the judge,” Dani said.

  “That’s normally correct, yes.”

  “Well how is mine?” she said. “Could you . . . give me a sense, please?”

  “Your case,” Arnold said, taking pleasure in going through his paperwork, torturing her, “is Judge Stramm, it looks like . . . He’s a tough one. A stickler for details, so to speak . . . Anyhow Ma’am, I wish you the best.”

  He got to the door, opened it, and was halfway through it when Pike blurted out, “I’ll arm-wrestle you for it.”

  Arnold swiveled around, showing an amused grin. “Excuse me?” he said.

  “One go-round,” Pike said. “All’s you got to do is put me down.”

  Arnold stood there looking at Pike like he was a sub-human. “And if I did?” he said.

  “Then we’re good. And you submit your paperwork.”

  “I’m submitting my paperwork anyway . . . so what’s in it for me.”

  Jack said, “Not if you lose, you’re not.”

  “That’s right,” Pike said.

  “Sounds fair to me, actually,” Dani chimed in.

  Arnold stepped back in the room and closed the door.

  He was still smiling, though it was more an in-your-face smirk. “Well now seeing as how y’all insulted me . . . and I let it roll off . . . if I were to take you up on that son, we’d need a little collateral.”

  “Fine,” Pike said. He asked Jack how much he had on him.

  “I started the trip with a hundred,” Jack said, “it got drained though, the barbeque place and all.”

  Pike said, “So 75?”

  “I guess,” Jack said, “if I have to . . . What, you don’t got anything on you?”

  “First of all,” Pike said, “you owe me. Big time. I think we know what we’re talking about . . . Second, even if I did, I’m not putting it on the line for this piece of scum.”

  Pike was hoping that’d have the desired effect, which was put the guy over the edge so he was all-in. Hopefully he hadn’t gone too far, and ticked the guy off enough to try to punch him in the face . . . or in the possible event that he actually was some kind of real cop, arrest him.

  “So what we’re dealing with,” Arnold said, and Pike was relieved he was going this direction, “I win, you pay me 75 bucks.”

  “And of course you file your important paperwork,” Pike said.

  “Goes without saying,” the guy said.

  “But if I win,” Pike said, taking a long look at the guy, “if it happens . . . you don’t file jack.”

  Dani clearly liked the idea, and she was already clearing off the little round motel table and arranging two chairs across from each other.

  Arnold was laughing though. “You don’t gotta worry about that kid.” He took off his sport coat and loosened his tie and rolled up his shirtsleeves.

  His arms were bulging and there was a tattoo of a dancing girl on his right forearm that was quivering just a bit.

  Pike took one of the seats and Jack said, “Just like that? You armwrestle a guy in your boxers, and barefoot? Don’t you need a little traction, at least?”

  Pike said he was good, and Arnold made a big production out of sitting down, kind of like the heavyweight champ does it in a boxing match, letting the other guy commit himself and then methodically rubbing it in his face.

  But then when he finally did get his rear end in the chair it happened kind of quick, both of them with elbows on the center of the table and locking hands and staring each other down and getting set.

  “Hold it just a second now,” Jack said. “One more time, so we have the ground rules straight: Pike wins, Dani’s in the clear. There’s no negative paperwork . . . Arnold Schwarzenegger, you win . . . you get the money.”

  “Damn straight,” Arnold said, “plus the shit gets filed.”

  “Of course,” Jack said. “On the count of three . . . one, two . . . three, get it on!”

  Pike figured the best way to handle it would be let the idiot try as hard as he could, and don’t let him move your hand, but don’t move his either.

  This would be the most rewarding way, burn the guy out so he has nothing left, but it would also look more realistic and attract less attention from the dude, and from Jack too, as to how a 170-pound high school kid soaking wet could pin this comic book monstrosity.

  You could see some alarm in Arnold’s eyes when Pike’s arm didn’t move. Arnold tilted his head and came out of the chair a little, which you weren’t supposed to do but what was the difference, and when that didn’t work he began to snort.

  Jack picked up on it. “Dog, you’re snorting like a pig,” he said.

  “How much time has it been?” Pike said.

  “Perhaps 2 minutes?” Dani said.

  “I have to tell you,” Pike lied, “this guy is tough. I don’t think I can hold him off much longer . . . My best shot, is to try everything to put him down. Otherwise, I’m afraid it’s all over.” />
  Arnold was sweating profusely, a substantial stream of liquid now rolling down his bald dome. He looked at Pike like what the frig?

  Pike debated, should he slam him down so he could injure him in the process, or should he ease him down . . . and that seemed the better option, and you could see the two locked fists begin to shift to the left, and even to an outside observer Arnold wasn’t going to be turning this one around.

  Pike got him an inch from the table, and then hovered there for a minute to torture the guy with a dash of false hope, and then smacked Arnold’s arm into the shiny fake wood of the motel table.

  “Wow,” Jack said, genuinely shocked.

  Pike said to Jack, “Like I been telling you. You’re one of those people who pretends he’s on board, but then in secret is rooting against me.”

  “That’s ridiculous, you would have cost me 75 bucks.”

  “Very true, that part, but you’re still not sure you like the outcome.”

  “You know something Gillette? Okay I made a little error back home . . . but I’ve been putting up with your bull-crap all day. I’m done with that.”

  “Double-or nothing left-handed,” Arnold said.

  “Huh?” Pike said.

  “You heard me . . . all right you got lucky one time, ‘cause I never got my proper grip . . . been known to happen. Not gonna leave here though without the record set straight, that I didn’t get beat by a little pipsqueak.”

  “When you say double or nothing,” Dani said, “how would that work?” Pike thought she seemed at least a little relieved, though it was hard to tell.

  Arnold said, “Exactly what it sounds. I win, you pay me $150.”

  “That’s the extent of it, double or nothing?” Jack said.

  Pike said, “Seeing as how you called me a pipsqueak . . . nah.”

  “Come on now,” Arnold said, his eyes suddenly very big. “Let’s be reasonable here. Give a man a chance, will ya.”

  “Tell ya what,” Pike said. “How much you got on you?”