“Yeah.”
“Where?”
“On the porch.”
“Our porch?”
“Yes, our porch.”
“Where’s Newf?”
“Outside.”
“Doing what?”
“They’re taking a nap together.”
“The man-eater and Newf ?” She began to laugh hysterically and when she finally regained composure, said, “God, I love you, Service. But we still win the bet.”
“We win?”
“Think about it, dummy.”
He laughed. “Right.”
“If the dog’s there in the morning, how are you going to get to work?” she asked.
“Jesus,” he said. “Did you have to bring that up?”
“It’ll probably leave,” she said.
More likely, it wouldn’t.
“I’ve got to sign off, darlin’. We roll early tomorrow: St. Joe, Niles, Flint, Mt. Pleasant.”
“In one day?”
“She has the constitution of a yeti. Be nice to that pup, Service.”
“It’s the hound from hell.”
“You,” she said, hanging up.
He thought about letting Newf in, but she seemed content and he didn’t want to open the door. Instead, he called Simon del Olmo at home.
“Allerdyce came to see me today,” he told the younger officer. “He wanted to know if I’d heard about Kitella. I suggested that maybe he had something to do with it, and he said if he wanted Kitella gone, he would disappear him.”
“You buy that?”
“Allerdyce is into mind games.”
“With no mind.”
“He has a mind. It just doesn’t work like ours.”
“He’s been violent before.”
“It’s not his style now. Too much risk, and believe me, he does not want to go back inside.”
“Something I can do to help?” del Olmo asked.
“I’m not sure. Maridly got hold of a photo of Trapper Jet from high school. It doesn’t look like him. Not even close.”
“People change when they get older.”
“Not this much. I got some of his military records and the start on a biography. He’s from Lansing originally. When he was released by the VA, he came up to the Yoop and never went home. That makes no sense.”
“He’s loco,” del Olmo said.
“Maybe he’s smarter than we give him credit for,” Service said.
“That wouldn’t take much. You think he had something to do with Kitella?”
“He claimed Kitella burned his cabin.”
“How’s he gonna go after Kitella? He’s blind. You think he’d hire somebody?”
“Not his style—and maybe we’re the blind ones,” Service said.
“You’ve lost me,” del Olmo said.
“Okay, bye,” Service said, abruptly hanging up. Why would Oliver Toogood want to lose himself in the U.P.? Had something happened in the camps in Korea? The rift with his father? The only people who could know for sure were those who had been POWs with him. How many were still alive? More to the point: Was Trapper Jet Oliver Toogood? Service was having nagging doubts and had no idea how this could be.
All this had started with the body at the canal. He got another beer and called Treebone. Kalina answered.
“It’s Grady. Is he there?”
“Parked in front of the TV—as usual. I’ll take the phone to him. Don’t want to get the man’s blood pressure up.”
“Yo,” Tree said.
“Do you know where Teddy Gates is?” Gates had been their commanding officer in Vietnam.
“At this minute or over the past twenty-five years?” Luticious Treebone asked.
“Don’t be a jerk.”
“He’s sucking the eagle’s tit.”
“Retired?”
“Ninety-four or -five, I think, after the Gulf War. He had a brigade over there, went out with two stars. Last I heard he was living in Alexandria.”
“You got his number?”
“You know how to call information, right? They have that service up there?”
“Don’t jerk me around. Did you get the information on Siquin Soong?”
“You a motherfucker, you know that? Takes time to get shit like this. What’s crawled inside you and gone sour?”
“Ambiguity.”
“My black ass. Cops breathe that shit.”
“I need help.”
“You’re gettin’ it. Just stay cool.”
Stay cool with so many holes in this case?
He called information and found thirteen listings for Gates, but no Theodores and no retired generals. In the process he pissed off the long distance operator. Add unlisted phone numbers to your hate list, he told himself.
Newf was pawing at the door when he went downstairs. He looked out and saw that the other dog was gone and opened the door. Newf came in, looked up and wagged her tail.